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Telius regarda de sa position, sans bouger dans sa pose, son expression restant ce masque vide. Chaque Chevalier qui a été choisi après lui était intéressant d'une certaine façon. Certains étaient des noms qu'il connaissait de ses classes ou légendes racontées par les compagnies de chasse par un feu nocturne. Il semblait que le plus intéressant de tous était la femme d'Arcane Spirit, Mira comme son nom supposé l'était. Non seulement Telius n'avait jamais entendu parler de l'élément auparavant, mais il y avait quelque chose de différent à propos de cette femme. Une étrange sensation s'est levée dans sa poitrine quand il l'a regardée pour la première fois. Alors qu'il aurait pu juste être que Telius était attiré par elle, il se sentait comme quelque chose d'autre entièrement.
Une fois que le dernier Chevalier a été choisi, ils ont été conduits à travers la ville à un wagon. Le premier à monter à bord était le Chevalier de la Lumière, le garçon. Il semblait cependant qu'il avait oublié quelque chose et qu'il sifflait bientôt fort. Quelques instants plus tard, Telius a dû sauter sur le côté pour éviter qu'un loup ne s'écrase sur lui. Le garçon s'est excusé et s'est présenté comme Leonidas. Un nom fort, Telius ne pouvait que s'inquiéter pour la sécurité du garçon. Il se souvenait de lui à cet âge, et maintenant il avait été inexpérimenté. Inconsciemment, le noble s'approcha et se brossa les doigts contre les cicatrices qui lui traînaient le visage.
Une des femmes, celle qui avait sauté du ciel sur son oiseau, semblait réagir mal à l'apparition soudaine du loup. Telius ne lui en voulait pas du tout, c'était surprenant. Elle a tiré une arme et son oiseau est apparu une fois de plus, mais cette fois la taille d'un oiseau normal. Elle s'est présentée comme Alya et a parlé des Chevaliers et à quel point les coutumes du peuple étaient étranges. Telius pensait qu'il serait le prochain à se présenter. Ses paroles et ses actions donnant son statut de noble immédiatement, si son nom de famille ne l'a pas déjà fait. Le noble a donné un arc gracieux à ses nouveaux compagnons. "Telius Arden à votre service."
Avec son introduction dit, Telius a marché sur le wagon suivant. Il a fait le second choix pour s'asseoir en face du garçon plutôt que près de lui. Aussi apprivoisé qu'il semblait, le loup le faisait toujours se méfier. En outre, la longue épée à sa hanche n'était pas une arme de portée rapprochée, si le loup a attaqué soudainement, il avait besoin de temps pour tirer sa lame. Il ne voulait pas être impoli, mais c'était un animal sauvage, mais pas un loup, qui lui avait fait une cicatrice au visage. Après cela, il s'était trouvé beaucoup plus prudent autour d'eux. C'est vrai.
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Name: Telius Arden
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
Telius stands at about 5' 10" and weighs about 170lbs. He has the build of a warrior, being made up almost entirely of well defined muscles. He has a light complexion that is not unblemished. There's a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, as well as several scars, all of which he's proud of. His hair is bright red in color and reaches his ears, his bangs are slightly longer, enough so to sometimes get in his eyes, and sweep to the right.
Knight Element: Spirit
Animal Familiar: None
Armor Style: Minimal, instead of wearing a full suit of armor, which would hinder his movement, he wears pieces to protect certain areas of his body, mainly his chest, neck, shoulders, arms, and most parts of his legs. The armor is red in color with yellow trim, representing his family's colors.
Signature Weapon: Telius wields a classical warrior's weapon, the longsword, a blade that is thinner than a hand and half sword, but also longer.
History: Telius is the oldest child in his family, and also the only male. Thus there was a lot of pressure on him to become a warrior his parents could be proud of. The Arden family is of noble status, known for their warriors. There have been several members of the family who had moved on to become Knights. So at the same time that Telius was learning to how to read, write, dance, and all the other things that noble children get to learn, for several hours a day he was trained in the ways of a sword. At first he hated it, because it was something he was forced to do, but in a few short years learned to love it. It was the one time he really got to be himself, rather than the noble he was expected to be.
Eventually Telius graduated from practice weapons to real swords. Though he had shown some skill in other blades, his style seemed to lend itself to the longsword, so that's what he focused on. Eventually he was allowed to join a company of warriors on a bandit hunt. His first taste at real combat didn't end well, inexperience caused him to get injured during the battle. But it didn't discourage him, when he healed, he was right back to training. He continued going out and fighting real battles, gaining experience and getting stronger as time passed. He showed quite a bit of leadership skills when he was asked to lead a company for the first time.
When it was time for the next Knights to be announced, Telius, like many others, traveled from his home to go to the event. Not because he actually thought he was going to be chosen, he was far too humble for that, but because he simply wanted to see who was chosen.
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Après que tous les chevaliers furent choisis Mira regarda autour de ses compagnons, mais ses yeux semblaient tomber sur Telius. Mira s'est ébranlée la tête et s'est tenue là. Elle écoutait alors que l'annonceur concluait le choix des chevaliers. Mira sentit son renard arcane tout près. Ne t'inquiète pas, je ne partirai pas avec toi. Elle pensait savoir que son renard pouvait l'entendre. Elle a donné le moindre sourire quand elle a senti sa joie à travers ce lien.
Après tout a été dit et fait ils ont été conduits à un wagon. Ce n'était pas la première fois de Mira dans un wagon. Elle regarda le mâle nommé Leonidas qui fut le premier à entrer dans le wagon et sauta quand un loup vint barricader par elle pour être avec son maître. Elle sourit alors que le prochain chevalier de l'air semblait prêt à combattre le loup, son nom étant Alya. Mira a étudié l'oiseau sur lequel elle a volé comme si c'était une scène d'une pièce de théâtre. Mira a laissé sortir un petit ronchon. L'attention de Mira a soudainement été brisée au chevalier suivant qui est entré dans le wagon. Telius Arden, le buzz soudain qu'elle a eu quand il s'est présenté était bizarre pour elle. Elle a remarqué non seulement de son dernier nom, mais de la façon dont il s'est tenu et de la façon dont il a parlé, il était un noble. Elle pouvait repérer un noble à des kilomètres de là. Elle l'a regardé monter dans le chariot. La pensée suivante qui est venue dans sa tête était très étrange pour son Père approuverait tellement celle qu'elle a secoué la tête comme si elle essayait d'éclaircir ses pensées. Fayla son renard arcane lui a donné un ronflement mental. C'était à elle de se présenter.
"Je suis Mira Bellwood" Elle a dit comme elle a harcelé. Elle pourrait vouloir que les gens sachent qu'elle était la princesse perdue mais elle ne pouvait pas aider sa nature. "Et voici Fayla mon renard arcane" Elle a dit comme Fayla apparaissait à côté d'elle. Fayla a balayé sa queue gracieusement. Après que Mira eut fini de se présenter, elle monta sur le wagon et s'assit à côté de Telius. Fayla s'est enveloppée autour des jambes de Mira en regardant le loup qui était assis en face d'eux.
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Name: Mira Bellwood
Gender: Female
Age: 24
is about 5'3" with brown hair and bright ice blue eyes. She has an athletic build and a tan skin. Mira is stubborn, kind hearted, flirty, protective and proud. Mira has a scar across her chest.
Knight Element: Arcane Spirit
Animal Familiar: arcane fox
Armor Style: Cloth and Leather. Her armor reflex's her personality, movable yet stable.
Signature Weapon: bright blue bow with arcane swirls over it. Her quivers hangs at her hips with a special saying in the leather strap from her mother.
History: Mira was born royalty. She is the neighboring princess that everyone thinks it's dead. When she was the age of 15 her mother was murdered and no one knows who did it, but Mira had a pretty go idea that it was from the tryrant King's kingdom. When her father remarried her step mother never care about either one of them, she only cared about the title, money, and getting rid of Mira.
At the age of 24 she had been gone from her kingdom 7 years. She was kidnapped from her bed when she was 17. Mira finally escaped her captor after 3years but she was dead to the rest to the kingdom.
She taught her self how to fight and survive on her own. A villager of a small town gave her the bow and arrow and taught her how to make her own arrows. Mira knew she was different always had but she didn't realize how different. When she found out about the choosing of Knight she had to do for herself and her mother. Little did she know there was more secrets to be uncovered.
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Tandis que les assistants du palais commençaient à les conduire loin, les yeux de Venator attrapèrent ceux de son père adoptif et lui proposèrent un clin d'œil final et solennel alors qu'il souriait sous son écharpe. Il s'est tourné pour suivre, en se tenant en arrière du groupe comme une ombre. Il regarda le Chevalier de Lumière monter à bord du wagon, seulement pour siffler brusquement et un loup de bois pour éclater à travers la foule. C'est soudain que le Chevalier de l'Air et de l'Esprit s'est las, mais Venator a pu voir que le canin était apprivoisé. La façon dont il a limité à travers une place de ville bondée plutôt que de traquer prudemment comme une créature dans le territoire ennemi était un don clair à cet égard.
Alors que l'oiseau du Chevalier de l'Air réapparut, le corbeau fantomatique s'inclina la tête curieusement, attirant un instant l'attention de Venator avant que les Chevaliers de la Lumière et de l'Air ne s'identifient respectivement et que son regard retourne aux Chevaliers rassemblés alors qu'ils montèrent à bord du wagon. Tandis que le Chevalier de l'Esprit se présentait, la noble identité était cimentée dans l'esprit de Venator et ses yeux se rétrécissaient en un bref mais aigu éclat qu'il devait dissiper de force, son histoire passée avec la noblesse réverbérant dans son esprit. Son éblouissement est revenu à côté d'un sourcil levé alors que le Chevalier de l'Esprit d'Arcane s'est présenté aussi, son esprit aussi la piégeant comme un Noble d'une sorte, bien qu'il ne l'ait pas reconnue.
Alors qu'elle montait dans le Wagon, Venator suivit sans mot et prit un siège ouvert sur le côté droit, en face des deux nobles. En ajustant l'écharpe sur son visage, il n'a offert aucune introduction et a plutôt choisi de fermer les yeux et de rester calme, se sentant soudain plutôt mal à l'aise sur toute l'épreuve. Le corbeau a sauté de son épaule pour battre ses ailes quelques fois avant de percuter l'un des poteaux de chariot derrière Venator, en observant ses alentours avec vigilance.
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Name: Venator Nylis, or 'Ven' to close friends
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
5'11" tall and slim but well-muscled in build, with a pitch black hair tipped with silver and similarly silver eyes. His skin is slightly paler than most, and he has a small scar cutting across his right eyebrow.
Knight Element: Darkness
Animal Familiar: 'Corvo', a Shade Raven
Armour Style: Black Steel Half-plate, provides good protection while remaining lighter than full plate armour. Black plates of steel armour cover his torso, shoulders, lower legs, feet, forearms and hands. He wears a black tunic and trousers underneath, with a long black scarf loosely around his neck.
Signature Weapon: An dark silver bow engraved in black with a quiver on both hips.
History: Raised in a poorer village of the country, Venator was orphaned before he could remember and raised in a communal orphanage owned by a neglectful and arrogant noble woman. To make ends meet, he turned to crime and he became a natural thief with his sharp, analytical mind and quick reflexes. He spent years breaking in and stealing valuables from the homes of nearby nobles until, age 12, his luck ran out and he was caught. Luckily, the man was a passing Knight who took pity on the boy and adopted him. He trained Venator as a knight, and he took to the training quickly.
He eventually became a wandering mercenary/bounty hunter, where he used his rewards to support himself and the village he came from. As a warrior, he was a skilled fighter and tactician with a kind heart, but was closed off and anti-social. He did whatever he could to support and protect the common man, but never stayed long enough to make friends. At the behest of his mentor/adoptive father, he accompanied the veteran Knight to the Announcement Ceremony but he wasn't expecting for his name to be called as the Knight of Darkness...
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22,403 | 648 | 12 | 2,428 | 4,466 |
Beaucoup d'ennuis sont devenus évidents sur le visage d'Oriel car elle a été à peu près poussée au wagon avec les autres... une cérémonie. À la minute où c'était fini, ils ont été précipités dehors comme si tous les problèmes étaient dans une période serrée à réparer immédiatement. Et puis la réalité l'a frappée... elle n'avait rien pour se défendre ou se protéger, à l'exception du poignard et de l'épée qu'Arno lui avait donné. Dans une panique, elle faisait de son mieux pour s'échapper, seulement pour être poussée. Elle a souhaité un instant que son statut aurait été suffisant pour prendre une putain de minute pour obtenir son équipement, mais apparemment ces mains de palais étaient sous l'hypothèse que tout le monde était pleinement armé en tout temps... Oh dieux, tous les autres Chevaliers étaient. Dans quel genre de situation s'impliquait-elle maintenant?
Quoi qu'il en soit, s'en emparer ne ferait rien. Garder son menton et sa dignité intacte, Oriel pensait à la culpabilité qu'elle se sentait juste... en haut et laissant son gardien pendant plus d'un an maintenant sans autant qu'un adieu. Autant qu'elle voulait venger son père et tout cela, les dettes doivent toujours être remboursées, surtout à ceux qui sont assez patients pour attendre. Tout comme elle était sur le point de prendre un autre pas sur le wagon, une calamité tonnerre pouvait être entendue un peu en arrière sur la route. "LETTRE-MOI! N'est-ce pas, personne ne peut échapper à un vieil homme d'une tonne de rousseurs pour s'en sortir? » une voix familière, mais beaucoup plus frustrée, résonnait comme un vieil homme, clairement dans son aîné des années portait un grand coffre derrière lui, faisant un chemin impressionnant vers le wagon.
"Hendrick!" Oriel a dit à haute surprise, le vieil bibliothécaire panting alors qu'il se rapprochait. "Phew... l'a fait juste à temps... Oriel... je sais que vous devez répondre aux convocations... mais vous... qui... laissez-moi reprendre mon souffle..." dit le vieil homme, en baissant son visage couvert de sueur avec son col de chemise. "Tu dois être capable de te défendre comme ton père t'a enseigné!" avant de pousser le tronc lourd dans les bras d'Oriel, la jeune femme maintenait son équilibre malgré le poids. "C'est... l'équipement du père?" Elle demanda, en recevant un clin d'œil et une réponse de: "Ce que vous avez poli et maintenu pour tout ce temps."
Reprenant par l'acte de gentillesse qu'elle jugeait presque Saintly, Oriel pose gentiment le tronc avant de faire un câlin à son amie, le vieil homme le retournant en nature. "Je vous remercie. Pour tout. Pour m'avoir laissé au moins essayer de mener une vie normale." Elle a dit avant de mettre une main dans ses poches et de produire la poche de pièces qu'il lui avait donné pour l'épicerie ce jour-là. "Sûr que tu réussiras sans moi? Claudia du bas de la rue pourrait être apte à aider," Oriel a suggéré, seulement pour être rencontré avec la déclaration de l'aîné: "Bah! Des bras forts, mais aucune pensée. La fille ne m'a pas loué un bon livre depuis des années. Bref... prends soin de toi maintenant. Va en paix, Oriel. Que vous et vos nouveaux amis soyez des légendes. Les bons, je suppose." il a dit avant de donner un sourire et un clin d'œil aux Chevaliers, donnant à Oriel un dernier câlin avant d'être sur son chemin, embrayant son bas du dos. "Oof... la dernière fois que je cours avec un coffre d'armure... l'épée est en bas!" Il murmura, puis cria avant de sortir de l'agitation et de la clameur des foules.
Oriel a pris une profonde inspiration avant de se résigner à cette carrière prophétisée, levant son coffre pour entrer dans le wagon, pensant qu'il serait préférable de prendre place à côté d'Arno, et rapidement trouver un loup pour entrer dans le wagon. Eh bien... c'était certainement quelque chose dont il fallait s'inquiéter. Au moins il aurait été, si Oriel n'avait pas eu l'expérience de chasser de telles choses de ses plus jeunes jours. Sans une meute, un loup n'était pas grand-chose, et l'endroit le plus doux du cou pouvait être atteint assez facilement pour couper à travers sans inquiétude de ses compagnons de meute. Cependant, il semblait aussi apprivoisé qu'un chien de chasse qu'il se limitait à son maître, suscitant un petit sourire d'Oriel. La loyauté était... quelque chose qu'elle admirait, surtout d'après ce qu'on considérait généralement comme une bête sauvage indescriptible.
Relaxant, Oriel bougea les mains pour tirer son capot vers le bas, ne sentant plus le besoin de cacher quoi que ce soit aux autres comme il était. Son nom était assez raison de ne pas le faire, elle l'avait imaginé. "Ça ne me dérange pas, Leonidas. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer tous. Je suis Oriel Schulz... et j'espère que notre voyage sera fructueux. Bien que j'aie entendu tous vos noms de l'annonce, j'ai l'impression que nous avons encore beaucoup à apprendre l'un de l'autre avant de pouvoir nous faire confiance. Et, Ayla, si tu veux, je peux t'apprendre certaines coutumes de la région. Je suis intéressé par d'où vous venez, personnellement." Elle a dit, habituée à être bonne à livrer des plaisanteries, des salutations et des offres d'avantages mutuels en tant que noble femme auparavant logée. Et... elle essayait vraiment dur de ne pas tomber en panne et de demander où exactement tous les autres obtenaient leurs étranges compagnons d'animaux. "J'espère cependant ne pas vous ennuyer par des histoires de moi-même. Nous avons assez de temps... au moins je suppose. Où allons-nous?"
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Name: Oriel Schulz
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Description: A fair-skinned young woman with golden hair and cyan eyes, Oriel hails from a nation to the west of the main capital of Elementia. Standing at 6'1", she is taller than most women. Despite the air of nobility she carries about herself, she also bears scars from the battles she fought trying to secure her station, as well as the musculature that comes with her weapon's usage.
Knight Element: Fire
Animal Familiar: Dragon Hatchling, roughly the size of a Gila Monster. Can barely spout flames on its own, but is durable, and has potential to grow into a full sized dragon within her lifespan.
Armor Style: An ornate set of red armor inherited from her father beneath a matching crimson tabard, treasured dearly by Oriel. The design is minimalistic beneath the tabard, allowing for it to still allow for optimal range of movements when using her sword. The armor itself is comparable to Gothic Style Plate Armor, and a matching Sallet is what she usually dons to protect her head. The gauntlets are gilded on the wrists as the greaves are decorated at the ankles with an image of a crown with a lion's head sitting at the center on the back.
Her father's great sword, a length of steel at 5'8" with an ornate etching in the center. Received as an ornamental weapon for his valor in battle, it was never intended for use in real combat, but upon having to flee her homeland, Oriel fashioned it into a blade worth fighting with by having a smith shorten the blade to make it faster to swing with. In addition, in case of a closer quarters engagement, she carries a dagger on her hip.
History: Born the first and only child to a Lord by the name of Aldebrand Schulz, Oriel's early life was spent in contentment and happiness with her father and mother at her side. By the age of four however, her mother's life would be taken by a terrible fever that left her father alone to care for her, and without a guiding hand to raise her into a proper young woman, Aldebrand instead saw that he would raise within her the only thing he knew how to upbring: A Soldier. A warrior. Even as a young child, he was firm in his teachings to her, practice sword lessons, sparring, even spending her idle hours playing "Hero" with the local village children...if she wasn't asleep, it seemed there was practice to be had. Such an upbringing lead Oriel to become extremely competitive and pride-driven, proud of the talent she'd cultivated with her father.
Of course, an idle sword-hand is of little use to anyone. Starting with no favorable treatment as a low ranking infantryman in her father's regimen, it was hard for her to grow accustomed to the life of a soldier, and even harder to be accepted by the fellows in her company. As time permised however, she would grow close and forge a bond of camaraderie with them that was shared; Even if she was the Lord's daughter, she had to struggle for every smile she saw in the barracks.
The years would go by as her father's men served the King of Elementia, and although the king's deeds were questionable, her father's loyalty remained to him. By the age of 20, Oriel would engage in her first actual battle and took her first life on the fields of war. Blood on her hands, the young woman soon found that she hadn't truly thought about what being a soldier meant. It seemed to shake her to her core...at least for a time. But, as all soldiers did, she adapted. It was either that or meeting death from another more willing adversary who shared not her remorse. Half a year of fighting before she was able to return home, only to soon find that despite her father's loyalty to the King, he soon grew fearful of the charisma that Aldebrand possessed, as well as his military prowess. With little effort, their home was entered, and her father met his end at the hands of a band of assassins bearing the King's sigil on their weapons. With her only family now perished, and her own life being pursued by those with the approval of the King, she fled and found refuge in the home of a kindly sage who was the proprietor of a library. Having now spent roughly a year out of practice and in hiding, Oriel was merely on a trip to the market before she heard the news of her "Knighthood." Now, she has a new goal in mind with her power...taking the throne from the man who spat upon her father's life, and cementing herself as Queen.
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22,404 | 648 | 13 | 707 | 516 |
Temporairement, l'embarras et l'anxiété ont été repoussés, et à sa place, l'orgueil s'est répandu et un étrange sentiment d'accomplissement. En interne, Sidero savait qu'il n'avait absolument rien fait - l'enfer, le chevalier a été gagné par la chance complète, même si on l'appelait le « destin ». Mais malgré cela, Sidero se sentait toujours spécial qu'il ait été choisi. Le chevalier suivant était le Chevalier des Ombres, un jeune Venateur Nylis. Le garçon pâle et aux cheveux foncés se dirige lentement vers la scène, et tout comme il accepte son titre, une masse sombre apparaît de son bras, suscitant un léger saut de Sidero et sa main atteignant le bâton sur son dos. Quelques secondes plus tard, tout allait bien - les ombres se sont moulées dans la forme d'un oiseau (un autre? Qu'est-ce qu'il y a avec ces chevaliers et ces oiseaux?) et il s'est dirigé vers la bannière portant son élément. Enfin, l'homme chauve était à court de rouleaux, et tous les chevaliers étaient finalement rassemblés sous leurs bannières respectives.
"Mesdames et Messieurs, vos nouveaux Chevaliers d'Elementia!"
Dès que cela a été dit, un jeu de mains s'est serré autour des épaules de Sidero, un mouvement qui ne devrait jamais être fait soudainement à un homme qui a tué plus de Trolls que vous avez des dents. Sidero a immédiatement cassé la prise en forçant les mains, avant de tourner et de réaliser qui c'était. Soupirant, il permit aux gardes maintenant mécontents de l'emmener au wagon, et juste avant qu'il ne se plaigne de son manque d'équipement, un flou de gris et d'argent se précipita dans sa vision périphérique. Se tournant rapidement, Sidero l'a vu - un loup. À en juger par sa taille, il pourrait probablement tuer l'un des plus jeunes chevaliers avec facilité, et il se dirigeait déjà vers le chevalier de lumière, sautant sur le wagon. Atteindre son épée, Sidero était à quelques secondes de couper la bête en deux et de sauver son allié, avant que la bête adopte une position plus amicale et semblable à un chien, ignorant complètement le Sidero concerné. Il se mit alors à débaucher le jeune garçon et, soupirant légèrement, Sidero s'assit dans le coin du wagon, près du cavalier. D'une façon ou d'une autre, le gamin avait réussi à dompter un loup... Les regards qu'il a reçus de certains chevaliers étaient assez embrouillés, mais cela devait être attendu - il a presque éviscéré cet animal, et si ce n'était pas parce que c'était un comportement calme, il l'aurait tué. Heureusement, il n'était pas le seul qui a été surpris par le loup, comme le chevalier du vent, Alya, a réagi d'une manière similaire, avant de s'excuser. Malgré son silence habituel, Sidero a publié ses propres excuses à court terme.
"Je m'excuse aussi, j'ai l'habitude que ces créatures soient plus... meurtrières. Je suis Sidero Denhol, heureux de vous rencontrer tous."
Dirigant son introduction à tout le groupe, Sidero resta assis là où il était, et se mit à écouter le reste des jeunes chevaliers se présenter. Le chevalier d'Arcane a présenté son renard, faisant Sidero méditer juste combien d'entre eux avaient des animaux de compagnie. Le fait d'être un maître d'animaux était-il une partie requise pour être un chevalier? Et en plus de l'arrivée soudaine de l'homme portant l'équipement d'Oriel, rien de particulièrement intéressant ne s'est produit... En parlant d'équipement, Sidero avait le strict minimum. Bien sûr, il avait ses armes, mais il s'attendait à simplement se tenir autour et regarder la cérémonie de déploiement, pas vraiment être séparé de celle-ci. Et maintenant, il était sur un chariot qui se dirigeait vers Dieu sait où. S'agissant de l'homme qui dirigeait les chevaux, Sidero a appelé.
"Dois-je avoir besoin de mon équipement où nous allons? Je n'ai que mes armes sur moi, et seulement quelques pièces d'or... Si nous avons besoin de notre équipement, pouvez-vous me déposer dans ma chambre d'auberge pour mon armure et mon équipement?"
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Name: Sidero Denholm
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Description: Standing at 6'4, 255 pounds of nearly pure muscle, Sidero is capable of carrying more than most people can lift, and does so happily - Sidero is silent to most people at first, but will carry more than his fair share of the weight, share his food, and is always willing to lend a year. He may seem like a stickler for the rules for the most part, but he simply views following the orders given to him as the easiest way to do things, and constantly strives to make life easier for others. He does not have any piercings or tattoos, but his body is littered with scars from years of hard labor and combat. He holds himself formally, rarely allowing himself to slouch or become casual. Additionally, years of combat has made him both extremely paranoid during the night, but also a light sleeper - be careful when trying to wake him up.
Knight Element: Metal
Animal Familiar: N/A
Armor Style: Heavy plate, utilizing leather for the joints. Due to the heavy weight, he is significantly slower than most other knights, but makes up for it in raw durability and strength. His main method of defense is simply taking attacks, rather than the more popular method of dodging. Hell, his fighting style is based on counter attacking while the opponent is close. His armor covers nearly every inch of his body, with only small holes provided for eyesight and air.
Signature Weapon: While he prefers to wield his sword, he is most well-known for his quarterstaff - a long piece of metal that he is very adept at using. Unlike most other weapons, it has a truly staggering weight: 45 lbs, easily enough to kill a normal man in light armor in a single hit. He is quite proficient with it, moving much faster than the average man could. Despite this, he still moves at a slow pace, slowed down by his armor and the sheer weight of the weapon. Someone with adequate speed and agility would be able to dodge most blows unscathed.
History: Sidero's origin, like many others, starts out rather humble - he was born to a simple blacksmith and a housemaid, both of whom were owned by a noble in the small town they resided in. Sidero lived in relative comfort for most of his childhood and, while he never received a formal education, was rapidly growing a strong body thanks to his years with his father at the forge. He, like most blacksmith's apprentices, forged the simplest of items - horseshoes, utensils, etc. His father wished for his son to take over after he has passed, and spent most of his youth training the boy in forge work. Sidero's childhood was mostly uneventful - occasionally getting in a fight with other kids, visiting other villagers, nothing truly extraordinary. That is, until a platoon of soldiers came to the village, seeking to rest until the next day where they planned to go to the capital. The nobleman, seeking to increase his reputation among the upper class, offered the guest room in his manor to the captain of the platoon. For the other soldiers, people around the village offered them refuge in their homes, and the Denholm family did the same. The young man that stayed their was very forgettable, spoke with a monotone voice that rarely elicited excitement from listeners.
Despite this, he held countless stories of the outside world. The lands outside of the small village Sidero had grown up in since birth, and the exotic people and cultures that existed. For hours, Sidero listened to the man drone on, and while his voice was so soft and warm that it could lull someone to sleep faster than the afternoon rays of sunlight, it's contents were what astounded Sidero. He had thought, at a young age, that he would live in the village for the rest of his life, working the same job his father had, living the same life, and dying in the place he was born. But this normal, unassuming soldier opened his eyes to the possibilities; he wasn't chained down, forced to live a life that was already experienced. He could live his own life, forge his own path. At the age of 15, Sidero decided he would become a soldier.
Spending the next three years working in the forge and training his body for combat, Sidero quickly grew to be an incredibly impressive man physically, and while he remained behind intellectually, the passion in his heart only grew with time and, to his parents dismay, Sidero left to enlist at the local city. After 3 days of travel by foot, he finally made it to the city and, after a brief examination and being satisfied with his physical fitness, he was sent into the wilderness with several other men. Unlike the other soldiers, Sidero enlisted to help terminate monsters that attacked near towns and cities. Sidero spent the next 15 years in the corp, fighting with other men against various wildlife, anything from trolls to gryphons, and while the work was certainly bloody, Sidero enjoyed every second of it. He had experienced more in the last 15 years than he ever would of in that village, that he was sure of. About 3 months into his 33rd year of life, he had heard news of the ceremony that would decide the future Knights of Elements and, having stored up enough vacation days to last months, he set off to see the future heroes of the kingdom. After all, Sidero loved experiencing things more than anything else in the world. He now stood in the capital of Elementia, waiting along with the rest of the crowd to see who would be declared as chosen by the gods.
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Leonidas sourit à tous ceux qui frappèrent sur le wagon finalement le dernier Chevalier, le Chevalier de la foudre, monta dans le wagon seulement pour que ses yeux grandissent en état de choc et que les mains du palais commencent à crier. Le wagon s'élança vers l'avant en envoyant le Chevalier de la foudre tomber de l'arrière alors qu'il tomba, il tourna en révélant les 7 flèches qui dépassaient les Chevaliers.
"Qu'est-ce que c'était que ça?" Leonidas a demandé à regarder autour d'essayer de voir juste à temps pour voir une volley de Flèches volant vers le wagon.
"Tout le monde se couvre!" il a crié couvrant sa tête et son loup essayant de les protéger des flèches.
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Name: Leonidas Gainsborough
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Description:
Knight Element: Light
Animal Familiar: "Garo" Timber Wolf
Armor Style: Knight Armor. Pictured but lose all of the crosses and such.
Signature Weapon: A Hand and a half sword looking much like this one pictured below.
History: Leonidas had dreamed of nothing more than becoming a knight since he was a small boy. His father had been a knight and he was told that he had died in battle. The rest of his village all helped him throughout his dreams. Setting up training grounds and even obstacle courses and holding mock battle scenario's to help him train. Finally, he reached the age of 17 and This allowed him to earn a trip to the capital city and possibly be selected as a Knight of Elementia.
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Le Capital, Elementia
Volke Arno
Arno regardait qu'ils étaient élevés vers un wagon, il était déjà monté sur des chariots pendant les marches. D'habitude, seules les troupes les plus blindées sont montées sur les chariots, pour sauver leur endurance. Bien sûr, ils étaient tristement célèbres pour avoir roulé des cercueils contre des embuscades ennemies. Mais Lady Oriel était mise sur le chariot, donc Arno a dû suivre. Les ouvriers du palais essayèrent de l'aider à monter dans le wagon, mais Arno les repoussa de lui, il put monter sur un wagon lui-même. Il s'est hissé sur le transport et a pris place à côté de Lady Oriel, et bientôt un homme âgé est venu courir par-dessus, portant étonnamment un coffre vers eux. Il donna le coffre à Oriel, et les deux mots échangés. Arno a étudié le visage des hommes et l'a consacré à la mémoire, à en juger par leur conversation, il l'a cachée de la couronne. Il devra le remercier plus tard.
Le chevalier de lumière siffla et un loup sauta sur le chariot, l'apparition soudaine d'un loup poussa Arno à mettre une main sur son warhammer, mais il ne le tira pas. Si un loup voulait les attaquer, il aurait sauté sur quelqu'un avec ses mâchoires dans le cou, pas sur le pont du wagon lui-même. Le loup lui-même était impressionnant, comme la plupart des loups l'étaient. En réponse, un oiseau de proie magique venait d'un autre bras de Chevaliers. Elle a dit son nom et c'est devenu un tatouage sur son bras. Celui avec le loup s'est présenté comme Leonidas et celui avec le faucon s'est présenté comme Alya Frei. Ensuite le Chevalier de l'Esprit s'est présenté, avec la grâce et les paroles pratiquées d'un noble. Arno connaissait son espèce, et espérait qu'il n'était pas comme la plupart de ses pairs. Le chevalier d'Arcane s'est présenté ensuite, disant qu'elle s'appelait Mira Bellwood tout en faisant un curtsy. D'habitude, les jeunes nobles ou les royaux le faisaient. Arno a vu que le suivant avait convoqué un renard de l'air mince. Arno s'est entendu après ça. Il soupira tout simplement, et ensevelit son visage dans sa main gauche, reposant son coude sur son genou. Est-ce qu'il a rejoint un cirque?
Alors que le dernier chevalier commençait à monter sur le wagon, il se déplaçait brusquement, faisant perdre l'emprise du dernier chevalier. Il est tombé, révélant sept flèches dans son dos. Arno a rapidement glissé ses casques sur sa tête et a détaché le bouclier de son dos. Leonidas s'est couvert la tête et a crié à tout le monde de se couvrir. Quelle couverture? Arno pensa, il saisit l'épaule de Lady Oriel de sa main droite et la tira vers le sol. Il se leva rapidement et leva son bouclier, debout entre sa Dame et l'arrivée des flèches. Une seconde plus tard, il se sentit et entendit une demi-douzaine de gourdins lourds sur son bouclier, et quelques coups éblouissants de ses poudrons et de son casque. Arno regarda derrière lui pour s'assurer que Lady Oriel était en sécurité. Il a crié : « Il faut sortir de cette embuscade! »
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Name: Arno Folke
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Description: Arno is one of the shortest people in all the land, standing at 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Although he's lighter than most people who are taller than he is, he is incredibly strong for his height and weight. Over his body is a fair number of scars, mostly around his arms and legs, where enemies struck around his guard or where he was armored less. The most notable scar is a cut on his left cheek when he took a glancing blow from a warhammer to his helmet, which gouged a hole into the side of it. The jagged metal from the hole cut his cheek. Arno keeps his hair mid length and wild, keeping it away from his eyes with a piece of striped cloth. He also has a well kept short mustache and beard.
Knight Element: Earth
Familiar: Sapphira the Oread, Mountain Nymph.
Armor Style: Mixed plate and mail armor . Over the years Arno has gathered the funds to purchase more and more armor, and not wanting to waste, he's bought armor that compliments his previous ones well. Over his normal pants and shirt he has a long aketon, a padded jacket made of quilted wool to be worn under armor plate. The aketon ends at his knees, with the lower half having riveted steel plates attached, essentially turning it into half of a coat of plates. Over the aketon he wears a mail hauberk. Over that is finally a milanese styled breastplate and asymmetrical pauldrons, the left pauldron being larger than the right and overlapping the breastplate. For his arms, Arno has acquired Gothic styled plate, the rerebrace for his upper arm, couter for his elbow joint, vambrace for forearm and gauntlets for his hands. For his legs he's only kept his Milanese style cuisses, selling his poleyn, greaves and sabatons in favor for much more comfortable leather boots with steel plates strapped to them. His most valuable piece of armor is his Maximilian gorget, a fully articulated piece of armor meant to protect his neck. On his head he wears a quilted arming cap, bascinet with a mail coif attached, tucked underneath the gorget, and topping it all off is a painted great helmet.
Signature Weapon: A shortened Lucerne hammer, called the Falcon's Talon. Arno also has an arming sword as a sidearm, a rondel dagger, both on his belt, and a sword-hilt dagger strapped to his right boot. Arno also has a heater shield painted white and red to match his helmet.
History:
At the age of 15, Arno left his village to become a soldier under the command of Aldebrand Schulz, a kindhearted and charismatic noble. He heard the call, and with a desire of adventure, he answered. He was given a spear, a poorly made wooden shield, and no armor. He was trained for a year before marching out with a group of recruits. The next several years were rough, as the youngest and smallest, Arno was bullied by his fellow soldiers when they weren't fighting, and when they were he was on the front lines in the middle of the battle standing and holding a formation against another formation. As Arno became more adept at combat, he fought against his bullies nearly killing one. He earned the nickname, the small demon, in his regiment. Arno spent his pay on armor and weapons, slowly becoming more armored, more skilled in fighting with and without weapons, overall becoming much deadlier and looking more like those noble and wealthy Knights and Lords that strutted around with their polished and shiny steel plate armor. The ones who looked down on the peasant troops and used them as meatshields in battle.
Ten years after he had joined the warband of Lord Aldebrand Schulz, Arno had been promoted from a peasant spearman to a foot knight who fought alongside wealthier troops who could afford their armor, or had been granted armor by someone else. By this time Arno wielded his Falcon's Talon, had plate steel, and his great helmet with the mouth of a demon painted on the visor. While traveling alongside an allied group, a nobleman insulted the honor of Lord Schulz's troops. Calling his foot knight group a group of poor thieving churls. Morale took a hit as nobody dared to say anything back, how could they? After all they were peasants, and the one insulting them was of noble blood. Until Arno blurted out that the noble was a cox comb fool who had no idea what real war felt like, judging by the shine of his spotless boots and well groomed horse. The noble was insulted and challenged Arno to a duel of honor, to which Arno agreed. It only took a few moments before Arno had parried the longsword of the nobleman and planted his warhammer into the chest of the nobleman, denting his breastplate severely and throwing him to the floor. While the incident was swept under the rug, the peasant-soldiers of Lord Aldebrand Schulz told the story about the little demon who defeated the stuck up nobleman to each other for years.
After the duel Arno had gained a bit of a reputation. He was given leadership of a group of soldiers by the Knight in charge of the section that Arno was in. Fifty soldiers, hand picked, armed to the teeth and armored from head to toe. They were called the Peasant Demons of Shulz by the other noblemen, a name they proudly accepted. The Peasant Demons were an elite group in Lord Aldebrand Schulz's warband, sent in from the flank to smash into the rear or side of the enemy army. Arno lead this group of elite soldiers for five years before he retired now 27 years old, a veteran soldier of countless battles, a master duelist, and an expert at war. That was two years ago, and now he lives in a small wooden house near a village, keeping his skills sharp and working as a hunter under an alias.
Changelog List
>1.1
>Fixed age discrepancy in History
>Added colors
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Telius a vu les regards désagréables de plusieurs autres Chevaliers après qu'il se soit présenté. Il s'était attendu à une partie de cela, ceux de la naissance commune avaient tendance à juger son espèce assez rapidement. Certains nobles méritaient certainement la haine, tout comme d'autres gens ordinaires. Telius a trouvé le jugement irritant, mais a tenu poliment sa langue. Il avait découvert qu'en répondant aux gens ordinaires, en leur disant qu'en le jugeant comme ils l'ont fait, ils s'inclinaient au niveau des nobles qu'ils haïssaient tant, la haine avait tendance à s'aggraver. Ils sont devenus en colère parce qu'il avait raison.
Le suivant pour se présenter était le Chevalier d'Arcane Spirit, Mira Bellwood. La dame prit place à côté de Telius, et une fois de plus, il se sentit étrangement attiré par elle et son renard, Fayla. Alors qu'elle s'asseyait à côté de lui, il ressentait une étrange sensation dans sa poitrine. Le désir ardent de l'aider, de la garder en sécurité. Telius ne savait pas pourquoi. Peut-être parce qu'elle partageait quelques similitudes avec le deuxième plus jeune de ses sœurs. Une sorte de mouton noir de la famille avec les cheveux bruns de leur mère, plutôt que le pourpre de leur père.
Telius s'assit tranquillement au moment où chaque chevalier se présenta et prit place sur le wagon. À mesure que le dernier Chevalier marchait, le chariot luttait vers l'avant, et le Chevalier, se dirigeant vers l'avant pour révéler sept flèches enchâssées dans son dos. Mort. Le Chevalier de Lumière a révélé son inexpérience en restant où il était, couvrant sa tête comme si cela le protégerait des flèches. L'instinct s'en est pris aux nobles. Il a glissé sur son siège et s'est accroupi sur le sol, se faisant une cible plus petite. Comme il l'a fait, il s'est emparé doucement du poignet de Mlle Bellwood et l'a tirée aussi. Puis, atteignant le wagon, et risquant la morsure du loup, il fit la même chose à Léonidas.
Le noble s'accorda quand le petit homme en armure lourde cria qu'il leur fallait sortir de l'embuscade. « D'accord, à la fois s'éloigner du wagon et rester à l'intérieur ont leurs risques, mais je préfère prendre mes chances en plein air. Du moins pour moi, les chances de survie sont plus élevées. » Les yeux de Crimson scannaient ses compagnons, essayant de formuler une sorte de plan. Il était sûr qu'il y avait d'autres chefs parmi les Chevaliers, et est-ce qu'ils ont trouvé un meilleur plan que lui, Telius serait heureux de céder à leur direction. "Mlle Bellwood, Mlle Frei, pouvez-vous retourner au feu? Cela peut les distraire suffisamment pour nous permettre de nous éloigner du wagon sans trop de risque. »
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Name: Telius Arden
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
Telius stands at about 5' 10" and weighs about 170lbs. He has the build of a warrior, being made up almost entirely of well defined muscles. He has a light complexion that is not unblemished. There's a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, as well as several scars, all of which he's proud of. His hair is bright red in color and reaches his ears, his bangs are slightly longer, enough so to sometimes get in his eyes, and sweep to the right.
Knight Element: Spirit
Animal Familiar: None
Armor Style: Minimal, instead of wearing a full suit of armor, which would hinder his movement, he wears pieces to protect certain areas of his body, mainly his chest, neck, shoulders, arms, and most parts of his legs. The armor is red in color with yellow trim, representing his family's colors.
Signature Weapon: Telius wields a classical warrior's weapon, the longsword, a blade that is thinner than a hand and half sword, but also longer.
History: Telius is the oldest child in his family, and also the only male. Thus there was a lot of pressure on him to become a warrior his parents could be proud of. The Arden family is of noble status, known for their warriors. There have been several members of the family who had moved on to become Knights. So at the same time that Telius was learning to how to read, write, dance, and all the other things that noble children get to learn, for several hours a day he was trained in the ways of a sword. At first he hated it, because it was something he was forced to do, but in a few short years learned to love it. It was the one time he really got to be himself, rather than the noble he was expected to be.
Eventually Telius graduated from practice weapons to real swords. Though he had shown some skill in other blades, his style seemed to lend itself to the longsword, so that's what he focused on. Eventually he was allowed to join a company of warriors on a bandit hunt. His first taste at real combat didn't end well, inexperience caused him to get injured during the battle. But it didn't discourage him, when he healed, he was right back to training. He continued going out and fighting real battles, gaining experience and getting stronger as time passed. He showed quite a bit of leadership skills when he was asked to lead a company for the first time.
When it was time for the next Knights to be announced, Telius, like many others, traveled from his home to go to the event. Not because he actually thought he was going to be chosen, he was far too humble for that, but because he simply wanted to see who was chosen.
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Le Capital, Elementia
Alya pour la plupart a étudié le langage corporel de chaque personne, en essayant de comprendre ce qu'ils ressentaient en ce moment actuel. Elle ne pouvait rien prendre parce que ses compétences sociales étaient aussi habiles qu'un animal solitaire. La femme qui s'est présentée comme « Oriel » avait proposé une proposition intéressante. Quelque chose que la Huntress était assez intriguée. Les coutumes de ceux qui ne se ressemblent pas. Jusqu'à présent, personne ne lui avait proposé de l'aider à comprendre leur culture, alors l'entendre d'un autre chevalier était plutôt agréable. -- J'adorerais ça, Oriel! Elle répondit d'un ton joyeux, assise à côté d'elle dans le wagon.
Comme l'autre s'est présenté, le Chevalier de la foudre s'est déplacé vers le wagon.. Mais soudain est tombé mort avec une bonne quantité de flèches dans son dos. En voyant cela, elle a immédiatement décroché son pistolet à souffler de sa ceinture, en chargeant une fléchette dedans. Elle est sortie de son siège, sa position au sol. Les foules avaient commencé à crier et à sortir du centre-ville. Un chaos complet.
"Quelle étrange coutume les citadins ont-ils!", Alya riait d'une manière cynique. La vue d'un camarade tombé a peu fait à sa psyché. La mort était une chose courante. Seuls les forts survivent.
Alya a été la première à répondre à la suggestion d'Arno, en sortant du wagon. Il y avait quelque chose d'étrange sur le vent. En un instant, elle a marché sur le côté et a arraché une flèche dans l'air au milieu du vol. Elle regarda Telius en jetant la flèche de côté. "Mes armes n'ont pas ce genre de portée. Mais je vais aller les traquer." Elle répondit fermement avant de se diriger vers la direction d'où venaient les flèches, comme si elle n'entendait pas la seconde partie de la phrase de Telius. Elle n'allait pas utiliser Akash pour voler, car cela ferait d'elle une cible plus facile. La chasseuse voulait utiliser la foule qui s'estompait comme une forme de dissimulation.
Tisser à travers les vagues des gens, elle a progressé vers l'endroit où elle pensait que l'ennemi était, étant sûr de garder son corps bas et difficile à cibler. Au fur et à mesure qu'elle bouge, elle libère Akash de sa forme de tatouage. "Soyez mes yeux." Elle a commandé. Le faucon s'est envolé dans le ciel, à la recherche des assaillants.
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Name: Alya Frei
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Description:
Alya Frei is around 5'7", making her relatively average in height compared to most people, if not on the shorter side. Her build can be described as 'Athletic'. She has silver hair and golden eyes (As shown in the image). On her right arm is a black falcon tattoo that can be described as 'tribal', this tattoo often shifts form as the bird moves around her body (As it is a living being), however it will not move in the presence of others.
Knight Element: Air
Animal Familiar:
Alya's tattoo is actually her familiar; bestowed upon her from a young age by her parents. The falcon can be called upon at any time and it's size can vary depending on Alya's wishes, ranging from the size of a normal falcon to the size of a Roc. The latter being uncommon. The falcon's name is Akash.
Armor Style:
Alya wears mostly leather armor and cloth as such materials are light and flexible. Parts of her clothing has tinges of dark green. She wears a dark green cape with a swirling symbol.
Signature Weapon:
Alya uses a small arsenal of hunting weapons which includes: A blow gun with various darts, bolas, a sling, a boomerang, and a hunting knife.
History:
Born to a nomadic hunting family, Alya has spent most of her life in the wilderness. She, along with her siblings, enjoyed exploring the wilderness and often got into trouble by being mistaken for bandits whenever they came across a travelling caravan. The stories that they had been told about the Knights of Elementia made them wonder if they could ever be granted such power, however Alya was rather disinterested as it seemed like something that would tie her down. Although she felt that if it were to happen, then she would just need to ‘go with the flow’.
Like the rest of her family and their ancestors, she was blessed with an animal guardian. While such things were mostly tradition and held no real magical power, Alya’s guardian slowly came to life much to the surprise of her family. They believed that she may actually be blessed. But such things didn’t truly change how her family lived, and it was merely seen as ‘fate’.
By the age of 19, Alya had separated from her family, choosing to find her own way in the world. She travelled continuously, moving from town to town learning more about the country in which she lived. When the Knights of Elementia were to be announced, she went to the city out of curiosity, wondering if her blessing may mean something more.
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Mira n'a pas réalisé ce qui se passait jusqu'à ce que Telius la tire pour la protéger d'une flèche entrante. Fayla s'enveloppait de façon protectrice autour de Mira et Telius. "Je suis d'accord qu'on doit sortir d'ici" Elle a piqué la tête et s'est encore enfuie quand une flèche a volé au-dessus de sa tête. Elle a eu un mauvais sourire quand Telius lui a demandé de retourner au feu "Avec plaisir" Elle a dit surgissant. Sa robe flare autour d'elle alors qu'elle posait son arc. Elle a puisé autant de pouvoir que possible dans son environnement, mais elle a remarqué que c'était plus fort cette fois. Elle tirait du pouvoir d'une autre source. Son arc brillait d'un bleu plus brillant qu'il ne l'avait jamais eu auparavant. Elle a tiré sur une flèche aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait et s'est rechargée aussi vite que possible. Elle n'avait aucune idée si elle a frappé l'un d'eux tout ce qu'elle savait est un, elle essayait juste de causer une distraction et deux elle ne voulait pas frapper Alya alors qu'elle allait chasser les gens qui les attaquaient. "Fayla cherche et détruit ma fille chérie" Elle a dit à son renard qui s'est levé et a sauté du chariot en disparaissant dans l'air mince pour faire comme on lui a dit. Comme elle était sur le point de tirer une autre flèche, elle a crié comme une flèche a percé son épaule. Mira a lâché son arc alors qu'elle s'est mise à genoux. "Ces stupides fils de putes" Elle a crié en lui griffant l'épaule. L'instinct de Mira était de contacter Telius et elle n'avait aucune idée de pourquoi.
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Name: Mira Bellwood
Gender: Female
Age: 24
is about 5'3" with brown hair and bright ice blue eyes. She has an athletic build and a tan skin. Mira is stubborn, kind hearted, flirty, protective and proud. Mira has a scar across her chest.
Knight Element: Arcane Spirit
Animal Familiar: arcane fox
Armor Style: Cloth and Leather. Her armor reflex's her personality, movable yet stable.
Signature Weapon: bright blue bow with arcane swirls over it. Her quivers hangs at her hips with a special saying in the leather strap from her mother.
History: Mira was born royalty. She is the neighboring princess that everyone thinks it's dead. When she was the age of 15 her mother was murdered and no one knows who did it, but Mira had a pretty go idea that it was from the tryrant King's kingdom. When her father remarried her step mother never care about either one of them, she only cared about the title, money, and getting rid of Mira.
At the age of 24 she had been gone from her kingdom 7 years. She was kidnapped from her bed when she was 17. Mira finally escaped her captor after 3years but she was dead to the rest to the kingdom.
She taught her self how to fight and survive on her own. A villager of a small town gave her the bow and arrow and taught her how to make her own arrows. Mira knew she was different always had but she didn't realize how different. When she found out about the choosing of Knight she had to do for herself and her mother. Little did she know there was more secrets to be uncovered.
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Les autres ont continué à parler entre eux alors que Sidero attendait impatiemment sa réponse du conducteur. Les autres ne semblaient pas s'inquiéter autant de sa présence, et les sons des diverses espèces sauvages derrière lui ne servaient qu'à le garder à l'écart. Les bruits des animaux étaient un peu bizarres, du moins pour lui. Tandis que la plupart trouvaient réconfort dans la purée de chats et le gémissement de chiens, Sidero avait été conditionné des années dans le désert, les années de regarder ses amis et camarades tomber aux ours, gros chats, etc. Il ne pouvait pas se détendre avec leur présence, et le grand nombre d'entre eux n'a servi qu'à le provoquer encore plus. Ceci, combiné à l'absence de réponse du conducteur, a amené Sidero à se pencher vers l'avant. Le conducteur s'est assis là, ou à tout le moins, son cadavre l'a fait. Une flèche bourdonnait brutalement de son côté, évitant facilement les os piquants et les bouts durs qui ralentiraient son avance. Le sang s'est emparé au-dessous de lui, en piquant le côté du wagon, et c'était clair - en fonction de la profondeur brute de la flèche et de son angle, il a dû perforer un poumon, et peut-être percé le cœur. Il était mort, pas besoin de prendre son pouls. Sidero l'a immédiatement attrapé, le jetant sur ses épaules, tout comme le chevalier de l'éclairage lâchait une petite bouffée. Snappant sa tête vers l'avant, Sidero a vu que l'homme lourd était presque certainement mort, avec plusieurs flèches furieusement saillant de son dos. Il est tombé, atterrissant sur la face du sol d'abord, permettant aux flèches d'être vues en pleine gloire. Des flashbacks de camps de gobelins ont inondé son esprit, et Sidero a rapidement atteint Tirell, le tirant sur le wagon comme une flèche a volé à droite par sa tête. Tirell était mort.
"Tout le monde se couvre!"
Le plan ne semblait pas sonner - le wagon n'avait pas de toit, et même si c'était le cas, les flèches des archers puissants pouvaient percer le fer. Un chariot en bois n'avait aucune chance contre eux. L'homme court, Arno, a exprimé son propre plan.
"Nous devons sortir de cette embuscade!"
Sidero hoche la tête, tenant les cadavres des deux hommes comme il l'a fait. Leurs espoirs n'étaient pas de les vaincre ici - le groupe n'avait aucune idée où étaient les archers, et même si tu le faisais, que pouvaient-ils faire? Seulement deux d'entre eux avaient la portée potentielle pour atteindre de longues distances, et ils étaient fortement plus nombreux. Le mieux qu'ils pouvaient espérer, c'est que le gardien soit venu. En parlant de, où étaient-ils? Ils auraient dû être des gardes du corps, des escortes, quoi que ce soit pour donner un semblant de sécurité? Après tout, les chevaliers étaient apparemment des célébrités, donc on aurait dû s'attendre à un assassinat. Et maintenant, il y avait deux morts. Sidero a été brisé de ses pensées comme un léger cri à sa droite a éclaté. Tourner a révélé le chevalier d'Arcane, une flèche qui sortait de son épaule. C'était ça, rester toujours n'était pas une option. Si Sidero avait son armure, les flèches seraient incapables de le percer à moins qu'ils n'aient un poids de tirage de 100 livres, et même alors l'armure le ralentirait assez pour être non fatal. Mais ici, la seule chose disponible était ses années d'expérience et les matériaux à portée de main. Soupirant légèrement, Sidero a appelé le reste du groupe.
Nous n'avons rien à nous cacher. Arno a raison, il faut qu'on parte d'ici. Je vais d'abord tirer leur feu. Vous pouvez vous précipiter jusqu'à l'immeuble à gauche pour vous couvrir, et je vous suivrai quand vous serez en sécurité. Si je suis touché, continuez à courir, ils prendront le temps de me tuer. Soyez aussi rapide que possible."
Ils avaient peu de temps pour être rapides, et les flèches frappaient le sol autour d'eux avec une grande force. Se dirigeant vers l'avant du wagon, Sidero a atteint les rênes. Il a réussi à les saisir, il a fait ce qu'il avait à faire - Tirant toutes les flèches libres de leurs prisons charnues, il a commencé à lier le conducteur à son dos, et après avoir terminé, a commencé à faire de même avec le chevalier de l'éclairage. Cependant, grâce à son poids, Sidero avait aussi besoin de le retenir à l'aide de ses mains. Au total, il n'allait pas se déplacer très rapidement, et les corps étaient extrêmement lourds à porter. Mais c'était tout ce qu'il avait. La douleur a frappé son cœur, le fait qu'il allait utiliser les cadavres d'autres qui l'ont vraiment touché. Sidero a promis de visiter leurs funérailles. Enfin prêt, Sidero s'est tourné vers les autres, avant d'appeler sincèrement.
"Si quelqu'un a un meilleur plan que ça, j'aimerais l'entendre."
Bien sûr, c'était probablement la meilleure façon d'agir. Le risque que tout le monde soit touché était faible, et il avait le plus de protection contre tous. Même s'il est mort, ça n'a pas vraiment d'importance - il était beaucoup plus âgé qu'eux, donc leur vie était plus importante que la sienne. Sidero s'est préparé. Le second quelqu'un a fait un mouvement pour quitter le wagon, il sautait dehors, permettant aux flèches d'être dirigé sur lui. Le meilleur scénario, tout le monde vit et seulement 2 cadavres sont profanés. Dans le pire des cas, ils meurent tous.
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Name: Sidero Denholm
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Description: Standing at 6'4, 255 pounds of nearly pure muscle, Sidero is capable of carrying more than most people can lift, and does so happily - Sidero is silent to most people at first, but will carry more than his fair share of the weight, share his food, and is always willing to lend a year. He may seem like a stickler for the rules for the most part, but he simply views following the orders given to him as the easiest way to do things, and constantly strives to make life easier for others. He does not have any piercings or tattoos, but his body is littered with scars from years of hard labor and combat. He holds himself formally, rarely allowing himself to slouch or become casual. Additionally, years of combat has made him both extremely paranoid during the night, but also a light sleeper - be careful when trying to wake him up.
Knight Element: Metal
Animal Familiar: N/A
Armor Style: Heavy plate, utilizing leather for the joints. Due to the heavy weight, he is significantly slower than most other knights, but makes up for it in raw durability and strength. His main method of defense is simply taking attacks, rather than the more popular method of dodging. Hell, his fighting style is based on counter attacking while the opponent is close. His armor covers nearly every inch of his body, with only small holes provided for eyesight and air.
Signature Weapon: While he prefers to wield his sword, he is most well-known for his quarterstaff - a long piece of metal that he is very adept at using. Unlike most other weapons, it has a truly staggering weight: 45 lbs, easily enough to kill a normal man in light armor in a single hit. He is quite proficient with it, moving much faster than the average man could. Despite this, he still moves at a slow pace, slowed down by his armor and the sheer weight of the weapon. Someone with adequate speed and agility would be able to dodge most blows unscathed.
History: Sidero's origin, like many others, starts out rather humble - he was born to a simple blacksmith and a housemaid, both of whom were owned by a noble in the small town they resided in. Sidero lived in relative comfort for most of his childhood and, while he never received a formal education, was rapidly growing a strong body thanks to his years with his father at the forge. He, like most blacksmith's apprentices, forged the simplest of items - horseshoes, utensils, etc. His father wished for his son to take over after he has passed, and spent most of his youth training the boy in forge work. Sidero's childhood was mostly uneventful - occasionally getting in a fight with other kids, visiting other villagers, nothing truly extraordinary. That is, until a platoon of soldiers came to the village, seeking to rest until the next day where they planned to go to the capital. The nobleman, seeking to increase his reputation among the upper class, offered the guest room in his manor to the captain of the platoon. For the other soldiers, people around the village offered them refuge in their homes, and the Denholm family did the same. The young man that stayed their was very forgettable, spoke with a monotone voice that rarely elicited excitement from listeners.
Despite this, he held countless stories of the outside world. The lands outside of the small village Sidero had grown up in since birth, and the exotic people and cultures that existed. For hours, Sidero listened to the man drone on, and while his voice was so soft and warm that it could lull someone to sleep faster than the afternoon rays of sunlight, it's contents were what astounded Sidero. He had thought, at a young age, that he would live in the village for the rest of his life, working the same job his father had, living the same life, and dying in the place he was born. But this normal, unassuming soldier opened his eyes to the possibilities; he wasn't chained down, forced to live a life that was already experienced. He could live his own life, forge his own path. At the age of 15, Sidero decided he would become a soldier.
Spending the next three years working in the forge and training his body for combat, Sidero quickly grew to be an incredibly impressive man physically, and while he remained behind intellectually, the passion in his heart only grew with time and, to his parents dismay, Sidero left to enlist at the local city. After 3 days of travel by foot, he finally made it to the city and, after a brief examination and being satisfied with his physical fitness, he was sent into the wilderness with several other men. Unlike the other soldiers, Sidero enlisted to help terminate monsters that attacked near towns and cities. Sidero spent the next 15 years in the corp, fighting with other men against various wildlife, anything from trolls to gryphons, and while the work was certainly bloody, Sidero enjoyed every second of it. He had experienced more in the last 15 years than he ever would of in that village, that he was sure of. About 3 months into his 33rd year of life, he had heard news of the ceremony that would decide the future Knights of Elements and, having stored up enough vacation days to last months, he set off to see the future heroes of the kingdom. After all, Sidero loved experiencing things more than anything else in the world. He now stood in the capital of Elementia, waiting along with the rest of the crowd to see who would be declared as chosen by the gods.
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Venator se déplaçait dès que la première flèche frappait, l'instinct prenant le relais en voûtant le côté de la voiture et en prenant la couverture, profitant du désordre désorganisé du mouvement pour s'éloigner du danger immédiat et glisser dans les ombres voisines avec son corbeau près derrière. Il jeta un regard épargnant sur le chevalier déchus, un homme qui aurait été son camarade, mais qui ne se sentait guère au-dessus de sa mort. Il y avait peu d'intérêt à verser des larmes ou à se mettre en colère contre un homme qu'il ne connaissait pas. Au lieu de cela, il tendit son bras pour que son corbeau se perche, inclinant sa tête curieusement alors qu'il lui donnait ses instructions.
"Trouvez-les."
Avec ces deux mots, l'oiseau ressemblant à l'ombre s'envola et tira vers l'endroit d'où provenaient les flèches, se dissipant en fumée noire après une courte distance. Agissant sur l'instinct, il ferma les yeux quand soudain sa vision changea. Les couleurs s'étaient drainées et les bords des bâtiments brouillaient comme de la fumée sur l'eau en voyant sept figures se cacher dans l'ombre d'une position dans l'air, leurs corps resplendissant doucement avec la lumière argentée contre l'environnement gris sombre. Son point de vue a entouré les archers cachés alors qu'ils brouillaient pour éviter les deux coups de représailles de la fille archer aux cheveux bruns, l'un des sept tombant sans vie en conséquence, avant de laisser perdre quelques coups en retour. Vu le circuit de vol, il a deviné qu'il voyait à travers les yeux de son corbeau... Relâchant sa vision du Corbeau, il mit une main sur ses yeux et secoua légèrement la tête dans une tentative d'effacer la sensation bizarre qui s'ensuivit avant qu'il ne tourne la tête brusquement au cri de la douleur de Mira. Fonçant légèrement à la perte effective de l'autre archer, il s'est rapidement recentré sur les 6 assassins restants.
Préparant son arc, il se dirigea vers l'endroit où il les avait vus en dernier. Se concentrant sur son regard, il pouvait vaguement distinguer la silhouette de quelques-uns d'entre eux, et a décidé de s'appuyer sur sa chance. Lentement inhalé, il retena la flèche sur sa longbow pendant trois secondes avant de la relâcher. Il ne pouvait pas voir où le tir avait atterri, mais même à une telle distance, la force substantielle derrière la flèche était suffisante pour faire reculer l'homme à plusieurs pas. En le voyant tomber, il a rapidement laissé perdre une seconde flèche pour confirmer le meurtre avant de chercher sa prochaine cible. Avec n'importe quelle chance, il pourrait juste passer à travers aujourd'hui en vie...
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Name: Venator Nylis, or 'Ven' to close friends
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
5'11" tall and slim but well-muscled in build, with a pitch black hair tipped with silver and similarly silver eyes. His skin is slightly paler than most, and he has a small scar cutting across his right eyebrow.
Knight Element: Darkness
Animal Familiar: 'Corvo', a Shade Raven
Armour Style: Black Steel Half-plate, provides good protection while remaining lighter than full plate armour. Black plates of steel armour cover his torso, shoulders, lower legs, feet, forearms and hands. He wears a black tunic and trousers underneath, with a long black scarf loosely around his neck.
Signature Weapon: An dark silver bow engraved in black with a quiver on both hips.
History: Raised in a poorer village of the country, Venator was orphaned before he could remember and raised in a communal orphanage owned by a neglectful and arrogant noble woman. To make ends meet, he turned to crime and he became a natural thief with his sharp, analytical mind and quick reflexes. He spent years breaking in and stealing valuables from the homes of nearby nobles until, age 12, his luck ran out and he was caught. Luckily, the man was a passing Knight who took pity on the boy and adopted him. He trained Venator as a knight, and he took to the training quickly.
He eventually became a wandering mercenary/bounty hunter, where he used his rewards to support himself and the village he came from. As a warrior, he was a skilled fighter and tactician with a kind heart, but was closed off and anti-social. He did whatever he could to support and protect the common man, but never stayed long enough to make friends. At the behest of his mentor/adoptive father, he accompanied the veteran Knight to the Announcement Ceremony but he wasn't expecting for his name to be called as the Knight of Darkness...
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Une tentative d'assassinat n'était pas loin de la première chose qu'Oriel attendait. En fait, il était probablement dans le top 5. Quoi qu'il en soit, le danger était présent, et juste avant qu'elle ne soit prête à sortir avec ses bagages contenant son armure comme bouclier, Arno s'est déplacée pour la défendre, défendant sans faille les flèches... bien qu'il semblait que leur Chevalier de la foudre ait été certainement tué. Alors qu'elle avait déjà vu la mort, plusieurs fois même, l'idée que cette attaque était si effrontée l'a encore un peu secouée. Le Chevalier du Métal semblait avoir une forme de désir de mort, et en tant que tel offrait de tirer leur feu avec rien d'autre que deux cadavres attachés à son dos. "Si j'avais le luxe du temps, j'offrirais de faire la même chose." Elle a dit, en ouvrant son coffre et en jetant hâtivement le Chevalier du Métal son sellet. "Mais nous n'avons pas grand-chose dans le temps. Je doute qu'ils vous tirent dessus avec vos boucliers... ils vous laisseraient probablement en dernier." Elle a dit de mettre ses gantelets. "Acheter du temps avec plus de corps n'est pas satisfaisant... mais je n'ai pas de meilleur plan. Sauf si vous voulez prendre le temps d'utiliser mon armure." Elle a offert, se tournant vers le Mira blessé et grimaçant. Si le Chevalier du Métal ne s'en souciait pas un peu, son armure pourrait très bien lui sauver la vie. Une flèche dans l'épaule... et d'après leurs regards, aucune des parties n'était médecin d'aucune sorte.
Alors qu'elle n'était pas médecin, elle avait vu beaucoup d'idiots penser qu'enlever la flèche était une chose intelligente à faire, et en tant que telle a dit: "Ne la touchez pas. Vous perdrez plus de sang." C'était mauvais... heureusement, elle avait eu au moins un certain degré de protection et ce n'était pas de la chaîne, mais un coup de feu dans l'épaule était sérieux. Ils devaient mettre Mira en sécurité, ou son épaule pourrait très bien guérir incorrectement, ou ils pourraient tous être abattus à mort. "Arno, nous devons sortir Mira d'ici. Telius, pourriez-vous prêter une épaule?"
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Name: Oriel Schulz
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Description: A fair-skinned young woman with golden hair and cyan eyes, Oriel hails from a nation to the west of the main capital of Elementia. Standing at 6'1", she is taller than most women. Despite the air of nobility she carries about herself, she also bears scars from the battles she fought trying to secure her station, as well as the musculature that comes with her weapon's usage.
Knight Element: Fire
Animal Familiar: Dragon Hatchling, roughly the size of a Gila Monster. Can barely spout flames on its own, but is durable, and has potential to grow into a full sized dragon within her lifespan.
Armor Style: An ornate set of red armor inherited from her father beneath a matching crimson tabard, treasured dearly by Oriel. The design is minimalistic beneath the tabard, allowing for it to still allow for optimal range of movements when using her sword. The armor itself is comparable to Gothic Style Plate Armor, and a matching Sallet is what she usually dons to protect her head. The gauntlets are gilded on the wrists as the greaves are decorated at the ankles with an image of a crown with a lion's head sitting at the center on the back.
Her father's great sword, a length of steel at 5'8" with an ornate etching in the center. Received as an ornamental weapon for his valor in battle, it was never intended for use in real combat, but upon having to flee her homeland, Oriel fashioned it into a blade worth fighting with by having a smith shorten the blade to make it faster to swing with. In addition, in case of a closer quarters engagement, she carries a dagger on her hip.
History: Born the first and only child to a Lord by the name of Aldebrand Schulz, Oriel's early life was spent in contentment and happiness with her father and mother at her side. By the age of four however, her mother's life would be taken by a terrible fever that left her father alone to care for her, and without a guiding hand to raise her into a proper young woman, Aldebrand instead saw that he would raise within her the only thing he knew how to upbring: A Soldier. A warrior. Even as a young child, he was firm in his teachings to her, practice sword lessons, sparring, even spending her idle hours playing "Hero" with the local village children...if she wasn't asleep, it seemed there was practice to be had. Such an upbringing lead Oriel to become extremely competitive and pride-driven, proud of the talent she'd cultivated with her father.
Of course, an idle sword-hand is of little use to anyone. Starting with no favorable treatment as a low ranking infantryman in her father's regimen, it was hard for her to grow accustomed to the life of a soldier, and even harder to be accepted by the fellows in her company. As time permised however, she would grow close and forge a bond of camaraderie with them that was shared; Even if she was the Lord's daughter, she had to struggle for every smile she saw in the barracks.
The years would go by as her father's men served the King of Elementia, and although the king's deeds were questionable, her father's loyalty remained to him. By the age of 20, Oriel would engage in her first actual battle and took her first life on the fields of war. Blood on her hands, the young woman soon found that she hadn't truly thought about what being a soldier meant. It seemed to shake her to her core...at least for a time. But, as all soldiers did, she adapted. It was either that or meeting death from another more willing adversary who shared not her remorse. Half a year of fighting before she was able to return home, only to soon find that despite her father's loyalty to the King, he soon grew fearful of the charisma that Aldebrand possessed, as well as his military prowess. With little effort, their home was entered, and her father met his end at the hands of a band of assassins bearing the King's sigil on their weapons. With her only family now perished, and her own life being pursued by those with the approval of the King, she fled and found refuge in the home of a kindly sage who was the proprietor of a library. Having now spent roughly a year out of practice and in hiding, Oriel was merely on a trip to the market before she heard the news of her "Knighthood." Now, she has a new goal in mind with her power...taking the throne from the man who spat upon her father's life, and cementing herself as Queen.
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Le Capital, Elementia
Volke Arno
La façon dont le Chevalier du Vent, Alya, se moquait de l'embuscade n'allait pas bien avec Arno. Il a apprécié le combat, c'était excitant, un vrai concours d'habileté dans les prouesses martiales et la stratégie, mais il ne faisait confiance à personne qui a apprécié le combat. Ceux qui cherchent la bataille sont souvent ceux qui ont brisé les rangs pour chasser l'ennemi de routage, juste dans une embuscade potentielle. Arno passa spécifiquement sur ces soldats lors de la sélection de ses hommes pour sa troupe, même quand les guerriers aimant la bataille étaient souvent plus habiles. Il avait besoin d'hommes pour tenir une formation, pas pour la briser et transformer une bataille en quelque chose comme une bagarre de rue commune. Il l'a regardée et l'a vue sauter du wagon, attraper une flèche au milieu du vol avant de dire que ses armes étaient hors de portée. Avant qu'Arno ne puisse dire quoi que ce soit, elle a disparu dans la foule fuyante, probablement pour traquer leurs embuscades. Le Chevalier des Ténèbres s'était envolé il y a longtemps. Arno se moquait de lui, car il sentait une autre poignée de flèches frapper contre son bouclier, même s'il mentait si cette prise ne l'impressionnait pas.
Mira sortit de sa couverture pour tirer une flèche dans la direction du feu entrant, ce qu'elle espérait accomplir Arno ne savait pas. La suppression du feu avec des flèches était une tactique avancée qui exigeait au moins une centaine d'archers bien entraînés tirant en grade, en ondulation ou en peloton. Elle a rapidement pris une flèche dans l'épaule, et si ces attaquants étaient habiles, ils utiliseraient des flèches à tête large. Une tête de flèche très mortelle contre des cibles non armées. Il regarda de nouveau après une volley un peu plus légère que d'habitude contre son bouclier, voyant que Sidero offrait d'être l'appât de leurs agresseurs. Lady Oriel n'était pas d'accord, offrant son armure. Les deux plans n'étaient pas idéaux, Sidero pouvait être tué dans sa distraction héroïque, et Arno préférait que personne d'autre ne soit frappé au cas où leurs agresseurs s'engageraient dans des combats rapprochés. Mettre l'armure de Lady Oriel prendrait trop de temps, plus ils resteraient, plus la chance que quelqu'un serait frappé par une flèche chanceuse. Arno regarda autour, voyant les murs épais en bois du wagon. Il a frappé son pied sur le plancher du wagon quelques fois, puis a frappé le mur à sa droite quelques fois, sentant que le côté du wagon était plus épais que le plancher. Il s'est levé le pied et a donné un coup de pied sur le côté avec beaucoup de force, en cassant les supports à la base. Il a ensuite pris son warhammer, en utilisant l'extrémité pointue, le claqué dans le haut du côté maintenant desserré. Il l'a déplacée en allers et retours, en l'arrachant gratuitement.
Il laissa tomber la grande planche, autrefois le côté du chariot, derrière lui. Il regarda derrière lui, voyant qu'Oriel avait ses gantelets. "Lady Oriel! J'ai besoin que vous portiez cette planche comme un bouclier! Telius! Attrapez l'arc d'Arcane et aidez-la à bouger! N'enlevez pas cette flèche! » Arno commanda, de cette voix, qu'il menait cinquante guerriers au milieu d'une bataille: "Métal! Lâchez ces corps et portez l'armure de Lady Oriel! Nous irons à gauche dans le..." il regarda à gauche, "boutique d'herbes, sous la protection du côté des chariots et du boîtier d'armure! Le côté chariot d'abord, puis l'affaire! Sur la marque de Lady Oriel! Prépare-toi!"
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Name: Arno Folke
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Description: Arno is one of the shortest people in all the land, standing at 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Although he's lighter than most people who are taller than he is, he is incredibly strong for his height and weight. Over his body is a fair number of scars, mostly around his arms and legs, where enemies struck around his guard or where he was armored less. The most notable scar is a cut on his left cheek when he took a glancing blow from a warhammer to his helmet, which gouged a hole into the side of it. The jagged metal from the hole cut his cheek. Arno keeps his hair mid length and wild, keeping it away from his eyes with a piece of striped cloth. He also has a well kept short mustache and beard.
Knight Element: Earth
Familiar: Sapphira the Oread, Mountain Nymph.
Armor Style: Mixed plate and mail armor . Over the years Arno has gathered the funds to purchase more and more armor, and not wanting to waste, he's bought armor that compliments his previous ones well. Over his normal pants and shirt he has a long aketon, a padded jacket made of quilted wool to be worn under armor plate. The aketon ends at his knees, with the lower half having riveted steel plates attached, essentially turning it into half of a coat of plates. Over the aketon he wears a mail hauberk. Over that is finally a milanese styled breastplate and asymmetrical pauldrons, the left pauldron being larger than the right and overlapping the breastplate. For his arms, Arno has acquired Gothic styled plate, the rerebrace for his upper arm, couter for his elbow joint, vambrace for forearm and gauntlets for his hands. For his legs he's only kept his Milanese style cuisses, selling his poleyn, greaves and sabatons in favor for much more comfortable leather boots with steel plates strapped to them. His most valuable piece of armor is his Maximilian gorget, a fully articulated piece of armor meant to protect his neck. On his head he wears a quilted arming cap, bascinet with a mail coif attached, tucked underneath the gorget, and topping it all off is a painted great helmet.
Signature Weapon: A shortened Lucerne hammer, called the Falcon's Talon. Arno also has an arming sword as a sidearm, a rondel dagger, both on his belt, and a sword-hilt dagger strapped to his right boot. Arno also has a heater shield painted white and red to match his helmet.
History:
At the age of 15, Arno left his village to become a soldier under the command of Aldebrand Schulz, a kindhearted and charismatic noble. He heard the call, and with a desire of adventure, he answered. He was given a spear, a poorly made wooden shield, and no armor. He was trained for a year before marching out with a group of recruits. The next several years were rough, as the youngest and smallest, Arno was bullied by his fellow soldiers when they weren't fighting, and when they were he was on the front lines in the middle of the battle standing and holding a formation against another formation. As Arno became more adept at combat, he fought against his bullies nearly killing one. He earned the nickname, the small demon, in his regiment. Arno spent his pay on armor and weapons, slowly becoming more armored, more skilled in fighting with and without weapons, overall becoming much deadlier and looking more like those noble and wealthy Knights and Lords that strutted around with their polished and shiny steel plate armor. The ones who looked down on the peasant troops and used them as meatshields in battle.
Ten years after he had joined the warband of Lord Aldebrand Schulz, Arno had been promoted from a peasant spearman to a foot knight who fought alongside wealthier troops who could afford their armor, or had been granted armor by someone else. By this time Arno wielded his Falcon's Talon, had plate steel, and his great helmet with the mouth of a demon painted on the visor. While traveling alongside an allied group, a nobleman insulted the honor of Lord Schulz's troops. Calling his foot knight group a group of poor thieving churls. Morale took a hit as nobody dared to say anything back, how could they? After all they were peasants, and the one insulting them was of noble blood. Until Arno blurted out that the noble was a cox comb fool who had no idea what real war felt like, judging by the shine of his spotless boots and well groomed horse. The noble was insulted and challenged Arno to a duel of honor, to which Arno agreed. It only took a few moments before Arno had parried the longsword of the nobleman and planted his warhammer into the chest of the nobleman, denting his breastplate severely and throwing him to the floor. While the incident was swept under the rug, the peasant-soldiers of Lord Aldebrand Schulz told the story about the little demon who defeated the stuck up nobleman to each other for years.
After the duel Arno had gained a bit of a reputation. He was given leadership of a group of soldiers by the Knight in charge of the section that Arno was in. Fifty soldiers, hand picked, armed to the teeth and armored from head to toe. They were called the Peasant Demons of Shulz by the other noblemen, a name they proudly accepted. The Peasant Demons were an elite group in Lord Aldebrand Schulz's warband, sent in from the flank to smash into the rear or side of the enemy army. Arno lead this group of elite soldiers for five years before he retired now 27 years old, a veteran soldier of countless battles, a master duelist, and an expert at war. That was two years ago, and now he lives in a small wooden house near a village, keeping his skills sharp and working as a hunter under an alias.
Changelog List
>1.1
>Fixed age discrepancy in History
>Added colors
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Quelques instants après avoir demandé aux archers de retourner au feu, leur donner une chance de s'échapper, le Chevalier du Vent a perdu le respect initial que Telius avait pour tout le monde avant qu'il ne les connaisse. Au lieu de simplement dire que ses armes n'avaient pas la portée pour elle et de l'y mettre fin, elle s'est précipitée comme si seule elle pouvait faire n'importe quoi. "Qu'est-ce que tu fous!" Il a appelé après elle, mais elle était déjà partie. Telius n'a absolument jamais juré, jurer était pour les gens qui ne pouvaient pas trouver une réponse plus intelligente. Dans ce cas, il semblait juste bien convenir à la situation.
Mira a tenté de retourner le feu seul, en utilisant une sorte de magie pour le faire. Telius se sentait bizarre comme elle l'a fait. Il n'y avait rien de désagréable ou apparemment nocif à ce sujet. S'il y a quelque chose, c'était exaltant. C'était de courte durée de vie, Mira n'a eu la chance de tirer qu'une ou deux flèches avant qu'un coup de chance ne l'attrape dans l'épaule. Telius l'a appelé chance parce qu'il n'était pas sûr si l'ennemi pouvait même les voir ou pas, et parce qu'il aurait pu frapper quelque chose de bien pire que l'épaule. Les épaules ont guéri relativement facilement, seules les parties du corps n'ont pas guéri.
Le Chevalier du Métal leur offrait un plan, un moyen de s'échapper. Un plan qui a tourné l'estomac de Telius. Il n'aimait pas du tout, mais si c'était leur seul choix, alors il irait avec. Mais l'utilisation de cadavres était complètement et totalement erronée. Le Chevalier du Feu l'aimait aussi peu que lui, et offrait l'utilisation de son armure à la place. C'est le Chevalier de la Terre qui a offert une meilleure solution. Avec un spectacle impressionnant de force, il a donné un coup de pied, puis a piqué, tout le côté du wagon, en ordonnant au Chevalier du Feu de l'utiliser comme un bouclier.
Le Chevalier de la Terre ordonna alors à Telius d'aider Mira, ce qu'il aurait fait de toute façon. C'est sa faute si elle a été frappée après tout, bien qu'il ait mis comme tel la faute sur le Chevalier du Vent. Il brillait légèrement au dernier commentaire de ne pas enlever la flèche. Pourquoi l'ont-ils pris, un idiot? Bien sûr qu'ils l'ont fait, c'était un noble, qu'est-ce qu'il pourrait savoir sur la bataille? Il était mieux que de faire un commentaire et de garder sa langue. Au lieu de cela, il a fait exactement ce qu'il avait prévu de faire de toute façon. Il s'empare doucement du bon bras de Mira, et le plonge sur ses épaules, sa main libre il glisse derrière elle et la place une distance polie au-dessus de sa hanche. "Laissez-moi autant que vous avez besoin, j'ai soutenu des gens beaucoup plus lourds que vous." Il a dit, lui donnant un sourire rassurant.
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Name: Telius Arden
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
Telius stands at about 5' 10" and weighs about 170lbs. He has the build of a warrior, being made up almost entirely of well defined muscles. He has a light complexion that is not unblemished. There's a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, as well as several scars, all of which he's proud of. His hair is bright red in color and reaches his ears, his bangs are slightly longer, enough so to sometimes get in his eyes, and sweep to the right.
Knight Element: Spirit
Animal Familiar: None
Armor Style: Minimal, instead of wearing a full suit of armor, which would hinder his movement, he wears pieces to protect certain areas of his body, mainly his chest, neck, shoulders, arms, and most parts of his legs. The armor is red in color with yellow trim, representing his family's colors.
Signature Weapon: Telius wields a classical warrior's weapon, the longsword, a blade that is thinner than a hand and half sword, but also longer.
History: Telius is the oldest child in his family, and also the only male. Thus there was a lot of pressure on him to become a warrior his parents could be proud of. The Arden family is of noble status, known for their warriors. There have been several members of the family who had moved on to become Knights. So at the same time that Telius was learning to how to read, write, dance, and all the other things that noble children get to learn, for several hours a day he was trained in the ways of a sword. At first he hated it, because it was something he was forced to do, but in a few short years learned to love it. It was the one time he really got to be himself, rather than the noble he was expected to be.
Eventually Telius graduated from practice weapons to real swords. Though he had shown some skill in other blades, his style seemed to lend itself to the longsword, so that's what he focused on. Eventually he was allowed to join a company of warriors on a bandit hunt. His first taste at real combat didn't end well, inexperience caused him to get injured during the battle. But it didn't discourage him, when he healed, he was right back to training. He continued going out and fighting real battles, gaining experience and getting stronger as time passed. He showed quite a bit of leadership skills when he was asked to lead a company for the first time.
When it was time for the next Knights to be announced, Telius, like many others, traveled from his home to go to the event. Not because he actually thought he was going to be chosen, he was far too humble for that, but because he simply wanted to see who was chosen.
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Le Capital, Elementia
Alors qu'Alya se déplaçait dans la foule, sa vision partagée avec Akash aperçut la plupart, sinon tous les archers. Bien qu'elle ait reconnu que ce n'était pas la meilleure idée de se séparer du groupe, elle savait qu'elle pouvait facilement y retourner au besoin. Étant donné qu'un ou deux des ennemis avaient été tués ou incapables par les autres chevaliers, il devrait être beaucoup plus facile pour elle de les traquer. Il semblait qu'ils n'avaient pas réalisé sa position. La chasseuse était déjà sur eux.
Alya avait rapidement grimpé sur un toit, son pied marchait aussi silencieux qu'une plume. Le plus proche archer était encore concentré sur les autres chevaliers en bas, ce qui était très en sa faveur. Le concept d'appât n'était souvent pas quelque chose que les amateurs comme ces pensées, même si appeler les autres 'bait' pourrait être un peu extrême. Elle a attendu un moment avant de mettre la pipe à souffle sur ses lèvres, 'fft..' La fléchette a volé vrai, perçant le cou d'un des archers. Il s'est effondré et a roulé sur le toit, son corps s'est renversé sur la pierre en bas. Demeurant hors de vue derrière les tuiles du toit de pointe, elle déchaîna son boomerang, le laissant voler immédiatement. L'arme courbée comme elle a fait son voyage de retour à son propriétaire; cependant Alya l'avait jeté à un angle plus large, l'arme contondant s'écraser dans le crâne d'une autre embuscade avec un haut 'THUNK', le frapper.. Elle devra ramasser cela plus tard. Quatre pour l'instant.
Elle regarda le chariot au loin; ils n'avaient pas beaucoup bougé, ce qui était inquiétant. Ce n'est pas comme si elle avait été si utile si elle était là.
Sa vision commune gardait la vue de quelques autres ennemis, mais ils semblaient un peu incertains maintenant que leur nombre avait été réduit.
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Name: Alya Frei
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Description:
Alya Frei is around 5'7", making her relatively average in height compared to most people, if not on the shorter side. Her build can be described as 'Athletic'. She has silver hair and golden eyes (As shown in the image). On her right arm is a black falcon tattoo that can be described as 'tribal', this tattoo often shifts form as the bird moves around her body (As it is a living being), however it will not move in the presence of others.
Knight Element: Air
Animal Familiar:
Alya's tattoo is actually her familiar; bestowed upon her from a young age by her parents. The falcon can be called upon at any time and it's size can vary depending on Alya's wishes, ranging from the size of a normal falcon to the size of a Roc. The latter being uncommon. The falcon's name is Akash.
Armor Style:
Alya wears mostly leather armor and cloth as such materials are light and flexible. Parts of her clothing has tinges of dark green. She wears a dark green cape with a swirling symbol.
Signature Weapon:
Alya uses a small arsenal of hunting weapons which includes: A blow gun with various darts, bolas, a sling, a boomerang, and a hunting knife.
History:
Born to a nomadic hunting family, Alya has spent most of her life in the wilderness. She, along with her siblings, enjoyed exploring the wilderness and often got into trouble by being mistaken for bandits whenever they came across a travelling caravan. The stories that they had been told about the Knights of Elementia made them wonder if they could ever be granted such power, however Alya was rather disinterested as it seemed like something that would tie her down. Although she felt that if it were to happen, then she would just need to ‘go with the flow’.
Like the rest of her family and their ancestors, she was blessed with an animal guardian. While such things were mostly tradition and held no real magical power, Alya’s guardian slowly came to life much to the surprise of her family. They believed that she may actually be blessed. But such things didn’t truly change how her family lived, and it was merely seen as ‘fate’.
By the age of 19, Alya had separated from her family, choosing to find her own way in the world. She travelled continuously, moving from town to town learning more about the country in which she lived. When the Knights of Elementia were to be announced, she went to the city out of curiosity, wondering if her blessing may mean something more.
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Mira sourit à Telius et s'appuya sur lui. Elle se sentait bizarre avec sa main autour de sa taille. Elle sourit alors qu'elle remarquait qu'il était poli et qu'il plaçait sa main au-dessus de ses hanches comme un vrai gentleman. Après quelques minutes qu'elle se penchait sur lui, elle se sentait plus forte. Elle l'a regardé : "Savez-vous ce qui se passe en ce moment?" Elle lui demanda alors qu'elle échappait aux flèches « Et je ne parle pas de l'embuscade des flèches que nous sommes en dessous. Elle sait qu'elle a l'air folle, mais elle s'en fout. Elle s'est entendue avec son renard à ce moment-là.
Feyla faisait comme elle l'a dit. Elle s'est mélangée dans son entourage comme un fantôme. Elle a trouvé l'archer qui a frappé Mira. Feyla s'est jeté à la gorge en lui mordant et en lui déchirant. Comment allez-vous, ma chérie? Mire a demandé par leur lien. Feyla a répondu tué une fois de plus. Mira sourit à travers ses yeux de renards. "C'est ma fille" a-t-elle dit à voix haute. Une fois de plus en regardant Telius "Comment allons-nous sortir d'ici? Nous devons mettre tout le monde en sécurité avant de perdre quelqu'un d'autre. »
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Name: Mira Bellwood
Gender: Female
Age: 24
is about 5'3" with brown hair and bright ice blue eyes. She has an athletic build and a tan skin. Mira is stubborn, kind hearted, flirty, protective and proud. Mira has a scar across her chest.
Knight Element: Arcane Spirit
Animal Familiar: arcane fox
Armor Style: Cloth and Leather. Her armor reflex's her personality, movable yet stable.
Signature Weapon: bright blue bow with arcane swirls over it. Her quivers hangs at her hips with a special saying in the leather strap from her mother.
History: Mira was born royalty. She is the neighboring princess that everyone thinks it's dead. When she was the age of 15 her mother was murdered and no one knows who did it, but Mira had a pretty go idea that it was from the tryrant King's kingdom. When her father remarried her step mother never care about either one of them, she only cared about the title, money, and getting rid of Mira.
At the age of 24 she had been gone from her kingdom 7 years. She was kidnapped from her bed when she was 17. Mira finally escaped her captor after 3years but she was dead to the rest to the kingdom.
She taught her self how to fight and survive on her own. A villager of a small town gave her the bow and arrow and taught her how to make her own arrows. Mira knew she was different always had but she didn't realize how different. When she found out about the choosing of Knight she had to do for herself and her mother. Little did she know there was more secrets to be uncovered.
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Sidero s'est préparé lui-même, chaque muscle dans son corps au prêt à se jeter hors du wagon et dans les volley des flèches. Le chevalier du feu a parlé, offrant son armure pour la protection... Sidero semblait douter que l'armure moyenne lui irait même, mais c'était bien mieux que de dégraisser des cadavres. Il détachait déjà les cadavres et les jetait doucement contre le sol, avant que le bris de bois ne fasse flécher sa tête vers le chevalier de la terre. Il avait donné des coups de pied à des sections des murs gauche et droit du wagon, et il enlevait les murs épais en bois après avoir utilisé son grand marteau de guerre pour les desserrer. Pour les libérer, il a relayé son propre plan. Bien sûr, rien n'a fourni la défense parfaite contre les flèches - même l'acier pourrait être perforé par un homme d'arc fort et une flèche pointue. Mais le bois fournirait une bien meilleure défense que la chair, et pèserait beaucoup moins lourdement sur l'esprit de Sidero. En détachant le cadavre du chevalier des lumières, Sidero a posé doucement les deux près de l'avant du wagon, et était sur le point d'attraper l'un des murs avant que les ordres d'Arno ne lui soient dirigés. En se conformant, Sidero a pris doucement l'armure de Oriel, avant de l'allumer sur son côté et de le ramasser. Par rapport aux corps, il était beaucoup plus léger à porter. Vite, Sidero a regardé autour du wagon, réalisant que 2 personnes étaient parties! Le chevalier des ténèbres quitta le wagon avant même que l'attaque ne commence, mais Alya semblait avoir disparu alors que Sidero ne regardait pas.
Se levant sur ses pieds avec l'armure en remorque, Sidero a fait son chemin jusqu'au fond du groupe, comme Arno l'a ordonné. Il a dû avoir beaucoup plus d'expérience avec les opposants humains, de sorte que tomber ses ordres serait le meilleur pour la survie des groupes. Le chevalier d'Esprit et d'Arcane étaient ensemble, et Sidero a veillé à les protéger avec l'armure car Telius avait les mains pleines pour aider Mira. Sidero était la personne la plus éloignée sur le chariot, comme Arno l'avait ordonné, et après avoir jeté un coup d'œil sur les cadavres, il s'est hissé vers les autres pour montrer qu'il était prêt à passer à leur ordre. Sidero soupirait doucement, essayant de ne pas se concentrer sur les cadavres et leur sort. Il a décidé de venir récupérer les cadavres après que la tentative d'assassinat ait été prise en charge et que la côte ait été dégagée.
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Name: Sidero Denholm
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Description: Standing at 6'4, 255 pounds of nearly pure muscle, Sidero is capable of carrying more than most people can lift, and does so happily - Sidero is silent to most people at first, but will carry more than his fair share of the weight, share his food, and is always willing to lend a year. He may seem like a stickler for the rules for the most part, but he simply views following the orders given to him as the easiest way to do things, and constantly strives to make life easier for others. He does not have any piercings or tattoos, but his body is littered with scars from years of hard labor and combat. He holds himself formally, rarely allowing himself to slouch or become casual. Additionally, years of combat has made him both extremely paranoid during the night, but also a light sleeper - be careful when trying to wake him up.
Knight Element: Metal
Animal Familiar: N/A
Armor Style: Heavy plate, utilizing leather for the joints. Due to the heavy weight, he is significantly slower than most other knights, but makes up for it in raw durability and strength. His main method of defense is simply taking attacks, rather than the more popular method of dodging. Hell, his fighting style is based on counter attacking while the opponent is close. His armor covers nearly every inch of his body, with only small holes provided for eyesight and air.
Signature Weapon: While he prefers to wield his sword, he is most well-known for his quarterstaff - a long piece of metal that he is very adept at using. Unlike most other weapons, it has a truly staggering weight: 45 lbs, easily enough to kill a normal man in light armor in a single hit. He is quite proficient with it, moving much faster than the average man could. Despite this, he still moves at a slow pace, slowed down by his armor and the sheer weight of the weapon. Someone with adequate speed and agility would be able to dodge most blows unscathed.
History: Sidero's origin, like many others, starts out rather humble - he was born to a simple blacksmith and a housemaid, both of whom were owned by a noble in the small town they resided in. Sidero lived in relative comfort for most of his childhood and, while he never received a formal education, was rapidly growing a strong body thanks to his years with his father at the forge. He, like most blacksmith's apprentices, forged the simplest of items - horseshoes, utensils, etc. His father wished for his son to take over after he has passed, and spent most of his youth training the boy in forge work. Sidero's childhood was mostly uneventful - occasionally getting in a fight with other kids, visiting other villagers, nothing truly extraordinary. That is, until a platoon of soldiers came to the village, seeking to rest until the next day where they planned to go to the capital. The nobleman, seeking to increase his reputation among the upper class, offered the guest room in his manor to the captain of the platoon. For the other soldiers, people around the village offered them refuge in their homes, and the Denholm family did the same. The young man that stayed their was very forgettable, spoke with a monotone voice that rarely elicited excitement from listeners.
Despite this, he held countless stories of the outside world. The lands outside of the small village Sidero had grown up in since birth, and the exotic people and cultures that existed. For hours, Sidero listened to the man drone on, and while his voice was so soft and warm that it could lull someone to sleep faster than the afternoon rays of sunlight, it's contents were what astounded Sidero. He had thought, at a young age, that he would live in the village for the rest of his life, working the same job his father had, living the same life, and dying in the place he was born. But this normal, unassuming soldier opened his eyes to the possibilities; he wasn't chained down, forced to live a life that was already experienced. He could live his own life, forge his own path. At the age of 15, Sidero decided he would become a soldier.
Spending the next three years working in the forge and training his body for combat, Sidero quickly grew to be an incredibly impressive man physically, and while he remained behind intellectually, the passion in his heart only grew with time and, to his parents dismay, Sidero left to enlist at the local city. After 3 days of travel by foot, he finally made it to the city and, after a brief examination and being satisfied with his physical fitness, he was sent into the wilderness with several other men. Unlike the other soldiers, Sidero enlisted to help terminate monsters that attacked near towns and cities. Sidero spent the next 15 years in the corp, fighting with other men against various wildlife, anything from trolls to gryphons, and while the work was certainly bloody, Sidero enjoyed every second of it. He had experienced more in the last 15 years than he ever would of in that village, that he was sure of. About 3 months into his 33rd year of life, he had heard news of the ceremony that would decide the future Knights of Elements and, having stored up enough vacation days to last months, he set off to see the future heroes of the kingdom. After all, Sidero loved experiencing things more than anything else in the world. He now stood in the capital of Elementia, waiting along with the rest of the crowd to see who would be declared as chosen by the gods.
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Oriel appréciait déjà beaucoup le service d'Arno puisqu'il avait conçu un plan bien meilleur que celui qu'elle ou Sidero avaient. La notion de Mira de passer à la sécurité était un travail en cours alors qu'Oriel hissé le mur du wagon comme un bouclier. Ses mains étaient blindées, donc le mieux qu'un tir puisse faire serait de casser un doigt ou deux, étant donné que les gantelets étaient un peu génial comme ça. "Allez!" Elle a crié, faisant un pas en avant et soulevant le bouclier pour se protéger elle-même et ceux qui sont derrière elle. Elle ne pouvait qu'espérer qu'ils suivraient avec elle... Ils devaient traiter la blessure de Mira rapidement ou risquer d'aggraver sa blessure. Elle avance à des vitesses suffisamment lentes pour s'assurer que Mira, Telius, Sidero, et Arno sont protégés de toute volley initiale, bien que les tirs sous pression seraient probablement encore un problème. Alors que deux flèches s'élançaient contre le mur du wagon, Oriel songea à l'une des choses les plus importantes qu'elle apprit de son père : Ne brisez jamais la formation. Deux autres se dégonfleraient, mais leur ligne de train défensif continuerait. Tant que ceux derrière elle avancent, c'est-à-dire.
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Name: Oriel Schulz
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Description: A fair-skinned young woman with golden hair and cyan eyes, Oriel hails from a nation to the west of the main capital of Elementia. Standing at 6'1", she is taller than most women. Despite the air of nobility she carries about herself, she also bears scars from the battles she fought trying to secure her station, as well as the musculature that comes with her weapon's usage.
Knight Element: Fire
Animal Familiar: Dragon Hatchling, roughly the size of a Gila Monster. Can barely spout flames on its own, but is durable, and has potential to grow into a full sized dragon within her lifespan.
Armor Style: An ornate set of red armor inherited from her father beneath a matching crimson tabard, treasured dearly by Oriel. The design is minimalistic beneath the tabard, allowing for it to still allow for optimal range of movements when using her sword. The armor itself is comparable to Gothic Style Plate Armor, and a matching Sallet is what she usually dons to protect her head. The gauntlets are gilded on the wrists as the greaves are decorated at the ankles with an image of a crown with a lion's head sitting at the center on the back.
Her father's great sword, a length of steel at 5'8" with an ornate etching in the center. Received as an ornamental weapon for his valor in battle, it was never intended for use in real combat, but upon having to flee her homeland, Oriel fashioned it into a blade worth fighting with by having a smith shorten the blade to make it faster to swing with. In addition, in case of a closer quarters engagement, she carries a dagger on her hip.
History: Born the first and only child to a Lord by the name of Aldebrand Schulz, Oriel's early life was spent in contentment and happiness with her father and mother at her side. By the age of four however, her mother's life would be taken by a terrible fever that left her father alone to care for her, and without a guiding hand to raise her into a proper young woman, Aldebrand instead saw that he would raise within her the only thing he knew how to upbring: A Soldier. A warrior. Even as a young child, he was firm in his teachings to her, practice sword lessons, sparring, even spending her idle hours playing "Hero" with the local village children...if she wasn't asleep, it seemed there was practice to be had. Such an upbringing lead Oriel to become extremely competitive and pride-driven, proud of the talent she'd cultivated with her father.
Of course, an idle sword-hand is of little use to anyone. Starting with no favorable treatment as a low ranking infantryman in her father's regimen, it was hard for her to grow accustomed to the life of a soldier, and even harder to be accepted by the fellows in her company. As time permised however, she would grow close and forge a bond of camaraderie with them that was shared; Even if she was the Lord's daughter, she had to struggle for every smile she saw in the barracks.
The years would go by as her father's men served the King of Elementia, and although the king's deeds were questionable, her father's loyalty remained to him. By the age of 20, Oriel would engage in her first actual battle and took her first life on the fields of war. Blood on her hands, the young woman soon found that she hadn't truly thought about what being a soldier meant. It seemed to shake her to her core...at least for a time. But, as all soldiers did, she adapted. It was either that or meeting death from another more willing adversary who shared not her remorse. Half a year of fighting before she was able to return home, only to soon find that despite her father's loyalty to the King, he soon grew fearful of the charisma that Aldebrand possessed, as well as his military prowess. With little effort, their home was entered, and her father met his end at the hands of a band of assassins bearing the King's sigil on their weapons. With her only family now perished, and her own life being pursued by those with the approval of the King, she fled and found refuge in the home of a kindly sage who was the proprietor of a library. Having now spent roughly a year out of practice and in hiding, Oriel was merely on a trip to the market before she heard the news of her "Knighthood." Now, she has a new goal in mind with her power...taking the throne from the man who spat upon her father's life, and cementing herself as Queen.
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Allez! Lady Oriel a crié. Arno se tenait à terre alors que Sidero et Oriel sautaient du wagon avec leurs boucliers de fortune, puis les derniers membres du groupe les suivaient, en s'abritant derrière eux. Arno a agi comme arrière-garde, prenant l'arrière. Il a veillé à ce que personne ne traîne derrière le rythme lent des boucliers, poussant au besoin. La marche était assez courte et bien que le feu des flèches s'intensifiât, peu d'autres trouvèrent leur marque. Arno a noté qu'ils ont dû paniquer et cueillir le volume de feu sur la précision, une bonne chose aussi. Un archer bien entraîné avec un oeil d'aigle serait en mesure de trouver des cibles d'opportunité beaucoup plus facile. Après quelques coups supplémentaires sur son bouclier, Arno sentit une forte gifle sur sa cuisse, il grogne en réponse mais continue de bouger.
Le magasin d'herbes était un chic, une seule porte en bois avec deux fenêtres à l'avant du magasin. Il regarda dans la boutique, voyant qu'elle était bien éclairée par la lumière naturelle, et qu'elle était abandonnée. Alors qu'ils s'approchaient de la boutique, Arno tournait autour de l'arrière du groupe et s'approchait de la porte, il se préparait alors à lever son pied droit, le conduisant à son talon près de l'endroit où la serrure serait probablement placée. Il s'y est penché, fournissant le poids de son corps blindé dans le coup de pied. La porte a craqué, mais elle n'a pas bougé. Il a fait descendre son pied, puis il l'a encore frappé, et encore. La troisième fois, le cadre de la porte s'est effondré, et la porte elle-même s'est ouverte avec la force du coup de pied. "Tout le monde est là!" Arno a crié, levant son bouclier une fois de plus. Il regarda vers sa cuisse où il sentit un impact et vit une flèche qui sortait de ses acétons à la fente avant, au-dessus de sa cuisse. Il a brouillé et maudit puis a vérifié son groupe, une fois qu'ils étaient tous entrés, il les a suivis dans la boutique.
La boutique était fantaisiste, des tables et des étagères bordées de diverses herbes, fournitures itinérantes, et des conteneurs tenant des choses qu'Arno ne pouvait pas identifier en un coup d'oeil. Il était bien éclairé des fenêtres, mais les murs de pavés étaient encore bordés de torches allumées, le plafond en pierre, croisé de poutres en bois, avait des lustres avec des bougies allumées. Les tables contenaient principalement les fournitures itinérantes, les aliments séchés et les tissus, tandis que les étagères et les comptoirs avaient les herbes chères. Le plancher était fait de bois qui était agréable à l'œil, et Arno a noté une autre porte à l'arrière de la boutique derrière un comptoir à côté d'une petite cheminée, cachée derrière un tissu blanc semi-transparent. C'était probablement la porte menant à une sorte de débarras, et l'escalier menant à quelques logements au deuxième étage.
Arno a placé l'arbre de son warhammer sur une table ne contenant rien de plus que des bols, des tasses et des thés fantaisies et l'a glissé à travers la table. Effacer la table de tout sauf pour quelques bols et tasses. Arno lâcha sa warhammer sur elle avec un bruit, puis son bouclier sur elle, qui avait plus de quelques flèches coincées dans elle. Le soldat a regardé en bas la flèche qui sortait de sa cuisse et a mis sa main gauche autour de la tête de la flèche, gardant la fente de son aketon épinglé à sa jambe, puis avec sa main droite, il l'a sorti, laissant la flèche sur la table. Il leva le bord de son aketon, révélant les douzaines de petites plaques d'acier qui se chevauchaient, rivetées à l'aketon lui-même. Une assiette a été perforée, et ses couisses ont été dentelées. Il a laissé la fente d'akéton retomber une fois qu'il s'est contenté de son inspection. Il a regardé par-dessus les étagères, à la recherche de quelque chose de particulier. Il a parlé comme il l'a fait, "Nous sommes sortis de la boîte à tuer, et plus ou moins cassé leur embuscade. Si j'étais eux," Il a ramassé deux bouteilles et les a placées sur le comptoir près de la cheminée. "Je rassemblerais plus d'hommes et nous poursuivrais ici pour un combat prolongé à la mêlée, ou casserais l'attaque et chercherais une autre opportunité. J'espère qu'ils sont partis pour le moment, et j'espère que ceux d'entre nous qui ont cherché nos agresseurs dans cette embuscade savent que nous sommes ici. » Arno a dit, il a ouvert un certain nombre de pots et reniflé le contenu, prenant deux des pots. Avec toutes les huiles, herbes et ingrédients en place, il a traîné dans les armoires, trouvant un pot de taille décente, le propriétaire du magasin l'a probablement utilisé pour faire des salves et des onguents eux-mêmes.
Il l'a mis sur le comptoir et décroché son manteau rouge, le plaçant également sur le comptoir, révélant pleinement ses couches d'armure. "Lady Oriel, vous devriez prendre votre armure. Si tu as besoin de changer..." Il lui a mis la main sur son manteau une seconde. Il a regardé Telius et Mira, "Je vais faire une salve pour arrêter le saignement et empêcher la blessure de fesser, mais nous devons voir un vrai chirurgien pour votre blessure." Il a déclaré qu'un archer avec une épaule blessée n'était pas une petite chose, si la blessure guérit incorrectement, cela pourrait affecter sa capacité d'utiliser l'arc pour le reste de sa vie. Il avait vu des archers à craquelures, capables de tenir le tirage de leurs guirlandes de 170 livres pendant une demi-minute, être réduits à ne pas pouvoir tirer pleinement leurs arcs du tout de blessures comme cela. Il a jeté un coup d'œil sur son manteau, certains de ces archers avaient été son ami. Arno a regardé en arrière, cette fois à Sidero. "Vous avez dit que votre équipement était dans votre chambre d'Inn? Savez-vous jusqu'où c'est?"
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Name: Arno Folke
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Description: Arno is one of the shortest people in all the land, standing at 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Although he's lighter than most people who are taller than he is, he is incredibly strong for his height and weight. Over his body is a fair number of scars, mostly around his arms and legs, where enemies struck around his guard or where he was armored less. The most notable scar is a cut on his left cheek when he took a glancing blow from a warhammer to his helmet, which gouged a hole into the side of it. The jagged metal from the hole cut his cheek. Arno keeps his hair mid length and wild, keeping it away from his eyes with a piece of striped cloth. He also has a well kept short mustache and beard.
Knight Element: Earth
Familiar: Sapphira the Oread, Mountain Nymph.
Armor Style: Mixed plate and mail armor . Over the years Arno has gathered the funds to purchase more and more armor, and not wanting to waste, he's bought armor that compliments his previous ones well. Over his normal pants and shirt he has a long aketon, a padded jacket made of quilted wool to be worn under armor plate. The aketon ends at his knees, with the lower half having riveted steel plates attached, essentially turning it into half of a coat of plates. Over the aketon he wears a mail hauberk. Over that is finally a milanese styled breastplate and asymmetrical pauldrons, the left pauldron being larger than the right and overlapping the breastplate. For his arms, Arno has acquired Gothic styled plate, the rerebrace for his upper arm, couter for his elbow joint, vambrace for forearm and gauntlets for his hands. For his legs he's only kept his Milanese style cuisses, selling his poleyn, greaves and sabatons in favor for much more comfortable leather boots with steel plates strapped to them. His most valuable piece of armor is his Maximilian gorget, a fully articulated piece of armor meant to protect his neck. On his head he wears a quilted arming cap, bascinet with a mail coif attached, tucked underneath the gorget, and topping it all off is a painted great helmet.
Signature Weapon: A shortened Lucerne hammer, called the Falcon's Talon. Arno also has an arming sword as a sidearm, a rondel dagger, both on his belt, and a sword-hilt dagger strapped to his right boot. Arno also has a heater shield painted white and red to match his helmet.
History:
At the age of 15, Arno left his village to become a soldier under the command of Aldebrand Schulz, a kindhearted and charismatic noble. He heard the call, and with a desire of adventure, he answered. He was given a spear, a poorly made wooden shield, and no armor. He was trained for a year before marching out with a group of recruits. The next several years were rough, as the youngest and smallest, Arno was bullied by his fellow soldiers when they weren't fighting, and when they were he was on the front lines in the middle of the battle standing and holding a formation against another formation. As Arno became more adept at combat, he fought against his bullies nearly killing one. He earned the nickname, the small demon, in his regiment. Arno spent his pay on armor and weapons, slowly becoming more armored, more skilled in fighting with and without weapons, overall becoming much deadlier and looking more like those noble and wealthy Knights and Lords that strutted around with their polished and shiny steel plate armor. The ones who looked down on the peasant troops and used them as meatshields in battle.
Ten years after he had joined the warband of Lord Aldebrand Schulz, Arno had been promoted from a peasant spearman to a foot knight who fought alongside wealthier troops who could afford their armor, or had been granted armor by someone else. By this time Arno wielded his Falcon's Talon, had plate steel, and his great helmet with the mouth of a demon painted on the visor. While traveling alongside an allied group, a nobleman insulted the honor of Lord Schulz's troops. Calling his foot knight group a group of poor thieving churls. Morale took a hit as nobody dared to say anything back, how could they? After all they were peasants, and the one insulting them was of noble blood. Until Arno blurted out that the noble was a cox comb fool who had no idea what real war felt like, judging by the shine of his spotless boots and well groomed horse. The noble was insulted and challenged Arno to a duel of honor, to which Arno agreed. It only took a few moments before Arno had parried the longsword of the nobleman and planted his warhammer into the chest of the nobleman, denting his breastplate severely and throwing him to the floor. While the incident was swept under the rug, the peasant-soldiers of Lord Aldebrand Schulz told the story about the little demon who defeated the stuck up nobleman to each other for years.
After the duel Arno had gained a bit of a reputation. He was given leadership of a group of soldiers by the Knight in charge of the section that Arno was in. Fifty soldiers, hand picked, armed to the teeth and armored from head to toe. They were called the Peasant Demons of Shulz by the other noblemen, a name they proudly accepted. The Peasant Demons were an elite group in Lord Aldebrand Schulz's warband, sent in from the flank to smash into the rear or side of the enemy army. Arno lead this group of elite soldiers for five years before he retired now 27 years old, a veteran soldier of countless battles, a master duelist, and an expert at war. That was two years ago, and now he lives in a small wooden house near a village, keeping his skills sharp and working as a hunter under an alias.
Changelog List
>1.1
>Fixed age discrepancy in History
>Added colors
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Leonidas avait regardé les événements se dérouler dans la terreur pure et il n'avait aucune idée qu'être un Chevalier pouvait être si mortel. L'un était déjà tombé et l'autre a été blessé. Pendant le chaos pour atteindre le magasin et échapper à l'embuscade Leonidas avait obtenu une petite coupe sur sa joue gauche. Le loup à côté de lui a léché sa joue où la égratignure était et Léonidas a tiré en arrière avant d'atteindre une main vers le haut et vu qu'il est venu avec une fine ligne de sang pourpre. Il pensait regarder Mira et sa blessure. ça aurait pu être pire. Il regardait par la fenêtre et les gardes de la ville ramassaient les corps là-bas, ils étaient des assassins et soupiraient.
"Je pense que nous sommes en sécurité maintenant." Il a dit se tourner timidement vers le reste du groupe. "Je suis désolé d'avoir gelé là-bas, je n'avais jamais rencontré quelque chose d'aussi intense et je ne savais pas comment réagir." Il a admis regarder au sol sentir une vague de honte se laver sur lui. "Une fois arrivé au château, je m'entraînerai plus fort que jamais pour rattraper ce qui s'est passé."
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Name: Leonidas Gainsborough
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Description:
Knight Element: Light
Animal Familiar: "Garo" Timber Wolf
Armor Style: Knight Armor. Pictured but lose all of the crosses and such.
Signature Weapon: A Hand and a half sword looking much like this one pictured below.
History: Leonidas had dreamed of nothing more than becoming a knight since he was a small boy. His father had been a knight and he was told that he had died in battle. The rest of his village all helped him throughout his dreams. Setting up training grounds and even obstacle courses and holding mock battle scenario's to help him train. Finally, he reached the age of 17 and This allowed him to earn a trip to the capital city and possibly be selected as a Knight of Elementia.
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Le Capital, Elementia
Dans le coin des yeux d'Akash, la chasseuse a remarqué que le groupe avait commencé à bouger. Elle les observa un moment comme quelques autres flèches claqués dans le bois. Akash aperçut bientôt les autres embuscades alors qu'il planait au-dessus. Ces gars ne prêtaient pas vraiment attention à leurs propres camarades, il semblait qu'ils avaient visionné le tunnel sur la charrette et n'ont donc pas remarqué qu'ils se faisaient prendre par quelqu'un. Comme le vent qu'elle a déplacé, sautant rapidement du toit au toit, ses chaussures tapent légèrement le bois et la céramique à son atterrissage. Son boomerang était hors service pour l'instant, mais ses fléchettes étaient plus qu'assez pour ces amateurs.
Cependant, cette fois, celle sur laquelle elle se faufilait, l'a remarquée. La figure voûtée tourna, son arc tira. Il hésita légèrement avant de tirer, donnant à Alya suffisamment de temps pour réagir. S'il n'avait pas hésité, il l'aurait frappée proprement. La traqueuse roulait latéralement, descendait le toit raide, la flèche survolait inoffensifment. "fft." La main de l'ambusher s'empara instinctivement du cou comme une fléchette perça la peau. Ses yeux s'élargissaient et sa bouche commençait à geler. Son corps s'assombrit lentement sur le bois.
Les deux autres embuscades restaient à voir. Mais il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'Akash les repère, mais ils sont partis depuis longtemps, leurs figures s'enfuient dans la distance, sautant le long des toits. La chasseuse savait quand il était temps d'arrêter la chasse. La proie était trop loin maintenant. Alya sifflait fort, signalant pour Akash. L'oiseau de proie s'est éparpillé en réponse alors qu'il retournait vers son maître. Le familier s'est ressaisi dans son bras alors qu'elle rentrait chez les autres chevaliers. Après avoir récupéré son boomerang, bien sûr.
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La chasseuse a fait son chemin à la boutique qui avait une planche pleine de flèches.. C'était évident pour elle que c'était à eux. "Nous devrions être en sécurité pour l'instant. Mais deux se sont échappés." Elle a annoncé quand elle est entrée dans le magasin. Les derniers mots ont été dits assez amèrement, mais il était bon de savoir que tout le monde était en sécurité pour la plupart.
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Name: Alya Frei
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Description:
Alya Frei is around 5'7", making her relatively average in height compared to most people, if not on the shorter side. Her build can be described as 'Athletic'. She has silver hair and golden eyes (As shown in the image). On her right arm is a black falcon tattoo that can be described as 'tribal', this tattoo often shifts form as the bird moves around her body (As it is a living being), however it will not move in the presence of others.
Knight Element: Air
Animal Familiar:
Alya's tattoo is actually her familiar; bestowed upon her from a young age by her parents. The falcon can be called upon at any time and it's size can vary depending on Alya's wishes, ranging from the size of a normal falcon to the size of a Roc. The latter being uncommon. The falcon's name is Akash.
Armor Style:
Alya wears mostly leather armor and cloth as such materials are light and flexible. Parts of her clothing has tinges of dark green. She wears a dark green cape with a swirling symbol.
Signature Weapon:
Alya uses a small arsenal of hunting weapons which includes: A blow gun with various darts, bolas, a sling, a boomerang, and a hunting knife.
History:
Born to a nomadic hunting family, Alya has spent most of her life in the wilderness. She, along with her siblings, enjoyed exploring the wilderness and often got into trouble by being mistaken for bandits whenever they came across a travelling caravan. The stories that they had been told about the Knights of Elementia made them wonder if they could ever be granted such power, however Alya was rather disinterested as it seemed like something that would tie her down. Although she felt that if it were to happen, then she would just need to ‘go with the flow’.
Like the rest of her family and their ancestors, she was blessed with an animal guardian. While such things were mostly tradition and held no real magical power, Alya’s guardian slowly came to life much to the surprise of her family. They believed that she may actually be blessed. But such things didn’t truly change how her family lived, and it was merely seen as ‘fate’.
By the age of 19, Alya had separated from her family, choosing to find her own way in the world. She travelled continuously, moving from town to town learning more about the country in which she lived. When the Knights of Elementia were to be announced, she went to the city out of curiosity, wondering if her blessing may mean something more.
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De sa nouvelle position au sommet d'un des toits environnants, Venator regarda que les Chevaliers sur le terrain organisaient finalement une manœuvre défensive solide et quelque peu réussie alors qu'ils commençaient à se diriger vers l'un des bâtiments vers le côté, même en étant poivrés de flèches intermittentes. En voyant le Chevalier de la Terre frapper à la porte le magasin et le reste d'entre eux s'infiltrer à l'intérieur, il tourna les yeux vers l'endroit où les assaillants étaient encore cachés, puis sur le Chevalier du Vent qui s'approchait rapidement. En voyant sa compagne aviaire scruter les airs, il envoya Corvo faire la même chose, en regardant de ses propres yeux qu'Alya en envoyait une autre avant de voir à travers les yeux de son corbeau que les deux autres s'évanouissaient pour tenter de s'échapper.
Alya doit être trop loin pour donner la poursuite, au lieu de revenir au reste des Chevaliers, mais Venator n'a pas eu le même problème. Après tout, Range était son allié, en tant qu'Archer et Marksman. Tirant deux flèches et les passant à sa main d'arc, il tira une petite vile de sa main libre et s'enfuya du capuchon avec son pouce avant de porer un liquide doux, de couleur blé, sur les extrémités de ses flèches et jetant la fiole loin. Poison, ou Vémon Honey-fang pour être précis. Retirant les flèches empoisonnées contre sa corde à arc, tout s'est évanoui alors qu'il se concentrait sur sa cible. Vent, vitesse, direction... Ajustant son but pour compenser, il souffle un long souffle, tenant quelques instants avant finalement, presque au ralenti, il les laisse se détacher. Volant droit et vrai, le premier a percé le cœur de l'homme le plus proche et il est mort instantanément. Le second, cependant, est tombé court et percé droit dans la cuisse de l'homme. Il a trébuché et est tombé, luttant pour se lever avant d'être assailli par de violentes secousses, le laissant écrire et convulsant dans l'agonie pendant plusieurs secondes jusqu'à ce qu'il tombe enfin immobile, sang putride courant de ses yeux, nez et bouche.
Satisfait de l'assassinat, personne n'est parti pour courir en arrière leurs supérieurs avec des nouvelles de la survie des Chevaliers, il a rappelé Corvo et a sauté du toit, l'oiseau démoniaque prenant sa perche sur son épaule alors qu'il touchait le sol. Il plongea son arc sur le dos et régla son écharpe avant d'arriver à la boutique, tapant ses noeuds blindés contre le cadre de la porte alors qu'il entendait l'annonce d'Alya, marchant quelques secondes après elle.
"Ces deux-là ne seront pas un problème."
Il est entré dans le magasin proprement dit, ne s'arrêtant pas comme il parlait et se dirigeant rapidement pour se tenir au milieu des ombres le plus près du groupe. Il n'a offert aucun autre mot, au lieu de laisser quelqu'un parler, espérons avec un vrai plan d'une sorte.
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Name: Venator Nylis, or 'Ven' to close friends
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Description:
5'11" tall and slim but well-muscled in build, with a pitch black hair tipped with silver and similarly silver eyes. His skin is slightly paler than most, and he has a small scar cutting across his right eyebrow.
Knight Element: Darkness
Animal Familiar: 'Corvo', a Shade Raven
Armour Style: Black Steel Half-plate, provides good protection while remaining lighter than full plate armour. Black plates of steel armour cover his torso, shoulders, lower legs, feet, forearms and hands. He wears a black tunic and trousers underneath, with a long black scarf loosely around his neck.
Signature Weapon: An dark silver bow engraved in black with a quiver on both hips.
History: Raised in a poorer village of the country, Venator was orphaned before he could remember and raised in a communal orphanage owned by a neglectful and arrogant noble woman. To make ends meet, he turned to crime and he became a natural thief with his sharp, analytical mind and quick reflexes. He spent years breaking in and stealing valuables from the homes of nearby nobles until, age 12, his luck ran out and he was caught. Luckily, the man was a passing Knight who took pity on the boy and adopted him. He trained Venator as a knight, and he took to the training quickly.
He eventually became a wandering mercenary/bounty hunter, where he used his rewards to support himself and the village he came from. As a warrior, he was a skilled fighter and tactician with a kind heart, but was closed off and anti-social. He did whatever he could to support and protect the common man, but never stayed long enough to make friends. At the behest of his mentor/adoptive father, he accompanied the veteran Knight to the Announcement Ceremony but he wasn't expecting for his name to be called as the Knight of Darkness...
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L'Académie, le jour de l'orientation.
Le jour de l'automne, les portes de l'académie sont officiellement ouvertes, et les centaines d'étudiants qui y assistent arrivent de tous les coins du monde.
L'Académie elle-même est construite en pierre forte et robuste, lui donnant l'apparence d'une église gothique ou d'un vieux château médiéval. Certains disent que c'est le cas, avant que notre chère chef d'état-major ne prenne les commandes. Les vitraux assis haut sur leurs tours, les inscriptions runiques et les lourdes portes en bois donnent l'impression que l'Académie n'existe pas dans le présent, mais plutôt dans le passé. Son emplacement, au-dessus d'une grande montagne, regarde sur les forêts, les mers, les plages et les vallées, mais les étudiants qui assistent témoignent du sentiment d'isolement, d'être coupés. L'éventail de différents environnements, cependant, peut réconforter certains. Les terrains de l'Académie sont vastes, mais le manque de protection magique (à l'exception des vieux charmes et runes) en fait une cible probable pour les Esprits. Mais en cela réside la plus grande force de l'Académie.
Mlle le directeur Elysion se débarrasse de la gorge.
"J'espère que vous êtes tous suffisamment assis..." Sa voix sonne dans toute la salle. Elle vérifie sa montre. "Il est huit heures et demie. Les portes, s'il vous plaît."
Les portes se ferment avec un bruit retentissant. Les étudiants, assis à temps, tables en bois plutôt que les sièges ordinaires de l'auditorium, attendent impatiemment...
"Bienvenue à l'Académie, les jeunes. Être présent est un grand privilège. Pour cela, je vous félicite.
Vous tous... peu importe d'où vous venez, peu importe ce que vous étiez auparavant, vous êtes tous ici dans un seul but : vous battre. Pour grandir. Pour apprendre. Il est de notre devoir, en tant qu'enseignants, de vous aider dans cette quête de l'auto-amélioration, et votre devoir, en tant qu'élèves, de vous donner tout, quelle que soit la situation. S'il vous plaît, croyez-nous quand nous disons que nous ne voulons que le meilleur pour vous tous.
Bien sûr, ce processus n'est pas facile. Il y aura des difficultés. Il y aura de la douleur. Mais, les jeunes, c'est votre plus grande tâche... de vous vaincre.
Et c'est une tâche que nous vous présentons. »
Le présent règlement entre en vigueur le vingtième jour suivant celui de sa publication au Journal officiel de l'Union européenne. Prends-le à ton rythme. Certains d'entre vous n'ont pas encore de feuilles dans l'onglet caractère, s'il vous plaît postez-les donc personne n'a à creuser pour l'info. Il est encore temps de postuler, si vous le souhaitez.)
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Ashley se tenait impatiemment dans une foule d'enfants autour de son âge attendant que les portes de l'académie s'ouvrent. Elle a vu tous les gars qui attendaient aussi. Elle s'est grondée et a tapé le pied sur le sol, se disant qu'être debout dans cette foule pleine de garçons ne pouvait pas vraiment être aidé. Ashley, en colère, soupira à travers son nez et se mit à pousser à travers la foule, poussant durement les gars qu'elle passa alors qu'elle se dirigeait vers le front. Elle n'était pas très patiente.
En passant par la masse des enfants, les portes ont commencé à s'ouvrir. Tout le monde a commencé à inonder à l'intérieur de l'académie gothique, y compris Ashley. Elle s'est fait des notes de tous les garçons qui l'ont touchée. Elle devrait s'occuper d'eux plus tard.
À l'intérieur de l'école, il y avait de longues tables en bois qu'ils s'asseyaient à l'intérieur des chaises qu'on voyait normalement à l'intérieur d'un auditorium. Ashley a soigneusement choisi son siège, quelque part autour du milieu de la chambre capacieuse. À l'avant de la pièce, se tenait une femme aux cheveux gris tiré dans une tresse serrée avec une autorité très exigeante. Ashley la respectait immédiatement. Lorsque les grandes portes se sont fermées, elle s'est assise tout droit et l'a regardée avec de grands yeux, devenant très impatiente de la rencontrer pendant qu'elle parlait. Ashley a hurlé sur ce qu'elle a dit et a applaudi quand elle a fini de parler.
Penchant à la fille à côté d'elle, Ashley sourit et dit : « N'est-elle pas géniale? Je suis contente qu'elle soit notre leader et pas un gars putride », a-t-elle dit, faisant un léger coude à la fille. -- Ai-je raison? Ashley a demandé rhétoriquement.
|
Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Lalisa ne pouvait presque pas croire ses yeux. Ce matin-là, elle était à la gare, elle a dit au revoir à sa chère grand-mère et a balancé sa valise à son siège. Et maintenant! Maintenant elle était à l'Académie, et elle allait rester ici pendant... combien de temps? Grand-mère se souvenait-elle de sa brochure comme elle l'a demandé? Lalisa bat pour son sac de messager, mais se souvient rapidement qu'elle est au milieu de l'orientation et que ces choses peuvent attendre.
C'est plus grand que les photos, pense-t-elle. C'est comme si elle avait été transportée à l'intérieur d'un conte de fées, d'un château de princesses... Assieds-toi tout droit! Tu ne dois pas t'endurcir, ou grand-mère sera en colère contre toi.
Ah, cette fille... elle parle. Pour elle? Lalisa, si loin dans ses pensées, n'a presque pas remarqué. Elle attrape la dernière partie... "Pas un gars putride, n'est-ce pas?" Quoi? Qui est putride? Le directeur est une femme, pas un homme... Calme-toi, Lalisa.
« Mlle Headmaster est une femme très talentueuse et puissante, n'est-ce pas? » Elle le dit avec soin. C'est vrai, grand-mère lui a toujours dit que...
|
Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
|
22,426 | 649 | 3 | 1,902 | 26 |
Ashley a hurlé la tête. La fille à qui elle parlait avait des cheveux blonds poussiéreux qui atteignaient ses épaules, avec deux petits pains de chaque côté de sa tête. Elle avait des yeux de noisette brillants et une peau bronzée avec des taches de rousseur. « C'est vrai, mais je n'ai pas encore vu quels pouvoirs elle voit, » dit-elle, pliant les mains ensemble. « J'ai de grands espoirs, poursuit Ashley. "Je me demande ce qu'on fait après ça. Personnellement, je souhaite visiter l'Académie, donc j'ai une sensation pour elle puisqu'elle est assez grande », s'est-elle arrêtée avant de reparler. « Mais tout va bien pour moi, tant que cela n'a rien à voir avec les garçons, » Ashley tendit les bras au-dessus de sa tête avant de lui coller la main dans un salut. "De toute façon, je suis Ashley Paris, fondatrice de Sisters United, mon club au collège. Chef d'une révolution. Et vous êtes?" Elle a demandé poliment.
|
Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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"Lalisa Greenwood. J'espère connaître beaucoup d'étudiants ici. » Elle serre la main d'Ashley en regardant la fille. Elle a l'air très forte et sûre d'elle, et Lalisa doit se demander ce qu'elle voulait dire par « une révolution ». C'est impoli de demander? Oh, comme elle souhaite que grand-mère soit là! Mais il n'y a rien pour l'aider, elle doit apprendre à se débrouiller...
"Comment avez-vous entendu parler de l'Académie?" Demande à Lalisa curieusement. "Ma grand-mère est amie avec un professeur ici, et elle veut que j'apprenne à être "autosuffisante". Il y a tellement de gens ici! Je ne savais pas que l'Académie était un choix si populaire... »
|
Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
|
22,428 | 649 | 5 | 1,902 | 26 |
"J'ai entendu parler de l'Académie d'une de mes sœurs. Elle l'a découvert tout en décidant de sa future école. Je ne sais pas exactement d'où elle l'a entendue, mais je lui faisais assez confiance pour ne pas l'examiner trop », a-t-elle serré les épaules et retiré sa main après qu'ils se soient accueillis. « J'espère aussi rencontrer beaucoup d'étudiants ici. J'ai l'intention de continuer l'héritage de Soeurs Unis ici, donc je vais faire de mon mieux et donner tout ce que j'ai à cet endroit », a déclaré Ashley. "Et oui, il y a beaucoup de gens ici. J'aurais aimé qu'il s'agisse d'une académie pour filles, ça aurait été dix fois mieux. Je suis aussi curieux de savoir comment l'Académie a été fondée et comment ils ont choisi de faire ce qu'ils font, mais je suppose que cela peut attendre une autre fois. Changer le sujet, qu'est-ce que vous faites? Quels sont vos pouvoirs? Je comprendrai si vous ne voulez pas me le dire », a-t-elle poursuivi.
|
Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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"Ah, je vois..." Il y a encore... Sisters United. Elle vient d'une grande famille? Lalisa s'éclaircit la gorge.
"Jardin magique. Je peux faire grandir les choses. J'aime les plantes, donc les pouvoirs sont venus naturellement quand j'étais jeune. Oh! C'est pas vrai! Cela me rappelle...» Lalisa fouille dans son sac et finit par sortir une boîte de biscuits. Elle l'ouvre, révélant les cookies à l'intérieur. "Cookies pour puces chocolatées. S'il vous plaît, prenez-en un! Et j'ai aussi fait un peu sans gluten, si c'est votre préférence."
Ashley est un personnage intéressant, elle décide. Comme une héroïne. Pas une princesse impuissante, c'est sûr.
--Er... puis-je vous demander en quoi vous vous spécialisez aussi?
|
Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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"Oh, la magie du jardin, c'est cool!" Ashley s'est exclamé en acceptant un biscuit de croustilles de chocolat d'un contenant que Lalisa a sorti de son sac. "Merci. C'est mon préféré. Et ils ont l'air vraiment bien », a-t-elle complimenté avant de prendre une bouchée. "Ils ont un goût aussi bon qu'ils en ont l'air! Je dois vous féliciter, je ne pouvais pas cuisiner pour me sauver la vie », a-t-elle tiré un coup de pouce sur Lalisa.
"De toute façon, je me spécialise dans la force et la vitesse. Cela s'explique à peu près, je suis super fort et super rapide, mais je ne peux pas abuser de mes pouvoirs, sinon je me fatigue assez rapidement », explique-t-elle. « J'ai essayé d'expérimenter les limites de mes pouvoirs et j'ai failli m'évanouir. Ce n'était pas un moment amusant. P.E au collège a été extrêmement facile pour moi, vous pourriez probablement supposer. J'ai à peine essayé dans cette classe," Ashley chuckled. « Mes soeurs n'ont pas pu me suivre et je n'ai pas joué avec les garçons, alors j'espère qu'il y a des gens avec qui je peux avoir un vrai match de volleyball. »
"Oh, et merci encore pour le biscuit," elle regarda autour d'elle, à la recherche de quelque chose qu'elle pourrait donner en retour. "Désolé, mais je n'ai rien que je puisse vous rembourser", a-t-elle dit, a-t-elle excusé.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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"Merci. La cuisson et le jardinage, c'est tout ce à quoi je suis vraiment doué. Je suis content que tu les aies appréciés." Ah, c'est ça. Donc, en effet physiquement forte, avec l'agilité à correspondre. Lalisa elle-même n'est pas la personne la plus apte, mais elle possède une certaine force depuis des années de creuser dans la terre. Elle se demande quel genre de cours ils enseignent ici. Peut-être des études magiques?
"Vos... sœurs... Oh, il n'y a pas besoin de me rembourser!" Elle ajoute hâtivement, en remettant l'étain à sa place. "Je les donne juste pour s'amuser. Ma grand-mère dit mieux une bonne impression qu'une mauvaise."
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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"Non, un jour je te rembourserai pour ta gentillesse, peut-être pas aujourd'hui ou demain, mais un jour. Un cadeau est un cadeau et je me sens comme si c'était mon devoir de vous rembourser. C'est la façon dont je fais les choses, c'est ce qui m'a amené ici en premier lieu. Excusez-moi si je sors un peu têtu ou à la tête dure, » Ashley s'est redressée en regardant Lalisa.
« Oh, et si vous vous demandiez, Sisters United est une organisation de féministes dont le travail est de débarrasser le monde des parasites appelés « garçons, hommes, gars, etc », une étape à la fois. Comme je l'ai déjà expliqué, je suis le chef de cette organisation », a-t-elle dit.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Fillan a navigué dans les couloirs bondés de l'Académie. Quand il a mis les pieds à l'extérieur de cette école, il a été enlevé par la taille pure et balayant les tours d'ardoise. Il pouvait imaginer les rois et les reines intemporels des contes de fées de l'enfance se promenant dans ces salles volumineuses avec des vitraux multicolores et des sculptures criblées. Maintenant, il n'y avait que des groupes de première année bavardant indifféremment pendant qu'ils erraient dans les couloirs. Il trouva l'appariement merveilleusement curieux et étrange, mais en quelque sorte approprié; un bâtiment autrefois utilisé pour défendre le fief d'un seigneur était maintenant réutilisé pour défendre une fois de plus.
Se pressant contre le mur de pierre froide, Fillan a glissé devant une foule accablante d'étudiants. Après le groupe d'adolescents bavards, il pouvait espionner devant deux grandes portes en bois. Rapidement, il regarda autour de lui avant d'avancer vers les portes. Il y avait un peu d'air froid, si légèrement doux en entrant dans la pièce. C'était comme si une télévision avait été mise sur muet. L'atmosphère de la grande pièce était tout à fait différente et contrastée avec celle des couloirs à l'extérieur. Curieusement, il a pris place à l'une des tables en bois vers l'arrière de la pièce. Une femme plus âgée aux cheveux gris se tenait à l'avant de la classe et commença à donner des conférences. Fillan a trouvé cette femme très troublante. La première fois qu'il tentait de s'assurer, il était certain que cette femme avait des yeux d'or. Elle avait l'air très intense pour lui et il ne pouvait plus se concentrer sur ce qu'elle réitérait à la classe. En plus de la directrice, il a pu repérer plusieurs autres étudiants également dans la salle, y compris deux filles qui sonnaient comme si elles avaient une discussion très animée l'une avec l'autre.
Abandonnant d'essayer de prêter attention à ce qui se passait à ce stade, Fillan a ouvert son sac, et s'est serré à travers elle une seconde avant de sortir quelques paquets de maths et un crayon. Il s'est légèrement déplacé dans sa chaise, essayant de se mettre à l'aise avant de commencer à travailler sur les problèmes de mathématiques exposés devant lui.
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Mikale a vécu dans les bois avec ce vieil homme aussi longtemps qu'il pouvait se souvenir, être ici dans cette école est la première expérience avec n'importe qui en dehors d'un vieil homme fou. Avant de mourir, le vieil homme a demandé à Mikale de participer aux interactions sociales.
Mikale marchait les mains dans les poches avec un léger slouch, poussant de façon décontractée devant tout ce qui se trouvait devant lui. Quand il est arrivé à l'assemblée, il a remarqué qu'il y avait beaucoup plus d'étudiants qu'il ne s'y attendait, dans un grand sourire il pensait
"Tous ces gens ont des pouvoirs? Ça devrait être intéressant". Il est entré et a trouvé une ouverture dans la foule, à côté de lui, il a pu entendre une fille parler d'hommes et de sœurs putrides unis. Il s'est penché sur la fille et s'est moqué.
« C'est un objectif que vous avez là, je vous souhaite bonne chance. Mais je vous promets que je ne serai pas si facile de me débarrasser de". Mikale a regardé en bas et a remarqué un conteneur de cercles bruns, il n'était pas sûr de ce qu'ils étaient juste qu'ils sentent bon.
"Grille aux cheveux blonds, qu'est-ce que c'est? Puis-je en avoir une?" Mikale demande de pointer vers le conteneur.
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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22,435 | 649 | 12 | 1,971 | 40 |
Kludd soupira alors qu'il réglait son sac à dos et saisit l'autre sac de Fillan. Il a juré que la chose était pleine de paquets de maths, et aucun de ses biens réels. Honnêtement, ce ne serait pas surprenant. Mais peu importe.
"Hey Fill-"
Il a cherché à s'adresser à lui, mais il ne l'a pas vu nulle part. Il a regardé autour de lui, essayant de le trouver dans la foule. Il a juré une seconde qu'il a vu ses cheveux bruns sales quelque part dans la foule, mais juste comme ça il a encore disparu. Kludd a essayé de riposter à la panique montante qu'il ressentait alors qu'il s'inculpait dans la foule. Il a essayé de déplacer les gens autant qu'il pouvait, mais tout le monde était un peu encombré et difficile à contourner. Il grogne légèrement et attend de passer par les foules. Il n'a même pas prêté attention à l'architecture des écoles. Il a visiblement remarqué les vitraux et a fait une petite note mentale pour les regarder plus tard, chaque fois qu'il pouvait réellement garder un oeil sur son ami.
Finalement, après ce qui semblait être pour toujours, il est entré dans la salle où tout le monde se réunissait. Il l'a scanné rapidement avant que ses yeux atterrissent sur Fillan et il s'est emparé là-bas.
"Qu'est-ce que j'ai dit de fuir sans moi?" Il a grondé.
"Tu ne sais même pas à quel point j'ai peur quand tu fais ça! N'importe quoi pourrait t'arriver et je ne serais pas là pour faire quelque chose à ce sujet. Je veux juste vous garder en sécurité."
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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22,436 | 649 | 13 | 1,971 | 40 |
Un grand garçon aux longs cheveux roux est entré dans la pièce, ce qui a poussé Fillan à regarder de ses paquets. Il n'avait pas vu cet élève dans les couloirs auparavant, mais il s'est arrêté devant lui et a immédiatement commencé à converser avec les deux filles à l'avant de la salle de classe. Fillan s'est demandé comment quelqu'un pouvait juste frapper une conversation avec un autre étudiant si facilement.
Quand Fillan s'est installé, il a commencé à continuer à faire ses paquets quand il a remarqué la chaise vide assis à côté de lui. Je sais que c'est là depuis que je suis entré dans cette classe, mais j'ai presque l'impression qu'il manque quelque chose ici. J'ai oublié mes affaires? Fillan a serré la main autour de son sac, Pourquoi cette chaise est-elle si vide et désolée? Ça fait combien de temps que quelqu'un ne s'y est pas assis? Cette chaise fait-elle à l'origine partie du bâtiment, rénovée ou neuve? Pourquoi suis-je assise ici et pas là? Peut-être que je l'ai juste passé en ne prêtant aucune attention particulière à mon environnement et choisi un endroit au hasard. Je n'arrive toujours pas à ébranler ce sentiment que j'ai oublié quelque chose... quelqu'un?
Comme Fillan a formulé des pensées insignifiantes concernant la chaise vide et c'est l'origine, il a entendu le déchirement des grandes portes en bois se déplacer en arrière. Une figure très grande et large se trouvait dans la porte et, après une inspection plus poussée, une figure qu'il connaissait très bien,
"Kludd!"
Il l'a dit d'un ton excité, mais brouillé. La chef de salle instruireait toujours la classe devant la pièce, et il ne voulait déranger personne.
Fillan a vu que Kludd n'avait pas pris les mêmes mesures lorsqu'il s'est mis à se taire alors qu'il s'était emparé de lui. Son visage est égal à des parties soulagées mais aussi agitées.
Fillan croisa les bras pendant que Kludd parlait et regarda en bas, évitant le visage de Kludd. Malheureusement, il a rappelé une voix à l'arrière de sa tête lui disant de ne pas s'éloigner trop loin de Kludd et d'attendre. Il s'est donné des coups de pied pour ne pas l'avoir écouté et rester, mais il s'est aussi senti un peu en conflit, il voulait être capable d'aller où il voulait. Fillan s'est vite décidé.
"Désolé,"
Fillan a bourdonné tranquillement. Il a ramassé son crayon et a repris à faire ses paquets.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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22,437 | 649 | 14 | 1,971 | 40 |
Kludd soupirait fort. Il ne pouvait vraiment pas rester en colère à Fillan longtemps.
"C'est bon. Dis au moins quelque chose si tu vas t'en aller."
Il a dit, sculptant sa chaise plus près de Fillan et enveloppant un bras autour de ses épaules. Il pouvait entendre la maîtresse parler, mais honnêtement, il ne se souciait pas tant de ce qu'elle disait. Il se souciait seulement de garder Fillan en sécurité, pas ce qu'ils faisaient dans cette école. Il a regardé les autres enfants là-bas, notant que trois personnes assis ensemble pas loin. La fille forte, assise entre les deux autres, n'a pas eu une bonne sensation. Le gars avec eux semblait assez bien mais pas quelqu'un à qui il parlerait volontiers. Encore une fois, il ne parlait pas volontiers à beaucoup de gens. La dernière fille avait l'air sympa, mais il n'a pas pu détecter de problèmes avec elle. Il a continué à scanner la pièce, content d'avoir trouvé Fillan. Il était son meilleur et actuellement seul ami après tout.
|
Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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22,438 | 649 | 15 | 57 | 43 |
Quelque chose avait pincé le jeune écrivain, l'attention de Feine. La région était pleine de remous et de bavardages. Feine a cherché ces deux, mais il a cherché quelque chose que la commotion et le bavardage pouvaient mener à. Cette chose que Feine cherchait n'était rien d'autre que... l'inspiration.
En sortant un petit carnet de notes de sa poche, avec son stylo de confiance, bien qu'un peu rugueux de quatre ans, Feine a eu à travailler en regardant diverses personnes dans la pièce. La première personne qui est venue à l'esprit de Feine n'était autre que le directeur. Si la mémoire de Feine lui servait correctement, alors le nom du directeur était Elysion. Le nom même a apporté des encres d'inspiration à l'esprit de l'écrivain - la prochaine étape pour Feine était d'utiliser ces encres pour transformer cette encre en texte avec signification. En particulier, une chose s'est glissée à Feine au sujet du directeur. C'était son nom. Élysion.
Élysion... un mot relatif au mythe grec, n'est-ce pas? Oh, qu'est-ce que je dis... bien sûr que je le suis. Après tout, je suis un maître écrivain, n'est-ce pas? La connaissance des mots est vitale pour mon être même.» Feine pensait à lui-même. « Si je me souviens bien, il s'agit de la terre où habitent les morts, d'une vie après la mort... bien sûr, je m'attends à ce que ce soit un peu au-dessus de la tête de tous les autres ici, j'en suis sûr. »
Feine a décroché quelques notes, puis s'est empressé de détourner son regard autour de la pièce une fois de plus... et ses yeux ont finalement atterri sur un groupe de trois étudiants, un peu comme une balle dans une roue de roulette. Le trio d'étudiants était composé de deux femmes et d'un homme. Ils avaient l'air de parler, et cette fée chatouillée a l'air assez fantaisiste jusqu'à un certain degré. C'était un duo très diversifié.
La première personne à attraper l'œil de Feine était l'homme, qui semblait avoir une légère tache de sorte, avec les cheveux longs, bien que les deux étaient peut-être un tour de l'œil de Feine. Mais néanmoins! Feine a tenu un dicton dans le monde de l'écriture - il n'y a pas de mauvaise interprétation! Et l'interprétation de Feine de l'homme était un peu sauvage, mais peut-être avec un côté calme...
La deuxième personne que Feine a étudiée était l'une des deux femmes du groupe, une dame avec une queue de cheval et à peu près de taille moyenne. L'interprétation de Feine de cette dame était "tomboy", un archétype de personnage qu'il a trouvé très intéressant. Quant à l'interprétation de Feine de cette dame, il croyait qu'elle était un garçon dur - avec un cœur d'or, qui ne ferait pas de mal à une mouche!
Et quant à la femme finale, elle avait des cheveux blonds. Feine a remarqué qu'elle était un peu plus petite que la personne qu'il avait identifiée comme un garçon, mais peut-être, encore une fois, c'était un tour de l'œil? Ce que Feine a remarqué, c'est qu'elle donnait un biscuit à l'homme sauvage.
Cette femme - elle peut avoir l'air gentille et innocente, mais en vérité - elle a une bande cachée méchante et se nourrit du désespoir et de la misère des autres! Et ce biscuit qu'elle tient là - c'est, en vérité, lacé de poison. Dès que cet homme en prendra une bouchée, il s'écrasera au sol, s'étouffera et dans l'incrédulité - car il a été eu par cette beauté blonde pas si innocente, après avoir été pris par ce qui semblait être de la générosité. Feine réfléchit à lui-même, en analysant le groupe plus avant. « Ce qui suivra, c'est la blonde qui agit confuse, alors qu'en réalité, elle connaît la situation par cœur. Cependant, le garçon à queue de cheval sera recouvert d'une épaisse vague de choc, car son ami sauvage est devenu la proie de la délicatesse venimeuse.»
Feine a riposté exactement trois fois, ce qui lui a donné quelques regards confus d'un couple d'étudiants voisins. Feine savait qu'il se détachait peut-être, étant seul, et regardant un groupe de deux dames et un homme, tout en riant fiévreusement des notes. Mais il ne s'en souciait pas. En fait, cela pourrait même s'avérer un avantage pour l'écrivain. Quelle excitation vient d'une vie de rien d'autre que le sucre et les arcs - en - ciel?
L'esprit de Feine est retourné dans les royaumes de l'écriture rapidement.
Et je vais donner droit à cette pièce... une fin invisible. Quelle chance j'ai d'avoir été frappé par l'inspiration?»
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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La gare, journée d'orientation
"Soyez doux." Un souffle agité bâillonnait les lèvres de Seren dans une tentative de s'empêcher de se serrer les mains. Au lieu de la force calmante que l'exhalée était censée être, il a seulement souligné le fait que Seren avait même besoin de se calmer en premier lieu. En tant que tels, leur main séduisante n'a pas cessé, et ils ont dû consciemment se rappeler de garder leurs épaules de s'éterniser dans l'appréhension. "Prends le premier pas," Seren s'est dit en pensant, "et ensuite le suivant. C'est simple. Suivant leur propre piste, Seren fit cela, et s'éloigna finalement de la plate-forme de train jusqu'à l'embouchure de la forêt qui entourait la montagne sur laquelle l'Académie était assise. Seren leur soupira avec déception avant de repositionner leur sac à dos sur leur dos. Ils ne devraient pas être si nerveux, mais ils l'avaient anticipé. Seren les connaissait assez bien pour savoir comment ils sont arrivés dans de nouvelles situations, et Seren avait appris comment leurs frères et sœurs ont commencé à obtenir quand Seren était dans de nouvelles situations.
Ce n'est plus la bonne disposition de Maeve à regarder son dos, les machinations brassantes d'Armani qui complotent pour effrayer encore plus Seren, et le plus affectueusement manqué, Erika n'a plus donné à la main de Seren une pression chaude qui promettait que tout allait bien se passer. Avant qu'ils ne puissent se ragoûter dans leurs propres pensées, Seren s'en retourna à l'attention. Ils savaient que Maeve et Armani les attendaient, même si Armani avait promis que les deux continueraient selon la demande de Seren. "Ils peuvent probablement me voir maintenant," Seren s'inquiétait silencieusement. 'Gotta agir normalement.' Avec une fausse conviction, ils marchèrent vers la piste. Ils ont eu un long chemin pour aller au sommet. Seren s'est forcé à sourire, et a mis leurs mains anxieux dans les poches de leur sweat à capuche. "Pas de retour en arrière maintenant," ils murmuraient sous leur souffle. Seren s'approche du sentier usé et battu qui serpente à travers les bois, en haut de la montagne, et à l'Académie. Seren regarda en arrière alors qu'ils continuaient de marcher. Derrière eux se trouvait la gare, le dernier endroit entre la maison et ici. Devant eux était un étudiant, que Seren a à peine réussi à voir l'arrière de avant de marcher les cornes d'abord dans eux. Le contraire de lisse et normal
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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Le petit garçon claquait sa langue dans le dégoût alors qu'il s'avançait contre le mur de l'école. Raphaël agitait mal son boucle d'oreille dans son lobe d'oreille, évitant le contact visuel avec les autres autant qu'humainement — ou, équitablement — possible.
Il avait été moins d'une semaine par son compte depuis qu'il avait découvert ses origines fées, de la bouche de sa vraie mère biologique elle-même. Raph était encore ennuyé par l'idée, tellement il a presque fait bouillir ce sang magique qui courait dans ses veines. En plus de tout cela, et en fuyant de la maison pour être un migrant qui ponçait sur la propriété de l'école, la maudite chef d'école l'avait en fait forcé à s'inscrire. Au contraire, elle le menaçait de façon nonchalante que s'il ne s'enrôle pas ou ne sortait pas de sa propriété, elle allait dire à sa famille où il s'était enfui aussi. Mauvaise femme..
Raphael tira sa veste un peu plus serrée dans l'air froid de l'automne, heureux pour la lumière du soleil qui s'est déversée au moins. Finalement, ils ont décidé de laisser le groupe d'étudiants d'attente à l'intérieur, Raph l'un des premiers à verrouiller son chemin à l'intérieur afin qu'il ne se soit pas coincé à côté d'autres personnes.
Raphael s'assit le plus loin possible des autres, harmonisant le blabbing de la maîtresse et permettant à ses yeux dorés de errer dans le monde extérieur au-delà de cette école. Il s'est déjà senti claustrophobe ici.
Peu de temps après, toute l'introduction fut terminée, et le garçon blonde sortit du siège en bois pour aller sculpter l'endroit par lui-même. Ses yeux dorés clignotaient entre la masse des élèves, sentant des nausées s'élever dans sa gorge à quel point ils étaient manifestement faux l'un envers l'autre : souriant et riant avec des étrangers complets? Laisse-le tranquille.
Mais, une ampoule subite s'est clique dans sa tête. Eh bien... s'ils sont si occupés à discuter, ils ne remarqueraient probablement pas un pickpocket qui partait avec leurs portefeuilles, maintenant, n'est-ce pas? Un léger sourire maléfique a joué sur ses lèvres, trouvant sa cible (n'importe qui) et balayant élégamment derrière eux, doigts agiles prenant la main sur le coin de leur portefeuille de leur poche arrière et rapidement la farcir dans sa veste.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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Ashley a fouetté sa tête, furieux qu'un gars ose s'approcher d'elle et interrompre grossièrement sa conversation. Elle s'est cognée les poings et a levé le menton, faisant un contact visuel.
"Comment osez-vous!" Ashley a commencé à élever sa voix. "Je ne sais pas qui tu penses être, mais tu ferais mieux de revenir en arrière rapidement! Il était tout à fait évident que j'étais dans une conversation, une conversation qui ne vous incluait pas », a-t-elle piétinée dans la poitrine, ses yeux se rétrécissaient alors qu'elle le regardait vers le bas. « C'est assez triste que vous ne vous en rendiez pas compte », a-t-elle dit, en retournant à Lalisa. "Et oui, tous les gars sont moins bons pour nous, ils sont juste la saleté sur laquelle nous marchons. Si vous avez besoin d'un exemple-" Ashley a commencé à pointer autour de la pièce, à chaque personne masculine, y compris celle à laquelle elle parlait. Elle a également signalé aux gars qui l'un d'eux avait son bras sur l'autre. "Vous voyez? Ils font semblant de se prendre soin l'un de l'autre, seulement de les trahir à la fin », puis elle a saisi le biscuit de la main de Lalisa et l'a jeté à travers la pièce. "Et non, il n'a pas ce biscuit," elle a croisé ses bras, toujours furieux.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Lalisa est... confuse. Ashley lit-elle aussi dans les pensées? Ou peut-être qu'elle a une sorte de capacité de voir à l'avenir. Ou peut-être qu'elle... n'aime pas les mecs, pour quelque raison que ce soit. Des bagages émotionnels?
"On dirait que vous avez de mauvaises expériences avec les hommes," observe-t-elle en regardant son cookie disparaître dans la foule. "C'est deux cookies sur votre onglet. Je n'en ai pas autant, tu sais. S'il vous plaît, évitez de les jeter dans la colère." En se tournant vers le garçon, elle lui donne un sourire poli et l'incline.
« Honnêtement, je préfère juger chaque personne en tant qu'individu, et pas dans son ensemble. Je suis désolé pour le biscuit, cependant."
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Toujours avec un œil vigilant enfermé sur l'homme et deux femmes, l'esprit de Feine erra de chercher l'inspiration de sa pièce suivante, bien que temporairement. C'était certainement une interaction intéressante avec Feine, bien qu'il ne puisse pas mettre son doigt sur pourquoi.
Cependant, ce qui a détourné le jeune écrivain était une brève réalisation, qui avait surgi des profondeurs de l'esprit de Feine tout d'un coup. C'était quelque chose qu'il n'avait pas réalisé avant. Feine s'éloigna temporairement du groupe des trois, et regarda autour de la pièce. Les gens parlaient, s'amusaient et faisaient des blagues stupides, tandis que Feine était tout seul, comme il l'avait fait dans le passé - il a justifié cela aussi volontiers, bien que ce n'était pas vrai. Ce que Feine s'est rendu compte, cependant... c'est que jusqu'à présent, cette sorte d'assemblée était exactement la même que celle qu'il avait vécue, dans les écoles "régulières".
Une vague de déception a frappé Feine. Ces gens avaient été bénis de toutes sortes de pouvoirs surnaturels, mais ils ont pourri de faire les mêmes choses qu'ils avaient toujours fait - gâché et gâché sur qui sait quoi. L'existence de ces "pouvoirs" était encore assez nouvelle pour Feine. Il ne considérait pas cela pour les autres, ils étaient tout à fait normaux... mais pour lui, ils étaient largement étrangers, en dehors de la littérature.
"Comment... Je suis déçue." Feine s'est parlé d'un ton de niveau... seulement pour réaliser qu'il avait parlé de ce qu'il avait pensé. Un problème commun, qui a conduit à quelques étudiants donnant Feine confus regards une fois de plus. "Forgiv-non, considérez qu'un regard dans un esprit brillant, si vous pouvez même le comprendre. Sinon, allez-y et babillez-en d'autres alors que je cherche de l'inspiration. »
Mais à la suite de la vague de déception est sorti une vague de soulagement comme une autre pensée s'est montrée claire à Feine. Ces étudiants n'avaient probablement pas utilisé leurs pouvoirs ici à l'Académie, encore. À tous égards et dans tous les buts, jusqu'à présent, l'école était tout à fait normale en ce qui concerne ce que quelqu'un avait vécu... du moins, c'est ce que Feine pensait. Ce n'était pas particulièrement important pour lui dans ce que ses camarades étudiants se sont emballés, à moins qu'il n'ait fourni divertissement et inspiration à l'écrivain, Feine Rhiner. Sinon? C'était nul et non avenu pour lui.
Cependant, Feine a déplacé son attention vers le groupe des trois. Feine a entendu une voix forte - il a présumé que c'était une des dames, mais qui le savait? Feine savait très bien que la vie était une chose mystérieuse, pleine de surprises. C'était la blonde avec le biscuit qui a crié? Non, peut-être que c'était l'homme? Ou peut-être - peut-être que la dame Feine avait surnommé un garçon dans sa tête? Comme il se serait avéré, c'était ce dernier.
Avec des yeux comme un faucon, Feine regarda le groupe converser, cherchant de l'inspiration. L'excitation s'était fait connaître dans le groupe des trois, car l'une des femmes avait élevé la voix! Alors que Feine ne pouvait pas tout à fait entendre ce qu'ils disaient, c'était néanmoins intéressant, et a ouvert plusieurs domaines d'interprétation. Peut-être qu'elle défendait l'homme du biscuit? Ou peut-être qu'elle le voulait elle-même? Qui le savait?
Mais finalement, le biscuit a été jeté à travers la pièce, tout d'un coup... ce qui a surpris Feine, qui a levé un sourcil et s'est levé. Quel tour intéressant d'événements! Qui savait qu'un cookie conduirait à l'inspiration pour Feine! L'inspiration pourrait vraiment venir des endroits les plus improbables.
Peut-être que la petite dame était un héros, qui a sauvé l'homme de la consommation d'un cookie dangereux? En le jetant dans la foule, l'homme a été sauvé... peut-être. Feine a redressé son écharpe verte quand il s'est levé... puis a ri. En quelques secondes, cependant, il a couvert sa bouche et a cessé de rire.
Feine s'est un peu intéressée à ce groupe, maintenant... et a fait quelques pas plus près d'eux, seulement pour s'arrêter brusquement et se détourner.
Si je me rapproche d'eux, alors je risque d'interférer avec l'ordre naturel des choses. Dans ce cas, je serais une variable qui pourrait seulement influencer les événements qu'ils subissent... donc, ça pourrait être un inconvénient. Mais ces gens semblent intéressants. Je n'ai aucun doute que je me tiens au-dessus d'eux, mais même un lion s'intéresse aux souris, n'est-ce pas? Leur poser quelques questions peut s'avérer bénéfique. J'ai besoin d'y réfléchir.
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Mikale regarda que la jeune fille maintenant agressive prenait le biscuit des autres filles et le lançait, incapable de se contenir, il éclata de rire.
"Vous devez être confiant dans vos capacités à faire des déclarations aussi ridicules, vous avez des capacités ne pas vous sinon vous ne seriez pas ici. Alors montre-moi, frappe-moi avec ton meilleur coup!" Mikale se pencha vers l'avant en pointant sa joue vers elle. Il pensait qu'elle avait de fortes capacités physiques mais doutait que ses capacités étaient basées sur le feu, qu'il était prêt à faire un pari, pour probablement faire un ami. Malgré ses idéaux radicaux, il admirait sa confiance.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Ashley s'est moqué. "Oh, alors maintenant tu crois que tu peux m'ordonner? Eh bien, réfléchissez encore parce que je ne suis pas si facile à piéger », a-t-elle tenu son sol en le regardant. « Vous devez avoir beaucoup de confiance en vous-même pour me défier, mais je ne vous écoute plus, donc au revoir », bien que demeurant là où elle était, refusant de déménager. Elle était extrêmement tentée d'accepter son offre, mais elle était plus intelligente que ça. Elle voulait dire, "Bien essayé", mais elle ne ferait jamais un compliment à quelqu'un comme lui, ou à n'importe quel type en fait.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Fillan a hurlé lentement pendant que Kludd parlait, mais il n'enregistrait pas vraiment ce qu'il disait. En ce moment, il était préoccupé par ses problèmes de maths, surtout le problème #36. C'était un problème de mot et il balayait le petit paragraphe sur sa feuille pour trouver des indices sur ce qu'il était censé faire pour ce problème. Une ampoule s'est éteinte dans sa tête et il a levé son crayon quand il a entendu quelqu'un crier.
Fillan a regardé de son papier pour voir un biscuit rouler sur le sol, où il s'est installé là. Une des filles avait une expression furieuse sur son visage et elle pointait, il s'est rendu compte, à tous les étudiants masculins de la pièce, y compris lui et Kludd. Les choses semblaient vraiment tendues entre la fille et le gars aux cheveux longs qui était arrivé il y a plusieurs minutes. Craignant qu'un combat ne éclate, il s'est cogné la manche de Kludd,
"Est-ce que tu penses que la directrice va faire quelque chose à ce sujet? J'espère que les choses ne seront pas hors de contrôle ici..."
Il a suivi comme il l'a remarqué derrière lui, un garçon aux cheveux blanc vif et une écharpe verte murmurait quelque chose. Il ne pouvait qu'en saisir quelques mots et ça n'avait aucun sens. Fillan s'est rendu compte qu'il regardait le gars et a vite regardé loin, seulement pour entendre le garçon éclater de rire. Qu'est-ce qu'il trouve si drôle? C'est probablement la scène qui se déroule ici. Ça n'a pas de sens, mais pourquoi quelqu'un se moquerait de ça?
Fillan a vu qu'il était debout et il semblait qu'il allait s'approcher du groupe quand soudain, il s'est arrêté. Qu'est-ce qui l'a fait faire ça? Il a peur d'eux? A-t-il mieux pensé à s'approcher de cette fille?
Il s'est retourné à son paquet, le mot problème attend toujours une réponse. Avec un regard vide sur son visage, il s'est rendu compte que la solution qu'il avait trouvée lui avait échappé l'esprit.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Kludd pouvait dire à Fillan qu'il ne l'écoutait pas vraiment. Ce qui l'a beaucoup ennuyé, et il n'était déjà pas de bonne humeur. Mais peu importe. Il a juste regardé avec prudence que certaines personnes criaient l'un contre l'autre, ce qui était assez divertissant. La fille forte a commencé à pointer vers les gens, tous les gars dans la pièce en particulier. Son doigt s'est posé sur lui et Fillan pendant qu'elle parlait. Quelque chose dans le sens de "Ils font semblant de prendre soin l'un de l'autre, seulement de les trahir à la fin,"
Il a fallu beaucoup de volonté pour ne pas se lever et lui crier dessus. Il n'était pas "prétendant", il aimait Fillan, c'était son meilleur ami après tout. Et il ne le trahirait jamais.
Avant qu'il puisse continuer à y penser et se faire n'importe quel colère, il a remarqué une personne courte avec des cheveux blonds dorés passer derrière lui, un peu trop près pour l'amour de Kludd. Il a glissé la tête juste pour voir le gamin... qui à première vue il a failli se méfier d'une fille, avec son portefeuille à la main. Swiftly, Kludd l'a attrapé par le poignet et lui a arraché son portefeuille avant de jeter le gamin au sol durement.
"Qu'est-ce que tu crois faire?" Il grondait, se levant et le regardant vers le bas.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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C'était plus facile que je ne le pensais. Toujours amusant de glisser de la grande gu—
C'était le dernier train de pensée qui traversait l'esprit de Raphê avant que le monde autour de lui ne s'épanouit de façon erratique. Comme son corps mince a touché le sol, sa veste le seul type de coussin, Raphael s'est rendu compte qu'il avait été pris.
Comment...?! Je n'ai jamais été coincé. En tenant son poignet battant, Raphael souleva un éblouissement défiant et presque agressif pour le grand homme, les yeux dorés aiguisés. Il avait un billet gratuit, pour ainsi dire, dans cette école ainsi qu'un endroit où vivre. S'il la perdait à cause d'un géant.
Avec la vitesse d'un vrai voleur, Raph s'est retourné sur un pied pour repousser la course, s'emparant du capot sur sa veste et le dessinant sur son visage serré. Sans surprise pour sa petite taille, Raphael avait esquivé son chemin entre les étudiants surpris et hors de la salle de salutation, se débarquant à l'extérieur et derrière le bâtiment. Panting, Raphael a glissé contre le mur, en courant une main à travers ses serrures dorées. C'est quoi, ça? C'était pas comme si j'allais le garder. Je suppose qu'il ne le savait pas cependant.Le garçon fae grondait à lui-même, fermant ses assez longs cils sur ses yeux. Il pourrait dormir ici.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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Feine s'était affronté loin du groupe qu'il avait analysé. Il avait commencé à s'approcher d'eux, seulement pour avoir les pieds froids. Ce n'était pas par timidité - Feine n'avait pas peur du trio, pas du tout. De plus, qu'y avait-il à craindre d'eux? Le jeune écrivain n'était pas sûr.
Ce qui a poussé Feine à reconsidérer sa conduite, c'est sa poursuite pour rien d'autre que l'inspiration. Le groupe des trois était venu à Feine comme très intéressant... Feine pensait qu'il pourrait très bien former une histoire passable pour son prochain travail. Feine s'était approchée du trio qui avait l'intention de leur parler. Ce qui l'a amené à reconsidérer, c'est le fait que son intrusion pouvait très bien conduire à un scénario différent. Parfois par écrit, il était préférable de laisser ce qui vous inspire circuler libre et agir seul.
Et malheureusement, Feine avait fait une erreur. Se rapprocher du groupe s'est avéré être une erreur, car il a entendu exactement ce qu'il redoutait. Une voix, très clairement celle d'un homme, s'est exprimée et a interrogé Feine, demandant s'il y avait quelque chose qu'il pouvait aider. Un désastre a frappé le jeune écrivain! Il ne faisait aucun doute que c'était l'homme sauvage du groupe des trois. Il semblait servir de catalyseur pour le groupe des trois, dans un sens... il avait changé une conversation ordinaire entre deux dames en quelque chose de beaucoup plus intéressant. Les cookies ont été jetés et les cris ont été, eh bien, criés. Et non seulement cela, mais Feine avait été remarqué peu de temps après la situation du groupe est devenu encore plus attrayant une pièce, aussi - L'homme du groupe semblait avoir une dispute avec la femme Feine présumé un garçon... c'était intéressant, mais... maintenant l'homme semblait parler à Feine lui-même.
Quelle erreur... Autant tirer le meilleur parti de ça... »
Pendant un bref moment, Feine n'a pas réagi à la parole de l'homme, toujours tourné autour.
Quelques secondes plus tard, cependant, Feine se retourna lentement, son écharpe baissant dans une brise qui avait soudainement apparu. En vérité, c'était Feine discrètement utilisant la manipulation du vent faible pour un effet dramatique, comme s'il était un personnage fictif d'une émission. C'était toujours une façon agréable de se présenter, bien mieux qu'une simple introduction ordinaire. Feine croyait aussi qu'elle transmettait une aura de supériorité, mais c'était pour l'interprétation...
Feine regarda l'homme qui s'adressait à lui. C'était bien l'homme du groupe des trois qu'il avait analysé, mais ce n'était pas une surprise. Très rarement Feine a trouvé son intuition erronée, d'où pourquoi il s'est considéré comme un prodige, un savane.
"Je m'appelle Feine Rhiner, mais je suis sûr que vous le savez déjà." Feine s'est présenté grandiosement, son écharpe se baissant encore dans la brise. Bref, Feine envisagea de se prosterner pour faire preuve de respect, mais cessa cette pensée rapidement. « En tant que figure bien estimée dans le monde de l'écriture moderne, je cherche à m'inspirer des événements de la vie réelle. Vous et vos amis m'avez trouvé intéressant."
Se qualifier de « figure bien estimée » dans le monde de l'écriture a été pour le moins une grande surestimation. Feine a signalé les trois personnes qu'il avait analysées. La femme blonde, la femme Feine était considérée comme un garçon, et le 'homme sauvage', qui était la personne qui parlait à Feine. En plus de cela, Feine a arrêté d'utiliser sournoisement sa magie du vent pour souffler son écharpe autour, comme pour ne pas drainer son énergie.
"Je n'ai jamais pensé qu'un cookie... piquerait mes jus créatifs, mais nous y voilà. N'est-ce pas intéressant, comment même les choses les plus mineures peuvent apporter de l'inspiration?" Feine s'enquiert, avec une expression et un ton neutres. "Je suis sûr que William Shakespeare a subi de telles chasses à l'inspiration, aussi... Je suppose que je suis tout à fait comme lui. Pardonnez-moi... savez-vous qui c'est?"
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Kludd a regardé le garçon s'enfuir, toujours fumant. Il s'est tourné vers Fillan, essayant d'adoucir momentanément son expression de "l'éblouissement de la mort" à peut-être juste "pissed off"
"Restez ici. Je reviens." Il lui a dit, avant de partir après le voleur. Il n'a pas été en mesure de manœuvrer à travers les foules presque aussi bien, mais heureusement la plupart des gens ont été assez intelligents pour s'éloigner de son chemin. Il est sorti et a scanné la zone, trouvant l'enfant penché contre l'extérieur du bâtiment.
Il est passé devant lui, il a croisé les bras et a vu l'autre garçon. Après un peu d'attention pendant qu'il était en train de sortir ici, il a décidé d'avoir au moins une petite pitié sur le gars.
"Hé," a-t-il simplement commencé, en essayant d'attirer l'attention de Raph, "le vol n'est pas un passe-temps très productif. Si vous avez besoin de l'argent ou ce que vous pouvez simplement demander."
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Le petit garçon gronde à la voix, saute sur ses pieds d'une manière qui ressemble à un chat et s'attaque presque. Au lieu de cela, Raph raidit ses muscles dans une position défensive, les yeux sauvages et sur le bord semblable à un animal enroulé.
Raphael l'a laissé finir sa pièce, se serrer les dents avec frustration. Je n'ai pas besoin d'argent.Il a déclaré franchement, debout comme il correspondait à la position de Kludd. Je le fais pour le frisson. Ecoute, reste en dehors de mes affaires, et je ne t'embêterai plus. Je déteste quand les gens prétendent qu'ils s'en foutent, alors ne t'en fais pas.Ses mots étaient durement froids, ne correspondaient pas du tout à sa jolie apparence dorée.
La féerie se détourna brusquement, se farcissant les mains dans ses poches et commençant à s'éloigner une fois de plus, se broyant encore les dents.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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22,452 | 649 | 29 | 1,971 | 40 |
Kludd s'en est pris à la colère alors que le garçon s'en allait de nouveau. "Ne fais pas comme si j'étais l'idiot, c'est toi qui as essayé de me voler." Il a dit, juste assez fort pour être entendu mais ce n'était pas comme s'il criait. Il ne voulait pas vraiment poursuivre cette discussion de toute façon. Il allait seulement être plus frustré d'ici. Il aurait pu juste frapper le gamin dans une pulpe sanglante puis là-bas, mais il se sentait bien aujourd'hui. De plus, ça donnerait aux gens une mauvaise impression de lui.
Il soupira et secoua la tête, décidant de retourner à l'intérieur maintenant. Etre loin de Fillan lui donnait de l'anxiété, même s'il savait que Fillan resterait mis aussi longtemps qu'il avait une quantité suffisante de paquets de mathématiques. Il s'est retourné et a commencé à traverser les couloirs et à retourner dans la pièce où se trouvait tout le monde.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Fillan n'a même pas vu l'enfant avant que Kludd ne s'empare du poignet de l'auteur et ne le jette au sol. Il a regardé le garçon avec une combinaison de pitié et de prudence, mais n'a rien dit. Le garçon a braqué des aiguilles à Kludd avant de s'évanouir et de sortir de la pièce. Fillan allait demander à Kludd ce qui s'est passé, il n'était pas sûr de ce que le garçon avait essayé de tirer, mais il était évident que Kludd n'était pas content. Avant de pouvoir demander, Kludd lui avait dit de rester là et qu'il allait revenir. Où pense-t-il que je vais aller?
Fillan soupira tranquillement avant de se tourner vers son paquet. Il était déjà sur le dernier problème.
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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22,454 | 649 | 31 | 433 | 901 |
Un sourire léger jouait sur les lèvres douces, les yeux dorés scintillent en arrière avec une netteté amusée et condescendante. Comme si je m'en souciais vraiment si vous pensiez que je suis un abruti. Raphaël se moquait de ses propres pensées, s'ennuyant avec eux. Comme c'est enfantin. Il repoussait les gens comme d'habitude, sa tactique était efficace, mais elle semblait encore si juvénile.
Avant qu'il ne puisse se troubler plus longtemps, Raph s'est enfui aussi loin de l'immeuble et Kludd qu'il pouvait obtenir. Il préférait être seul, de toute façon. Maintenant, nous l'espérons, sa réputation d'avoir une mauvaise attitude se répandra comme un feu de forêt et le laissera joyeusement seul, dans le silence.
Raphael ralentit au fur et à mesure qu'un grand arbre se met au point, s'arrêtant complètement à la base. Il s'agita avec intérêt, s'empoignant d'un plongeon dans le tronc pour se tirer vers le haut, à l'échelle de l'arbre jusqu'à ce qu'il atteigne la canopée ombragée des feuilles au-dessus. Raph s'est cosié dans le coin des branches nouées et a senti paisiblement ses yeux devenir lourds. Le sommeil a pris le relais, laissant le garçon fae apparaître comme une poupée angélique sous le soleil tremblant qui a filtré à travers les ouvertures dans les feuilles d'émeraude. Il semblait tellement plus heureux, tellement plus innocent quand il dormait.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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22,455 | 649 | 32 | 1,971 | 40 |
Kludd est rentré dans la pièce et s'est pratiquement jeté dans le siège à côté de Fillan à nouveau. Il s'est hâté de mettre son portefeuille dans le fond de son sac au cas où ce gamin voulait essayer de le voler à nouveau. Il ne lui faisait pas confiance, mais il espérait qu'il était assez intelligent pour le laisser seul à partir de maintenant. Il gémit considérablement avant de claquer son front sur la table et y resta juste un moment avant de regarder Fillan.
"Avez-vous vu quelque chose de tout ça? Avant que je ne parte." Il a demandé, à moitié en espérant qu'il l'ait fait pour qu'il n'ait pas à expliquer. Quoi qu'il en soit, il voulait juste aller se coucher à ce stade. Il en a fini avec aujourd'hui, et toute cette école déjà.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Fillan a fini son paquet de maths et s'est penché sur son siège, passant en revue tous les événements qui s'étaient produits aujourd'hui. Il pouvait facilement dire que c'était l'un des jours les plus occupés qu'il avait eus depuis très longtemps. Au lieu de sortir un autre paquet de son sac, il regardait par une fenêtre sans esprit. Ça fait combien de temps que Kludd est partie? J'aurais peut-être dû le suivre. Qui était ce gamin de toute façon? Est-ce qu'il est étudiant ici à cette école? Qu'est-ce qu'il a fait de toute façon?
En tournant la tête, Fillan a pu voir que les élèves commençaient peu à peu à fouler le garçon avec l'écharpe verte. Il pouvait entendre un peu de ce qu'il disait, et la blonde poilue lui offrait aussi des biscuits. Fillan a été déchiré entre aller et interagir avec les élèves qui se mêlaient ou de se tenir en arrière comme il l'avait fait depuis une heure environ. Il semble que la foule soit si grande, mais je devrais probablement attendre... Puis il a remarqué une fille encore assise à la table, la même fille aux cheveux bruns qui l'avait pointé sur lui et Kludd plus tôt. Je devrais peut-être aller me présenter à elle. Elle a l'air plutôt seule. Peut-être qu'elle a besoin...
Des pas lourds et une respiration bâclée ont interrompu les pensées de Fillan. De retour à son siège, Kludd s'est effondré à la table et a l'air épuisé. J'espère vraiment que quelque chose de mauvais n'est pas arrivé.
"Est-ce que ça va? Je n'ai pas vu ce qui s'est passé, mais ça n'a pas l'air d'aller bien..."
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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22,457 | 649 | 34 | 1,777 | 193 |
Atlan avait couru sa perception du temps à double vitesse. C'était jusqu'à ce qu'un groupe de personnes attire son attention. Il a remarqué le groupe de gens quand il a vu un cookie glisser sur le sol. Il envisageait de la poursuivre, mais il pensait que cela attirerait probablement l'attention sur lui. Il a regardé le groupe avec insistance, incroyablement amusé par la fille qui semblait crier sur le gars qui lui parlait et l'autre fille. Il est devenu triste quand le gars est parti, mais une fois de plus s'est intéressé quand une nouvelle personne a rejoint la conversation. Cette nouvelle personne était si flamboyante que c'était presque drôle. Scratch que c'était drôle, ça prenait tout ce qu'il avait pour ne pas rire. Il pensait qu'il apprécierait cette école.
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Name: Atlan Choros
Age: First year; 14
Race: demi-titan
Gender: male
Proficiency/Abilities: spatial magic- Including the abilities of telepotaion and subtle time manipulation, this class of magic is dedicated to warping space and time. He has the ability to change the distance in between objects. (Such as one step for him could take him miles in actual distance. He can seem to be across a classroom then be standing right in front of you. He often uses this magic to confuse and disorient an enemy.
Identification: standing at 5'7" and weighing 145lb he is on the smaller side. He is still growing so He secretly holds on to hope he will eventually be 6 feet. He has black hair and pale skin. His eyes are a brilliant gold that seem to reflect the light around him.
Personality: Atlan has poor social skills and is fairly shy. This leads to him being fairly defensive and off putting. He incredibly loves food and seems to be always hungry. This can be blamed on spatial magic using massive amounts of energy. He almost always is eating or asking someone for food.
Backstory: Atlan is the son is Chronos (the titan of time) And an unknown woman. His father took him the day he was born, and refused to tell him about his mother. Atlan is no stranger to the mystical or supernatural. He would often visit many of the places in the supernatural world. One place he enjoyed immensely was the land of the dead. It is not that he enjoys dead people, it is that he enjoys the silence. It was there he could think and relax. His father would often test him by dropping into a random point in the past and make him survive for a time off his own wits. His father has decided that Atlan's lack of social skill was his greatest weakness, so he decided to send him the academy. More than any challenge set before him this was the one he feared most......people.
Other: uses minor spatial magic on a daily basis almost unconsciously.
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22,458 | 649 | 35 | 1,971 | 40 |
"Je vais bien, je suppose. Cet enfoiré a essayé de m'arracher mon portefeuille... sans raison valable non plus! Il le fait juste pour s'amuser!" Kludd grogne et tient son visage dans ses mains, secouant la tête en exaspération "Alors, il agit comme si je suis horrible, mais c'est lui qui vole, pourquoi suis-je le méchant tout le temps?" Il a essayé de garder sa voix assez basse pour qu'il ne crie pas assez fort pour que toute la pièce entende. Il s'est rendu compte qu'il laissait probablement cela lui arriver trop, mais il avait déjà été de mauvaise humeur. Aller dans une nouvelle école au milieu de nulle part n'était pas son idée d'un bon moment, surtout pas quand il était plein de gens fous. Il n'était même pas sur le point d'essayer de faire attention au reste de la pièce jusqu'à ce qu'il se calme à nouveau.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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22,459 | 649 | 36 | 57 | 43 |
La blonde s'était exprimée, tapant l'attention de Feine rapidement. Jusqu'ici, il n'avait entendu que l'homme du groupe des trois. Alors comment était cette dame, Feine s'est-elle demandé...
Les tout premiers mots de sa bouche - 'Je n'ai jamais entendu parler de vos livres'. Dès que Feine l'a enregistré, il a placé sa main gauche dominante dans sa poche, et l'a embrayé, aussi discrètement qu'il pouvait rassembler - un tic Feine s'était développé quand quelqu'un l'avait offensé. Le but de cela était essentiellement de tenir sa langue et de réfléchir à ce qu'il dirait ensuite.
C'était presque insultant pour l'auteur orgueilleux de la famille Riter. Toutes ces heures, ces jours, même des mois consacrés à l'écriture d'histoires - tout cet effort qu'il avait consacré à créer les œuvres parfaites? Il avait mis dans ce qu'il considérait comme un effort gargantuaire, ayant fait de son mieux pour imiter les styles des écrivains célèbres et combiner leurs parties les plus fortes. C'était simple, vraiment... alors pourquoi l'effort de Feine n'a-t-il pas été remarqué? Qu'est-ce qui aurait pu être si difficile d'adopter les forces de chaque écrivain, avec aucun de leurs négatifs, surtout pour un prodige autoproclamé comme Feine?
Ce n'est pas seulement cette femme qui a fait voir Feine, à propos de ses œuvres et de leur manque de notabilité. C'était tout le monde. Personne ne semblait savoir ou même s'en soucier... et parfois, cela s'étendait au monde de la littérature dans son ensemble. Beaucoup de gens n'avaient pas l'air de s'en moquer!
La femme a continué ce qu'elle disait, et Feine a choisi d'écouter. Ce qu'elle a dit ensuite a choqué Feine. Elle a déclaré qu'elle aimait les œuvres de Shakespeare, et qu'elle aimait le rêve d'A Midsummer Night le plus... puis elle a demandé à William Shakespeare l'œuvre préférée de Feine.
Cela a brisé la tentative de Feine de feigner un sang-froid, mystique, puissant comme il a soudainement gazé, seulement pour couvrir sa bouche à la hâte aussi vite qu'il pouvait se rassembler. Ce que la dame a dit à Feine l'avait surpris à un degré incroyable. Elle connaissait Shakespeare, et avait même une œuvre préférée de lui! Elle semblait respecter l'homme aussi... non seulement cela, mais elle a même demandé l'œuvre préférée de Feine de Shakespeare. Feine ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de respecter la blonde poilue, toutes issues de son amour Shakespeare.
Elle connaît l'une des œuvres de Shakespeare! Je ne m'attendais pas à ça!' Feine pensait à lui-même, toujours choqué. J'avais prévu ce que je dirais s'ils ne savaient pas grand-chose de Shakespeare! Je ne pensais pas que l'un d'eux s'intéresserait aux arts de la littérature!
Peu de temps après, la dame a offert un biscuit à Feine, ce qui lui a donné encore plus de respect de la part de l'écrivain. Feine s'intéressait certainement aux cookies, dans deux sens. La première à laquelle il a été conduit par son esprit centré sur l'écriture. S'il avait écrit un article sur les interactions de ce groupe de trois qu'il avait analysé, peut-être que savoir la saveur du cookie pourrait l'aider? La deuxième raison était beaucoup plus banale. Feine pensait qu'ils ressemblaient à de bons cookies...
« Mon préféré des œuvres de Shakespeare, personnellement... quand j'étudiais son style, j'ai toujours fini par revenir à Macbeth. J'ai étudié les populaires principalement, parce que Shakespeare est un écrivain célèbre - et ce sont ses œuvres les plus célèbres. Je veux attirer les gens à mes œuvres, et créer des histoires créatives et volumineuses que les gens peuvent apprécier. » Feine a commencé à expliquer un peu excité, clairement enthousiasmé qu'il avait rencontré un autre fan de la littérature. "Bien que j'aime toutes les œuvres de Shakespeare, vraiment. Il y a quelque chose de beau dans chacun d'eux... ils sont pleins de sens. N'ai-je pas raison?"
La tentative feinte de Feine de faire un calme stoïque et supérieur avait complètement et totalement disparu. Il était tout simplement stupéfait d'avoir rencontré quelqu'un d'autre qui s'intéressait au vaste monde de la littérature. Elle n'avait pas entendu parler de Feine, et alors que ça l'a toujours ennuyé... c'était pardonné très rapidement dans l'esprit de Feine. L'offre du cookie a également amplifié son opinion de la dame. Tout cela a rendu un peu difficile pour Feine d'utiliser son attitude habituelle, smug, et à la place - il ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de bousculer sur son amour de la Littérature. Ça faisait un moment qu'il ne l'avait pas fait.
Avec les mots suivants de Feine, cependant, il a calmé son ton excité et parlé dans son ton habituel et plus calme.
"J'aimerais vraiment essayer un de ces cookies. Ils ont l'air, comment je peux dire... à la fois intrigants et somptueux? Ils avaient l'air de provoquer une certaine commotion entre vos deux amis. Peut-être que vos cookies sont si excellents qu'ils ont causé cette petite dispute entre vos amis? »
Les mots de Feine ont été soigneusement choisis. Au fond, il savait qu'il y avait des chances que les deux amies de la blonde ne se battent pas pour un seul biscuit. Ce serait ridicule, après tout. La raison pour laquelle Feine a affirmé que l'hypothèse était qu'elle serait probablement confirmée comme incorrecte, ce qui a conduit à une explication de la raison pour laquelle les deux se battent en premier lieu. Cela conduirait à un gain net tout autour de Feine. En sachant ce qu'ils discutaient, cela pourrait mener à d'autres idées pour son prochain travail.
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Fillan pouvait dire que Kludd n'allait pas très bien dans une nouvelle école. D'une certaine façon, ça l'a fait se sentir mal. Il a suggéré qu'ils aillent dans cette école en premier lieu,
"Ça a l'air plutôt mauvais. Heureusement qu'il n'a pas décollé avec ton portefeuille. J'espère que les cours commenceront bientôt. La plupart des étudiants devraient être installés par, euh, alors."
Il s'est brouillé à Kludd alors qu'il se branlait nerveusement avec son crayon. Tous ces étudiants ne sont pas si mauvais. Peut-être que ce gamin a eu une dure journée. Aller dans une nouvelle école peut être vraiment dur pour tout le monde. Cette fille aux cheveux bruns et à la peau bronzée était toujours assise là-bas à table, seule. Pourquoi elle n'est pas avec les autres? Ce ne sont pas ses amis?
Sans autre pensée, Fillan se leva de son siège et passa à la table en bois où elle était. Il ne pouvait pas dire si elle l'avait remarqué ou pas encore ainsi il a parlé,
"Hé, ça va? Tu es juste assis là. Oh, eh bien c'est bon si tu veux faire ça aussi! Euh, je suis Fillan... Quel est votre nom?"
Fillan a dit la dernière partie doucement et a regardé par-dessus son épaule. Il commençait à le regretter.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Atlan a remarqué qu'un autre garçon se rendait à la table où son spectacle avait lieu. Une fois qu'il a réalisé que le garçon essayait de parler à la fille en colère, il voulait presque l'avertir. Mais au lieu de cela, il a sorti le bar granola de sa poche et a commencé à le manger prêt pour que le nouveau personnage rejoigne son spectacle.
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Name: Atlan Choros
Age: First year; 14
Race: demi-titan
Gender: male
Proficiency/Abilities: spatial magic- Including the abilities of telepotaion and subtle time manipulation, this class of magic is dedicated to warping space and time. He has the ability to change the distance in between objects. (Such as one step for him could take him miles in actual distance. He can seem to be across a classroom then be standing right in front of you. He often uses this magic to confuse and disorient an enemy.
Identification: standing at 5'7" and weighing 145lb he is on the smaller side. He is still growing so He secretly holds on to hope he will eventually be 6 feet. He has black hair and pale skin. His eyes are a brilliant gold that seem to reflect the light around him.
Personality: Atlan has poor social skills and is fairly shy. This leads to him being fairly defensive and off putting. He incredibly loves food and seems to be always hungry. This can be blamed on spatial magic using massive amounts of energy. He almost always is eating or asking someone for food.
Backstory: Atlan is the son is Chronos (the titan of time) And an unknown woman. His father took him the day he was born, and refused to tell him about his mother. Atlan is no stranger to the mystical or supernatural. He would often visit many of the places in the supernatural world. One place he enjoyed immensely was the land of the dead. It is not that he enjoys dead people, it is that he enjoys the silence. It was there he could think and relax. His father would often test him by dropping into a random point in the past and make him survive for a time off his own wits. His father has decided that Atlan's lack of social skill was his greatest weakness, so he decided to send him the academy. More than any challenge set before him this was the one he feared most......people.
Other: uses minor spatial magic on a daily basis almost unconsciously.
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"Je l'espère bien." Il a dit, juste avant que Fillan ne se lève. Il l'a regardé une seconde avant de se rendre compte à qui il allait parler. Kludd s'arrêta rapidement et le suivit là-bas, plaçant une main sur l'épaule de Fillan alors qu'il parlait à la fille. Ce n'était pas une bonne idée. Pas du tout. Il n'a PAS eu de bon pressentiment sur le résultat de cette interaction du tout. Il voulait juste retirer Fillan maintenant, éviter tout ce désordre, mais au moins Fillan faisait un effort pour être social.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Ashley s'est assise dans son siège, ses mains dans ses poches. Elle était encore un peu irritée par ce type, Mikale, ou quel que soit son nom, elle s'en foutait. Elle soupira dans le nez et ferma les yeux quand elle remarqua que Lalisa avait marché vers un autre garçon et lui avait aussi offert un biscuit. Elle a pensé à courir là-bas et jeter celui-là aussi, mais elle en savait mieux, ça allait juste commencer le chaos et elle ne voulait pas faire face à ça en ce moment. De plus, cela entraînerait un manque de confiance de Lalisa et ce ne serait pas bon pour son plan global. C'était surprenant comment juste un cookie pouvait déterminer son avenir.
Peu de temps après, Ashley a commencé à construire un plan sur la façon de construire SU(Sisters United) de nouveau en arrière, en particulier dans une école pleine d'utilisateurs magiques. C'était différent de son ancienne école, où un grand nombre d'enfants n'avaient pas de pouvoirs, comme elle l'a fait. Elle a pensé à créer quelques clubs, s'ils n'étaient pas déjà créés et devenir le leader de ces groupes. Ashley se demandait si le tir à l'arc ou le volleyball était un club/sport ici. Sûrement. S'ils l'étaient, elle devrait les rejoindre. Elle a froncé quand l'idée est apparue dans sa tête qu'elle devait être gentille avec les gars ici pour gagner la confiance de tout le monde. Elle a pris une respiration très profonde, mais a décidé qu'elle irait avec jusqu'à la fin, dans laquelle elle les tuerait. À ce moment-là, elle s'est moquée.
En y réfléchissant, quelqu'un avait décidé de commencer à lui parler. Elle fit le moindre saut, ne voyant pas que la personne était venue à elle, mais elle refusa de reconnaître qu'elle l'avait fait. Elle a ouvert les yeux et s'est immédiatement levée, réalisant que c'était un gars. Elle était sur le point de le frapper quand les pensées sur son plan sont revenues. Oui. Il s'est dit à elle-même. Par les dents serrées, elle lui répondit.
"Je vais bien. Je suis... Ashley," elle s'est forcée de dire.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Lalisa regarde que ses mots commencent à toucher Feine de manière curieuse - d'abord, le garçon saisit la poignée de sa poche de chemise, ce qui indique qu'il est secoué. Elle suppose qu'elle l'a contrarié d'une façon ou d'une autre, sans le vouloir. Comme elle est impolie. Ce truc de conversation est plus dur qu'il ne semble. Il reste calme un moment, et Lalisa se demande si elle devrait s'excuser de ne pas avoir entendu ses livres. Mais, ce n'est pas comme si elle aurait pu changer cela d'une façon ou d'une autre; Grand-mère est une figure parentale très autoritaire, et Lalisa se contente de lire ce qu'elle a donné. Elle devra faire des recherches sur Feine Rither une fois qu'elle aura accès à la bibliothèque de l'Académie, ou peut-être leur système informatique, elle aura besoin d'aide pour ça.
Et puis, étonnamment, Feine s'évanouit. Ça surprend Lalisa, du moins, parce qu'il avait l'air d'une figure si cool. Tout son visage change ; excité, il commence à se dévorer des œuvres de Shakespeare, toute fraîcheur oubliée. Lalisa trouve ça un peu mignon, en fait. Et il accepte son cookie! Il semble si impatient de le goûter, aussi...
"Je suis tout à fait d'accord! Shakespeare était un génie, facilement l'un des meilleurs auteurs à vivre. Ses personnages et tragédies sont si... C'est magnifique!" Lalisa ne peut pas s'empêcher de fangirl un peu trop, après tout, Shakespeare lui a donné beaucoup de confort pendant les longues heures de silence de l'après-midi. Elle aime les livres, et tous ceux qui sont d'accord, eh bien... ils ne peuvent pas être si mauvais. Et la façon dont il décrit son écriture! Incroyable. Lalisa décide qu'elle aime cette Feine, après tout. Et elle devrait vérifier ses livres.
Il le pose sur un peu d'épaisseur. Ses cookies ne sont pas si bons. Elle lui en donne une. « La puce chocolatée », explique-t-elle. "Je les ai fait distribuer à d'autres étudiants. J'espère que vous les aimerez... ils ne sont pas si bons, vraiment... » Elle rit, un peu gênée par la quantité de louanges qu'elle reçoit. C'est accablant. "Je ne sais pas pourquoi ils se battaient, cependant. Si tu peux l'appeler comme ça. Je pense qu'Ashley n'aime pas les garçons, pour une raison quelconque. De toute façon, je ne dois pas bavarder..."
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Fillan fut surpris par la main qui apparut soudain sur son épaule, il regarda rapidement vers le haut pour voir que c'était Kludd. Il ne pouvait pas dire qu'il était surpris par ça, mais ça l'a encore trouvé assez bizarre. Est-ce qu'il essaie de me soutenir? Qu'est-ce qu'il essaie de faire ici? Cela rend les choses plus embarrassantes... Il a tiré sur Kludd une expression illisible avant de regarder en arrière Ashley.
"Oh, euh, Ashley. C'est un joli nom."Une tache de terre sur le sol a soudainement pris son intérêt. Il a légèrement déplacé ses pieds. De son coin de l'œil, il pouvait voir un autre gars qu'il n'avait pas vu auparavant avec une peau très pâle qui contrastait avec ses cheveux noirs. Il se tenait un peu loin, mangeant un bar à granola. Est-ce qu'il me regarde? Je crois qu'il me surveille. C'est trop, je dois rentrer.
"Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Ashley. J'ai pensé qu'il serait bon de me présenter à quelques étudiants ici au cas où on aurait des cours ensemble. Ça a été agréable de te parler. Peut-être qu'on peut reparler un jour." Fillan tenta un sourire faible pour masquer son anxiété, mais il douta que cela fonctionnait réellement. Il a essayé de ne pas retourner à sa table et de cacher son visage derrière une pile de paquets de maths.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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La randonnée vers le haut de la montagne pourrait être résumée en un mot : ardue. Le sentier que Seren avait pris les avait conduits à travers six heures d'inclines, d'épines, de silences épouvantables qui assourdissaient leurs propres bases, et de racines de toutes sortes pour les faire monter; et Seren avait beaucoup trébuché. Pendant tout ce temps leurs frères et sœurs alternaient de planer, de se moquer, d'encourager, et tout à fait littéralement tirer Seren le long. C'était humiliant. Même leurs cris de ralliement et leur protection se sont sentis creux avec la peur. La peur de ce que Seren était devenu avec leurs nouvelles cornes, et un nouvel avenir. Le nombre de fois que Seren a souhaité Erika était là pour les rassurer que tout allait s'arranger; que cette école allait aider; que Seren allait changer leur propre avenir étaient aussi innombrables que les étoiles auxquelles leur sœur avait diviné il y a si longtemps. Une autre raison pour laquelle Seren a fait son premier pas.
Ça aussi, c'était épuisant. Même pas une cour dans leur voyage, et Seren avait déjà réussi à se tromper d'eux-mêmes. Trop souvent, Seren s'obsédait à s'assurer qu'ils faisaient de leur mieux pour ne jamais s'embêter, et cet incident renforçait encore cette obsession. Un bon jour, Seren s'est excusé, a vérifié pour s'assurer que l'autre personne allait bien, s'est excusé à nouveau, et a été sur leur après avoir vérifié à nouveau qu'ils n'avaient fait de mal à personne. Vu que c'était le premier jour d'école, c'était certainement un mauvais jour. Heureusement, Maeve les avait traînés avant que Seren puisse offrir par contrat leur servitude indéfectible à l'étranger pour s'être simplement heurté à eux. Une obsession acquise dans la petite enfance, mais épuisante d'être si émotionnellement consumée par la pénitence.
Malheureusement, la journée a duré un peu plus longtemps avant de donner un sursis à Seren. Ils étaient passés de presque en train d'arriver finalement un moment à avoir à sprinter pour ne pas manquer l'orientation la suivante. Ce n'est certainement pas la meilleure impression qu'ils auraient pu faire le premier jour. Heureusement, deux choses se sont finalement passées comme Seren. Tout d'abord, ils se sont astucieusement écartés entre leurs pairs de gauche et de droite; ils se sont précipités devant les hommes de classe supérieure qui avaient vieilli sans avoir besoin du séminaire d'introduction. Deuxièmement, ce groupe de classe supérieure comprenait ses frères et sœurs plus âgés, donnant ainsi à Seren le répit des jumeaux. Seren a été encore plus reconnaissant quand ils ont glissé dans la salle d'orientation juste une seconde avant que la chef-d'état-major commence. Si l'un ou l'autre de leurs frères et sœurs avait été là, les deux auraient gâché toute chance que Seren l'ait eue à la fureur.
Tout au long de son discours, Seren a tout pris en compte avec une concentration intense. C'était ça. Ils étaient assis – bien en fait debout contre le coin le plus éloigné dans le dos gauche essayant de regarder aussi petit que invisiblement possible – dans le hall d'orientation de l'Académie. Quand elle a fini, Seren s'est rendu compte que sa voix faisant autorité était le barrage de la pensée dans leur esprit qui retenait le torrent de leurs émotions tendues. C'était ça. Ils étaient enfin ici, et maintenant qu'ils étaient c'était beaucoup à saisir. En fait, ils devaient commencer à prendre des mesures pour vaincre leur père. Chaque jour allait à une bataille contre lui. Que Seren ait ou non appris et compris leurs cours, déciderait s'ils étaient eux-mêmes ou non, et pas certains. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. hôte. Une coquille. Un costume. Une peau sans âme enveloppée autour d'un corps qui appartenait à un démon.
C'est débordé. Le calme de Seren pourrait se résumer en un mot : débordé. Ils doivent respirer. Ils n'avaient pas besoin d'être dans une pièce fermée avec des gens autour pour les regarder avoir une panne. Donc Seren s'est excusé de la pièce une énième quantité de fois. Totalement perdu avec la pensée singulière: 'C'est beaucoup.' Finalement Seren a fait son chemin à l'extérieur. Les pourrait sentir la partie de l'herbe loin de leurs pas, mais Seren n'avait pas vraiment la capacité de penser à l'endroit où ils allaient même. Tout ce qu'ils savaient maintenant, c'est qu'ils étaient drainés. Avec le stress physique de la randonnée combinée avec les troubles émotionnels de leur arrivée Seren a été drainé. Fatigué. S'ils essayaient vraiment, Seren pouvait sentir l'aura sombre de l'influence de leur père mijoter à l'intérieur d'eux, les abreuvant dans la terre des morts. Ce que leur père ne savait pas, c'est que Seren venait de s'endormir sous l'arbre que quelqu'un occupait déjà. Une personne endormie; et comme le travail d'horlogerie, il a fallu seulement trois minutes pour que Seren incubus-hérité de rêve magique pour se réveiller inconsciemment. Quand Seren ouvrit les yeux, ils étaient dans le rêve d'un autre. Un garçon fae avec un penchant pour l'attitude, et –apparemment – se faufiler dans les arbres.
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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La première chose à saluer Seren a été le bruit de murmure. Ils étaient dans une aire de jeux, de ce qui semblait être une école élémentaire. Le paysage était simpliste et fade, comme prévu d'un rêve. Raphaël était petit ici, peut-être 5 ou 6, assis seul sur une balançoire dont la tête s'inclinait tristement. Il semblait si seul, en train de traîner ses pieds sur le sable sous lui et de saisir les chaînes de balançoires jusqu'à ce qu'il laisse des marques dans les paumes de ses mains.
L'ouïe de Seren's l'accorderait, les amènerait à se concentrer sur les autres enfants – si c'est ce que vous pourriez les appeler. Dans son rêve, les autres enfants étaient des figures noires malicieuses fumées aux yeux rouges démoniaques, en train de se métamorphoser et de se façonner avec des sourires fanés du mal.
C'est tellement bizarre.
Hé, ne dis pas ça, son père viendra te chercher.
Quel bébé.
Il n'est même pas capable de se défendre lui-même.
Soudain, l'image s'enlisa dans une autre scène, remplie de cris et de cris des enfants. Cette fois, Raphael était un peu plus âgé, et au-dessus d'un autre garçon. Ils se battaient.
Laisse-moi tranquille! Je veux juste être seule!C'est quoi, ça?
Un autre changement dans la réalité a amené Seren à l'extérieur d'un bureau principal, avec Raph enroulé sur une de ces chaises bleues bon marché, son visage cousu dans ses genoux. Vaguely et étouffé est venu la voix de qui vous ne pouviez que supposer était le principal: "Votre fils a agi dehors à l'école. Je suis désolé, mais nous ne pouvons plus tolérer ce comportement. Tu dois l'éduquer à la maison.
Avec un clin d'œil, ils étaient maintenant dans une jeune chambre de Raphael. Il y avait des dessins jetés sans souci dans une poubelle à côté d'un piano, où le garçon blond jouait. À côté de lui se tenait une grande brune femme, l'image de son visage éraflé dans son esprit. Encore la mauvaise note? Quand est-ce que tu auras raison?Un chef s'est craqué sur ses mèches, faisant pleurer le fae boy, lui tenant les mains. Vous êtes si lent. Qu'est-ce que ton père va penser?
Tout est devenu sombre. Une voix d'écho s'écria de façon familière : « Allez-vous-en! » Une épée, apparemment faite de lumière pure, brisée à travers les ténèbres.
Comme la lumière a rechargé la scène, Raphael s'est tenu comme il le fait maintenant, paralysé dans le choc comme il regardait vers le bas sur la femme blessée. À côté de lui était une beauté pure, une petite femme blonde avec des caractéristiques étonnantes mais le plus remarquablement grandes ailes iridescentes en forme d'insecte saillie de ses omoplates.
Non, pas du tout. Je n'y retournerai pas avec toi. Tu m'as abandonné une fois, tu n'as pas recommencé.
Raphael s'est enfuie, la fée lui criant silencieusement. Il a fini par atterrir sur cette même école, s'écroulant dans un sommeil. Le rêve s'éteint soudainement.
"Ah!" Raph a tiré de son sommeil, transpirant sur son visage et pantant fort. Il n'avait pas rêvé de ça depuis si longtemps... Le garçon fae tenait sa tête, dans une tentative faible d'arrêter les horribles coups dans ses temples. Il s'est demandé shakily.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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La dame avait remis Feine le biscuit de la puce au chocolat - et il a accepté volontiers.
"Tu les as faits pour donner à d'autres étudiants? C'est un personnage si intéressant." Feine a dit, quelque peu impressionné - bien qu'il savait qu'il ne ferait jamais ça lui-même. Ce qu'il a montré, cependant, c'est que la dame était très gentille. « Du point de vue de l'écriture, il pourrait y avoir toutes sortes de raisons pour lesquelles quelqu'un donnerait gratuitement des cookies. C'est certainement très intéressant."
Mais à part le biscuit, la blonde avait donné à Feine quelques informations juteuses sur son amie, la femme Feine a supposé qu'il s'agissait d'un garçon d'avant. Apparemment, le nom de cette femme était "Ashley", et qu'ils pourraient ne pas aimer les garçons. C'était intéressant pour Feine. Peut-être que les mâles en général étaient son 'Berserk Button', comme un certain site Feine apprécié le dirait. Néanmoins, c'était un trait très intéressant pour quelqu'un d'avoir, et certainement un qui pourrait conduire à des scénarios intéressants. Il semble que l'homme sauvage l'ait peut-être provoquée en poussant ce 'Berserk Button', qui a conduit à jeter le biscuit.
'Dans ce cas, il semble que j'ai de la chance que mon cookie reste toujours en une seule pièce. Ce ne serait pas un scénario intéressant? Cette femme a simplement giflé mon biscuit de mes mains, la faisant se briser et se disperser, comme de la poussière dans le vent. » Feine pensait à lui-même. 'Bien, je devrais consacrer les caractéristiques de cette 'Ashley' et cette femme blonde sans nom à l'esprit. Je le ferais pour l'homme sauvage, mais je ne sais pas grand-chose de lui. Quoi qu'il en soit... quels personnages intéressants nous avons, dans la pièce appelée 'Vie'!
Feine a regardé le biscuit qu'il avait reçu.
"Merci aussi pour ce biscuit au chocolat. Peut-être cela donnera-t-il l'inspiration que je recherche pour mon prochain article? » Feine a remercié avec un ton calme. "Toute chose dans la vie peut donner de l'inspiration. Le bon, le mauvais, même des choses qui peuvent sembler improbables, comme ce cookie ici. C'est la beauté inhérente à l'écriture, bien sûr."
« Bien qu'elle soit plutôt délicieuse, je ne peux pas me permettre de manger le biscuit en public. Après tout, c'est assez embarrassant de manger en public, n'est-ce pas?' Feine a réfléchi sur le biscuit.
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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« Ce n'est pas grand-chose, vraiment », dit Lalisa avec brio. Feine s'y met quand il s'intéresse à quelque chose, n'est-ce pas? "J'ai pensé que je pourrais aussi bien essayer de me faire des amis, puisque nous serons là pour un moment." Feine met tout en termes d'écriture... Est-ce que tous les écrivains font ça? Elle n'en a pas connu, donc c'est difficile à dire.
"Oh!" Lalisa met une main à sa bouche et rougisse. "Je ne me suis jamais présenté! Comme je suis impolie, j'ai été tellement emportée... » Cela lui a complètement glissé l'esprit ; Lalisa lui tend officiellement la main, en lui tachant les cheveux derrière l'oreille. "Lalisa Greenwood. J'étudie la magie végétale. J'espère qu'on peut... être amis?" Elle finit nerveusement, comme si elle n'était pas sûre de ce qu'elle faisait. Ce qui est vrai. C'est comme ça que tu commences les amitiés? Grand-mère, tu ne m'as jamais appris ça!
Feine regarde toujours le cookie. Lalisa ne sait pas pourquoi il a peut-être trouvé "inspiration" dans un biscuit, après tout? Pourquoi le dit-il comme ça? Est-ce qu'elle a dit tout faux? Soudain, elle souhaite être à la maison. Grand-mère ne lui a pas parlé d'écriture, juste de manières.
"Um. Veux-tu... le manger?" elle demande de façon incertaine. "Peut-être que tu n'as pas faim..." Elle est si mauvaise à ce truc socialisant. Ses doigts démangeaient pour un bon livre, ou un bol de pâte à fouetter.
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Cette impression a été noyée par la mer de figures hantées Seren avait trébuché dans avant même de voir le petit Raphael sur les balançoires. Des yeux ensanglantés et des crocs dégoulinants ont emporté tout sentiment de caprice attaché au mot « rêve ». Les ombres de monstres qui étaient supposés être des enfants ne s'affrontaient pas autour des enfants sans défense dans les rêves. Il n'y a pas eu de bruits comme des vagues qui se brisent sur la pierre dans les rêves.
Un coup de poing dans l'intestin.
Hé, ne dis pas ça, son père viendra te chercher.
Quel bébé. Un coup de pied dans le côté.
Une crache dans le visage. Ils pouvaient sentir les mots comme la violence qu'ils étaient. Seren voulait tendre la main à l'enfant. Pour faire quelque chose. N'importe quoi pour l'aider, mais les insultes les avaient mis à genoux. Quand ils se sont levés sur les jambes tremblantes, plus de violence était leur nouvelle vision. Cette fois-ci, l'enfant tourmenté lui-même engendra. Ce n'était pas un rêve. C'était une nuisette-- "Laisse-moi déjà tranquille!" C'est un cri florissant.
Seren a été envahi par le premier plan qui était la psyché endormie de Raphael. C'était pire qu'un cauchemar. C'était réel. C'était arrivé. Tout se sentait trop surréaliste, et c'était trop pour les deux. Avant même que Seren puisse imaginer d'avoir leurs repères, la lutte s'est déformée et s'est percutée dans un bureau. Le bureau du directeur, l'esprit de Raphael fourni. Trop de mémoires remplissaient les pages des livres qui se trouvaient autour de la pièce pour que cela soit une construction non plus. C'était réel, et Seren n'était pas là. En tant que tel, Seren a commencé à se dissoudre dans le fond de cet endroit. Ils ont plongé plus loin dans le subconscient de Raphael, le faisant descendre avec eux, mais sûrement l'expérience était différente pour lui. Il s'était occupé de ces moments de première main. Seren n'avait pas, ne pouvait pas, et ainsi tout a commencé à s'estomper à ce stade. Sélectionne seulement les aperçus teintés de Seren avec leur propre douleur unique.
La déception d'un père.
L'abus d'un instructeur.
Une lame aveuglante.
Un cri éclatant.
Une déclaration.
Une fugue.
Tout cela est arrivé à son apogée à la base de l'Académie où, pour Seren, les choses tournaient ensemble de plus en plus vite. Des détails qu'ils n'ont pas pu traiter comme Seren s'est écrié et a essayé de nager leur sortie. Il était trop tard cependant, car le vortex et le « rêve » s'ouvrent soudainement. » Ah!"Une voix avec une familiarité retentissante que Seren ne pouvait pas placer immédiatement, sonnait comme une alarme, mais les yeux de Seren restaient fermés. Lutter contre l'envie de les ouvrir automatiquement a aiguisé leur concentration. Seren avait déjà vécu cela auparavant, et bien que cela n'en ait pas fait moins taxer sur eux, cela voulait dire qu'ils savaient comment gérer cela. Des années de minimisation de leurs propres cauchemars récurrents, des erreurs nocturnes, et des visites nocturnes de lui les avaient préparés pour cela. Si quelqu'un n'était pas là pour voir cette pression rapide de leurs yeux, aucun après ne serait le plus sage pour la prochaine Seren a commencé à agir. En dépit de l'absence de pression de la part de leur famille, ce processus était de seconde nature pour eux à ce stade. Lentement, afin de ne pas attirer plus d'attention possible, Seren adoucit leur propre expression comme s'ils dormaient réellement. L'étape suivante était de compter jusqu'à cent. Cela a donné à Seren le temps de se calmer de ce qui s'était passé, et a favorisé l'illusion d'être endormi. Une fois Seren arrivé à cent, ils ont ouvert les yeux, et tout ce qu'ils pouvaient imaginer était le visage abattu de cet enfant solitaire. Aussi solitaire que Seren.
Qui était-ce? Comme Seren s'est demandé, la voix précédente est revenue à leur attention. Et qui était-ce? Seren se leva, tira leur capuche plus serré autour d'eux-mêmes, et regarda vers la source de l'exclamation. Leur cou a grimpé. "Je suis désolé. Je ne m'étais pas annoncé. Est-ce que je t'ai fait peur?" Seren s'inclina deux fois, et avant que Raph puisse obtenir un mot, les excuses anxieux et offre couler en tandem rapide. "Je suis désolée. Ce n'était pas mon intention. Ça va? S'il vous plaît, ne tombez pas. Tu veux de l'aide? J'ai fait ça avec mon frère plusieurs fois. Je peux aider." Leur embarras distrait Seren de ce qu'ils auraient dû réaliser entre les deux. Je ne peux même pas faire une sieste sans provoquer une scène. Je ne peux pas me croire moi-même. Je fais toujours des ennuis. J'aurais dû rester dans la salle d'orientation. Seren a tiré sur leurs manches en attendant une réponse, mais n'a jamais cassé le contact visuel. C'était impoli.
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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Une autre secousse montait la colonne vertébrale du garçon, il tournait si vite dans le petit coin de branches qu'il se reposait en il a failli tomber. Une fois qu'il a réussi à retrouver son équilibre délicat, les yeux dorés étaient larges, semblables à ceux d'un animal surpris. Cependant, assez tôt, ils se rétrécirent dans leur regard de feu habituel, scrutant point par point vers le bas à Seren.
Avec la grâce d'un chat, Raph quitta son lieu de sommeil pour atterrir doucement sur ses pieds, tirant sur l'autre côté. Ses jolies caractéristiques étaient fixées à nouveau dans le même masque trempé qu'il portait habituellement, l'expression enfantine effrayante semblant comme si elle n'avait jamais pu appartenir.
Ça va. Et je n'ai pas besoin de ton aide. Se faufiler sur les personnes endormies est grossier, juste pour que vous le sachiez.La voix de Raphael était rugueuse et teintée de venin, ses yeux s'éloignant de l'apparence étrange de Seren et retournant vers l'école. L'orientation était déjà finie? Combien de temps cette femme peut-elle parler? Le fae mâchait l'intérieur de sa joue dans une vague tentative de calmer son cœur encore rapidement battant. Putain de cauchemar... Il semblait qu'il ne s'endormait pas de sitôt.
L'attention de Raphêl s'est lentementompée à la figure de cheveux blancs à côté de lui, qui n'avait pas essuyé comme il l'avait supposé. Alors? Aviez-vous besoin de quelque chose ou êtes-vous juste un ravageur?La blonde a jeté ses mains dans la veste surdimensionnée drapée autour de lui, se tournant à plein visage Seren avec un regard attendu.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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Il a échoué à l'introduction brutale de Serens, ce qui a amené Seren à atteindre la moitié pour l'attraper. Heureusement, il s'est stabilisé avant même qu'ils puissent terminer le mouvement. Ils laissèrent le souffle qui s'empare de leur gorge, mais bientôt Raph leur donna une nouvelle raison de s'étirer. Les yeux jaunes courbés comme des yeux dorés aiguisés. Seren voulait se boucler dans une balle, et il a fallu tous leurs efforts pour ne pas fléchir physiquement. Ils ne pouvaient pas rester immobiles pendant longtemps, bien que Raphael ait fait atterrir son félin là où ils se trouvaient autrefois.
Ça va. Et je n'ai pas besoin de ton aide. Se faufiler sur les personnes endormies est grossier, juste pour que vous sachiez.L'embarras de Seren a été immédiatement sobre. Leur silence est sombre. La culpabilité est tombée dans la fosse de leur estomac comme un poids de deux tonnes. En entendant Raphael parler jumelé à prendre dans ses traits a finalement fait la familiarité dans sa voix ont du sens. -- Laisse-toi tranquille! Ils n'auraient pas dû voir ce qu'ils avaient vu. C'était au-delà du privé. Au-delà du personnel. Seren savait littéralement ce que c'était d'avoir ce genre de choses poussées sur vous après avoir cru qu'elles avaient disparu. Seren ressentait toutes les moqueries, toutes les frappes du souverain, et chaque souffle agité sorti des poumons de Raphael alors qu'il courait dans une panique désespérée et sans but vers l'Académie. Mettre toutes les pièces ensemble a rappelé à Seren leurs propres erreurs de nuit, et à quel point Seren s'est senti dévasté quand ils ont même imaginé que quelqu'un les apprenait. Ce souvenir assourdissait le monde extérieur.
Ils entendirent Raphael parler, mais leur attention fut perdue sur son visage. Il était tranchant comme un couteau, mais sachant ce que Seren savait, il était clair que ses bords cachaient sa vulnérabilité. Ses souvenirs racontaient à Seren ce que Raph ne voulait pas admettre, et ce genre de mensonge – le genre d'évitement – était trop reconnaissable à la vie familiale de Seren. Seren était aussi familier que leur propre sweat à capuche surdimensionné. C'est drôle de voir comment ça s'est passé comme ça. Deux personnes coupées dans le même tissu, mais à des extrémités différentes, ont le même goût dans la taille de la veste.
Alors? Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose ou êtes-vous juste un ravageur?Seren ne pouvait pas juste le laisser à nouveau seul. Ils savaient à quel point c'était solitaire de mentir comme ça. Comme si tout allait bien quand ce n'était pas le cas. Peut-être que Seren y lisait trop, mais ils ne pouvaient pas s'empêcher de se sentir liés au garçon fae. Le cambion doutait qu'il accepterait leur compagnie, alors Seren a dû trouver quelque chose de rapide. Ils se joignirent légèrement pour rattraper la fae alors qu'ils battaient ensemble une excuse pour veiller sur lui.
"Oh, euh, B-mais surement je peux vous aider! Je t'ai presque surpris de cet arbre, tout de mes genoux de manières. » On s'attend à ce que cela ne soit pas bien reçu. Ce n'était pas souvent Seren a embrassé l'honnêteté inconfortable, mais Raphael les a forcés à faire une exception. Donc, en réunissant ce peu de confiance que Maeve avait instillé en eux, ils marchaient juste assez avant pour faire face au garçon. Seren a pris une profonde respiration. Ils ne savaient pas comment il allait réagir, mais ils ont dû le faire sortir. L'anxiété a été repassée de leurs yeux maintenant déterminés par la résolution durcissante, mais ils ont encore échoué à la dernière seconde. "J'ai tort de vous, j'ai envahi votre plus exclusive intimité, et je vais le faire." En réalité, Seren n'était pas sur leur peur d'expliquer l'impact de leurs pouvoirs, et donc ils ont omis d'être vagues à partir d'années de censure eux-mêmes. Cependant, ils se repoussent plus tard pour les châtier, afin de fixer Raphael avec le regard le plus dur qu'ils puissent rassembler.
Leur autre habitude est entrée, et Seren a ajouté "s'il vous plaît", mais a fait leur meilleure impression de la signature de leur mère, je vous demande-mais-vraiment-j'ai-fait-haut-mon-esprit ton. Ils devaient le faire. Pour Raphael, ils se disaient eux-mêmes. Parce que personne n'avait été là pour lui quand il a d'abord vécu les moments du rêve. Parce qu'il avait besoin de quelqu'un. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Qu'est-ce que leur subconscient ne leur a pas dit? Que c'était pour Seren. Parce que Seren n'a jamais permis à personne d'être là pour eux à la suite de leurs propres rêves tourmentants. Parce que même s'ils essayaient de changer leur propre avenir tout seul, ils ont besoin de quelqu'un. Donc Seren a dû aider.
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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La blonde poilue s'était présentée sous le nom de 'Lalisa Greenwood'. Parfait! Feine connaissait les noms de deux des trois personnes qu'il s'intéressait, à part l'homme qu'il a surnommé sauvage. Peut - être devrait - il essayer de l'entendre, ou peut - être lui donner un nom qu'il avait créé lui - même?
Lalisa a parlé de vouloir se faire des amis, en raison du fait que les étudiants de l'Académie seront autour pour un certain temps. Feine l'a trouvé très intéressant. Différentes personnes réagissent à différents scénarios, bien, différemment. Certaines personnes peuvent s'isoler, d'autres peuvent essayer de se faire des amis. Cependant, dans ce scénario - une bonne réponse possible varierait sur la personne. Bien sûr, pour Feine, il savait que sa bonne réponse était de s'entourer de personne d'autre que des gens proches de son niveau. Se limiter aux gens à son niveau était bien trop restrictif, après tout.
Mais l'esprit de Feine a été poussé à s'arrêter alors que Lalisa se tapait la main. Cela a surpris Feine, qui a subtilement soulevé un sourcil dans l'incrédulité. Peu de gens ont fait une telle chose là où il vivait. C'était assez formel, mais Feine n'était pas tout à fait sûr de ce qu'il devait faire.
Est-ce que je suis supposé aussi me mettre la main dehors? Si je fais ça, mais ce n'est pas le cas, alors j'aurais l'air d'un idiot. D'un autre côté, tout à fait littéralement - faire un contact de main avec quelqu'un n'est pas quelque chose que je compte faire, pas à moins qu'ils soient complètement à mon niveau. Cette dame est à un niveau plus élevé que votre Joe Schmoe moyen, mais même quand même... cependant, dans les deux cas, ça serait aussi grossier. Cette Lalisa s'intéresse à la littérature et semble être la source d'inspiration possible. Pour ce qui est de mon prochain mouvement, je vais jouer le rôle de quelqu'un d'autre. Un garçon sans indice, très différent de moi. Même si cela peut être dégradant, c'est dans l'intérêt de l'écriture.» Feine a pensé à lui-même rapidement, en considérant ses pistes d'action possibles dans ce scénario.
"Qu'est-ce que je fais ici?" Feine a prononcé, un ton d'ingéniosité dans ses paroles. "Je ne suis pas tout à fait sûr, de dire la vérité... pardonnez-moi. Mais de toute façon, être ami semble plutôt bien. La littérature rassemble les gens, on dirait."
Avec ça, Feine a aussi pensé qu'il devrait ajouter autre chose - on lui avait demandé pourquoi il n'avait pas encore mangé le cookie. C'était facile.
"Quant aux raisons pour lesquelles je n'ai pas encore mangé le biscuit - manger n'est pas particulièrement quelque chose que j'aime faire en public. Avec cela... Feine commença à parler. « En tant qu'humain, je m'efforce d'être le plus grand que je puisse être dans tous les domaines possibles - quelque chose que je ressens est à ma portée. Une de ces choses que j'ai fait pour atteindre cet objectif est de minimiser la fréquence à laquelle je mange. Il n'y a guère de sens à manger, autre que la survie - bien sûr. Cependant, certains aliments peuvent donner de l'inspiration. C'est la nourriture qui m'y attire vraiment. » Feine a expliqué assez rapidement mais clairement, mettant en lumière ses habitudes alimentaires. Toute l'inexactitude dans sa voix de ce qu'il avait dit auparavant avait été abolie, comme de la glace dans une fournaise bouillante.
"Hmm. J'ai utilisé quelques mots là-bas." Feine murmure, assez audible pour être entendue. "Cependant... Je n'ai aucun doute que non seulement ce biscuit aura bon goût, mais il apportera également de l'inspiration."
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Lalisa lui a tendu la main, en supposant que Feine le prenne et qu'ils tremblent, mais ça ne semble pas être le cas. Il regarde à blanc sa main, et Lalisa a un bref moment de panique... maintenant quoi? Il ne serre pas la main d'où il vient? Est-ce qu'elle l'offense? Elle aurait pensé que quelqu'un qui parlait comme lui connaîtrait ses manières, mais... Lalisa pense secrètement qu'il est un peu gâté. Non pas qu'elle dise quelque chose d'aussi grossier à voix haute, bien sûr.
"Vous n'avez jamais ébranlé la main?" Elle lui demande d'être incrédule. "Oh, c'est facile! Ici, tu tiens ta main... » A ce stade, Lalisa atteint la main de Feine ; elle espère que ce n'est pas impoli, mais elle voit comme son devoir de rendre les choses aussi déplaisantes que possible. En prenant sa main dans la sienne, elle la saisit fermement en lui expliquant : « Alors, tu trembles... comme ça, il faut vraiment serrer! » Secouant vigoureusement la main de Feine, elle s'écrie: «Bon de vous rencontrer!» comme exemple de salutation. Une fois sa démonstration terminée, elle laisse tomber sa main et sourit brillamment. "Vous devrez le faire beaucoup, alors vous devriez apprendre maintenant. J'espère que ça aide! »
Feine réfléchit aussi beaucoup à la façon dont il mange. Lalisa se sent un peu insensible à poser la question, mais elle ne peut rien y faire maintenant. Il est intéressant à écouter, en tout cas.
« Je pense aussi que la nourriture que cela signifiait être apprécié », dit Lalisa assez au sérieux, parce qu'elle prend la nourriture au sérieux. « Le goût d'un repas peut avoir autant de différence sur vous que la valeur nutritive. Je suis désolé de poser de telles questions personnelles; vous semblez être un individu très bien pensé. »
Reprendre ce mot--l'inspiration--et sa phrase maudite, Lalisa hoche la tête. C'était beaucoup de mots, en effet. Mais... il veut être ami! Attends que grand-mère entende, elle sera si fière!
« Soyons amis, dit officiellement Lalisa, en se croisant fièrement les épaules. Son premier ami! Sans compter Ashley... Est-ce qu'Ashley compte? Elle est tombée des bonnes grâces de Lalisa avec ce lancer de biscuits. Quel gâchis.
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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La patte des pas derrière lui a fait Raph mâcher le coin de sa lèvre, retenant un cri d'ennui. Est-ce qu'il a déjà su quand abandonner?
Raphael n'était qu'un peu plus petit que Seren ; cela, en plus du fait que les fae n'essayaient même pas de les dépasser, a rendu assez facile pour le démon de couper brusquement son chemin. La blonde s'est apaisée sur ses marches ferventes, un froid ralentit dans un arrêt doux pour tirer un autre éblouissement ennuyé. Je ne comprends pas. Je suis aussi impoli pour eux que toute autre personne, mais ils n'abandonnent pas. C'est un pari ou un défi? Raphael est resté silencieux, les regardant curieusement, essayant de trouver un quelconque soupçon de mobile derrière leurs actions. Parce que, bien sûr, il devait y en avoir un si quelqu'un était gentil avec lui de toutes les personnes.
"Je t'ai fait du tort, j'ai envahi ta plus grande intimité, et je vais rattraper ça."
Qu'est-ce qu'ils foutent? Quelle intimité? Ils m'ont réveillée. Une secousse involontaire de son sourcil a montré son dégoût avec toute l'idée, mais Raph s'est vite rendu compte qu'il n'était pas se débarrasser de quelqu'un ce collant facilement. Bien, s'ils voulaient traîner autour de lui, laissez-le, mais il n'allait pas les traiter plus bien. Seren se lasserait de lui. Tout le monde l'a fait.
Quoi qu'il en soit. Fais ce que tu veux. Reste juste en dehors du chemin.Le fae a couru une main à travers ses serrures d'or avec un huff, avant de le déposer dans sa poche et de repartir vers l'école. En fait, c'était une sorte de sentiment agréable d'avoir quelqu'un à ses côtés non agressivement, mais c'était quelque chose que Raphael n'admettait pas à haute voix. Il ne pouvait toujours pas faire confiance à cette personne. Le seul qu'il savait faire confiance était lui-même, et même c'est un concept instable. Ses yeux s'arrêtèrent jusqu'à Seren, semblable à un chiot cynique qui avait été ramassé de la livre. Pourquoi? Pourquoi faisaient-ils ça? Raph a déballé une sucette rouge et l'a collée dans sa bouche pour mâcher de l'habitude nerveuse et enfantine, en retournant ses yeux à l'image intéressante de ses pieds marchant à travers l'herbe.
C'est quoi, ça? Votre nom. Si vous allez me suivre comme une puce, alors je devrais au moins connaître votre nom... Qu'est-ce qu'il faisait avec ça? C'est quoi, ça? Appelez-moi Raph, je suppose.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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Atlan était écrasée, pourquoi était-elle si calme? Pourquoi n'a-t-elle pas encore jeté quelque chose? Il était tellement déçu qu'il n'avait même pas d'appétit. Il a remis sa barre de granola dans sa poche, et a commencé à courir à double vitesse. Il voulait juste que l'assemblée soit finie, pour qu'il puisse aller manger quelque chose. Il s'est rendu compte que son appétit était de retour et a recommencé à travailler sur cette barre de granola.
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Name: Atlan Choros
Age: First year; 14
Race: demi-titan
Gender: male
Proficiency/Abilities: spatial magic- Including the abilities of telepotaion and subtle time manipulation, this class of magic is dedicated to warping space and time. He has the ability to change the distance in between objects. (Such as one step for him could take him miles in actual distance. He can seem to be across a classroom then be standing right in front of you. He often uses this magic to confuse and disorient an enemy.
Identification: standing at 5'7" and weighing 145lb he is on the smaller side. He is still growing so He secretly holds on to hope he will eventually be 6 feet. He has black hair and pale skin. His eyes are a brilliant gold that seem to reflect the light around him.
Personality: Atlan has poor social skills and is fairly shy. This leads to him being fairly defensive and off putting. He incredibly loves food and seems to be always hungry. This can be blamed on spatial magic using massive amounts of energy. He almost always is eating or asking someone for food.
Backstory: Atlan is the son is Chronos (the titan of time) And an unknown woman. His father took him the day he was born, and refused to tell him about his mother. Atlan is no stranger to the mystical or supernatural. He would often visit many of the places in the supernatural world. One place he enjoyed immensely was the land of the dead. It is not that he enjoys dead people, it is that he enjoys the silence. It was there he could think and relax. His father would often test him by dropping into a random point in the past and make him survive for a time off his own wits. His father has decided that Atlan's lack of social skill was his greatest weakness, so he decided to send him the academy. More than any challenge set before him this was the one he feared most......people.
Other: uses minor spatial magic on a daily basis almost unconsciously.
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L'Académie, le jour de l'orientation. La Grande Salle.
Alors que les discours et les discours s'arrêtaient, Mlle Elysion, chef d'orchestre, lâchait la gorge. Le son rebondit sur les murs de pierre robustes, éteignant la plupart des étudiants rassemblés. Elle sourit, un sourire doux mais vrai qui élève les esprits. Elle espère, dans son cœur, que ces étudiants passeront ses examens, suivront les bonnes règles comme ses autres étudiants et les guerriers diplômés. Cela fait peu d'années que l'Académie a ouvert ses portes, mais la première classe de diplômés avait déjà été accueillie à bras ouverts dans leurs villages et villes, les proclamant « guerriers du bien ». Elle espère la même chose pour ces petits. Ils parlent entre eux, et ne prêtent aucune attention aux plus grandes choses qui leur sont demandées. Mais ils le feront.
Bientôt.
Mlle Headmaster Elysion vérifie encore sa montre. Le temps est de neuf heures et quinze minutes, et ses calculs étaient corrects.
« En général, nous attribuons des partenaires basés sur la compétence et la personnalité, mais aujourd'hui, les choses vont être un peu différentes. Si vous restez dans vos sièges, s'il vous plaît..."
J'ai des yeux dans les yeux!
Les sirènes placées autour de l'école commencent à sonner, ce qui fait que certains élèves s'égarent, d'autres paniquent. Le directeur, observant ses élèves de retour commencent à équiper les armes et son personnel se déplace vers le front, élève sa voix pour être entendue au-dessus des sirènes.
"...vous pouvez vous tenir debout. Les étudiants, c'est votre premier test. Montrez-moi vos compétences, jeunes."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alors que les alarmes sonnent, les réactions sont rapides. Les étudiants de retour, déjà habitués à la nature soudaine de ces attaques, se classent à partir de divers endroits et commencent vers les portes d'entrée pour les sécuriser. Lalisa, de sa place dans le hall, peut voir la plupart des premières années comme ils paniquent, applaudissent, ou juste semblent confus.
Notre premier test! Quelle opportunité passionnante! Lalisa, bien qu'un pacificateur de cœur, est curieux de voir quel genre de monstres ils affronteront - sera-t-il les premières années à se battre? Elle doit faire tout son possible pour plaire au directeur.
Invoquant quelques plantes de la terre entre des fissures dans le sol, Lalisa sent un frisson d'excitation couler dans sa colonne vertébrale. Si seulement grand-mère pouvait la voir maintenant!
Je te rendrai fier, grand-mère! Je vous le promets!
Les lumières scintillent, assombrissant le grand hall de façon significative. C'est le premier signe des Esprits - en tant qu'êtres noirs, ils détestent la lumière, le bien, et surtout l'Académie - c'est pourquoi ils l'attaquent si souvent. Mlle Headmaster Elysion n'est pas en bons termes avec les forces obscures, étant un ange et tout.
Avec un grand rugissement, quelque chose de sombre et visqueux glisse sous les portes, brisant les fenêtres et descendant comme de l'eau. Les Esprits, certains prenant des formes d'animaux, d'autres en tant que gens, commencent à se refermer sur la foule. La plupart des élèves entourent les grappes, en cherchant le lien le plus faible.
Les étudiants de l'Académie se préparent à la bataille.
Le présent règlement entre en vigueur le vingtième jour suivant celui de sa publication au Journal officiel de l'Union européenne. Vous êtes prêts? Ces Esprits agissent comme des ennemis de bas niveau fondamentalement, vous pouvez déterminer comment votre char se bat contre / ce que votre Esprit est aussi longtemps que vous n'êtes pas comme les oblitérer. Je suis flexible. Il y aura probablement un patron plus tard, joué par le vôtre vraiment, mais pour la plupart juste l'ailer. Si vous avez des questions, ooc est bien, ou même (). Bonne chance!)
|
Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Tandis que les sirènes s'en allaient, Kludd se tendit instinctivement, balançant la pièce et essayant de trouver la source du danger soudain. Il était heureux que son bras était déjà autour de Fillan, c'était rassurant pour lui. Un test, c'est qu'on se bat au premier jour. On ne pourrait pas mourir? Il pensait amèrement que la lumière diminuait. Son cœur a commencé à frapper dans sa poitrine, le noir lui avait toujours fait peur. Son énergie magique s'est incrustée dans la vie après cela, ses yeux commençant à briller rouge, symbolisant son pouvoir magique était en cours d'utilisation. Tout d'abord, la vision nocturne. Un sort simple, qu'il avait étudié si dur qu'il n'avait pas vraiment besoin d'efforts pour lancer. La pièce s'est à nouveau éclairée, du moins dans ses yeux, tout comme un rugissement a déchiré la zone et une étrange substance visqueuse commence à se glisser dans la pièce. Sans perdre de temps à réfléchir à ce qu'il était, il jeta un sort de protection autour de lui et de Fillan, créant une sorte de bulle d'énergie rouge autour des deux, les protégeant des créatures qui prennent maintenant forme. Ils ressemblaient à des animaux ou des humains, mais bizarrement tordus et sombres. Il aurait souhaité avoir une arme, ou avoir étudié les sorts d'attaque plus en profondeur. Comme les créatures se fermaient, il semblait que se battre avec ses poings n'était peut-être pas une option.
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Name: Fillan Plasket
Age: 14
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: He can control technology, such as turning power on and off, coding and/or encrypting different machines and devices, and hacking into systems.
Identification: Fillan's tall with a lanky build, standing around 5'8. He has medium length wavy dark brown hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in ages. It's parted in the middle and worn down with no sort of styling to it. He has large elliptical teal eyes and pale skin with small dark brown eyebrows. He has a narrow chest and long legs. Very skinny, he weighs around 115 lbs. Not physically fit in the slightest, but has a quick mind. He keeps his outfit simple; a white button down longsleeve shirt with a pastel green tie, black slacks and black leather dress shoes. He also wears large, thick framed olive glasses.
Personality: Fillan's timid and soft spoken, preferring to avoid conflict if at all possible. He usually keeps an open mind about others but is harsh and criticizing of himself. He's rather indecisive and tends to lack very good judgment or insight into other's personas. He has a turbulent underbelly full of emotion and insecurities, but typically internalizes it all and keeps most opinions to himself during group conversations. His mind has a tendancy to wander, especially during dull moments and he daydreams frequently, which can lead him to wandering about before realizing he's lost his way and has to try to retrace his steps. He enjoys doing math and does it almost always whenever he has spare time. Other hobbies of his include collecting different strands of ribbon and buttons, which he likes to hang in his room. Despite his naturally passive state, he can be surprisingly selfish at times and even sassy in the right mood. He tends to put his ambitions and goals over his physical and mental health, neglecting a lot of necessities. Fillan's never been very forthcoming with important information, and is individualistic in the way he goes about doing things, preferably doing it by himself without telling anyone and he's rather adamant about that.
Backstory: Fillan's switched households since he was 5 years old. He was put into foster care due to financial hardships and that his parents weren't prepared to have a child. He feels out of place most of the time, and is alienated from society as a whole. Since he was placed in foster care, he had trouble making friends due to sporadic moving that took place throughout his school years. Around the middle of six grade, he gave up entirely on socializing and instead dedicated himself to academics; as up until that point, his grades were nothing to be proud of. He discovered a new passion for learning, specifically math as he tried his best to catch up on his studies. When he moved schools at the end of seventh grade, he enrolled to a local boarding school. At that school, he was dormed with another student named Kludd. With a lot of persistence (mostly on Kludd's part) they became good friends and often shared a large portion of their time together. When they graduated, Fillan caught word about a mysterious school several miles north of where they lived that was only known as; "The Academy" Curious, he decided that's where he wanted to go for highschool.
Other: He really, really likes math and is often doing math packets.
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Après tout, c'était le bon coup de fil. Seren a supprimé le petit sourire qui vibre sur leurs lèvres quand Raphael ne s'est pas immédiatement mis à les pousser hors de son chemin. Ils suivirent derrière le garçon les picotements d'orgueil qui s'enfonçaient dans leur poitrine. Bien que cela ne devrait certainement pas -- et qu'il ait beaucoup parlé de l'arrière-plan social de Seren -- c'était une petite victoire pour eux. Seren, en quelque sorte, en quelque sorte, s'est affirmé, et ça ne s'est pas retourné. Ce n'est pas pour laisser entendre que Seren n'avait jamais élevé sa voix avant, ou qu'on leur avait jamais fait sentir que leur opinion n'était pas appréciée à la maison, mais tout le contraire. Bien avant qu'il n'entre dans leur vie et leur âme, leur famille se dotait toujours de chaque parole. Comme si Seren était fait de verre, et donc ils ont tous regardé dehors afin que leurs voix n'aient pas brisé l'enfant fragile. Pour être juste, Seren était et est encore, émotionnellement cru de toute la confusion et blessé de leurs erreurs de nuit, mais la réaction de leur famille à la colportation, mais pas à la colportation, a enseigné à Seren tôt que leurs mots signifiait quelque chose. Que tout ce qu'il a fallu, c'était une mauvaise formulation en réponse à une simple question comme « Comment allez-vous? » pour gâcher l'humeur de quelqu'un, et ils n'en diraient jamais rien non plus; soyez simplement en colère silencieusement. Ce serait silencieusement leur faute. Inutile de dire que cela a contribué aux angoisses sociales de Seren, de sorte qu'ils attendaient toujours à moitié une pelle malgré ce qu'ils ont appris du rêve. Ils auraient certainement reçu pire avec moins de warni...
C'est quoi, ça? Ton nom."
L'alerte s'inscrivait dans les orbes jaunes de Seren, qui avaient déjà été occupées à regarder L'Académie grandir à mesure que les deux s'approchaient du monolithe de la pierre polie. Il me parle d'abord? Et ce n'est pas pour me dire de m'énerver? Ce n'était pas une question, mais Raphael a poursuivi, « si vous allez me suivre comme une puce, alors au moins je devrais connaître votre nom... » Le commentaire « puce » n'a pas été remarqué, mais Seren a brossé cela avant même qu'il ne les touche. Armani a toujours été snide et sales le matin de toute façon, donc Seren a eu une résistance. Ce qui s'est arrêté pour Seren, c'est quand Raphael a poursuivi sa peine précédente.
C'est quoi, ça? Il suffit de m'appeler Raph, je suppose.- Avec le bénévolat du surnom de Raphaël Seren leur a permis leur petit sourire de plus tôt. Pour quelqu'un dont les seuls amis étaient leurs frères et sœurs, c'était particulièrement un grand virage à partir de quand les fae fixaient des poignards il y a quelques instants. Ça n'a pas pris beaucoup de temps pour plaire à Seren, et ça s'est montré. C'était un peu comme s'il s'ouvrait déjà? Peut-être que ses bords n'étaient pas si rudes après tout. Comme s'il essayait? Une voix consciente de soi à l'avant-garde de leur esprit a dit à Seren que cela ne signifiait rien, et qu'ils ne devraient pas sourire sur quelque chose de si simple. Qu'ils devraient être normaux. Doucement. Naturellement Seren a donné dans cette voix en essuyant l'expression de leur visage, mais Seren a toujours pris cela comme un bon signe. Tout ne devait pas toujours être si mauvais. Parfois, on entre dans l'enfance tourmentée d'un mec à travers ses rêves, et tout s'est bien passé. Pas vrai? C'était une nouvelle école, une nouvelle année, et de nouvelles choses abondaient autour de chaque coin de rue avec des possibilités. De nouvelles choses comme se rendre à la randonnée pour la première fois; comme se présenter à quelqu'un pour la première fois.
"Je-" Soudain Seren sentit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est parti. Ils voulaient l'attribuer à leurs nerfs, mais c'était comme si...
J'ai des yeux dans les yeux!
La bouche de Seren était ouverte. Les pieds collés à l'endroit où ils se trouvaient. Le hors-sens s'approfondit. Sans une seconde de plus pour y penser, un geyser de sourire catapulté vers l'entrée, les deux s'approchaient comme un prédateur se baladant sur sa proie. La voie est bloquée. Pris dehors. Les yeux larges. Bouche sèche. ' C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est bon, c'est bon. C'est ce que j'ai dit. .' Même leurs pensées...
Roar: sur Terre. C'est bon, c'est bon. Fists : balancé. Esprits: entrants. Pensées : sombres.
Peut-être que ce n'était pas le bon coup de fil après tout.
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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À l'écoute de ce que le directeur disait Mikale en quelque sorte en espérant un partenaire, il réfléchit à qui serait son partenaire et à la façon dont les pouvoirs pourraient compléter le sien. Il rêvait d'être partenaire avec quelqu'un avec une super force qui pourrait le lancer comme une boule de canon "qui serait si cool" il pensait à lui-même. Sa rêverie a été interrompue par un bruit fort, la pièce subitement en mouvement réagissant au son. Il a décidé de se diriger vers le coin arrière de la pièce, il a vu quelques chaises empilées à côté d'une fenêtre et a grimpé au sommet. Il s'assit et regarda les autres étudiants pour voir leurs capacités, il voit un enfant mettre une bulle rouge de sorte autour de lui et une autre personne. A côté de lui une pile de la substance étrange a commencé à se bousculer ensemble, s'infiltrant par une ouverture dans la fenêtre, il a pris la forme d'un vieil homme. "C'est effrayant, tu lui ressembles, mais tu peux prendre un coup comme il peut" Mikale a dit sauter de la pile de chaises.
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Fillan pouvait dire à Kludd qu'il était contrarié avant même d'ouvrir la bouche alors que Kludd le ramenait plus ou moins à son siège après son expédition plutôt embarrassante avec Ashley. Fillan a croisé les bras et était sur le point d'ouvrir la bouche et d'expliquer comment il ne savait pas qu'Ashley détestait les gars quand il a entendu le directeur commencer à parler. Il l'avait presque oubliée, la dame aux yeux de faucon, au milieu de tous ces autres événements qui se produisaient dans la pause de son discours.
Respectueusement, Fillan a tourné toute son attention vers le directeur, même s'il a trouvé ses yeux plutôt surprenants. Il commençait à s'y habituer. En fait, ses yeux étaient le moindre de ses soucis à ce stade. Fillan était trop occupée à essayer d'enregistrer ce qu'elle disait, tout s'est réuni trop tard.
J'ai des yeux dans les yeux!
Les sirènes ont commencé à sonner, et Fillan a pu sentir l'atmosphère de la classe prendre un quart complet. Il essayait de lutter contre la panique montante qui poussait à l'intérieur de lui, attends, nous allons nous battre, en ce moment? Je ne pense pas que je sois prêt pour ça, ne devrions-nous pas apprendre les bases d'abord?
Il n'y avait plus le temps de penser que les lumières s'éteignaient dans la pièce. Il sentait Kludd tendu et se souvenait qu'il n'aimait pas le noir. Des formes étranges et mutées ont glissé dans la pièce. Fillan était un peu curieux de ces créatures, mais il a décidé que maintenant ne serait pas le meilleur moment pour se livrer à ses curiosités. Comme une bulle se formait autour de lui et Kludd, Fillan regarda vers le plafond et rétrécit les yeux. Si les lumières sont ce que je pense qu'elles sont- des ampoules, alors il devrait être alimenté par l'électricité. Peut-être que je peux faire quelque chose pour que les lumières reviennent...
Malgré tout le chaos qui a surgi autour de lui, Fillan a essayé d'éclaircir son esprit de toutes choses et de se concentrer sur la reconnection d'une source d'énergie. Il est resté là, complètement immobile pendant une minute. Il n'a jamais utilisé ses pouvoirs, un choix qu'il commençait à regretter alors qu'il se concentrait. Une lueur faible, une étincelle a attrapé l'œil de Fillan. J'y suis presque! Juste un peu plus...
Les lumières ci-dessus s'éteignirent brusquement, enflammées d'un éclairement complet. L'écran a aveuglé Fillan pendant un moment et il a évité ses yeux loin des lumières, soupirant doucement.
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Name: Mikale
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Proficiency/Abilities: Proficient in hand to hand combat and is cursed with immortality. He cannot be killed by anything besides fire.
Identification:
Personality: He has a wild and cocky personality, knowing his chances of dying or little to none he lives life careless, reckless, and to his hearts content.
Backstory: Orphaned as a child Mikale was abandoned in the woods. He was rescued by an old adventurer who lived in a small cabin. He raised and taught Mikale how to defend himself. Growing up Mikale was always naïve, he often wandered off alone or rushed into situations without much caution. One day Mikale returned to the cabin after gathering some fruit he found in the woods, the cabin was in ruins and he found that the old man was on the floor. The old adventurer told Mikale that they were here for the apple, a couple of bandits who knew of its existence. He told Mikale that it was in the basement under the hidden trapped door, with his dying words who told Mikale to eat the apple so no one could harm him. Mikale did as he was told and ate the golden apple, he had read up on its existence in a few books the old man kept, it was said to give its consumer immortality, to be vulnerable to only fire.
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RÉPONSE
Atlan a été tellement surpris par ce bruit qu'il a presque étouffé sur son bar à granola. Qu'est-ce qui faisait ce bruit épouvantable. Atlan regarda autour de lui ce qui faisait ce bruit, et ce qu'il voyait ne le rendait pas heureux. Les mauvais esprits circulaient dans le bâtiment à partir de plusieurs directions. Les autres premières années ont eu beaucoup de réactions différentes; certains paniquaient, tandis que d'autres se préparaient à se battre. Atlan a rapidement écharpé le reste de la barre de granola et a commencé à se diriger vers l'endroit d'où provenaient la plupart des esprits. Il « sautait » de l'autre côté du couloir, puis roulait ses manches. Il n'avait pas vraiment pensé à comment il allait combattre les esprits, donc il allait devoir travailler avec les autres étudiants.
"Travaillez ensemble et ne vous isolez pas! Aidez-vous les uns les autres et n'abandonnez pas vos camarades d'études! »
En espérant que les autres étudiants écouteraient, il a commencé à marcher vers l'un des esprits principaux prêts à se battre.
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Name: Atlan Choros
Age: First year; 14
Race: demi-titan
Gender: male
Proficiency/Abilities: spatial magic- Including the abilities of telepotaion and subtle time manipulation, this class of magic is dedicated to warping space and time. He has the ability to change the distance in between objects. (Such as one step for him could take him miles in actual distance. He can seem to be across a classroom then be standing right in front of you. He often uses this magic to confuse and disorient an enemy.
Identification: standing at 5'7" and weighing 145lb he is on the smaller side. He is still growing so He secretly holds on to hope he will eventually be 6 feet. He has black hair and pale skin. His eyes are a brilliant gold that seem to reflect the light around him.
Personality: Atlan has poor social skills and is fairly shy. This leads to him being fairly defensive and off putting. He incredibly loves food and seems to be always hungry. This can be blamed on spatial magic using massive amounts of energy. He almost always is eating or asking someone for food.
Backstory: Atlan is the son is Chronos (the titan of time) And an unknown woman. His father took him the day he was born, and refused to tell him about his mother. Atlan is no stranger to the mystical or supernatural. He would often visit many of the places in the supernatural world. One place he enjoyed immensely was the land of the dead. It is not that he enjoys dead people, it is that he enjoys the silence. It was there he could think and relax. His father would often test him by dropping into a random point in the past and make him survive for a time off his own wits. His father has decided that Atlan's lack of social skill was his greatest weakness, so he decided to send him the academy. More than any challenge set before him this was the one he feared most......people.
Other: uses minor spatial magic on a daily basis almost unconsciously.
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Alors que les élèves seniors commencent à diriger les plus faibles vers la sécurité et à créer une barrière autour des murs de l'école, les Spirits commencent à attaquer. Les étudiants se battent, tombent, sont emportés au milieu, et plus prennent leur place. Les Esprits sont vicieux, mais les étudiants sont intelligents et possèdent une grande variété d'armes et de capacités, ce qui facilite la lutte contre les hordes. Mlle Headmaster regarde, satisfaite et fière de ses étudiants de retour, puis dirige son attention sur les premières années. L'un, malgré sa légère apparence, a réussi à ramener les lumières à pleine force, et l'autre crée un bouclier rouge. Ils semblent se tenir bien sous pression, mais il semble qu'il en manque quelques-uns.
Elle fronce les sourcils. Cet enfant féerique... et le plus jeune frère Woloust... où sont-ils partis? Elle espère qu'ils pourront se débrouiller, mais sinon... elle devrait aller les chercher.
Un Esprit hurle du milieu de la foule, et un autre comme un ours gronde. Le personnel s'occupe des blessés; elle cherchera les disparus.
- Oui.
Lalisa respire, essayant de se concentrer avec tant de bruit autour d'elle. C'était la seule chose à laquelle elle ne pouvait jamais s'habituer, le bruit. Mais elle doit le faire si elle veut devenir forte. Et elle deviendra forte. Elle doit.
Debout face à l'Esprit devant elle et Feine, Lalisa commence à chanter. Lentement, doucement au début, puis gagner en volume au fur et à mesure que son sort prend effet. Oh Roméo, Roméo! Pourquoi es-tu Roméo? Les premiers mots qu'elle entend dans sa tête sont ceux de Shakespeare, ce qui a certainement du sens, et Lalisa canalise son pouvoir dans ces mots, chantant régulièrement la part de Juliette. Sa magie, tout en étant puissante, nécessite à la fois de l'énergie et un chant parlé, bien que les mots soient différents pour chaque utilisateur. Dans ce cas, elle a choisi de chanter Roméo et Juliette, mais ça marche dans les deux sens.
La vigne serpente sur ses jambes, la plantant littéralement dans un cercle de vert, et il y a une grande fissure comme les branches d'un arbre pousse du sol pour arracher son adversaire. En quelques minutes, Lalisa transforme une partie de la grande salle en un champ de fleurs, laissant ses vignes envelopper autour des Esprits aléatoires. Elle ne peut pas en faire beaucoup, bien sûr. Déjà, l'épuisement commence à s'installer dans ses os, une fatigue qui a Lalisa peine à rester debout. Le premier est toujours le pire. Elle soupire, étirant ses mains tachées de vert pour appeler quelques autres plantes.
"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a dans un nom? Ce que nous appelons une rose
Par n'importe quel autre mot sentirait comme doux;
Donc Roméo aurait, s'il n'avait pas appelé Roméo,
Retiens cette chère perfection qu'il doit. »
Même avec ses plantes en place, l'Esprit attaque plus vite qu'elle ne le pensait, se débarrassant de son piège pour frapper son cou. Lalisa, perdant son équilibre, tombe à l'envers, laissant tomber une masse. L'Esprit avance.
"Oh Roméo, Roméo, c'est pourquoi tu es Roméo--"
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Position
Student
Name
Lalisa Greenwood
Age
14
Race
Human?
Gender
Female
Proficiency/Abilities
Lalisa is well-versed in plant magic and can summon and command plant life to do as she wills. She also claims she can communicate with said plants, but that's anybody's guess. Takes up a more supportive role in battle, preferring to defend instead of attack. Has knowledge of plants, baking, and most household tasks.
Identification
I have a few pictures of her drawn that I might upload later, but for now…
Lalisa is of normal height for her age, with a wiry build from many years of labor out in the gardens. Her hair is a dusty blond color, grown out to touch the tops of her shoulders, with double buns tied in place on the sides of her head. Her hair seems floaty, almost weightless, and Lalisa has woven in a number of daisies in her free time.
Her eyes are hazel, quite bright and lively, while her skin is healthy, freckled and lightly tanned from her time out in the sun. She is usually seen smiling, sometimes with flour and/or dirt smudges on her face from her various hobbies. Lalisa's fingernails most likely have dirt under them, and something has stained her hands permanently green, which is slowly spreading outwards from her fingertips.
Her face, many have noted, possesses a few elfish features, giving her a fae-like look that is at odds with her other childish features. Lalisa also has a "birthmark", an intricate fleur-de-lis on the back of her neck, but most will immediately recognize this as a mark of faery magic. Lalisa, in her homeschooling, is not aware of this fact.
Her voice, which sounds quite like her late mother's, is soft and soothing, and she usually smells like fresh-baked cookies and flowers.
Lalisa dresses modestly and simply, wearing a pair of sneakers, stockings, a sundress, and a cardigan, all worn but neatly mended.
Personality
Raised by her grandmother, Lalisa is well-behaved, if a little odd. Taught to be polite, quiet, and helpful. Had a lonely childhood and doesn't have much experience in social interaction, leading her to be a bit awkward when talking to others. Naïve.
Curious, kind, and not afraid to try new things, Lalisa tries to approach each day with a positive attitude, and often tries to cheer up others as well. Her calm disposition has led her to become the peacemaker in trying situations.
Backstory
Lalisa has very few memories of her parents, living her whole life in a gingerbread cottage at the edge of woods. Her grandmother, a baking witch, told Lalisa that her parents died in a werewolf attack, and to never stray into the forest. In spite of this, Lalisa began to develop a strong shine to plant magic, growing flowers in the dirt outside their doorstep.
Her grandmother was a secretive soul, and Lalisa was by and large kept away from outside contact. Homeschooled in everything her grandmother thought was necessary, Lalisa took to gardening to pass the time, and grandmama could only watch as she grew stronger and stronger.
Lalisa has been referred to as a "wild child", a changeling, and rumors of faery involvement abound, but her grandmother vehemently denies all charges. In reality, though, the story is this:
Siofra is young and in love, but without child. At her wit's end, she commits the ultimate mistake: bargaining with the Fae. The Fae agree to give her a child, but on one condition—the child, once fully grown, will give their firstborn to the Fae. Desperate, Siofra agrees. She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she and her husband are happy.
Her child grows up to be a woman, but Siofra has still not told her about the deal. When the Fae come for her grandchild, the mother is unprepared. She fights back, raising her child in secret, jumping from town to town to evade capture.
The Fae are not happy about this, but the mother has been successful. It has been a full year, making the contract null and void. When it becomes clear Lalisa's parents have no intention of giving up their child, they are killed in an "accident". Lalisa, gaining protection from her parent's death, is left alive.
Barred from breaking the unspoken rules, but plenty angry, the Fae spitefully cast their worst curse on the child—one that will "tear her apart from the inside out." Siofra, still alive, is given the child as a reminder of her cowardice and the deaths she caused. She raises Lalisa in silence, telling her nothing about the mark on her back or why she can talk to plants.
As Lalisa reaches adulthood, and is no longer safe in a gingerbread cottage, Siofra pulls some strings and puts her granddaughter on the next train to the Academy. Maybe they can do what she cannot.
Lalisa knows nothing, but her time is running out.
Other
Lalisa read a lot of books as a child, leading her to adopt a strange, old-fashioned way of speaking. Calls her grandmother "Grandmama".
Bakes cookies, cakes, and a variety of other sweet treats regularly. Hopes to help out in the kitchens.
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Mikale regarda dans les yeux des esprits, "Tu lui ressembles juste mais tu n'auras jamais ses yeux" dit-il dans le dégoût. Mikale s'est précipité vers l'apparence, et ils ont commencé à échanger un barrage de poings.
"Hé vieux, qu'est-ce qu'on va faire aujourd'hui?" Mikale a demandé au vieil homme, "Combien de fois dois-je vous dire mon nom est... peu importe, aujourd'hui nous allons commencer votre entraînement"
L'esprit à travers un coup qui relie Harshly à la mâchoire de Mikales, Mikale a un peu trébuché. "Pas mal, mais non où aussi bien qu'il était" ils ont commencé à échanger des coups à nouveau.
"Mikale vous devez vous concentrer, un combat n'est pas juste lancer le coup de poing le plus dur. Vous devez lire votre adversaire, prédire leur prochain mouvement"
Mikale a observé l'apparence, il s'est battu en répétition, il jette une droite puis une gauche et feint. Mikale a attendu l'ouverture "Maintenant!" il pensait, Mikale a esquivé sa droite puis a comblé l'écart entre eux. Il a frappé le look-like avec un crochet fort et l'esprit s'est étendu sur le sol, l'esprit a commencé à fondre dans un goop. "Combien décevant, le vieil homme aurait vu un tel punch merdique arriver à un kilomètre de distance. Dire que je t'ai laissé me toucher" Mikale soupirait.
"Je serai de retour dans un peu Mikale, je vais juste dans la forêt pour avoir du bois, l'hiver arrive" Le vieux a commencé à partir, "Attendez,
Mikale m'a dit avec confiance. "Non, tu dois rester ici et préparer mon retour" Le vieil homme a commandé, Mikale a embrassé ses dents, il est retourné à l'intérieur. Chaque année, le vieil homme allait dans les bois à ce moment-là et revenait avec un tas de bois, mais il n'a jamais apporté de hache avec lui. Curieux, Mikale commença à suivre les traces des vieillards dans les bois, Il le vit regarder vers le haut un grand chêne, Mikale caché derrière les buissons étant sûr de ne pas faire un bruit. Le vieil homme a fait un pas en arrière et s'est dirigé vers l'avant, Mikale a senti une rafale de vent et l'arbre a commencé à s'incliner vers le côté, lentement il est tombé au sol, Mikale a gâché doucement dans l'admiration à la puissance des vieillards. Le vieil homme a saisi l'arbre près de la branche et a appelé "Je pensais que je t'avais dit d'installer la cabane! Si vous n'êtes pas à la maison avant moi, vous passerez la semaine prochaine à l'extérieur de vous désobéissant misérable » Mikale a commencé à fléchir vers la cabane bien conscient que le vieil homme ne bluffait pas, la cabane était maintenant en vue, « Je pourrais gagner thi... » Le vieil homme a tiré devant lui en train de glisser l'arbre sur ses épaules, « Pas juste! » Mikale a pleuré.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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Feine ne se sentait pas en danger par son adversaire. Un ennemi pourrait vous faire du mal, oui, mais cela ne voulait pas nécessairement dire qu'ils étaient une menace. Alors, Feine a pensé qu'il serait plutôt divertissant de montrer sa domination sur l'esprit humanoïde en faisant quelque chose d'autre entièrement, tout en gardant un peu un oeil sur les attaques de son ennemi - puis en évitant d'utiliser la propulsion du vent. Mais, malheureusement, Feine a trouvé que ce n'était pas une tâche si facile. En fin de compte, il a fini par prêter plus d'attention à éviter les attaques de son adversaire.
"Tu sais quoi? Vous êtes plutôt tenace. Cela ne veut rien dire, bien sûr, » Feine regarda l'esprit dans les yeux alors qu'il commençait à communiquer avec lui... même s'il était incapable de le comprendre. "Dans le grand plan des choses, je suis un personnage majeur dans le monde - vous êtes un simple esprit, à peine un personnage mineur. Ton nom va s'effacer, mais le mien ne le fera jamais. Dans la fiction, vous existez comme fourrage pour un héros à tondre, pour montrer ce qu'il peut faire. Tu n'es pas près de mon niveau. Et enfin, laissez-moi vous dire que je vous ai laissé me frapper plus tôt."
Feine lentement, et en toute confiance marchait vers l'esprit, son écharpe se déplaçant légèrement au fur et à mesure qu'il se déplaçait. Ses mains étaient enroulées en poings, prêtes à frapper son adversaire. Avoir sa lance sur lui serait un boon majeur - lui et la lance étaient les deux côtés d'une pièce. La magie du vent de Feine était beaucoup plus puissante s'il avait sa lance à proximité. Une seconde, il s'est demandé s'il pouvait le téléporter? Ou n'était-ce qu'un rêve? Peut-être qu'il pourrait le téléporter à ses mains, mais quelqu'un comme Feine ne pouvait pas se souvenir de leurs milliers de talents. Même les meilleurs ont des limites, pensait-il.
"Qu'est-ce qui est intéressant à propos d'une histoire sans conflit, dramatique? Si tout le monde excréte des arcs-en-ciel et toutes ces merdes, ce n'est pas très intéressant, n'est-ce pas? » Feine a expliqué... qu'il a fait un pas soudain vers son ennemi, un esprit. "Je vais vous finir en une seule grève. Ce sera aussi facile que d'apporter du stylo au papier - non, plus facile.« Feine a frappé sur le sol, afin de se rapprocher de son adversaire... et puis, dans un mouvement balayant vers le haut, Feine a saisi la griffe de l'esprit. Feine chuckled - ce qui a rendu la chose facile, car Feine ne s'empare pas simplement de son adversaire. Non, le mouvement vers le haut qu'il a fait avec sa main avait un but... un but qui fonctionnait avec la manipulation du vent de Feine.
Une rafale de vent très temporaire mais assez puissante soufflait sous son adversaire, qui les propulserait vers le haut... mais Feine s'empare de son adversaire, pour une raison tout à fait trop typique du jeune écrivain - pour se vanter.
"Oh, s'il te plaît. Je suis le plus petit peu surpris qui ait marché." Feine chuchotait à son adversaire, l'esprit. « Dès que j'aurai lâché, vous serez frappé à une petite distance en l'air. La gravité fera le travail, alors profitez-en."
Feine a lâché son adversaire et s'est détourné avec un snicker... même s'il surestimait peut-être ses capacités? L'esprit s'est posé sur le sol, avec des jambes blessées... mais Feine a supposé qu'il était mort. Comment un esprit pourrait-il résister à la grande puissance de Feine?
Feine a analysé les autres élèves dans la pièce. Il pensait qu'il en avait fini avec son esprit... donc il était temps de passer à un nouveau.
Le jeune écrivain a remarqué son nouvel ami, la blonde cheveux Lalisa esprit de combat. Fait intéressant, elle utilisait de la magie végétale... et comme il s'était avéré, elle avait transformé une partie du sol en un champ de fleurs que Feine n'avait pas remarqué, dans sa frénésie de combat. Lalisa disait quelque chose. Quelque chose d'intéressant.
Elle semblait chanter des lignes de Roméo et Juliette.
Ces lignes dans un combat? Est-ce une tentative de m'impressionner? Feine s'est posé la question. Bien sûr, c'est naturel. Dans la mer, le poisson Remora se verrouille sur certains poissons plus grands de statut supérieur. Dans la grande mer de la vie, je suis un poisson si grand. Dans ce cas, les gens essaient de m'impressionner pour me faire faire des choses pour eux, comme leurs devoirs. Et puis je dis non.
Pendant que son nouvel ami se battait contre les esprits, Feine a pensé que ce serait mieux de ne pas interrompre. On n'a pas atteint l'excellence en étant aidé par des défis - non, ils l'ont atteint en surmontant ces défis eux-mêmes.
Cependant, finalement... l'un des esprits enracinés à la place de la magie de Lalisa s'est libéré, et l'a jetée à terre. Elle semblait encore citer Roméo et Juliette, même si Feine n'en avait pas assez entendu parler pour savoir ce que c'était.
Vraiment? Je peux faire des exceptions en ce qui concerne les personnes qui m'inspirent. C'est ma façon de leur rendre. S'ils me donnent de l'inspiration, je pourrais les aider. Pensait Feine, alors qu'il regardait la situation.
Feine s'élança vers l'esprit, qui avait chargé vers Lalisa - et le frappa avec force, sans autant de finesse qu'il espérait utiliser. Mais l'attaque a semblé faire le travail, car l'esprit a été frappé au sol.
Plaçant un pied sur le corps de l'esprit, Feine parla.
« Peu ont le plaisir d'être secourues par quelqu'un d'un tel niveau que moi, Feine Rhine », a dit Feine, calmement. « Cependant, il est important de prendre les combats au sérieux. Si vous mouriez ici, cela s'avérerait plutôt anti-climatique dans l'histoire de cette Académie. Ces ennemis sont des fourrages.
Comme pour prouver que Feine avait tort, il a entendu quelque chose se déplacer vers lui - c'était l'Esprit humanoïde griffé d'avant, celui qu'il avait combattu auparavant. Feine est allé le terminer, mais il a trouvé qu'il était toujours debout au sommet de l'esprit qui est allé attaquer Lalisa.
Avec un soupir, Feine s'est tenu en place et a attendu que son adversaire blessé précédent se rapproche, pour que Feine puisse le frapper avec la magie du vent. En attendant - Feine a remarqué d'autres étudiants avant de déménager. En particulier, il a remarqué l'homme sauvage de plus tôt ayant un coup de poing féroce avec un esprit, apparemment tenir le siens. Immédiatement, l'esprit de Feine est revenu à... quoi d'autre, mais écrire?
Cet homme... intriguant. Il semble être un combattant talentueux. Je vais le faire après ça. Un tel caractère pourrait faire des scénarios intéressants, bien que beaucoup de ces étudiants semblent intéressants, maintenant que j'y pense.»
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Name: Feine Rhiter.
Age: 15.
Race: Human.
Gender: Male.
Proficiency/Abilities:
Feine’s weapon of choice is a halberd/lance, which links in to his abilities. He is also decently skilled at fighting with his fists.
His defining ability is Wind Manipulation, allowing him to control the winds and manipulate them in various ways. He can create blasts of wind, knocking away enemies – or transporting himself around the area, while he can also create vortexes. However, his wind magic is ranged. The further his attacks are from him, the more energy it takes to use.
One particular trick Feine makes use of is utilizing an updraft, sending himself into the air with his spear… then landing on an opponent, spear first.
Feine has a second ability, called Spear Soul. This ability imbues his lance with the wind element, allowing him to fight with more efficiency.
When Feine lobs his spear, it will stick into the ground… and serve as a conduit for Feine’s magic. Instead of releasing his magic through his hands, Feine will channel the magic into the lance and fire it from there. This allows Feine to hit from especially long ranges with his wind magic, along with using double the wind magic. However, his magic is weaker when he and the spear are separated. Along with that, another disadvantage is that this separates Feine from his weapon of choice.
Feine can pull himself to his rooted lance with a wind gust, which will send him flying towards the lance’s location at a high velocity.
Identification: In terms of build, Feine is fairly average. He’s not short, but he’s not tall – standing at 5’8 feet high. He’s not particularly athletic, either – though his combat training is having positive effects, in that regard. Feine’s hair is dyed a grey-white, though his natural hair colour is black. His hair is usually rather neat. Feine’s eyes are green. He has light skin.
On his left hand, Feine wears a silver-coloured watch – and on his neck, he wears a green scarf, similar to the ones worn by action heroes. He takes great pride in both of these, and rarely removes them. He prefers either green or white jackets without patterns, and has a fondness for jeans.
Personality:
A writer by heart, Feine Rhiter loves to theorize what new pieces he could possibly write up next. Writing is an enormous part of Feine’s life – in his mind, it’s one of the few notable things about him. In particular, Feine enjoys writing fictional fantasy works, focusing on heroes taking up arms and fighting off evil forces. Feine finds that the real world bores him in comparison to the worlds in books… however, Feine finds that The Academy may just be the closest thing to something like a fantasy novel in the real world – what with the evil spirits invading, the powers, and all that.
Academically, Feine excels at any subjects regarding English. In most other subjects, well... his grades aren't bad, but they're not superb. This is due to Feine often not paying attention in class, and simply thinking up new things to write. However, Feine knows the Academy wants their students to give 100 percent of their effort, so he plans to take schoolwork more seriously. If you've ever heard the stereotype of writers being unable to do Maths, Feine is an example.
With other people, Feine isn’t super chatty, and would rather wait for people to talk to him than go up to them himself – unless he needs something from them. He can come off as somewhat rude and smug, too, and is more than a little judgemental. If he thinks you’re stupid or annoying, he’ll gladly weave it into the conversation. Perhaps he’ll make it subtle, perhaps he’ll make it obvious. It’s all up to his mood. If he does respect you, he’ll still be a little smug... but in a more joking manner. Oftentimes, earning his respect entails showing interest in something he likes, especially his literature he writes… though that can easily be revoked with criticism. He doesn’t take well to criticism.
In conversation, he often tries to use fancy words that he enjoys using in his works, along with citing references to stories from books, films, and similar things. Not only that, but he also tends to speak in writing terms. For instance, he may conclude a conversation with ‘FIN’, or ‘The End’.
Despite being a not incredibly talkative writer, there’s a more hidden side to Feine. Feine has a soft spot for disaster, conflict, violence, and what not. It adds spice to people’s lives, including his own... and a little spice to his life is what Feine wants. Feine is not beyond setting things up behind the scenes, in order to create scenarios that interest him - though he tries not to be caught, of course. Along with that, Feine loves fighting and combat, though he’s mostly restricted to writing about it in books. With the invasion of Spirits, Feine finds that there might just be an opportunity to bring this passion to the real world… deep down, this is one writer who’s happy that the evil Spirits have begun to make their mark on the world, though he fights them.
He also has a soft spot for puns and word play.
Backstory:
The middle child in a fairly average family, Feine was rather unremarkable, further amplified by his status as the middle child. His family didn’t ignore him, but it was clear that he wasn’t the favourite, not by any stretch.
Feine and his family lived in a fairly small town, where not much happened at all. People talked of Powers and Spirits here, but few had witnessed them. This led to a fair share of non-believers. It wasn't uncommon to come across families who refused to tell their children about those things... and Feine was in one such family.
Nothing about his life was particularly interesting, not until his school years. It was around this time where Feine developed his love of fiction and stories, such as the ones he saw on television and books. It was so interesting to the young Feine – he wanted to be a globe-trotting hero, just like them! He wanted to take up a sword and save the world! His parents encouraged him to begin writing his own stories, which weren’t the most original works, but he liked them and took pride in them.
When Feine’s class had a session of show and tell, Feine showed off and described his work to the class. But unfortunately for the fledgling writer, the class wasn’t nearly as interested as he was. Some of them yawned, others of them laughed… that was an issue, as Feine wasn’t trying to make something funny. Feine took offense to this… and this action led to his work getting ripped up on the same day by a gang of other students.
From that day forth, Feine was rather quiet around other students. He’d find a lonely spot and begin to write, away from the others. But this isolation led to people gaining even less of a positive opinion on him. He began being seen as weird. This continued for years, though Feine didn’t particularly try to stop it. How could he, after all? And, anyways – the fledgling writer was more interested in the people of his fantasy worlds, instead of the people in reality.
And speaking of fantasy worlds, Feine had overheard discussions around town about 'Powers' and 'Spirits'. This prompted Feine to ask these people what they were talking about, for Feine believed they were talking about something out of a book, and it sounded right up his alley. These people told Feine about Powers and Spirits... Feine wasn't entirely convinced, however. He'd never seen any evidence of people having powers anywhere. It was certainly an interesting thought, though... so Feine brought this up to his parents.
With a chuckle, Feine's father looked at him and told him that it was 'dumba- kooky reporters creatin' fake news reports', and that he'd never seen any of these Powers or Spirits himself... neither had anyone else they'd known. They told Feine that they were simply a rumour that people grew attached to, disappointing Feine. He wanted to wield a power and spice up his life... but Feine chose to make the most out of these mythical powers. He began to write stories focuses on Powers and Spirits, based on what he'd heard on the news. Feine wondered why the news would be reporting on something fake, if what his dad said was true...
Eventually, around the end of his time at Primary School, a writing tournament was announced, featuring various schools from across the state. Students attending primary schools were eligible… as soon as this announcement was made, Feine’s colleagues knew that he was going to enter. And enter he did, with ‘The Crusade of Kiki’, a work detailing a young boy called Kiki, who Feine based on himself. He put his heart and soul into this work, and investigated the writing styles of famous books, in order to write to his fullest. With the final stroke of a pencil on paper on this work, Feine was sure that he’d win…
The results came in, and Feine was happy, but not particularly surprised that he’d indeed won. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all to Feine. He’d analysed the writing styles of popular writers, and Feine didn’t think anyone else would put even a fraction of that effort in. This led to Feine developing an ego of sorts. When bullies approached him and mocked him, he would no longer simply stand back and take it. No – instead, he talked back and tried to tear them down. People who mocked his works would be met with Feine asking if they’d accomplished anything even comparable to what he had done. To people who threatened him, Feine would not hold his punches back. Feine felt superior to his colleagues, and enjoyed rubbing that into others.
However, Feine hasn’t accomplished much else since that competition. He submits his works online, and has written various different works under the alias of ‘The Rhiter’. As the Rhiter, Feine’s motto is that every reader who enjoys his work is a victory for him. Around this time, Feine began to become rather bored with the real world, and wished he lived in one of his many fantasy worlds, which he considered far more interesting than a dull old world like the one he lived in.
But it turned out the 'dull old world' held some more secrets. It was one certain November night, when Feine and his family were walking back from a fancy restaurant in town... that night, Feine's family was unlucky enough to be targeted by a group of mysterious hooded men. They lurked in the shadows... and eventually waited for the right moment to strike.
Three of them rushed out of the shadows, one of whom grabbed hold of Feine's younger brother's neck. To this thug's side were his two accomplices, who warned that they'd put Feine's younger brother 'into a hospital' if his family didn't pay up.
The entire family was distraught, but... Feine's father reached into his wallet, and pulled out some of his savings - $1,000, and went to hand it over to the thugs in exchange for his son's life. But at that moment, as if by miracle... a cloaked man wearing blue and orange dropped down from a roof, and delivered a punch to the thug with Feine's brother in his clutches, knocking said thug off balance and allowing Feine's younger brother to break free.
And, seemingly coincidentally, the man in blue turned his back to the thug... who immediately was struck by a blast of lightning, sending him down to the ground. The other thugs fled.
The man in blue didn't say anything, but he simply grinned as he broke into a sprint and ran down the street, his blue scarf billowing in the breeze. Feine's family didn't know what to think... the forecast didn't predict lightning that day, and it seemed odd that the bolt struck the man, dead on.
Later that night, the news held a special on a man called the Lightning Runner. He looked exactly the same as the man who'd come to the family's aid. And, not only that... but it was rumored he had powers over lightning. That day, Feine's family changed. They began to believe in what they previously believed was fake.
Eventually, Feine discovered that he had powers of his own, days after that event... and Feine loved them. They were like something he’d write, as an ability of one of his protagonists. With these new powers, Feine chose to style himself in accordance to his newfound powers, dying his hair grey and taking up a green scarf, which billowed in the wind. But fortune seemed to still be smiling upon the young writer, for he discovered the Academy. Some considered him a fit for what the Academy entailed – fighting off evil Spirits seemed like something out of a book… and, of course, that was something that appealed to Feine. While the Spirits were rather scary, Feine thought they were rather interesting… and deep down, he was happy that they’d appeared. They’d provide something interesting in the dull old world.
Now, at the Academy – Feine takes up his two most powerful weapons, a pen and a lance, to write and fight.
Other: Wooow I wrote a lot more than I thought I would. Sorry if the powers are a little powerful, or if the form's a little big.
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Fait avec son combat Mikale a pensé à aider les autres, il a rejeté la pensée. C'était un moment parfait pour voir les capacités des autres élèves. Il a repéré la fille agressive de tout à l'heure, elle se précipitait avec des poignards, est-ce une assassine peut-être? Elle a beaucoup de pouvoir si ses lancements, elle semble être assez forte. "Pourquoi ralentit-elle" a pensé Mikale, à ce rythme elle sera dépassée.
Mikale s'est dirigé vers la fille agressive qui était maintenant entourée d'esprits, il a couru au centre d'eux. "Tu ne devrais vraiment pas mordre plus que tu ne peux mâcher" Il a dit comme il a rejoint le combat. Aussi maladroit qu'ils soient, il ne pouvait s'empêcher d'être fasciné par les esprits, Il commença à se demander comment leurs déplacements fonctionnent, ceux-ci ne semblaient pas aussi forts que l'apparence du vieil homme. Il a failli se perdre dans la pensée alors qu'un loup sautait sur lui, il a frappé le loup à nouveau dans la foule.
Mikale a remarqué que la fille agressive était à court de respiration, il a nouveau la bonne chose serait de la prendre et de se retirer à la sécurité, mais il a ignoré que pour deux raisons, elle ne le laisserait pas s'il essayait et elle se battait encore. Il a vu un peu de lui-même dans sa volonté de ne pas abandonner, de continuer à se battre contre toute attente, donc il est resté et s'est battu.
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Name: Ashley Paris
Age: 15
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Proficiency/Abilities: Ashley has the powers of supernatural strength and agility. She is inhumanly strong, but also very fast. She uses her powers quite frequently. But if she uses them too often, she quickly becomes exhausted and worn down.
Identification: Ashley is just above average in height, being around 5'5. She has light brown skin with intense, deep chocolate brown eyes and penny colored hair that she holds is a high ponytail. Her hair is 90% straight, but it drastically curls near the bottom which is shoulder length in her ponytail and is neatly kept. She usually wears sporty clothing, such as a white tee-shirt with the numbers "63" on the front and back along with either neutral colored shorts or maroon sweatpants with athletic tennis shoes. She is toned, mostly in her arms. She often has a frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed.
"C:\Users\21EIB01\Pictures\Camera Roll\Ashley.jpg"
Personality: Ashley can be very aggressive to some people, especially since she is a rad feminist. She hates guys with a passion of a million fires. She likes to be in charge of things, especially sport related subjects. She respects most females, only if they aren't dating any guy, then she also hates that person. Her mood can change from 0 to 100 in a split second if something were to upset her. Although she can be aggressive, she enjoys hanging out with her very specifically chosen friends. She is also protective over her friends and isn't afraid to speak her mind.
Backstory: When Ashley was younger, she was dating someone who claimed to love her with all of his heart and she believed him 100%, returning his "feelings". But when he broke up with her for another girl, Ashley beat him up and declared that she would never love another guy. She then founded the rad feminist club, "Sisters United" she soon became a feared leader as she would attack any guys that came into sight. Nearing the end of middle school, she learned about "The Academy" from one of her loyal followers. She soon decided that she would join the school and continue Sisters United legacy.
Other: Rad feminist
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La meilleure façon de la décrire serait de faire glisser des doigts allongés, liquéfiés par la sueur, la boule de coton après la boule de coton dans les oreilles de Seren, à travers les coins de leurs yeux, et de remplir au bord les poches de leurs joues. C'était mal, et Seren ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de rester là. Ils pouvaient encore entendre l'alarme retentir dans les oreilles, et ils avaient aussi entendu la réaction de Raphaël, mais ils se tenaient là. Une créature visqueuse qui rampe sous la porte était supposée traverser, et là, ils se sont sentis en dehors.
J'ai dit de ne pas vous gêner! Restez derrière moi jusqu'à ce que je m'en débarrasse, puis rentrez à l'intérieur! » Avec les mots laissant sa bouche, Raphael a failli jeter Seren derrière lui. Est-ce que je bouge? Seren pensait que c'était absent. Ils n'étaient pas en état de les attraper eux-mêmes, et donc ils sont tombés du côté droit d'abord au sommet de l'herbe. Ils avaient assez de sens pour savoir qu'ils avaient besoin de se lever, mais prendre le temps semblait tellement plus facile. Paresseusement, ils roulèrent sur leur dos, les genoux pliés au ciel pendant qu'ils regardaient. Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce sentiment? Ils se sont demandés eux-mêmes. Quel que soit le sentiment, il a commencé à vider Seren. Vidant. C'est un rêve? Leur tête s'élança sur l'herbe, des cornes forçant leur cou à l'arc alors qu'ils regardaient jusqu'à l'étendue bleue du ciel. Le ciel était clair, mais pas vide. Les esprits ailés ont afflué au-dessus. Le troupeau n'attaquait pas, mais dansait? Presque. Leur formation était fluide et tissée dans et hors de leur modèle d'origine, et leur corps n'aidait qu'à faciliter une comparaison avec. à coudre des aiguilles; elles étaient fines et pointues.
Seren n'était pas du genre à s'espacer, et quand ils l'ont fait, c'était introspectif, mais ça? C'était surréaliste. C'était comme se réveiller à l'intérieur d'un rêve; ils pouvaient sentir la vulnérabilité de la réalité, et c'était doux. Quelque chose à l'intérieur d'eux a commencé à glisser, mais ils ne pouvaient pas vraiment payer n'importe quel esprit. Avec ce glissement cependant, est venu un les cordes de la clarté comme une brise fraîche et légère. La lumière a glissé à la vie dans leur vision périphérique, et a balayé quelque chose Seren ne pouvait pas tout à fait voir à leur angle. 'Raph.' Ils ont bien réfléchi. S'éloignant de leur léthargie, Seren s'éleva lentement en position d'implantation. Ils avaient assez de sens pour savoir où ils devaient être. Ils mirent la main sur la terre pour se stabiliser, et ils la poussèrent de là à se tenir debout. Languidly, ils ont jeté leur tête en arrière pour voir le ciel, et il n'était pas doux. Comme tomber des flèches les esprits au-dessus sont descendus avec une intention meurtrière qui a craqué sur le corps de Seren. La réalité s'est remise en place. Ils dormaient éveillés, parce que ce n'était pas un rêve. C'était la survie. Ils avaient besoin de bouger. Panic a fouetté à leurs talons, et juste dans le temps comme Raph s'est empressé d'arracher leur main, les tirant à la porte. Une forme gélatineuse dégonflée dissoute en dessous d'eux alors qu'ils franchissaient le seuil. Jusqu'à présent, les aînés ont veillé à ce que les esprits n'aient pas pénétré dans les couloirs, mais les deux ont toujours couru pour une meilleure sécurité en nombre avec leur grade.
Allez, bouge. Nous devons retourner à la salle d'orientation. Il a finalement frappé Seren que Raphaël venait de les sauver.
"Oui. Oui. Merci beaucoup. Merci." Seren huffé, exaspérant leur voix déjà respirante dans un simple murmure. Une fois de plus, Seren se sentait coupable envers le garçon. Ici, il se battait et essayait, et tout ce que Seren pouvait faire, c'était se sentir à l'écart. Ils ne pouvaient s'empêcher de penser à leurs soeurs. Leurs sacrifices, leurs efforts. -- Oui, leur dit Seren, alors qu'ils étaient ramenés à la salle d'orientation. Focus, Seren. Sois fort. Rappelle-toi pourquoi tu es venu ici. Ils se commandaient eux-mêmes, resserrant involontairement leur emprise sur la main de Raphaël. Dans un contraste frappant, il y avait encore plus de chaos à l'intérieur du couloir qu'à l'extérieur. Les cris d'accueil des jeunes gens non préparés suffisaient à faire marcher leurs épaules. Pourquoi êtes-vous ici? Il fallait faire quelque chose. Scanner la pièce les a fait serrer leur mâchoire. Des figures tordues qui tentaient d'avoir l'air humaines, et des bêtes râpées rôdent et se chamaillent. Certains se bousculaient autour d'une fille debout dans une prairie intérieure, d'autres s'enfuyaient dans un duo bique, et des dizaines de personnes affrontaient les classes supérieures qui se remplissaient dans le hall comme s'ils s'étaient entraînés pour ça.
"Travaillez ensemble et ne vous isolez pas! Aidez-vous les uns les autres et n'abandonnez pas vos camarades d'études! » Une voix courageuse a appelé parmi les masses avant de sortir vers l'un des principaux spirts parmi les hordes. Sa chevalerie sera bientôt écourtée cependant par l'esprit d'ombre qui le traque, qui a commencé à se lever du sol derrière l'atlan sans méfiance. Une tête a pris forme de la créature enky, ou plus précisément: trois rangées de dents d'une mâchoire en expansion.
"Arrête!" Commencé à l'action, Seren s'est approché dans la direction de l'Ombre; leurs doigts accrochant comme des griffes sans même penser à. Ils n'ont pas eu le temps d'y penser, l'impulsion vient de prendre le dessus alors que la magie démoniaque surgissait dans leurs veines, enrobant leurs yeux d'un jaune malade. Pourtant, Seren n'avait jamais utilisé ses capacités avec autant de volonté, ni avec autant d'agressivité. La souche a pris l'haleine de leurs poumons. Cependant, l'origine démoniaque de leur pouvoir s'est révélée suffisante pour exercer momentanément l'esprit. Immédiatement. Elle s'arrêta brièvement, la tête bourdonnant avec ardeur, avant que les yeux de Seren ne s'évanouissent à la normale. À ce moment-là, la créature s'est rapidement réintroduite dans le flux et s'est zippée directement au cambion.
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Full Name
Seren Dellia Woloust
"E-excuse me, sorry . . . no nicknames, please. Seren is fine."
Age
15
Race
Cambion
Half-Demon, Half-Human
The child of an Incubus and a Human woman, Seren did not come into this world by choice. Far from it, the way of Concubi can only be described as insidious. Preying on sleeping humans in dreams, Concubi already cross the threshold of consent. When a human isn't receptive to their seducer's illusionary allure, the demon takes what they want by force; manifesting a physical body, and entering the –still asleep- human's bed. For what arousal the mind has denied, the body cannot as it is an uncontrollable and automatic response. One cannot imagine the horrors Seren's mother went through that night being forced to feed the demon's appetite, and one cannot imagine her state of mind upon discovering she was pregnant.
Gender
Agender
They/Them/Their/They're/They've
Proficiency / Techniques
Oneiric Magic
Dream Manipulation
Seren can induce, influence, and enter the dreams of others. It begins subtle as Seren wheedles away at their target's alertness, opening them up for further suggestion. The target's constitution is waged against Seren's focus in a battle of timing, attentiveness, and willpower, but the unsuspecting and asleep are Seren's only viable subjects at their current capability. For Seren, their abilities are magnified on sleeping targets, and as Seren sleeps as a gift from their demon half.
Illusion Manipulation
Currently, this ability is constrained to guises of themselves and small mirages. Seren can make themselves appear more like people from the target's dreams. While their skin, hair, and eye color change, and while Seren has even learned to partially glmaour clothes they're familiar with like their signature hoodie, Seren can never seem to hide their horns. On top of the fact that Seren's illusions only effect their deliberate target, it doesn't for make much of clever disguise as of yet. Outside of looks, Seren has been known to pull small objects from their targets dream into reality as ghostly after-images of what they were once were imagined to be. This takes considerable effort however, and is still only visable to the target and Seren.
Personality
ISFJ-T
Reserved • Diffident • Sympathetic • Obedient • Courteous
Seren can usually be seen with their back straight, standing off to the outskirts of whatever's going on; tugging on their sleeve or wringing their hands, waiting to leave. It's not that Seren is uncomfortable with people, but they're uncomfortable with themselves around people. Always afriad they're being a nuisance, or they've said the wrong thing, Seren is anxious to please and quick to appease for any faux pas they may or may not have made. When a approached, a low and breathy voice responds with haste attentiveness with all the honors the individual is due even in informal settings. Seren is the type of person to hold the door open for an extended amount of people, genuinely listen to a stranger talk about their issues at the drop of a hat, but also the type to mutter apologies to their bully as they lug around both of their belongings while the bully berates Seren with insults. In short, a polite doormat who needs their older siblings around to protect their self-respect for them.
Background
Amanita Laveau Woloust
Mother
Having raised Seren from an infant, Amanita is the only mother they have ever known. Never hearing the name Dellia growing up, Seren never heard any different, but they could still tell. It was quite obvious from how their mother and all their siblings had deep brown skin and eyes, ebony hair, and the same pronounced features. Seren shared none of these qualities, and their lack of blood relation was only pointed out further when the family would make their anual trip to visit Erik's grave. He was Amanita late husband, and the father of her biological children. Regardless, this did not lessen their bond. Amanita always treated Seren as one of her own, because they were. No if, ands, or buts about it. She fed, clothed, nurtured, and protected them since before Seren had chosen their current name. From back when everyone assumed Seren was a boy –and used a different name for them– to unquestionably supporting them after, Amanita had been there through it all. Her steady hand guided them through their challenges and shaped their morality. Seren was a momma's child, and they wore the fact on their sleeve. It was no secret that they'd cling to their mother all day if she wasn't always pushing them towards independence. She cherished their company, but she also knew they needed time away from home. Besides, it was a bad mother who smothered her children into codependency, and Amanita prided herself on being the best mother she could be for her children.
Erika Marie Woloust
Eldest Sister
As Seren's elder by seven years, Erika remembers a lot about life before Seren came to live with the Wolousts unexpectedly in the night. Her father, for whom she was named after and especially close to, had died only a few years ago, so seeing that little ball of innocence bursting with tears made her heart go out for them. She just had to look out for the poor, defenseless baby who would wake up everynight night crying like clockwork. Till this day she hasn't stopped babying them. Though in all honesty Seren loves the attention, and the two share a special bond. Erika is always the first to make sure they're doing fine in school, if they're making friends, if they need help with anything. The answer is usually "yes," "no," and "Maybe so . . . I mean if it's not too much trouble . . ." respectively, but she can't help but to ask as she fusses over their clothes and hair in the mornings. She's like a second mother, always giving Seren extra attention and encouragement. Erika's also the only one who can make Seren leave their comfort zone by choice.
Maeve Cicely Woloust
Older Sister
As twins, Maeve and Armani were both only the young age of two when Erik had passed, and by five years old they were already stuck together like glue when Seren arrived. Amanita was quick to let Maeve know it was okay to cry, but not okay to scream at her, break things, or hit their older sister, but Maeve didn't listen. Just a toddler, she didn't fully grasp why her mother was reprimanding her, all she wanted to know was why her daddy was gone. In her mind she just happened to be asking loudly, and it was right for her to get angry at anything or anyone reminding her that he was dead, because what was that supposed to mean anyway? When Seren entered the picture Amanita had to divert some of her attention to the new baby. Seizing any opportunity when Aminata was away with Seren, Maeve would sneak away with her brother outside. Erika was no fun always trying to hold and play with Seren, so she and her twin caused havoc in the streets where mommy couldn't see them. Growing up, Maeve found the whiny and timid Seren to be annoying, and let them know regularly. However only she could pick on Seren. When she found out some neighborhood bullies were the reason Seren never wanted to leave the house, she made sure the little punks never even winced in Seren's direction again. From then on, Maeve became Seren's feared defender. She still pushed Seren around whenever they hung out, but she was always there whenever they needed her. This duality can possibly be to blame for the extent of Seren's gratefully submissive side, but what's done is done.
Armani Bishop Woloust
Older Brother
Armani reacted very differently to Erik's death at first. He drew into himself and was quiet. The rare time he made a noise was when he was crying, and when he cried, he cried a lot. Amanita tried to console the toddler, but he would always run away from her hugs; willfully inconsolable. Often he'd hide behind his twin, or she'd come running after him. Maeve didn't have much patience, but she spent it all on Armani. She'd drag her brother around and ask him what he wanted to play. The answer was usually more tears, but she'd keep asking and asking until she'd give up and try again the next time he ran off. However, one day she got fed up with him, and she pushed Armani to the ground. He tackled her back, and from their the three year olds started wrestling, and soon they started laughing. Following their bonding moment, Armani began to actually give Maeve answers when she asked what he wanted to do. The ideas became more and mischievous as Armani discovered how much they liked pranking people. It was the most fun he'd let himself feel since his dad died, and he intended to keep the fun going. One thing led to another, and the twins where thereby dubbed "Trouble Makers." From their mother to teachers to older kids on the playground, Armani and Maeve made a reputation for themselves. Whenever a punishment hindered his plans, he just came up with new ones replete with loopholes and backups in case they were caught. Some of these schemes required more than two people, and so Armani enlisted the help their younger sibling, Seren, who was eager to be liked underneath their shy disposition. Aramni couldn't always make Seren participate willingly as they were a true momma's child at heart, but Armani always had tricks up his sleeve for that as well.
Amanita spoiled her kids with attention, but this is not to say that she raised any brats. Far from it, things were very disciplined in her household. The Woloust kids all had daily jobs to do. Whether it was sweeping, cleaning the dishes, or tending the garden, Amanita made sure to instill in them proper work ethic, and proper manners as well. It was "Yes, Ma'am," "No Ma'am," and speak when spoken to with Amanita, and she would not have any child of hers showing an inch less of respect to any other adult. While she was never overbearing with her punishment, Amanita's firm stance on disobedience taught her children to respect the rules, even if they were unfair. It wasn't a very popular lesson among their siblings, but Seren took it to heart.
Beyond being a disciplinarian, Amanita was a very outgoing and an active parent. She made sure to keep them busy, out of trouble as much as she could, and give them the best experiences childhood had to offer. Parks, street-fairs, circuses, and festivals were frequent excursion throughout Seren's life, and Amanita always had somewhere new planned to visit on the holidays. Always shuffling around from place to place, it was surprising that wherever Amanita went someone would recognize her. Some of it was men tipping their hats, women paying her extra compliments, individuals giving her a grateful smile, and many people stopped her on the street to talk as if they were old friends. Though not every onlooker was kind. Ever since Seren was little, they've noticed too many preferred to spit on the ground as she passed, or clutch their religious objects close. This immediately would sour Seren's mood, but Amanita believed in never letting your fear hold you back. She would shower Seren with reassurances and keep on to their destination. Continuing whatever fun they had scheduled for the day like nothing was wrong, but there was something wrong, and this denial of it made Seren a worrier early on. Their siblings, to varying degrees, seemed to have adjusted, but Seren could not. If their mother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger, then Seren would always have to be on the lookout for it.
What Amanita didn't admit was that she was a Witch. That she and her husband had traveled around the world exorcising, warding off, and banishing wicked spirits and even minor demons when the pay was worth the risk. What Amanita didn't tell Seren was that when Erik passed, she carried on the work to feed their children. How could she? How could she say that when it was training Dellia, Seren's biological mother, to be her apprentice that attracted the Incubus to her? The same Incubus that impregnated Dellia; the same Incubus that drove her to madness while she slept; and the same Incubus that dragged Dellia into hell in exchange for Seren's life. How could she tell any of her children that Dellia was one who taught Amanita to love again when her husband died, and that's why she raised Seren instead of giving them up to some orphanage? In short, she didn't. She had resolved to wait until Seren was much, much older, but he had other plans.
Even without any of her mentionings, as a small child Seren always felt a sense of dread hanging over them. This was due in no little part to the fact that Seren had night-terrors ever since they were born. Horrible, disorienting, and agonizing night-terrors. At three in the morning Seren would wail a blood curdling scream, writhe, and grab onto their skin desperately as if someone were trying to rip it off. Amanita would try endlessly to soothe her child, and their siblings had tried everything from shaking Seren to praying for Seren to splashing Seren with cold water to no avail. Thankfully, Seren's mind could not remember much of the extreme stress it had been through, but their body told the story. Often they would scratch or bruise themselves from pinching at their own skin, or from flailing into hard objects. Naturally this took its toll on them. They couldn't remember details, but shortly after the experience and when asked general feelings racked their body in waves. It was excruciating and indescribable. This just made them ask more questions, probing Seren's mind, and forcing them to think about it. Quickly they learned that the only way to stop the questions was to convince their family they were alright. So Seren lied. They trained themselves to become quiet because it hurt too much to deal with the problem at hand. Furthermore Seren knew they themselves were still a problem. Even if no one dared to point it out, Seren knew they were beyond bothersome when they woke everyone up every night, so they tried their best to make up for it. Seren always took on extra chores around the house, cleaned everyone's room in the morning, and was always willing to be useful no matter the request.
This went on for years, and the only thing that would end their suffering was waiting it out, which could last upwards of half an hour, but one night it was too much. That night, like many nights, Erika had given her mother a break and was sleeplessly watching over the screaming Seren. She sung lullabies to bring any semblance of tranquility to her frenzied sibling, but as Seren's night-terror drew close to lasting three hours, Seren began convulsing and speaking in tongues of an unknown language; actively clawing their skin. Deciding she couldn't bare seeing Seren in that state any longer, Erika broke the household taboo. She used her mother's emergency ceremonial equipment, and preformed a divination spell with the knowledge she'd learned at the academy. Erika was at the top of her Augury Class, and so she was confident, clear of mind, and receptive when she called out to the void for insight into what Seren was going through, and assistance in making it stop; Erika willingly opened herself up as a vector between the mortal and immaterial planes. However Erika was only a Second-Year, and she discovered all too late that her pleas for help had been anticipated since Seren's first night-terror. Using Erika's invitation to bypass the wards and protection spells of the house, the same ominous aura that plagued Dellia descended upon Erika. Immediately Amanita came rushing into the room having sensed it, but the incubus had already crossed over into Seren's mind from Erika's; burrowing itself deep into Seren's soul. As it did, the demon's horns painfully grew through Seren's skull, forever marking them as his demonic host.
For months Amanita contacted every exorcist she'd met on her travels, and they all told her the same thing. Seren would either have to trap the demon inside their soul by their will alone or be killed in order to avoid becoming a fully-fledged demon host. Amanita would not accept this. Their mother tried every spell from her grimoire and made countless sacrifices from animal to priceless momento to deities long forgetten in order to pull the demon out. All her work resulted in were powerful rebounds that took a little bit of Amanita's soul with them every time. Erika watched from the sidelines every step of the way. Amanita had forbidden her from magic, but unbeknownst to her mother Erika had switched all of her courses from Divination to Demonology. She blamed herself entirely for what happened, an had to learn all she could to fix it. Despite this, Amanita had to stop trying. Seren's father simply surpassed anything Amanita was capable of casting. The two women still searched obsessively, but Amanita knew if she kept performing these exorcisms needlessly that she wouldn't have much of soul left to lose.
All of this just made Seren's lying more entrenched. Seren saw how broken their mother looked after five days with zero sleep and zero progress. Seren knew the reason why Erika left home four years ago was to find a cure for them. Seren noticed Maeve was more gentle with them, retraining her punches to shoves and shoves to pats on the back. Seren even realized the only reason Armani started invited them to just hang for no ulterior motive was because of what happened. All of it was because of them, and it was heartbreaking watching their entire family change overnight. Seren figured the least they could do was give them peace of mind on the regard of their well being. No longer having night-terrors now that their father had gotten what he wanted, Seren just left out the latter half of that sentiment, and used it as "proof" that they were getting better. It didn't work very well, but it was something. They all could at least pretend for at least a second in the back of their minds that everything was fine. There was no need for Seren to tell their family about what replaced their night-terrors while they slept every night. All Seren had to do was change their career path, and learn to control the manifestations of their father's magic properly. Learn to control themself properly. Right? Right. Maybe it was inevitable, and all of their pathetic lying, and trying was for no use in the end, but Seren had to do something. Anything. They weren't just going to let eveything around them deteriorate while their family solved all of their problems for them. Not this time. This time, Seren was going to enroll in the academy that had trained their mother and sister, and they were going to change their future.
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22,488 | 650 | 0 | 1,365 | 7,515 |
Les terres à déchets plus vastes
Il y a un pic dans le nombre de Ghouls Feral, et diverses figures ont offert une récompense pour leur tête, ou dans un cas, un «échantillon vivant».
Joshua Graham, qui dans cet univers était resté le Malpais Legate, offrait de bonnes capsules et de l'eau purifiée pour chaque tête de Ghoul, ainsi que les bonnes grâces de la Légion. Surprenant même pour cette Légion alternée relativement moins sexiste, des aventuriers féminines se sont également vu offrir le poste.
Le commandant de la RCN Boone, dont l'épouse et l'enfant étaient encore en vie dans cet univers, avait émis une offre similaire, essentiellement Ghoul têtes pour chapeaux, eau purifiée, et bien sûr, une faveur de la RCN à l'avenir.
Et enfin, Jason Bright de la Fraternité Bright avait envoyé un message selon lequel ceux qui ont capturé un ghoul vivant pour lui recevraient... son poids dans les cellules énergétiques! Ce serait utile pour ceux qui ont utilisé des armes à énergie et eux seuls, cependant...
Paradis 'Par' Rapids
Paradis 'Par' Rapids cherchait un voleur. Non pas parce que quelque chose de lui a été volé ou parce qu'il a ressenti le besoin de punir quelqu'un pour quelque chose, mais parce qu'il avait besoin des services d'un voleur. Pourquoi? Parce qu'il était à la poursuite des rumeurs de sa compagnie, la Caravane Crimson, faisant des trucs peu savores qui pourraient faire descendre la tête par les plus hauts de la RCN. Dit rumeurs, si vrai, pourrait l'amener à nouveau dans les rangs, ce qui à son tour, l'aiderait à diriger les Crimsons sur le chemin 'à droite' encore une fois.
Ainsi, il avait utilisé ses contacts parmi les Rois pour chercher quelqu'un qui pourrait l'aider, quelqu'un qui savait être discret, pas trop sanglant, et enfin, qui connaissait le sens de la cohérence; non pas la loyauté, mais la cohérence.
Et pour qu'il attende, qu'il attende tous ceux qui veulent accepter son offre...
Nipton
À Nipton, le maire local avait remis à la Légion plusieurs soldats et gangs de poudre de la RCN qui s'étaient « amusés » eux-mêmes, qui, bien qu'enthousiasmés par cette « trahison sale », allaient en fait maintenir leur part du marché et rembourser le maire pour ses services. Maintenant, les Powder Gangers seraient crucifiés pour abattre le chef de la Légion «Frumentarii», un Vulpes Inculta, tandis que les soldats de la RCN seraient retenus pour rançon, pour être exécutés, réduits en esclavage, ou tournés vers le coloni seulement si les commandants de la RCN refusaient de payer une bonne eau purifiée.
Alors que les rumeurs de cette sale affaire se répandaient, un trio d'aventuriers de la RCN et du Pro-NCR (Obadiah, Tatsuya et Jake) se réveillait dans une petite pièce au fond d'un hangar abandonné dans les fermes Sharecropper de la RCN, avec leurs armes et leur équipement dans des rangées bien organisées devant eux. D'un coin, un holotape jouerait, montrant un homme grand, mince, un peu pâle qui portait un costume formel et des nuances qui cachaient ses yeux.
"Greetings," a parlé l'hologramme, "mon nom est Caleb, et j'ai un travail pour vous des niveaux supérieurs de la RCN." Une pause. « Comme vous avez entendu parler de rumeurs, la ville de Nipton a remis plusieurs soldats de la RCN à la Légion de Cesar, et a obtenu une riche récompense du commandant de légion locale. Cet acte de trahison de rang ne peut pas résister. » L'hologramme se tournerait vers un autre coin, où se trouvait une grande boîte de chapeaux et de l'eau purifiée.
« C'est pourquoi, nous donnons une mission générale; nous nous vengeons. On vous donne la liberté de définir la vengeance ou la justice comme vous l'entendez; nous ne sommes pas des faibles comme le chef Hanlon. Assurez-vous simplement que quelqu'un paie pour la vie des soldats de la RCN qui ont été perdus aujourd'hui. »
Une ironie qui, dans cet autre univers, Nipton se tient toujours, et c'est la RCN qui est devenue son ennemi...
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Name: Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age: 19
Looks:
Personality: Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him, and is often out for the most profitable trade deals. He also likes sex (dude or gal, it doesn't really matter), and isn't above using it to gain an advantage. But, underneath it all, there is a dedicated, somewhat idealistic person who genuinely believes in the power of free and fair - emphasis on fair - trade and genuinely honest living, a power that, he believes, can rebuild civilization in a better form.
Faction
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (45 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength: 4
Perception: 5
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 9
Intelligence: 10
Agility: 7
Luck: 6 (+1 from Intense Training, so 7)
Backstory: Born in NCR Territory to two members of the Crimson Caravan, Arthur and Miranda Rapids, Par was taught how to pursue the family business from an early age. Intelligent, precocious, and good with technology, Par was also handsome and, although not strong, was fast and decently lucky, allowing him to charm many people into giving him a fair and favorable deal. Nevertheless, he remained under the shadow of his parents until he turned sixteen, when he, along with some bodyguards, were allowed to strike out on their own, towards the Mojave and New Vegas. There, Par was confident he'd make his fortune and find adventure.
The Mojave would prove a harsh teacher, however, as Par, after a string of successful deals, would then be tricked into gambling away most of his money in New Vegas itself, leaving him without his wares, without anything to pay his bodyguards, and barely avoiding slavery or death. He did keep the clothes on his back, a set of mechanical tools, some food and a stimpack, and more importantly, his skills with technology were still in his head. And finally, he avoided getting fired, despite enduring intolerable public humiliation from the higher-ups in the Crimson Caravan's local HQ. He still had enough to plan for a comeback, and he was going to do it the honest way...at least at first.
First, going to the lower city, he found a member of the Kings and paid him to act as a bodyguard for a stimpack. Then, noticing that the Kings' gangster had an ill-maintained pistol, he offered to repair it as an alternate payment instead of the stimpack. The gangster agreed, but threatened to knife Par if he did anything, and when Par actually followed through on the bargain, making the pistol work good as new, the gangster was amazed enough to offer to guard Par for all of his time in the lower city. After that, the boy went to the Old Mormon Fort and the Followers of the Apocalypse, where, after some reluctance from the latter, he was allowed to do more work for them, as well as pursue their archives for more knowledge.
When the chance came to get back in the Crimson Caravan's good graces a year later, Par took it with open arms. This chance was rescuing a caravan stranded outside an old Vault, Vault 91, whose experiment was that its inhabitants each had some phobia or another, some of which were inherited. Over time, when Vault 91 opened, its people were half-ready to get outside and out of the tight and cramped spaces of the complex, while the other half were afraid of the things outside. Both sides were in civil war with each other, and had taken the Crimson Caravan's convoy prisoner just for passing through. And so, Par saw his chance.
Successfully talking both sides in the civil war through their differences, the boy, just a few weeks shy of 18, managed to not only secure the release of the caravaneers, but also Vault 91 and any settlements span off from it as a trading partner, winning immense profit from the Crimson Caravan Company, and regaining their trust. He also got, as his greatest gift from Vault 91, a solar-electric powered car. Yes, a bonafide car that can carry a small amount of goods, had a security system that prevented others from using it, and, after some jury-rigging, even a couple of sentry guns each to its hood and rear to fire at any intruders, making it a Technical.
And so, a year or two on after that, life was good...
Weapon choice: Sniper Rifle, Carbine, Pistol, Knife.
Perks (Add only three):
-Confirmed Bachelor
-Lady Killer
-Intense Training
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you take a 'Weak' Skill, see below):
-Speech
-Science
-Repair
-Guns
All other skills are assumed to be average unless you want to take a 'Weak Skill'.
'Weak' Skills (the skills you are weakest in, add only if you want more 'Tagged' Skills):
-Unarmed
Any other info not included in the above:
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22,489 | 650 | 1 | 934 | 377 |
La vision de Tatsuya est passée de flou à clair comme il a vu un ghoul et une femme tribale sexy dans une petite cabane sale. Tatsuya, agissant comme son nom, le Dragon, a pris une profonde respiration, a concentré son esprit et a ramassé calmement ses armes et sa part des casquettes.
"Je vais avoir besoin d'un nouveau matériel si on prend ces baises de Légion. Je reviens tout de suite." Tatsuya sortit de la cabane et se promena vers les Gun Runners au nord. Il a acheté un mini-gun et une grosse somme de munitions. Il s'est promené jusqu'à la cabane et a ouvert la porte.
« Même si je déteste travailler pour la RCN, je détesterais refuser ces casquettes et je détesterais être du mauvais côté des RCN. Tu penses que cette arme est assez grosse pour le boulot?" Tatsuya a dit, en présentant son minigun à ses nouveaux associés.
"Allons au reste, arrêtons-nous vers le sud, puis Novac. J'ai toujours voulu tuer des Légionnaires."
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Name: Tatsuya (Tatsu)
Age: 24
Personality: Garuk has a personality that polarizes his intimidating appearance (he is 6'6). He is a rather brooding, reserved and taciturn man who opts to appeal for an analysis of a situation before acting, sometimes even overthinking things, but when he's in action there are few who can stop him.
Faction: Mercenary
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
S: 10
P: 6
E: 10
C: 3
I: 4
A: 10
L: 2
Backstory: Tatsuya, or Tatsu for short, was born into slavery. His mother was a Japanese slave who was raped by Tatsuya's father, a slaver. She was allowed to keep the child. She gave him the name of the creature that would prosper in this world; Tatsuya, or dragon and gave him the first 7 years of life before being sold into slavery. He was then raised in a military camp as teen, carrying heavy packages and other hard labor. Already very strong genetically, the hard labor made him even stronger
When he found a bottle of buffout, he put his hopes into fighting in the arena for his freedom. He began sneaking extra food while taking the buffout to get even stronger, and when the time came he was 250 pounds of muscle and 6'6, perfect for fighting in the arena. He used his brute strength and size to win his battles in the arena, even beating veteran legionnaires and NCR soldiers.
When he finally won his freedom, he decided to head as far West as he could walk. He met some tribals who taught him survival and how to create gauntlets out of mutated animals, and he went on his way. When he found himself in the brutal Mojave desert, he ran into a Caravan that needed a new guard. He was picked up by the Caravan and given a .44 as a sign up bonus
Weapon choice: Mantis King Gauntlet, .44
Perks (Add only three): Ninja, Slayer, Adamantium Skeleton
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you add a 'Weak Skill', see below): Stealth, Unarmed, Big Guns, Survival
'Weak' Skills (the skills you are weakest in, add only if you want more 'Tagged' Skills): Speech
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22,490 | 650 | 2 | 611 | 6 |
Nipton
Numerius était au bureau de l'hôtel de ville de Nipton. Son casque était assis sur le bureau alors qu'il lisait sur certains rapports de la Légion de la région. Vulpes Inculta était un homme très occupé, et comme il s'est déplacé comme une ombre à travers le Mojave, il avait besoin de quelqu'un pour courir les choses à Nipton. Bien que ce n'était certainement pas la tâche la plus excitante que Numerius ait jamais eue, c'était une bonne occasion de se faire promouvoir à une plus grande clairance de Centurion. Inculta était un homme très influent dans la légion et sur la parole de recommandation de lui pouvait booster Numerius au rang de Vétéran Centurion. Le bureau dans lequel il était assis était musty au mieux, mais il montrait des signes évidents du confort de la créature de l'ancien maire. Un drapeau de la Légion a été placé sur le mur arrière au-dessus d'une porte de la salle de stockage. Les prisonniers de la RCN étaient à la merci du Centurion si les dirigeants de la RCN refusaient de payer la rançon. Vulpes Inculta comptait sur Numérius et le légionnaire serait damné s'il avait échoué à cette simple mission. Un rap aigu est venu à sa porte et a donné un rapide "Entrez."
Un légionnaire avec un casque de nombreuses plumes franchit les portes, un Decanus. Il a posé un poing sur son cœur et a déclaré "Ave César, Centurion." Numère a rendu le salut en disant: «Ave Caesar, Decanus Publius. Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Le Decanus a laissé tomber sa main et a placé ses deux mains derrière son dos. "Les hommes sont maintenant en patrouille autour de la colonie. J'ai une contubernie qui protège les prisonniers de la RCN."
Numérius a hurlé et plié les papiers qu'il regardait. "Bien, s'ils donnent des ennuis aux hommes, soyez fermes et rapides dans le châtiment. N'importe quel signe de faiblesse ces chiens vont sauter. Je préférerais qu'aucun des hommes ne soit tué par un prisonnier désespéré. J'espère qu'on ne les aura que pendant une semaine avant d'en être débarrassés. Je doute que la RCN permette à leurs hommes de subir le même sort que les criminels. Le centurion s'est arrêté un instant. "Post scouts sur les bords de la ville, sur les coteaux afin que nous puissions voir s'il y a quelqu'un qui s'approche des routes ou des campagnes."
-- Oui, monsieur.
"Ce sera tout."
Publius a posé un poing sur son cœur et a tourné sur son talon, sortant de la pièce.
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Name: Numerius Valens
Age: 32
Looks:
Numerius stands at 5 foot 11 and is broad of build and muscle. He has dark and suspicious eyes with a dangerous light in them. He often keeps his black hair short with a modest goatee. His body is covered in scars, the bull of the legion has been branded onto his left pectoral. His uniform consists of heavy metal armor which have been re-purposed into the colors of the Legion. His helmet is signifying of the Centurion rank, a plume of bright red feathers.
Personality:
When you think of a New Legion Officer, you probably imagine Numerius. Powerful, decisive, ruthless, totally dedicated to the cause of Caesar and the Legion, Numerius is the model legionnaire. Numerius was promoted to his position because he has the mindset of a conqueror, not of a simple foot soldier. He welcomes all who wishes to join the legion with open arms and destroys all who would dare oppose him and his brothers. While some outside the legion would consider him a monster (and that very well might be true) within the legion he's considered a good man. Numerius is very family oriented, his wife and two children being one of his motivating factors for fighting. He truly believes once that Legion has taken over everything, the world will be safe and his children can grow up to do great things. If that means he has to slay every degenerate that stands in his path, than so be it.
Numerius is also a devout follower of Mars, the official God of the Legion. He has a unique respect for his enemies, weak or strong, that is rare in the legion. It speaks of his humbleness and modesty when facing down an opponent which many other legionnaires lack. But one shouldn't mistake these traits for mercy, as Numerius has none for any who would stand in the way of his goals.
Faction: New Legion
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength: 10
Perception: 6
Endurance: 9
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 7
Luck: 2
Backstory:
Numerius Valens was born Elijah Valen in a large farming town on the border of Kansas. He grew up a farmer, living in a brutal environment like most in the wasteland. This town was located in the middle of the plains with the only fertile land for miles around. People from all over came to trade for the freshly grown food of his town, which also made it a target for raiders. Elijah joined the town guard at the age of 15, learning how to fight properly, track thieves and handle drunks. He went on many patrols in his few years of serving. But by the time he was 18, the raiders had become too many as his town had raised the prices for food. Many normal people were simply hungry and didn't have the means to afford it from the now wealthy farming town.
So an army of raiders assaulted the town in the dead of night in a vicious attack. It went farther than anybody wanted. Many innocents lay dead in the streets and Elijah himself had been shot twice, bleeding out at the gates. He passed out with image of the town he failed fading in his mind. He awoke in a Legion tent two days later. The New Legion had moved in and dispatched the raiders, setting up an outpost in the town. They had saved his life and for that, he was in their debt. The Legion let him know it too and he was drafted that day into their forces. Elijah buried his parents and young sister that day and was given the name Numerius Valens and the tattoo of the Legion, a bull on his left pectoral.
Numerius marched out with a centuria towards Colorado, to a larger outpost. Over the years, Numerius fought in many battles and participated in many campaigns. His acts of valor got him noticed and promoted over time. He took many lives with his blade and earned his right to be called a legionnaire and a Centurion. He met a beautiful woman by the name of Marziana and married her and had two beautiful children, Loxus and Luna. Numerius began to see Mars' influence in each aspect of his life and gave thanks. Though the deaths of his previous family still haunted him, his new family was all he needed to move forward. Now the NCR and Mr. House is in the Legion's cross hairs and Numerius is ready to take them both on for the glory of the Legion. And Mars help anyone who gets in their way.
Weapon choice: Power Fist and New Legion Long Sword (Basically a spatha.)
Perks (Add only three):
Piercing Strike
Super Slam!
Unstoppable Force
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you add a 'Weak Skill', see below):
- Melee
- Unarmed
- Traps
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22,491 | 650 | 3 | 1,649 | 1,447 |
Camp de Malpais Legate
Jessica Fairbright soupira, alors qu'elle passait par le processus initial d'accès au camp de Malpais Legate. Il s'agissait d'un petit camp adjacent au plus grand fort. Un endroit, où beaucoup de Wastelander et de membres de la RCN diront, quels endroits horribles et violents c'était - où les esclaves erraient et la loi de la moralité ou de la décence n'existait pas. En général, dans de tels cas, l'orateur est soit trop ivre, soit trop stupide ou tout simplement trop hypocrite.
La Légion n'était pas toute la civilisation du nouveau monde, mais elle n'essayait pas de vous tuer, dans un contexte étrange. Ils avaient leurs tribus, qui pensaient que César pouvait marcher sur l'eau ou que le soleil dans le ciel était un Dieu appelé Mars. Mais il y avait aussi d'autres gens là-bas, des hommes de l'intelligence ou de la culture - que l'on pourrait s'attendre à trouver seulement dans la RCN. Le Malpais Legate semblait un tel individu - il semblait bien cultivé et avait toujours une certaine philosophie à transmettre. De plus, il était l'un des SOB les plus difficiles qu'elle ait vu - l'homme n'a pas l'air de construire ou entraîné pour la guerre; jugeant par son passé comme un simple prédicateur. Pourtant, une des occasions qu'elle avait entendues, ou vu certaines des cicatrices - l'homme avait pu survivre à une douzaine d'ambustes et de tireurs de la RCN qui n'avaient pas réussi à le tuer à plusieurs reprises. Malgré qu'ils parviennent souvent à le frapper, et pourtant le Legate ne mourrait pas.
Elle a été sortie de ses pensées, quand elle a été rembourrée - la Légion avait une politique de non-armes, chaque fois qu'un étranger est entré dans leur camp. C'était principalement au nom de la sécurité, sinon n'importe qui pouvait venir et les tuer tous. Malgré l'absence d'armes, il n'y avait aucune menace directe de sauter dans un camp de la Légion. Certes l'esclavage existait, mais c'était sur une base individuelle - plus la plupart des Légionnaires ont été dits de ne pas s'engager dans de telles activités... au moins sur d'éventuels entrepreneurs. C'est la forme de la Légion de bizutage des nouveaux arrivants, plus si vous étiez assez stupide pour vous replier dedans, alors vous ne seriez pas à la hauteur du genre de travail que la Légion offrirait de toute façon.
Jessica a attendu calmement, alors qu'ils 'took' leur temps, la sensation de son corps pour n'importe quoi. C'était la norme, chaque fois qu'elle visitait - étant une femme, ils aimaient prendre leur temps - mais d'autre part, elle était une ancienne Ranger après tout. Avec une gifle "accidentelle" sur elle derrière, elle a été autorisée à continuer vers la tente de Malpais Legate - à savoir sur le sujet sur ce problème de ghoul et où en particulier. Sur le chemin de là, elle s'est engagée dans les affaires habituelles de se faire appeler par chat et a commenté sa figure - la plupart par les membres plus jeunes, mais quelques anciens combattants ont aussi jeté dans leur voix. Comme d'habitude, 'hey, beau', 'je veux vous soulager, de ce costume lourd', 'bonnes jambes que vous avez', 'je veux essayer mon épée' et d'autres commentaires charnels ajoutés à cela.
Personne n'était assez bête pour essayer de l'attraper - c'est-à-dire parce que le Malpais était l'un des rares dirigeants plus pragmatiques que la Légion avait, et c'est-à-dire asservir tout entrepreneur potentiel ou éventuellement expérimenté était mauvais pour la Légion. Comme souvent, ils avaient besoin de ces personnes pour effectuer des missions spéciales. Deuxièmement, étant un Ranger "Fallen", elle connaissait ses affaires quand il s'agissait de se défendre. La première fois et la première fois, le légionnaire a découvert que, lorsqu'il a supposé qu'elle était une jeune fille faible et qu'il a rapidement été remis son cul et a été temporairement paralysé par elle de la taille vers le bas. La marque de brûlure déposée et brûlée sur son épaule - qui aurait une fois affiché l'emblème de l'ours de la RCN était disparu. Maintenant, elle était connue sous le nom de 'Fallen Ranger' par de nombreux civils ou soldats de la RCN - la Légion avait un surnom plus ironique pour elle, à savoir 'Virgo' ou littéralement 'Maiden'.
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Name: Jessica Fairbright
Nickname: "Virgo"
Age: 25
Personality: Calm, friendly, precise, helpful, loyal.
Faction: Independent
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
Strength: 4
Perception: 9
Endurance: 8
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 6
Luck: 5
Backstory: Jessica Fairbright had been a rising star in the NCR military, six years ago - she had been slotted as one of the best gunslingers in her time in the NCR army. While lacking skills with firing a rifle and a dislike of rules - she made it up for her great mind, strong will and precise aim with a revolver. Instead of having her drop out - due to not, meeting certain Army standards.
Instead at the age of nineteen she had been slotted to the NCR Rangers - becoming one of the youngest Rangers to date, to join the organization. Despite them being all volunteer-based, their skill-set needed to many and very good. Two years and several succesful missions later - she was on a fast track road to becoming the youngest to gain her Veterancy. Although her path had been cut short - once news reached about her brother being in trouble.
Namely both her and her older brother - had been orphaned when Jess had been sixteen and her brother at twenty-one. Namely due to a caravan attack gone bad. Her brother had taken care of her, for about three years - after which she joined the NCR Army. While her brother moved on as prospector. Her brother had run amock against some Cabal agents - since he had discovered a piece of valuable Old-War technology and had been upto delivering it to the Followers of the Apocalypse. Namely the charity group having helped the family out during their initial years - however the Cabal captured him instead and due to the value of the tech; they had him fake-charged and hanged for treason.
Jessica heard about this situation that had happened, and investigated her brother' charges. She hadn't managed to scratch much of the surface - only finding rumors that the NCR in some way had set up her only family left. Albeit, before she could report this forward - the Cabal, also called-up charges on Jessica; in-order to silence her from investigating further. In that regard, Jessica managed to kill her attackers and flee East.
She kept travelling in the Mojave Wasteland, always on the move and alert for any Cabalists.
Weapon choice: .44 Magnum revolver
Perks (Add only three):
Gunslinger
Toughness
Paralyzing Palm
'Tagged' Skills:
Guns
Survival
Medicine
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22,492 | 650 | 4 | 623 | 559 |
Obadiah
Obadiah est arrivé, sur le sol froid d'une cabane près de vide. C'était étrange, elle ne se rappelait pas avoir frappé la tête, ni bu beaucoup, ni même commencé un combat, et pourtant elle était là, venant dans un endroit étrange, sur le sol, avec des étrangers. Elle écarta les circonstances étranges de son réveil, et alla immédiatement chercher son grand club, ainsi qu'un couple de tomohawks qu'elle garda à la main. À mesure qu'elle reprit ses repères, Obadiah se souvint qu'elle n'était pas seule dans la cabane, mais qu'elle le partageait avec quelques autres.
À sa droite était l'un des morts. Les Ghouls, comme on les appelait. Il faisait partie de la tribu de la RCN, portant clairement un uniforme de leurs guerriers. Pour un mort, il semblait fort. L'autre était un humain, grand, et construit comme un yao-gui. Obadiah pensait qu'il y avait pire compagnie à garder. Elle était sur le point de parler, quand une petite voix qui sonnait d'un coin vide l'a surpris. Elle se retourna, et vit un petit homme translucide planer sur le sol. Obadiah soupira, elle aurait dû savoir, la technologie. Pourtant, elle a écouté le petit homme.
C'était une offre d'emploi, et pas n'importe quelle offre, qui la payait pour se venger de la tribu de Légion et de ceux qui collaborent avec eux. "C'est un bon boulot." Elle a hurlé, grimpant quelques-unes des casquettes, mais ne prêtant pas attention à la quantité. Assez pour manger et boire pendant quelques jours. Elle a aussi pris sa part d'eau, qu'elle a plus soigneusement comptée, en s'assurant qu'elle a obtenu ce dont elle avait besoin, sans tirer la colère des autres. Le grand homme aussi, avait pris des casquettes, et près de quitter immédiatement la cabane, en parlant de chercher plus de matériel. Obadiah n'a même pas dit au revoir.
Elle a plutôt regardé vers le mort. "Salut. Tu te souviens comment on est arrivés ici?" Elle riait, nerveusement, comme Obadiah était encore un peu repoussée par les créatures semblables à des zombies.
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Name: Obadiah of the Cutskin
Age: 20
Appearance:
Obadiah is an imposing tribal, standing at 6'2", with a toned, muscular body. Her skin is the deep tan typical of tribals. Her clothing is a heavy leather armor, festooned with tribal fetishes and talismans. Her hair is cut short and tied back. It has a ruddy, earthy color.
Personality: Obadiah is a brash, boisterous type, just as willing to rush into danger as she is into a new friendship. However, she has a propensity for sharing tribal fables and stories, which she does with the greatest solemnity. While she has a general knowledge of the world outside her tribe, some of the more scientific and advanced aspects escape her. She is quick to anger when she feels to be insulted, though just as quick to lose interest in her anger.
Faction: Independent
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Strength: 9
Perception: 5
Endurance: 10
Charisma: 4
Intelligence:5
Agility:8
Luck:4
Backstory: Obadiah was born of her tribe, self-called the Mal'okai, but referred to by outsiders as 'The Cutskin', due to their ritual of self-scarification. The Cutskin were a warrior people, which heavily emphasized the hunting of great beasts. This led them to be at odds with most of their neighboring tribes. The local politics were wiped away, however, when the Legion rolled through the area, subsuming all the tribes in the area. The Cutskin tried to stand up against the might of the Legion, but it came to naught. They were wiped away, and the survivors that were not taken scattered to the wind.
Obadiah was one such survivor, having only recently having been inducted as a full status warrior of the tribe. She escaped the slaughter and enslavement of her people, along with a small band of other refugees, to the west, where they were taken in by the NCR. The defeat and destruction of her tribe, however, hung on Obadiah's mind, and she refused to settle, instead striking out once more, to the Mojave, where she might prove herself a warrior once more, and regain the honor of the Cutskin.
Weapon choice: Obadiah's Warclub: A custom war-club, traditional of the Cutskin. This one is unique to her, and is a heavy, powerful weapon, enhanced with the teeth of a yao-gui on the head, to both pierce and pulverize.
Perks: Tribal wisdom, hunter, unstoppable force
Tag Skills: Survival, Melee, Unarmed, Sneak
Weak skills:Science
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22,493 | 650 | 5 | 622 | 669 |
Quand Jake s'est réveillé, il a été immédiatement repoussé par les environs étant différent de celui où il s'était endormi. Il s'est battu pour s'assurer que tout était encore là, y compris son équipement, avant de se lever. Une fois debout, il tira une cigarette et une allumette de l'une des pochettes de son uniforme, frappa l'allumette sur son armure et alluma la cigarette. Il a pris une forte bouffée, exhalant tout comme l'hologramme s'est mis à s'animer et à parler.
"Greetings. Mon nom est Caleb, et j'ai un emploi pour vous des niveaux supérieurs de la RCN. » "Comme vous avez entendu parler de ces rumeurs, la ville de Nipton a remis plusieurs soldats de la RCN à la Légion de Cesar, et a obtenu une riche récompense du commandant local de la légion. Cet acte de trahison de rang ne peut pas résister. » L'hologramme s'est tourné, gesticulant vers une pile d'eau et de bouchons, assez pour être divisé trois façons. « C'est pourquoi, nous donnons une mission générale; nous nous vengeons. On vous donne la liberté de définir la vengeance ou la justice comme vous l'entendez; nous ne sommes pas des faibles comme le chef Hanlon. Assurez-vous simplement que quelqu'un paie pour la vie des soldats de la RCN qui ont été perdus aujourd'hui. »
Après la fin de l'hologramme, l'une des deux autres personnes dans la pièce, l'autre mâle, et un humain normal, a pris sa part des chapeaux et de l'eau. Il a parlé d'acquérir plus de matériel, et s'est précipité par la porte.
L'autre personne, une femme humaine, et évidemment une sorte de tribu, a mentionné que le travail semblait être bon. Elle lui a aussi demandé s'il se souvenait comment ils étaient arrivés là.
Le ghoul a répondu entre des bouffées de sa cigarette, sa voix râpée sonnant presque comme un piège. "Beats-moi, peau lisse. Je suis aussi à l'écart que toi. Espérons que nous pourrons trouver des solutions après notre retour. » Cela dit, il s'est emparé de son fusil de chasse de l'endroit où il se trouvait, en s'assurant que c'était bien, avant de l'épingler sur son dos, et de vérifier son pistolet aussi.
Juste à ce moment-là, l'homme qui était parti est revenu, maintenant armé d'un grand mini-gun. Il a demandé ce que Jake et la femme pensaient de l'arme. "C'est une façon de le coller à la Légion." Il a dit, jetant sa cigarette sur le sol et étouffant avec son pied. L'homme a parlé d'un plan pour arriver à Nipton, et Jake a tenu un coup de main. "Tenez-vous là-haut, peau lisse. Écoutons ce que la dame pense avant qu'il ne s'installe sur un plan précis."
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Name: Jake Vieth
Age: 229
Jake is a ghoul, with all the usual features of rotting flesh, no nose, disgusting-colored eyes, crumbling ears, a raspy voice, and little to no hair. He wears the uniform and gear of an NCR trooper,
with rank insignia denoting him as a corporal in the NCR Army, and a red beret denoting him as a member of 1st Recon.
Personality: Jake is a gruff survivalist type, not speaking often, and not liking to spend very much time around people or in urban areas. He prefers the company of the wilderness, a good spotting partner, a bottle of whiskey, and a pack of cigarettes.
Faction: A Corporal in the NCR Army, a member of the 1st Recon division, and a citizen of the NCR.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (45 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength: 5
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 8
Luck: 10
Backstory: Jake was a loner even before the Great War, and it shows. He rarely talks about his past, though the wedding ring he wears around his finger, and the cross necklace he keeps around his neck are hints at it, and he can often be found muttering something he calls a "prayer", or reading a worn black book with faded gold text reading "he oly Bibl" on the front.
Jake's past following the war is a bit more open. He was one of the people "lucky" enough to become a ghoul, living in a small california town that was just far enough from ground zero to give him the perfect dose of radiation for the reaction. From there, he wandered California and the surrounding areas, spending quite a bit of time in a town called Broken Hills, where Humans, Super Mutants, and Ghouls lived in relative harmony. That all ended in 2242, which the uranium mine sustaining the town went dry, and everyone left.
From there, Jake moved to what had become the New California Republic, becoming a citizen and an eventual member of the Army. His training went well, with decent enough marksmanship to earn him a place in the Recon branch of the Army, eventually finding a home in 1st Recon, the primer scouting and sniping unit of the Army.
He would soon find himself deployed to the Mojave, scouting the area, and playing rival to the presence of The New Legion, fighting off raiding and scouting parties from across the colorado, while also combatting raider and bandit groups throughout the region. At the moment he's lacking a spotter, so he's having to do alone what snipers usually do in pairs.
Weapon choice: He carries a scoped .308 Hunting Rifle, and a 9mm pistol as a sidearm.
Perks: Light Step, Silent Running, Sniper
'Tagged' Skills: Survival, Sneak, Guns, Medicine
'Weak' Skills: Speech
Any other info not included in the above: N/A
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22,494 | 650 | 6 | 1,333 | 2,750 |
Les offres de la RCN tendaient toujours à être plutôt tentantes lorsqu'il s'agissait d'emplois qu'ils n'avaient pas le temps ou qu'ils ne voulaient pas faire. Caps et eau purifiée, ce sont les nécessités nues des terres rudes du Mojave et il était damné bien tentant à Austin Woods, mercenaire ghoul local. Il était là, le vieux Texan marchant jusqu'à la base de la RCN juste au sud de la New Vegas Strip, fusil à la main et un regard régulier indifférent sur son visage. Les récompenses semblaient certainement en valoir la peine pour Austin, d'autant plus que cela lui apporterait plus de richesse. La pensée lui a apporté un peu de bonheur.
Bien sûr, il y aurait concurrence, mais cela ne concernait pas la relique d'avant-guerre dans la moindre mesure en raison de sa nature. La même nature nonchalante qu'il avait l'habitude d'ignorer les gens comme ils l'ont harcelé pour être un ghoul, c'était juste la routine à ce stade. Austin regarda les gardes de l'entrée et mesura silencieusement leurs mouvements. Un doigt corrodé a encerclé le bord de sa gâchette, avant de s'arrêter. Les deux gardes se regardèrent l'un l'autre, retournant vers le ghoul, puis retournant vers l'autre, contemplant s'il fallait ou non renvoyer le ghoul.
Ici, pour l'offre que le commandant Boone a envoyée, Austin a déclaré d'une voix râpée, les gardes se regardant de nouveau avant de l'autoriser à contrecœur à entrer. Le ghoul a jeté son chapeau sur les deux avant d'entrer dans la base, aucune émotion ne s'abattant vraiment sur son visage. En entrant dans la base, un officier a déjà commencé à le harceler pour être un ghoul. Peut-être aurait-il dû montrer une sorte de colère, mais il n'a pas pu rassembler le désir. Écoutez, monsieur, je suis ici pour affaires. Si vous voulez me harceler, faites-le une autre fois, il soupira, marchant devant l'officier qui a continué à l'appeler "zombie". Tellement pour l'acceptation et tout ça de la RCN.
Le texan s'approcha d'un autre officier, lui demandant : « Où puis-je trouver le commandant Boone? » L'officier se dirigea vers le grand bâtiment du fort. Merci beaucoup, monsieur Austin a commenté avant de se diriger vers ce bâtiment. Bien qu'il se sente surveillé - les tireurs d'élite étaient dans les tours de guet, le regardant - il ne l'a toujours pas dénervé dans le moindre. Bien qu'ils aient été surveillés, les gardes ont arrêté le ghoul et se sont mis à confisquer son arme et à le tapoter. Encore une fois, cela ne signifiait pas grand - chose pour lui. Finalement, ils ont laissé le ghoul entrer dans le bâtiment et l'ont dirigé vers le commandant Boone, où il est allé avec plaisir.
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Name:
Austin Woods
Age:
239
Looks:
Standing at about 5’11”, Austin is how one would exactly describe a ghoul, freakishly hideous and looking like a corpse in general. His skin looks rotted off over the hundred of years he has been alive and overall, his skin still retains a normal pale tone despite, as previously mentioned, rotted off to some degree. Atop his head stands a single gift of blonde hair which surprisingly grows back despite being a ghoul. Granted, at least he takes pride with how he looks as he believes that he looks halfway decent with his cowboy hat, worn duster, and his plain white shirt. He wears dark brown slacks and black boots, heavy clothing for the Mohave Desert, not that it truly bothers him.
Personality:
Austin has seen many, many thing in his many, many years of being alive and roaming around to the point that really nothing seems to scare him or surprise him. Most of the time he holds a largely dull face that signifies that he is largely unamused by something or just internally sighing at how the United States has gone so south. Yes, he remembers the United States, at least vaguely. He is a patriot for his nation that no longer exists and will still lay down his life for the dead country no matter what. Or so he would like to think.
The ghoul is largely unenthused about doing much of anything and will only do something for someone when caps are involved, even if it is so much as giving a smile. Despite his false love for his dead country, he can be an nice, morally upstanding person when he wants to be. It is that part of his humanity that has survived these many years, the one thing that has allowed him to retain some shred of his fading sanity. Hope that things will get back to what they may have been like.
Faction
Unaffiliated
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength: 4
Perception: 10
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 9
Backstory:
Originally born in Texas, in the city which he shares a name, he had grown up in the patriotic American way of guns, cursing, and knowing how to make steaks. This was his life for the most part, that was until those wretched bombs had fallen. He would tell you exactly how it felt to have everything around you know and love turn into ash while you hid in a sewer system, waiting for the screams to stop, but he had forgotten long by this point. Before he knew it, he was turned into exactly what he would be considered now and life began to pass like a blur.
Austin remembers some of the events that transpired between the time he took walking from Texas to the Mohave, which took him many years to get to on account of distractions and settling down for some periods. For one, he remembers having to kill the remainder of his family, having been turned into feral ghouls or some other abomination. Yet, he continued to hold hope that everything would be better eventually and sure enough life came up when he came across another survivor of the Great War, someone to share his suffering. Her name was Dianna.
Dianna and Austin settled down in a lightly irradiated, nothing that could harm a human, part of the deserts outside of Texas, spending their time surviving more than building a stable form of relationship. Life was good and Dianna, who was a human, lived out the remains of her short life. When she passed, Austin was not sad, in fact he was happy that both of them got to live together and at the very least it made him happy that she went peacefully. He buried her outside of the hut that they had built together before going off to try and find the Mohave once more.
Once more did he settle down, this time with another Ghoul. Sadly, it was not meant to last as she was a bit of a free spirit, the relationship on lasting about twenty or so years before Austin had enough and just left. Finally, within two hundred years, he managed to get to the Mohave where he lived his normal mercenary life up to now.
Weapon choice:
Lever-Action Shotgun
Perks
Shotgun Surgeon
Cowboy
Tag!
'Tagged' Skills:
Guns
Survival
Barter
Repair (+1 from Tag! perk)
'Weak' Skills:
N/A
Any other info not included in the above:
N/A
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22,495 | 650 | 7 | 623 | 559 |
Obadiah a gagné pendant que le mort lui parlait. Elle ne voulait pas, mais la voix qui déchirait l'a dérangée. Pourtant, elle a hurlé dans la compréhension. "Oui, nous faisons le travail d'abord, puis nous..." Obadiah n'était pas sûr de quoi faire une fois le travail terminé. Heureusement, elle n'avait pas à finir sa phrase, alors que l'autre humain rentrait dans la pièce, brandissant une énorme arme. Obadiah ne savait pas pourquoi il avait besoin d'une arme aussi puissante, mais elle n'était pas l'une pour juger de la guerre de l'autre. "C'est une grande arme. Loud aussi." Elle a lâché.
L'homme a suggéré un plan simple, dirigez-vous vers Nipton par un arrêt de repos, et tout droit jusqu'à Nipton. Le ghoul, cependant, a répondu, demandant l'avis d'Obadiah sur la question. Elle s'est cognée la tête, en y pensant un moment. "Si nous suivons la route, nous serons vus par la Légion. Au moins, quand nous sommes près du territoire de la Légion." Elle a regardé le mini-gun dans les mains de l'homme. "Mais peut-être que ce n'est pas un problème pour toi." Obadiah a pensé un moment. "Peut-être que si l'un ou deux d'entre nous attirait l'attention des guerriers de la Légion, un autre pourrait se faufiler, frapper au nid." C'était un bon plan pour elle. Ça a marché quand la tribu est allée à la chasse aux rampeurs et aux buzzers.
"Hmm, de toute façon, ce sera une longue promenade. Il faut de la nourriture, de l'eau, tout ça. Sera plus facile si nous allons ensemble!" Obadiah sourit, prêt à partir. "Oh, et je suis Obadiah, guerrier de Mal'okai! Je suis heureux de rencontrer les ennemis de la tribu des légions. »
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Name: Obadiah of the Cutskin
Age: 20
Appearance:
Obadiah is an imposing tribal, standing at 6'2", with a toned, muscular body. Her skin is the deep tan typical of tribals. Her clothing is a heavy leather armor, festooned with tribal fetishes and talismans. Her hair is cut short and tied back. It has a ruddy, earthy color.
Personality: Obadiah is a brash, boisterous type, just as willing to rush into danger as she is into a new friendship. However, she has a propensity for sharing tribal fables and stories, which she does with the greatest solemnity. While she has a general knowledge of the world outside her tribe, some of the more scientific and advanced aspects escape her. She is quick to anger when she feels to be insulted, though just as quick to lose interest in her anger.
Faction: Independent
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Strength: 9
Perception: 5
Endurance: 10
Charisma: 4
Intelligence:5
Agility:8
Luck:4
Backstory: Obadiah was born of her tribe, self-called the Mal'okai, but referred to by outsiders as 'The Cutskin', due to their ritual of self-scarification. The Cutskin were a warrior people, which heavily emphasized the hunting of great beasts. This led them to be at odds with most of their neighboring tribes. The local politics were wiped away, however, when the Legion rolled through the area, subsuming all the tribes in the area. The Cutskin tried to stand up against the might of the Legion, but it came to naught. They were wiped away, and the survivors that were not taken scattered to the wind.
Obadiah was one such survivor, having only recently having been inducted as a full status warrior of the tribe. She escaped the slaughter and enslavement of her people, along with a small band of other refugees, to the west, where they were taken in by the NCR. The defeat and destruction of her tribe, however, hung on Obadiah's mind, and she refused to settle, instead striking out once more, to the Mojave, where she might prove herself a warrior once more, and regain the honor of the Cutskin.
Weapon choice: Obadiah's Warclub: A custom war-club, traditional of the Cutskin. This one is unique to her, and is a heavy, powerful weapon, enhanced with the teeth of a yao-gui on the head, to both pierce and pulverize.
Perks: Tribal wisdom, hunter, unstoppable force
Tag Skills: Survival, Melee, Unarmed, Sneak
Weak skills:Science
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22,496 | 650 | 8 | 934 | 377 |
Tatsuya a entendu le plan pour éviter les routes principales. Pour lui, c'était une meilleure idée que ce qu'il avait prévu. Tatsuya n'était pas la personne la plus intelligente du monde et il était toujours assez contondant, mais il a toujours pris en considération toutes les options avant d'agir et ce plan était sain.
"Ok donc nous évitons les routes principales, avec lesquelles je peux être d'accord. On se faufile dans les canyons et je me faufile dans leur nid avec mon nouveau jouet. Alors bam. Hahahaha" Tatsuya riait sinistrement et il se composait lui-même.
"Mon nom est Tatsuya, ou vous pouvez m'appeler Tatsui. Je suis né esclave dans la Légion, je me suis battu pour ma liberté et je suis venu au Mojave. Je ne sais pas ce qui est arrivé à la caravane pour laquelle je travaillais, peut-être qu'ils m'ont vendu et c'est comme ça que je suis arrivé ici. C'est peut-être la même chose pour vous deux. Maintenant, je ne sais pas tout de vous, mais je suis de plus en plus agité pour l'effusion de sang." Tatsuya a dit qu'il avait pincé le canon sur son mini-gun.
"Je suis assez fort pour porter ce truc et me faufiler dans leur nid en même temps. Ce voyage ne sera pas trop dur pour moi. Au fait, quel est votre nom, Ghoul?" Tatsu a dit à Jake.
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Name: Tatsuya (Tatsu)
Age: 24
Personality: Garuk has a personality that polarizes his intimidating appearance (he is 6'6). He is a rather brooding, reserved and taciturn man who opts to appeal for an analysis of a situation before acting, sometimes even overthinking things, but when he's in action there are few who can stop him.
Faction: Mercenary
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
S: 10
P: 6
E: 10
C: 3
I: 4
A: 10
L: 2
Backstory: Tatsuya, or Tatsu for short, was born into slavery. His mother was a Japanese slave who was raped by Tatsuya's father, a slaver. She was allowed to keep the child. She gave him the name of the creature that would prosper in this world; Tatsuya, or dragon and gave him the first 7 years of life before being sold into slavery. He was then raised in a military camp as teen, carrying heavy packages and other hard labor. Already very strong genetically, the hard labor made him even stronger
When he found a bottle of buffout, he put his hopes into fighting in the arena for his freedom. He began sneaking extra food while taking the buffout to get even stronger, and when the time came he was 250 pounds of muscle and 6'6, perfect for fighting in the arena. He used his brute strength and size to win his battles in the arena, even beating veteran legionnaires and NCR soldiers.
When he finally won his freedom, he decided to head as far West as he could walk. He met some tribals who taught him survival and how to create gauntlets out of mutated animals, and he went on his way. When he found himself in the brutal Mojave desert, he ran into a Caravan that needed a new guard. He was picked up by the Caravan and given a .44 as a sign up bonus
Weapon choice: Mantis King Gauntlet, .44
Perks (Add only three): Ninja, Slayer, Adamantium Skeleton
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you add a 'Weak Skill', see below): Stealth, Unarmed, Big Guns, Survival
'Weak' Skills (the skills you are weakest in, add only if you want more 'Tagged' Skills): Speech
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22,497 | 650 | 9 | 611 | 6 |
Nipton
Numérius s'est penché sur son siège, les yeux se fermant. Il pensait à la maison, à sa femme et à ses enfants. Ces trois-là étaient une poignée, mais il ne voulait pas les échanger contre quoi que ce soit dans le monde. Ses pensées s'égaraient à sa famille avant la légion, du carnage qui avait frappé sa ville bien - aimée. Numerius espérait qu'ils se reposaient facilement avec Mars maintenant. Un coup aigu est venu à la porte du bureau, ramenant Numerius étonnamment au présent. L'officier s'est assis droit et a dit d'une voix puissante "Entrez."
Un légionnaire a ouvert la porte et pour un bref moment Numerius n'a pas pu l'identifier. Mais il s'est rendu compte que c'était l'un des agents d'ombre de Vulpes Inculta. "Ave César, Centurion. Commandes de cuivres supérieurs." L'agent a remis une lettre à Numérius, plaçant un poing sur son cœur et disparaissant dans la porte. Numérius regarda la lettre un moment avant de l'ouvrir, la lisant rapidement. Numerius soupira alors qu'il mettait la lettre en bas, il espérait rester un peu plus longtemps à l'hôtel de ville de luxe de Nipton, mais malheureusement ce n'était pas le cas. Numerius a pris son casque et l'a glissé sur sa tête. "Legionnaire!" Il aboie. Un jeune gardien qui se tenait debout dans la salle a trébuché et a salué Numérius. "Prenez-moi Decanus Publius immédiatement."
****
100 Légionnaires marchent de Nipton, 25 Elites entourent les 24 prisonniers de la RCN dans une formation 360. Numerius mène les élites comme le plus ancien décani mène la marche. En passant en revue les ordres de son cerveau, Numerius s'est dit qu'ils iraient le long de la route et se briseraient dans la nature juste avant Novac, ils couperaient les autoroutes en plus de nature sauvage et navigueraient jusqu'à ce qu'ils arrivent à Nelson. Tout le voyage, avec ce nombre d'hommes espérons ne pas prendre plus d'un jour et demi au maximum. Le centurion tira son poing de puissance sur et réajusta l'épée qui s'accrochait à sa hanche. Avec autant d'hommes, toute opposition de la RCN ne devrait pas constituer une menace. Surtout avec les prisonniers en remorquage. Numerius était nerveux au sujet de l'équipe de squelette qu'il a quittée à Nipton, mais les ordres étaient des ordres. Decanus Publius était un leader compétent, il devrait être en mesure de garder les choses sous contrôle.
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Name: Numerius Valens
Age: 32
Looks:
Numerius stands at 5 foot 11 and is broad of build and muscle. He has dark and suspicious eyes with a dangerous light in them. He often keeps his black hair short with a modest goatee. His body is covered in scars, the bull of the legion has been branded onto his left pectoral. His uniform consists of heavy metal armor which have been re-purposed into the colors of the Legion. His helmet is signifying of the Centurion rank, a plume of bright red feathers.
Personality:
When you think of a New Legion Officer, you probably imagine Numerius. Powerful, decisive, ruthless, totally dedicated to the cause of Caesar and the Legion, Numerius is the model legionnaire. Numerius was promoted to his position because he has the mindset of a conqueror, not of a simple foot soldier. He welcomes all who wishes to join the legion with open arms and destroys all who would dare oppose him and his brothers. While some outside the legion would consider him a monster (and that very well might be true) within the legion he's considered a good man. Numerius is very family oriented, his wife and two children being one of his motivating factors for fighting. He truly believes once that Legion has taken over everything, the world will be safe and his children can grow up to do great things. If that means he has to slay every degenerate that stands in his path, than so be it.
Numerius is also a devout follower of Mars, the official God of the Legion. He has a unique respect for his enemies, weak or strong, that is rare in the legion. It speaks of his humbleness and modesty when facing down an opponent which many other legionnaires lack. But one shouldn't mistake these traits for mercy, as Numerius has none for any who would stand in the way of his goals.
Faction: New Legion
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength: 10
Perception: 6
Endurance: 9
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 7
Luck: 2
Backstory:
Numerius Valens was born Elijah Valen in a large farming town on the border of Kansas. He grew up a farmer, living in a brutal environment like most in the wasteland. This town was located in the middle of the plains with the only fertile land for miles around. People from all over came to trade for the freshly grown food of his town, which also made it a target for raiders. Elijah joined the town guard at the age of 15, learning how to fight properly, track thieves and handle drunks. He went on many patrols in his few years of serving. But by the time he was 18, the raiders had become too many as his town had raised the prices for food. Many normal people were simply hungry and didn't have the means to afford it from the now wealthy farming town.
So an army of raiders assaulted the town in the dead of night in a vicious attack. It went farther than anybody wanted. Many innocents lay dead in the streets and Elijah himself had been shot twice, bleeding out at the gates. He passed out with image of the town he failed fading in his mind. He awoke in a Legion tent two days later. The New Legion had moved in and dispatched the raiders, setting up an outpost in the town. They had saved his life and for that, he was in their debt. The Legion let him know it too and he was drafted that day into their forces. Elijah buried his parents and young sister that day and was given the name Numerius Valens and the tattoo of the Legion, a bull on his left pectoral.
Numerius marched out with a centuria towards Colorado, to a larger outpost. Over the years, Numerius fought in many battles and participated in many campaigns. His acts of valor got him noticed and promoted over time. He took many lives with his blade and earned his right to be called a legionnaire and a Centurion. He met a beautiful woman by the name of Marziana and married her and had two beautiful children, Loxus and Luna. Numerius began to see Mars' influence in each aspect of his life and gave thanks. Though the deaths of his previous family still haunted him, his new family was all he needed to move forward. Now the NCR and Mr. House is in the Legion's cross hairs and Numerius is ready to take them both on for the glory of the Legion. And Mars help anyone who gets in their way.
Weapon choice: Power Fist and New Legion Long Sword (Basically a spatha.)
Perks (Add only three):
Piercing Strike
Super Slam!
Unstoppable Force
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you add a 'Weak Skill', see below):
- Melee
- Unarmed
- Traps
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22,498 | 650 | 10 | 1,365 | 7,515 |
Chasse de Ghoul près de Novac
Jean Khan s'est retrouvée dans la nature près de la ville de Novac, normalement dangereuse pour elle en raison de la présence du commandant de la RCN Boone (qui était alors de nouveau occupé à s'occuper de sa femme et de son fils). La terre brûlée, brun clair, était fissurée et piquée, avec seulement quelques taches de verdure qui brisaient la monotonie. Quelle est l'ombre fournie par les stations d'essence et les fermes d'avant-guerre rouillées et ruinées d'une époque antérieure, des endroits qui présentaient autant de risques que la sécurité... surtout qu'il y avait une menace croissante de Feral Ghouls, Ghouls qui étaient traqués par les autres factions. Peut-être peut-elle s'amuser en les regardant?
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Virgo avait été envoyée dans les wilds près de Novac aussi par le Malpais Legate, qui avait signé un contrat avec son paiement prometteur en échange de têtes de ghoul, ainsi que lui donner discrètement un artefact d'avant-guerre; une vieille caméra polaroïde.
"Si vous voyez quelque chose qui est précieux pour la Légion, au savoir-faire, prenez des photos avec cela. J'espère que vous savez utiliser une caméra? » Et avec ça, il l'envoyait sur son chemin, un sourire confiant sur son visage.
Et maintenant, le Ranger/Madien Fallen engageait un trio de Ghouls de Feral, sans remarquer, pour l'instant, la jeune femme Khans à une certaine distance derrière un affleurement...
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Austin Woods aurait une brève rencontre avec le commandant Boone, qui, après une enquête sur les compétences du mercenaire Ghoul, l'enverrait, ainsi que lui donner un acompte de casquettes et de l'eau purifiée. Les deux signeraient alors leur propre contrat, avant que Boone continue :
« Aussi, une fois que vous aurez fini de chasser les Ghouls, il y a un travail à faire près de Goodsprings; apparemment, les Powder Gangers vont attaquer la ville, et il y a eu des observations d'un des agents de M. House, un Benny of the Tops, là-bas. Cela porte à enquêter, ne serait-ce que parce que je ne laisserai pas l'innocent souffrir sous ces... gangsters."
Le Mercenaire de Ghoul serait alors envoyé dans la région avec le plus d'observations de Ghoul, à portée de vue de Jean et Virgo...
Nipton
Nipton, sous l'audace du maire, avait la témérité de célébrer la chute qui venait de la Légion qui payait la ville pour la 'fournir' aux prisonniers. Des flux de papier colorés suspendus aux fenêtres, l'ancien drapeau américain était agité du môle du drapeau de la place de la ville, et sur ladite place de la ville, il y avait un buffet, principalement composé de viande de gecko et de fruits de yucca, ainsi que des pommes de terre. Cependant, il semble que la présence de la Légion dans la ville était légère, une force squelette qui était probablement appât.
Et bien sûr, un fait évident est que les prisonniers de la RCN semblaient partis, partis comme le vent, et que les pistes menant à l'extérieur montrent qu'un grand convoi de la Légion, la plupart des forces d'origine, avait quitté la colonie.
Cela a laissé quelques choix au groupe ad-hoc réuni pour se venger de La Légion/Nipton...
Paradis 'Par' Rapids
Enfin, un voleur* était venu chez le marchand, demandant un emploi. Son travail était, bien sûr, de déjouer la Caravane de Crimson et les tentatives de Van Graff de détruire leurs concurrents en recueillant des preuves contre eux dans les coffres-forts de leurs dirigeants. Et si Par a fini par être bien placé pour prendre le contrôle de la succursale de la Caravane à New Vegas après ce scandale, bien, disons juste que encore une fois, il voulait ramener l'entreprise à ses racines, ses racines honorables.
Ce qu'il ne savait pas, à cause de sa perception moyenne, c'était qu'il était devenu le pion des forces beaucoup plus grand qu'il ne l'était...
*NPC
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Name: Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age: 19
Looks:
Personality: Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him, and is often out for the most profitable trade deals. He also likes sex (dude or gal, it doesn't really matter), and isn't above using it to gain an advantage. But, underneath it all, there is a dedicated, somewhat idealistic person who genuinely believes in the power of free and fair - emphasis on fair - trade and genuinely honest living, a power that, he believes, can rebuild civilization in a better form.
Faction
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (45 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength: 4
Perception: 5
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 9
Intelligence: 10
Agility: 7
Luck: 6 (+1 from Intense Training, so 7)
Backstory: Born in NCR Territory to two members of the Crimson Caravan, Arthur and Miranda Rapids, Par was taught how to pursue the family business from an early age. Intelligent, precocious, and good with technology, Par was also handsome and, although not strong, was fast and decently lucky, allowing him to charm many people into giving him a fair and favorable deal. Nevertheless, he remained under the shadow of his parents until he turned sixteen, when he, along with some bodyguards, were allowed to strike out on their own, towards the Mojave and New Vegas. There, Par was confident he'd make his fortune and find adventure.
The Mojave would prove a harsh teacher, however, as Par, after a string of successful deals, would then be tricked into gambling away most of his money in New Vegas itself, leaving him without his wares, without anything to pay his bodyguards, and barely avoiding slavery or death. He did keep the clothes on his back, a set of mechanical tools, some food and a stimpack, and more importantly, his skills with technology were still in his head. And finally, he avoided getting fired, despite enduring intolerable public humiliation from the higher-ups in the Crimson Caravan's local HQ. He still had enough to plan for a comeback, and he was going to do it the honest way...at least at first.
First, going to the lower city, he found a member of the Kings and paid him to act as a bodyguard for a stimpack. Then, noticing that the Kings' gangster had an ill-maintained pistol, he offered to repair it as an alternate payment instead of the stimpack. The gangster agreed, but threatened to knife Par if he did anything, and when Par actually followed through on the bargain, making the pistol work good as new, the gangster was amazed enough to offer to guard Par for all of his time in the lower city. After that, the boy went to the Old Mormon Fort and the Followers of the Apocalypse, where, after some reluctance from the latter, he was allowed to do more work for them, as well as pursue their archives for more knowledge.
When the chance came to get back in the Crimson Caravan's good graces a year later, Par took it with open arms. This chance was rescuing a caravan stranded outside an old Vault, Vault 91, whose experiment was that its inhabitants each had some phobia or another, some of which were inherited. Over time, when Vault 91 opened, its people were half-ready to get outside and out of the tight and cramped spaces of the complex, while the other half were afraid of the things outside. Both sides were in civil war with each other, and had taken the Crimson Caravan's convoy prisoner just for passing through. And so, Par saw his chance.
Successfully talking both sides in the civil war through their differences, the boy, just a few weeks shy of 18, managed to not only secure the release of the caravaneers, but also Vault 91 and any settlements span off from it as a trading partner, winning immense profit from the Crimson Caravan Company, and regaining their trust. He also got, as his greatest gift from Vault 91, a solar-electric powered car. Yes, a bonafide car that can carry a small amount of goods, had a security system that prevented others from using it, and, after some jury-rigging, even a couple of sentry guns each to its hood and rear to fire at any intruders, making it a Technical.
And so, a year or two on after that, life was good...
Weapon choice: Sniper Rifle, Carbine, Pistol, Knife.
Perks (Add only three):
-Confirmed Bachelor
-Lady Killer
-Intense Training
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three unless you take a 'Weak' Skill, see below):
-Speech
-Science
-Repair
-Guns
All other skills are assumed to be average unless you want to take a 'Weak Skill'.
'Weak' Skills (the skills you are weakest in, add only if you want more 'Tagged' Skills):
-Unarmed
Any other info not included in the above:
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22,499 | 650 | 11 | 1,649 | 1,447 |
Jessica, après la conversation rapide et la communication qui avait été échangée, se dirigea bientôt vers son emplacement près de Novac. C'était une sentence de mort pour tout légionnaire dans un rayon de deux milles - à savoir parce que le tireur d'élite de la RCN avait perché dans la ville, pouvait facilement attraper n'importe lequel d'entre eux venant de n'importe quelle direction.
D'un autre côté, elle a eu un moment plus facile à contourner le problème. Alors qu'elle portait son armure de ranger et utilisait une écharpe de couleur brune pour masquer sa bouche et son nez de la poussière et du sable. Alors qu'elle a commencé à enlever les goules une par une, la plupart du temps avec des coups de tête. Pas besoin ou l'utilisation pour gaspiller des munitions, en essayant de tirer d'autres tirs - comme les goules étaient déjà difficiles et maigres, à une extrémité. Alors il valait mieux en finir avec eux.
Comme tous ceux qui regardaient Virgo - en action, ils pouvaient la voir, se faire gronder par trois goules à la fois. Seulement pour la femme de tirer trois coups de hanches avec une relative facilité, dans les trois secondes et tirer les trois goules facilement vers le bas. Ils ont tous tiré dans la tête. -- Doucement, répondit-elle en gémissant, tournant son revolver sur son doigt - avant de le cacher et de regarder son travail à la main. Puis à Novac... la Légion avait demandé à recueillir des informations, et obtenir des données difficiles sur Novac, lui fournirait une bonne quantité de casquettes et de prestige.
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Name: Jessica Fairbright
Nickname: "Virgo"
Age: 25
Personality: Calm, friendly, precise, helpful, loyal.
Faction: Independent
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
Strength: 4
Perception: 9
Endurance: 8
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 6
Luck: 5
Backstory: Jessica Fairbright had been a rising star in the NCR military, six years ago - she had been slotted as one of the best gunslingers in her time in the NCR army. While lacking skills with firing a rifle and a dislike of rules - she made it up for her great mind, strong will and precise aim with a revolver. Instead of having her drop out - due to not, meeting certain Army standards.
Instead at the age of nineteen she had been slotted to the NCR Rangers - becoming one of the youngest Rangers to date, to join the organization. Despite them being all volunteer-based, their skill-set needed to many and very good. Two years and several succesful missions later - she was on a fast track road to becoming the youngest to gain her Veterancy. Although her path had been cut short - once news reached about her brother being in trouble.
Namely both her and her older brother - had been orphaned when Jess had been sixteen and her brother at twenty-one. Namely due to a caravan attack gone bad. Her brother had taken care of her, for about three years - after which she joined the NCR Army. While her brother moved on as prospector. Her brother had run amock against some Cabal agents - since he had discovered a piece of valuable Old-War technology and had been upto delivering it to the Followers of the Apocalypse. Namely the charity group having helped the family out during their initial years - however the Cabal captured him instead and due to the value of the tech; they had him fake-charged and hanged for treason.
Jessica heard about this situation that had happened, and investigated her brother' charges. She hadn't managed to scratch much of the surface - only finding rumors that the NCR in some way had set up her only family left. Albeit, before she could report this forward - the Cabal, also called-up charges on Jessica; in-order to silence her from investigating further. In that regard, Jessica managed to kill her attackers and flee East.
She kept travelling in the Mojave Wasteland, always on the move and alert for any Cabalists.
Weapon choice: .44 Magnum revolver
Perks (Add only three):
Gunslinger
Toughness
Paralyzing Palm
'Tagged' Skills:
Guns
Survival
Medicine
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