Name: Donta<br/><br/>residence: Vvardenfell<br/><br/>age: 21<br/><br/>Race: Moogle (High Moogle)<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/Machall_Moogle_(3.5e_Race)">High Moogles</a><br/><br/>Class: Ninja<br/><br/>Appearance:<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i103.photobucket.com/albums/m137/doodad64/RP%20Character%20Pictures/desktop_renarmor1024-1.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>weapon: Katana, Kunai, and collapsible Fuma Shuriken<br/><br/>Personality: Quiet and reserved. Speaks when necessary and rarely show's emotion.<br/><br/>History: A rare type of Moogle from an unknown island, Donta usually keeps to himself, preferring to do things alone, but years of solitude were starting to get to him. He thought he was alone, but one year he had his pom severed, sending him into a week long depression that redefined his concept of solitude. Once it grew back, he became more sociable, but not many wanted to deal much with him because he didn't look like the many Moogles that occupied the mainland, and because of his chosen class as an adventurer. People assumed that ninjas were either assassins or thieves, neither were favorable to be around. Donta gave up on trying to make connections strong enough to be called friendship. He hasn't seen any other High Moogles around, since his kin prefer to remain on his home island.<br/><br/>Summon: Phantom<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://images.wikia.com/finalfantasy/images/7/77/Phantom_ffx-2.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>-------------------------------<br/><br/>The climb made the pads of his wide feet ache. The pom on his head bounced with each step and the wind on the rocky path carried sand and a slight chill, making him retreat into the comfort of the red scarf around his neck, pulling it up to cover the lower part of his face, pulling it tight across his nose and mouth so it would stay.<br/><br/>The tail of his scarf whipped in the wind as he continued on, his pink wings catching a particularly stronger gust, causing him to nearly loose balance. The gates of Belazir appeared over the top step and he breathed a sigh of relief, thankful of not having any more steps to climb.<br/><br/>"Halt! Who goes there?!" a guard was pointing a pike at his throat. He stopped dead in his tracks as he waited for a cloud of dust to clear from around him, reaching up to pull the red scarf from his face with a single claw.<br/><br/>"Donta." he said, "Just a tourist." The Guard lowered his pike and straightened up, trying to figure out what he was looking at. The question he heard everywhere he went soon left the guard's lips.<br/><br/>"And what would you be, sir?" he asked, pushing the brim of his helmet upwards as if to get a better look.<br/><br/>"A Moogle, sir." he said, "I'm from far away."<br/><br/>"I thought Moogles were small things that flew around everywhere." he said.<br/><br/>"I'm a High Moogle. From Vvardenfell." he said.<br/><br/>"Never heard of it."<br/><br/>"I told you. It's far, far away."<br/><br/>"Ah, so what's your business here? Come to see the Temple?" he asked. Donta saw his eyes fixed on the handle of the sword that was visible over his shoulder.<br/><br/>"Yes." he said, now smiling, "I heard it was interesting to see." With a wave, the guard let him pass by, and he began his way through the city, towards the Temple.<br/><br/>Donta sensed other Moogles in the city. A few could be spotted through shop windows and hovering behind some people. Some carried trays in restaurants, others flew around with bags, delivering mail. All of them stopped for a moment to look at him as he passed. Some waved. Some smiled and nodded. All sending thoughts to him of greeting and amazement of his rarity. It was odd to hear the thoughts of other Moogles since he was used to being around so few of them. He remembered the time he lost his pom and it was then he learned was real solidarity was. With it, he felt whole and normal.<br/><br/>The thoughts of the resident Moogles dulled to a drone in the back of his head as he approached the bottom of a tall staircase leading to the temple. He heard a chuckle in his head not of his own, because he didn't find the prospect of climbing more stairs amusing at all. This voice wasn't a nearby Moogle either. It was one he learned to recognize even though he rarely heard it.<br/><br/>"Shut up, you." he said aloud, "It's not funny."<br/><br/>He glanced down at the back of his hand. On it, a black pattern of fur in the shape of a whisp of smoke contrasted his usual white. Sighing, he began climbing once more, but as he neared the top, he started walking faster, running as the smell of blood was carried in the wind.<br/><br/>"What the kupo?" he muttered at the sight. Bodies lying everywhere, blood staining the stone. He rushed into the Temple and found more bodies. Holding his breath he strained his ears to hear anything he could, and the shallow sound of someone breathing was caught in the air. Following the breathing, he found a female Viera on the floor. His hand instantly went to her wrist, pressing the pad of his finger to her pulse.<br/><br/>"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, shaking her gently, "Wake up!"<br/><br/>"She's not dead, at least."<br/><br/>"Shut up! I know that!" he spat over his shoulder. He felt embarrassed for a moment, talking to someone who wasn't there, but then again, this woman was still unconscious to hear him, and the rest were dead.<br/><br/>------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Name: Sain Darkfeather<br/><br/>residence: Klimestra<br/><br/>age: 205<br/><br/>Race: Gria<br/><br/>Class: Sage<br/><br/>Appearance:<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i103.photobucket.com/albums/m137/doodad64/RP%20Character%20Pictures/Death_Angel_by_croaky.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>Weapon: Scythe<br/><br/>Personality: Placid and creepy at times, but he doesn't mean it. Tries to be helpful but doesn't like attention. Very curious and somewhat of a completionist, wanting to see things through to the end.<br/><br/>History: Sain attended a school for magic as a White Mage for a while, learning the art of recovery magics and whatnot, however the school of destruction intrigued him. Once he had mastered most aspects of White magic at the age of 100, he started learning Black magic and became a Sage. With a decent level of both, he heard of a very powerful set of spells that he wanted to learn, mostly because no one could cast them anymore, Meteor and Ultima. He became obsessed with searching for them, and found that the answers would not be in Klimestra so he left on a journey. The night before he was to leave, he had the most disturbing nightmare of his life.<br/><br/>In a dark, barren landscape, a red and black demon rose before him. It told him a great change was coming and he asked for his help in return for immense power. Sain refused him at first because the power offered was not the spells he was looking for, but as the demon continued, Sain's brow raised once more.<br/><br/>It spoke of other beings like himself, gods or spirits, whom have chosen mortals to become their avatars. They were all looking to prepare for a great change or battle that was to come. The demon had chosen him because of is intricate and wondrous dreams, and would offer him power over Gravity as payment for passage out of his dream realm and into the mortal realm through his eyes. Gravity magic was something he did not study so he accepted the offer, and suddenly woke to find a strange, half moon shaped tattoo on the back of his hand. Gathering his thoughts and gear for the trip, he set out towards Dolvisar.<br/><br/>Summon: Diabolos<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121111163220/finalfantasy/images/thumb/3/35/GFDiablos.png/250px-GFDiablos.png">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>-------------------------------<br/><br/>Dolvisar was a big place, but hardly bustling with activity. Maybe it was just the hour he decided to enter and peruse the streets, or maybe it's always like this here. Empty, or closed to it. Sain walked with the end of his scythe tapping the stone road beneath his feet as he walked, his hood raised and dark wings slightly bouncing behind him. He noticed a few shadows out of the corners of his eyes. People were closing shutters and peeking through curtains, whispers behind closed doors and lights being put out. He could feel many eyes on him, but no one was around.<br/><br/>He pushed open the doors to an inn and strolled inside, setting his scythe against the desk.<br/><br/>"A room, sir?" the clerk asked. Sain nodded and noticed the man's hands were shaking. In the silence, he heard a clink of glass and looked up from digging in his robes for a coin purse to realize the place had a tavern as well.<br/><br/>A crowded Tavern full of people.<br/><br/>All deathly silent and staring at him.<br/><br/>"What?" he asked, then looked down at his black robes. Then he realized what it was. He still had his hood up, which covered most of his face. He walked in with a scythe, had the black wings, kind of kept quiet and simply nodded to the man when he asked for a room. They all probably thought he was a ghost or demon. Maybe even death himself.<br/><br/>He reached up and pulled down his deep hood, revealing the normal face of an adult Gria, smiled nervously and the room finally released from it's frozen state and chatter continued along with clinking of glasses.<br/><br/>"Sir, you shouldn't scare people like that!" The clerk said, "Here is your key."<br/><br/>"Sorry. I didn't realize." he muttered, then lifted his bag on his shoulder again. He began to head upstairs to drop it off, but the clerk stopped him again.<br/><br/>"Excuse me sir, are you planning on coming back down for a drink?"<br/><br/>"Yes." Sain said, becoming confused.<br/><br/>"You might want to keep your belongings with you sir. Leaving it in your room in this city is, well, inadvisable." he said nervously.<br/><br/>"Why?" Sain said, the man gestured subtly at the crowd.<br/><br/>"You see those bracelets?" he asked, "That means they're all part of the Thieves Guild."<br/><br/>"I see." Sain said, getting the message. He turned around and headed to the bar instead, grabbed a pint and headed for an empty table right at the back of the tavern. Taking a seat, he pulled his duffel bag between his legs and tied the string of it around his belt, just in case. His scythe leaned against the wall beside him.