<div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Impact;">Players</span></span></strong></div><br/>Players<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Irish Wolf: Chath Varak</div><div class="spoiler_body">Username: IrishWolf<br/><br/>Name: Chath Varak<br/>Age: 29<br/><br/>Archtype: Crossbowman<br/>Peronality: Chath is a man effected by wanderlust. He is never happy staying in one place for a long time, always itching to go out and see whats down the road or over the river. Steady in a fight, he calmly fires and reloads his chosen weapon, even as the chaos of battle swirls around him. A fondness for drink is in his blood and he enjoys his wine and wrenching, often spending a good share of his pay on drink, women and gambling when payday and a tavern are about.<br/><br/>Weapons: composite crossbow and a katzbalger ( a short sword with a rounded tip and S guard, worn without a sheath)<br/>Abilities: Deadshot and quick reload <br/>Misc: a thin arming doublet of red, quilted wool and a brigandine (torso armor of leather, with steel plates riveted to the inside) for armor, a canteen, pack, bedding roll, belt pouch, dagger, quiver full of quarrels for his crossbow, sharping stone, small hammer, extra rivets.<br/><br/>Race: human<br/>Appearance:  A rather stocky fellow, standing about five feet and six inches tall and decently muscled. He's not a handsome man but to say he was ugly would be untrue. The skin on his face and arms has been tanned by years out in the elements, with the rest of him being only a few shades lighter. His hands, arms, torso and legs have several dozen old scars, from where a foe got around his defenses or where a lucky archer put an arrow. His brow is also marked with an almost razor straight scar. His hair is a darkish brown, about shoulder length and tied back with a leather strap in a simple ponytail. Hard gray eyes peer over his broad nose. His best feature is his strong, square jaw. He does his best to keep shaven but most of the time the best he can do is to scrap the growing whiskers off with his knife, leaving an almost permanent five o'clock shadow on his face. Nine small silver rings are looped through his right ear and his left has a ruby stud in the earlobe. He can often be found wearing a green tunic, brown trousers, a thick leather belt and heavy leather boots.<br/><br/>Background: Born the son of a city guardsman and a wool merchant's daughter, Chath was raised in a fairly stable household, with a half dozen older sisters. Taught to read and write by his mother,  when he wasn't out escaping his siblings and exploring the great trade city. His father also taught him of weapons and fighting skills, when the youth was caught, intending his son to become a guardsmen like himself. However, Chath was bitten at an early age by wanderlust and near the age of sixteen, as his mother was plotting his marriage, he took off with a merchant train, offering his services as a guard. Over the years, he as travel all about Eleorna with merchants. He prefers smaller bands, as they look like easier prey for bandits and other less then lawful folks, thus increasing the change of attack, which in turn increases his wages and offers an opportunity to loot to the dead. Over the passed thirteen years, he's gain three things, a reputation as a crack shot, two well made weapons and some good armor. All three of theses got him an invitation to join the  Silver Leaf company<br/>Country of Origin: Lussi<br/><br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Noxxi/ LIN</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><strong>Name:</strong>     Linwë “Lin” Anwamanë<br/><strong>Age:</strong>    unknown; the concept of time in limitation of years is lost upon her people. <br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personality</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><strong>Archtype:</strong>    hunter/tracker<br/><strong>Personality:</strong><br/>To say anything about her personality on a whole it must be understood that at the base of it all she is unforgivably apathetic to human nature, bordering on a chaotic destructionism. Beyond this she has been ingrained with personality traits common to her people; she is uncomplaining of her surroundings, even though ‘city life’ incited an unflinching disgust and she finds little to no redeemable qualities in civilization or the civilized. She covets a pack mentality that offers a loyalty to those she views as her own. Believes life is cyclical and there is no need to apologize for wrongs past done just as there is need to feel guilt when stealing air from the sky. It would never be said that she is kind, nor cruel, though she leans more closely towards the first in one on one interaction and more closely to the latter in social interactions. When in the company of strangers her mannerisms are tense and highly alert, even more so within city limits. Her interactions with others are usually forced; she saw little merit in conversation, though running, tracking, hunting, fighting and fucking brought momentary glimpses of life to eyes otherwise bored of the world crumbling around her.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Equiped</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><strong>Weapons:</strong><ul class="bbc_list"><li type="disc">Wild'Har Long bow &amp; Back braced Quiver- an artistic sublimation of unseen war, crafted of Crys grove trees so delicately refined that it fails to reflect light giving it the appearance of invisibility, extremely accurate at long range; the arrows themselves are nearly 3 feet with long broad barbed tips of gold, the flights are long multicolored feathers of the Gillarie bird that almost seem to sing, the nocks reinforced by the horns of deer.</li><li type="disc">Dual Head Axe- in contrast to the bow, the wood used in the creation of the axe comes from the Skellim Bone tree, aptly named for the trees hearty bone structure that requires a substance of similar or more intense strength to even chip. The blades themselves are thick sharpened planks of a diamond like material, protruding from each side, The material is said to drink the blood spilled and so rarely is the color anything but a hellish red once the weapon has been used.</li></ul><strong>Abilities:</strong><ul class="bbc_list"><li type="disc">Ability to communicate with animals- Not all of the Wild'Har posses this ability, though communication takes place on many different levels. While Lin has established the ability to convey not only present, but past and future tense, it is rumored that there are Wild'Har with the ability to create a psychic bond and/or become so entwined in creature understanding that shifting is possible. And to simply say someone speaks to animals, does not always equate to animals listening.</li><li type="disc">Draw upon environment as a cloak (Chameleon). Simply a learned response to a quiet secluded society. Full submersion requires an intense focus of energy that is rarely available during an actual battle, but quite easy to obtain during a lengthy hunt. The majority of Wild'Har of the Hyllara region possess such ability.</li></ul><strong>Weakness:</strong><ul class="bbc_list"><li type="disc"> Intelligence, unless used in the art of dominance, was a trait lacking value to the Wild’Har and was rarely cultivated in any academic sense. She lacks the ability to read or write and her grasp of bi-pedal communication is a coin toss.</li><li type="disc">Animalistic in nature she rarely thinks towards the future and is easily overwhelmed by a fight or flight mentality. Her value of animal instinctive alpha and omega types often leads her to misjudge the abilities of non-warrior based skills. Often oblivious to social cues.</li></ul><strong>Misc:</strong><ul class="bbc_list"><li type="disc">Wears necklaces and pendants that when 'played' can call to her own people and animals at lengthy distances which her own voice box limits.</li><li type="disc">(No relation to necromancers)All armor upon the Wild'Har comes from the dead Orcs, Humans, Elves or Beasts that she herself has dispatched. In times of war the skull's of humans rests on her shoulder. The dried tongues of Deviks (smaller, dragon like creature) wrap around her arms, legs and midsection. The sharpened tooth of an Orc hangs from her forehead, providing a constant crosshair. Intestines of the Sliaw (snake-like) are treated and molded into shoes.</li></ul></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Description</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><strong>Race:</strong>    Wild’Har<br/><strong>Appearance:</strong><br/>(http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/056/c/d/silent_forest_by_aditya777-d4qw5rx.jpg)<br/>While in the city it would be extremely rare to see her without a full cloak and head covering, knowing that her people are a rarity and often create a tense and aggressive reaction in others.<br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">History</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Country of Origin:</strong>    Southeast jungle region of the Hyllara<br/><strong>Background:</strong><br/>She was born into a happy tribe, though a tribe rife with war. The two occurrences were not unrelated, nor entirely conducive to each other. They often had much to celebrate, their children were born strong and their food supply was plentiful, the natural disasters that struck them were gifts of renewal and the land that they nomadically traveled on was well protected from outsiders and tainting influence by the 100’s of Wild’Har tribes that called the Hyllara home. While war was a consistent, it was viewed as a way of life as much as ceremonies and feasts, dancing by the fire and hunting as a pack, all of which were actions that could be threatened only by a cease in the war that kept outsiders away.<br/><br/>Her people were sub sectioned to a pack of Devik’s, which created a natural and fluid balance for the Devik species. They left much waste, which could contaminate the water and land for days if unchecked; they roamed with uncareful tread, occasionally to close to protected areas, such as the grove of the Crys or the edges of the jungle. It was the Wild’Har that reused the wasted carcasses, that pressed the roaming Deviks back into the jungle, for their own protection and the protection of the outlaying cities.<br/><br/>It was once she had left the confines of the jungle, the protection of her people that Lin began to understand the growing importance for Kartan to rise up towards the great destruction, a need for a new beginning that only Kartan could offer them all. They were surrounded by ‘sinners’, peoples and lands that had lost any light of hope and had a lack of connection to nature that chilled her and sent nightmares to follow her even when she was awake. Her people had been wrong to praise Elana and Kartan both for Elana had turned on them, creating vanity and selfishness that bred like rabies in the mouths of the people.<br/><br/>She returned to the jungle, only to ‘harness’ the Devik’s and lead them crushing into some of the cities closer to the jungle. Her vision was red, her mind went blank as it seemed Kartan himself had embodied her and the stampede she brought down upon the unsuspecting villages. Her own people quelled the attack and returned the jungle without her, disowning her and leaving her scorned and resentful of the world around her. She was shaking from a rage and use of her own power that had temporarily weakened and blinded her. She was like this when they found her, the pirates.<br/><br/>They knew of her people’s strength and viciousness in a feral sense, so like any dog they placed her into a metal cage beneath the deck and with no view or feel of nature or the sky. She quickly became depressed and withdrawn. It was Iano who probed the little beast with a stick and when she refused to move he spoke to her. Truly she had lost everything except for the truth that this world was filled with many things and she had yet to see one that deserved to survive. Not herself, not even Iano, whom soon she knew by the sound of his steps and though she didn’t speak he continued to speak to her.<br/><br/>It was in this way that she arrived so far from home, in such a strange place: Iano who released her one day while at a port after having made sure the boat was barely gaurded. It was this niceness that confused and confounded her, enthralling her to him so that she quickly swelled against him, taking in his scent, and then she ran. She ran for days, weeks? She avoided cities and slept in trees. She ate wild meat raw and listened to the animals, forlorn in their small numbers. She told them all how lost she felt, that her purpose was so gray, yet so defined. Destruction was required for a new beginning. Judgment had been cast. Now she just needed to find a tool in which to deliver it. And this is when she decided to track the Iano, perhaps piracy was the outlet she would use.<br/><br/>It took months for her to capture the scent, months in which she would venture into cities while attempting to control a nausea that seemed to overwhelm her being. And it was within one of these huge cities that she finally found him. This is how she came to find Silver Leaf, tracking the Tindra into the walls. And it was here that she would find her outlet of purpose. <br/></div></div></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Hellis / Iano</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Username:</strong> Hellis<br/><strong>Name:</strong> Iano Kizali<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 21 (To a tindra, this is past middle age, most don't make it to 30)<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personality</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Archtype:</strong>Corsair<br/><strong>Personality:</strong> He is a tindra in every sense of the word. Despite his unusual passion for combat, he is still every bit as exuberant, every bit as flashy as his fellow kin. He loves to indulge in everything, including combat and lacks a lot of common restraint. Very loving, open minded and more then a bit promiscuous as well. As such the tavern brawls and brothel visits of his past is something of a legend.<br/><br/>In combat, he becomes a creature of death. His “battle lust” is something of a problem. His tribe calls it “The Red Love”, basically it means he enjoys the sight of blood far to much. When he succumbs to this state, he sometimes ends up with memory gaps. He can still deduce friends from foes while in it but will respond to any perccieved hostily with extreme retaliation. He does lament on the people he have killed only because ha cannot remember killing them. As former pirate his moral compass is a bit skewed.<br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Equipment</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Weapons:</strong> <br/><em>Mandi Saber</em><br/>This exceptionally cruel looking saber is a souvenir taken from his visit in the harbors of Ix. Its designed for slashing mainly but like any good saber, it may be used for stabbing. Its made from some very high quality steel and is a well crafted and deadly piece.<br/><em>Orch Cleaver. </em><br/>This weapon was torn from the hands of a dead orch in a act of desperation, yet it has become a steady companion to the Tindra. It's a weapon that's the size of a short sword, but functions more like a axe then a sword. Like a cleaver actually used in the kitchen, it has only one sharp side. Its also weighted so that one swing can build enough momentum to cut into trough decently armored limbs. Or, if angled  right, go straight into a rib or shoulder despite heavy armor.<br/><br/>Misc Equipment: He usually wears a set if leather armor to battle. it privdes some, albeit minimal protection. It consist of bracers, a chest piece, back piece and shin guards. He always keep a wine skin or bottle at hand.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Abilities and skills</div><div class="spoiler_body"><em> Red Love </em>: The thing that sets this Tindra apart form other of his race is Red Love. Whenever he is absorbed by this near ersek state of mine, he becomes many times more reactive, pain dulls and his movementss become seeminmgly unreal in their precision and speed. <br/><br/><em>H'kazhan Grugnah :</em> H'kazhan or more commonly “Savage Dicipline”, is the art of wielding orchish weaponry. It has become its own thing becouse no other race really can mimic their unique strenght and brutality. Instead, their weapons, crude and unwieldy, have become the subject of a style adapted for more civilized folks.  It focuses on grabbing and getting in close with your one handed weapon of choice. There is also a form called  H'kazhan Kakris that is meant for two handed orch weapons. </div></div><br/><br/><br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personal Info:</div><div class="spoiler_body">Race: Tindra<br/>Appearance:<br/>(http://i.imgur.com/07Ns4.png)<br/><br/>To say the young man is handsome looking would be.. misleading. He finds himself grazed with a certain gender ambiguity. His features are far softer then the average male, to the point where if wears clothes tha were fit more for a woman, one might second guess his gender. He has some rather thick lips and eyelashes certainly do not help. The Tindra paint he wears only add to the conundrum as well: never the less, he feels its a blessing more then a curse, and endless source of amusement. He favors light clothing, often go as far as to walk around bare chested. His hair and eyes are the typical dark red color of his people just as his skin is the vibrant golden hue they have become known for. He further this image by wearing the make up traditional to his particular tribe and numerous of piecings., He can also be seen sprting a faceveil, but thats mainly to throw people off.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Background:</strong> Born on the Dunes, to a tribe of Tindras living under the Human Sultanate of Iela, Iano was a child with a strange omen. He was born under a red moon. To the Tindras this meant he would not only continue the tradition of living uninhibited, but his soul would have increasingly powerfull flame. One that would burn the brightest when surrounded with death. TO the humans, this meant he would be drawn to combat and bloodshed. How right they both turned out to be. Even at the age of 5, where Tindras usually begin to take interest in music and artistry, Iano picked up a sword. Of course, this came to no suprsie to hs parents. Instead, they did what they could to make sure he did not hurt himself. <br/><br/>At the age of 9, he was apt at wielding it, albeit to small and to young to properly grasp the concept of swordsmanship. That's when he traveller came to the village. The man, Eingar Thornwill, was travelling weapon merchant and a avid duellist. He soon heard of the boy and set Ianos parents down. He offered to care for the boy, and help him develop his skill. In turn, he would give the village something they desperatly needed, a new well. His parents accepted and even Ianos was at peace with it. Becouse Tindras live short life, they grow independent far earlier then the avarage man.<br/><br/>Iano travelled with Eingar until his twelfth birthday. Deemed a adult by Tindra standards, the boy was given his own sword, a few days worth of food, some gold and the direction to the docks. Eingar had trained the boy with a specific goal in mind. He was sending him to a old friend, a human smuggler. Said smuggler needed young, agile and skilled people on his crew, as they would be able to act as couriers. Ianos smuggling career was cut short however, as Mandi Har corsairs raided the vessel on his very first trip. He was one of two prisoners deemed worthy to live. The reason being that he was easy on the eyes, and that he had no problem entertaining the women and men on board. <br/><br/>Iano grew to become a proper member of the crew as the years passed. And his state of mind, “the red love”  began to surface. This of course, was a delight for his cruel comrades that relished in the boys natural born killing instincts. He began to grow accustomed to the way these Death Worshippers carried themselves. He found their belief in perfection trough death most liberating, and began to incorporate their style of saber fencing with his own,<br/><br/> Once again however, he would find himself in new company. After their ship suffered mutiny, he sided with the captain. Their side lost, and rather then die in combat, he threw himself overboard. He managed to swim ashore, as they had only barely left the harbor. He ended up wandering for a few months before he once more ran into Eingar, now a silver leaf mercenary. The old mentor listened to Ianos story, and told Iano with a grin on his lips.<br/><br/>“You were made for the Silver Leaves kid.”<br/><br/><br/><strong>Country of Origin:</strong>Iela, A small sultanate on Hyllara. The small nation is a vassal sate to one of the larger Sultanates, Omezha. Its Calif maintains a small private army on the behest of his Sultan, but the country is largely at peace.</div></div></div></div><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Jecter / Belisar Justinios</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Username:</strong> Jecter<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong> Belisar Justinios<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 26<br/><br/>Archtype: Sergent <br/>Peronality: As a sergent in the Konstantinos Legion he has a very no-nonsense attitude in a fight. He expects the people under him to follow orders when he barks at them in the middle of a fight. Off the battlefield he is a bit more relaxed, encouraging those he is responsible for to come and speak with him if there are any issues, especially if they think a plan could be done better if they did something different. He does not like losing men, and tries to minimize any deaths in his squad, though the objective always takes precedence. <br/>After the failed defense of Konstantinos he has been wracked by guilt whenever he has time to think and reflect, often wondering what he could have done differently to save the lives of his men.<br/><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">Equipment will include ...</span></span></strong></div>                                 <br/><strong>Weapons:</strong> Belisar has a spear and a schiavona, a straight bladed slashing and stabbing sword with a fancy basket hilt. <br/><strong>Abilities:</strong> Tactical Command: Belisar has talents of commanding men in a fight.<br/>                        Gifted Swordsman: Belisar is very good with a blade<br/><strong>Misc</strong>: Mail shirt and round shield of a cavalryman from the Konstantinos Legions. His horse died in a fighting retreat and he has been unable to replace it. Backpack with a change of clothes, whetstone, food and what little money he has.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">Description ...</span></span></strong></div><br/><strong>Race:</strong> Human<br/><strong>Appearance:</strong> Belisar is a tall well built man, strong from years of practice with weapons. His hair is brown and curly, hanging down around his ears. A scar runs from the top of his nose across his cheek to the jawline, which he acquired fighting bandits six years ago. He stays clean shaven when he can but there is usually a few days of stubble across his face which he is keen to get rid of as soon as he can.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">History will include ...</span></span></strong></div><br/><strong>Background:</strong> Belisar grew up in Konstantinos, the son of a member of the Legion and a camp follower. With that as his history he was pretty well garunteed to enroll in the Legion as soon as he was old enough. At fourteen he was running messeges and by sixteen he was attached to the captain in charge of Legions cavalry. By eighteen he was a cavalry trooper himself and by 23 he was commanding a small troop of men after showing particular promise after his predecessor was killed in a raid from one of the city states that had a dislike for Konstantinos.<br/><br/>Then two years ago Konstantinos was invaded by Angren. The first battle was at Adrinope, a farming community on Konstantinos' border. A flanking maneuver led by Herakles, captain of the first company of the Legion, almost won the battle but the Angren held firm and it was the Legion who had to retreat or be cut off by a second Angren army marching on Konstantinos. During the retreat Belisar and his fellow cavalrymen formed the rearguard, and it was here that his horse was killed, along with many of his squad's beasts and so he was attached to one of the companies of infantry to replace lost men.<br/><br/>A second battle happened just outside the walls of Konstantinos itself. Belisar and his men were being held in reserve but a huge push from the Angren broke a part of the Legion line. Belisar and his squad rushed to plug the gap but though they checked it momentarily the enemy began to break through in other areas and the Legion broke to fall back to the city. <br/><br/>After a six month siege the city council surrendered on the condition that there was to be no looting. Angren agreed to this and Konstantinos was absorbed into the Angren kingdom. Not wanting to continue serving his conquerors, Belisar left and made his way to Egrelia. He had heard that Angren was threatening that city state, and there was a rather prestigious mercenary band based there as well. With that in mind he set off for the city, and has just arrived.  <br/><strong>Country of Origin:</strong> Konstantinos, former city-state on Eleorna that was absorbed by the Angren.<br/><br/>Sometimes it was simply cheaper to send goods overland than it was to hire a ship to carry them. Konstantinos filled this need on the continent of Eleorna, built around a hub that was a natural stopping point for trade wagons. The need for protection brought a small but highly disciplined army of infantry, with small cavalry units that were scouts and skirmishers. Things went well for a while, though being landlocked Konstantinos never could rival the wealth of the coastal cities, it did steady trade across the interior of the continent as well as selling food and timber to the coastal trade centers. <br/><br/>The misfortune of Konstantinos was in being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Angren was expanding and though the Konstantinos Legion, as their army was called, fought valiantly it was crushed by superior numbers and more maneuverable cavalry. In the end the city council submitted to Angren and continued their existence, very humbled and considerably poorer in men and materials. <br/><br/>Konstantinos was originally built up by humans, though like many centers of trade it attracted its fair share of other races, though Mandi-Har are rare and Shadowborne almost non-existant. The Legion accepts any sort of recruit though obviosly recruits are assigned based on restrictions, like there are almost no dwarven cavalry troopers and very few Tindra in the Legion at all, and the few who are are usually away from the actual fighting. The infantry of the Legion are heavily armed and armoured, with half-plate and tower protecting them and heavy spears and short swords to deal out the damage. The cavalry are protected by a simple mail shirt and helmet, though more can be added at the troopers own expense. They have a round cavalry shield and are armed with long slashing swords and light spears along with a bucket full of javelins.  <br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">CarnivorousBunny / Kor</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center"><strong>Username:</strong> CarnivorousBunny<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong> Kor (his family name has long been forgotten)<br/><strong>Age:</strong> Twenty-six<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personality</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Archtype:</strong> Ranger <br/><strong>Peronality:</strong> Kor is a very serious man with as little knowledge in proper etiquette as he has sense of humor.  Rough, simple, and hardened by his unfortunate circumstances, he is not very good company for those looking for a good time.  He is unable to resolve disputes and uncomfortable things verbally without being reminded, and always resorts to violence or simple avoidance first.  This man has no patience for politics and does not understand why things cannot be as simple as they are in the wild.<br/>However he is extremely reliable and able in the realms of combat and adventure, making him a great questing partner (so long as he is not the face of the party).  He places his duties and responsibilities first, and cares for safety of his companions.<br/>Kor, despite what others may thing, is not so much heartless and detached as he is detached and unsure how to connect with others.  <br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Equipment</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Weapons:</strong> <br/><em>Crude Longbow and Arrows</em> <br/>While they looks rickety and graceless, it is actually a very reliable and sturdy bow, perfected from years of trial and error. (With a little help from the many archers and weapon smiths Kor has met in his lifetime)  It is used primarily for hunting rather than battle.<br/><br/><em>Two short swords</em><br/>These swords are not top quality, or particularly impressive, but they are, again, reliable and durable enough.  These swords are on the lighter side, meant for quick and close combat against natural skins and armors rather than metal plated foes.  On his right hand is a typical short sword for stabbing, and on his left is a scimitar meant for slashing.<br/><br/><strong>Abilities:</strong> <br/><em>Eyes of a true hunter</em> <br/>Through both instinct and experience, Kor is able to locate weak points and soft spots in exotic opponents and preys, allowing him to take them down as quickly as possible.<br/><br/><em>Friend of Nature</em> <br/>This is something Kor likes to call Elana's blessing.  Ever since he was a boy, Kor managed to disappear in to forests and other natural surroundings, as if he was being shrouded by nature itself.  When faced with natural dangers like pits, lesser waterfalls and angry beasts, he has always managed to come out of it lucky and alive (although not necessarily in one piece).  His eyes are also remarkably tuned to the natural world, making him an excellent pathfinder and guide.<br/><br/><strong>Misc:</strong> Never really having had a proper set of clothes since he was eight, Kor's only professionally crafted parts of his garb are his shoes, his pack, and his swords.  His armor is made from the mismatched hides of the toughest creatures lurking in the south eastern jungles.  His armor covers his chest, shoulders, joints and his legs.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personal Information</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Race:</strong> Human<br/><strong>Appearance:</strong><br/>(http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y112/shit_brick/Character%20Pix/Male%20Pix/Adv%20Boys/warrior_by_serushins.jpg)<br/>Under his mask, Kor has a strong jaw, cold eyes, and a scar running across his face from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek.  Kor has many scars all over his body from his 'unique' upbringing, but this particular one is his first and most significant scar.  This scar was a gift from a cruel face-stealing monster that killed his mother.<br/><br/>Over the years, bitterness and anger have taken a toll on him, cutting lines into his face, making him look much older than his young age of twenty-six, and his blue-gray eyes give off the look of a hardy survivor.  He stands much taller than most human men, and from years of living alone in the wilderness as a wild-child have given him an almost inhuman toughness and agility.  His air is savage and frightening to most.<br/><br/><strong>Background:</strong> His story is a rather remarkable one, and Kor himself credits his survival to the intervention and blessings of Elana herself.<br/>Kor is the last remaining member of a large group of nomadic gypsies, that specialized in illusions and healing.  The young boy once dreamed he would be a talented mage, just like his mother. These entertaining illusions were the main source of income of their caravan. <br/><br/>Tragedy struck shortly after Kor started his lessons, in the form a particularly malicious of demons. The caravan was attacked, many of them were slaughtered.  Right before his eyes a monster tried to finish off his unconscious mother.  Kor tried to stop it with the only spell he knew: a burst of light.  Amused, the monster cut him and made him watch as it took his mother's face before she disappeared in to the night.<br/>For much of his early life, Kor was living off the forest like a wild animal.<br/><br/>After the tragedy Kor lost interest in developing whatever magic talent he possessed, retaining only the one spell that saved his life.  He is currently more than just a proficient ranger and scout, he is an excellent pathfinder and an alert guard.  <br/>Instead of spending years in the classroom, he spent years in constant danger, traveling and learning the ways of the land.  He knows the whole south east end of Uliar like the back of his hand.<br/><br/>Kor has not completely shut society out.  He does not choose to live with people, but he is perfectly aware of the concept of trade and money.  For as long as he can remember he has taken many odd jobs, and sold skins and bones of wild animals.  But he known in the south eastern corner of Uliar as a guide and body guard.  For small groups of merchants and travelers in a rush, he takes them through quicker routs through the jungle paths, safe even from the wild elves.<br/><br/>Word of Kor's abilities (not to mention his unique circumstances) spread through the mouths of these merchants, and eventually reached the Silver Leaves.  It was then they sent a messenger to invite him to the guild.  The idea of a more constant source of income and opportunities to explore new places intrigued him, although how long he's willing to stay away from the jungle that protects him is uncertain.<br/><br/><strong>Country of Origin:</strong> Southeast Hyllara is where he settled down, but his original homeland is unknown to him.<br/></div></div></div></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Wargtass / Corto Kartios</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center"><strong>Username:</strong> Wargtass<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong> Corto Kartios (<em>Kartios means Servant of Kartan, all Templars bear the same surname to signify kinship</em>)<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 25</div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Personality</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Archtype:</strong> Elemental Warrior<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Like all Templars of Kartan, Corto is a stoic and disciplined warrior. Unlike most however, there is a part of his heart that is consumed by a passion for life. He wants to experience the world outside of Mt.Kartan and all its pleasures. Even so, he still holds a very silent and contemplative demeanor, finding it hard to express himself like the outsiders or even his own people does. The ordinarily fearless warrior is often a bit shocked or disturbed by the nature of people around him, but is willing to adapt to learn as much as possible. The kind and a bit innocent man is totally exchanged when battle commence however. To the Templars and Corto in particular, there is no difference between a bar room brawl or a battle to the death against monstrosities from the deep. Once the ravenous wrath in his heart is turned loose, there isn't much that can stop the onslaught. Some would call him a deeply disturbed individual, perhaps even a psychopath. But truth is he just doesn't know yet.</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Equipment</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Weapons:</strong> Templars are forbidden to use any weapons. Their gauntlets however are crafted to channel the elemental energies which they are capable of unleashing. Corto owns such a pair, nothing more.<br/><br/><strong>Abilities:</strong> Elemental Control: Fire and Earth. He has yet to master the more flowing and fleeting powers of water and air.<br/><br/><strong>Misc:</strong> Templar armor, thick and heavy enough to stop crossbow bolts and give dragons toothache. Otherwise he only owns a dufflebag with some personal belongings and a thick travellers cloak.</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Description</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Race:</strong> Human<br/><br/><strong>Appearance:</strong> There was a time when the Templars were fast, agile and light warriors who only wore thin loose-fitting robes. Once such things as crossbows started to show up that became a problem however. Today Templars are large, muscular behemoths in armor that would make ordinary men question the possibility of wearing it day in and day out. Corto is no exception, though he's not as stocky as his brothers and sisters. Yet his strength was unrivalled in the monastary and the others simply figured he was especially blessed. His face shows a slight bit of steppefolk heritage, but with sharper angles more akin to a Ketna-dweller's. His red hair is closely cropped and his beard kept to some stubbles or less with careful grooming. Ultimately he is quite the average looker.</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">History</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Background:</strong> The day Corto was born was a rather special one. The High Templar had recently fallen in an eruption from the abyss and was being lowered into the volcano as the new High Templar Oren Ray was approached with the news of the birth. He came to the newly child and laid his hand on him, feeling the fire burning within. Corto's father held his mother back as the High Templar took the child from her and left. She was screaming death and curses after the new Master of the Temple.<br/><br/>As all other Templars Corto was raised with harsh discipline, stoic contemplation and grueling combat exercises. Early on Oren Ray noticed great potential in the youth, but also great strife in his soul. The young boy often tried to sneak out of the monastary and questioned any wisdom that his teachers had to offer. Fearing that he would become corrupted by curiosity and a will to explore the outside world, Oren Ray took the boy in to teach him personally. Corto learnt to respect the Grand Master for his wisdom and his unforgiving temperament. He once ordered some older children to beat Corto severly for peeping in on the girls' hot spring. As he reached his teenage years the punishments became crueler in a bid to discourage him from further expressions of his free spirit. "He's more of a Windborn now that I think of it" Oren once exclaimed "and the wind just encourage the fire!"<br/><br/>As he reached maturity the High Templar finally seemed content with the schooling Corto had received. He had become a fine Templar, his curiosity and wanton lust for life finally under lock and key. He was given a year of service at the Entrance, the main way into the temple for visiting pilgrims. For the first time in his life he saw something other than human, but he couldn't find the words in his mind to express his suppressed excitement to the fact. Furthermore he couldn't put a finger on the feeling in the back of his head when a girl started visiting the Temple every day, each time making eye contact with him and smiling. Had he still been the teenager that enjoyed taking baths with his fellow Templars-to-be he might have recognized that feeling, but the years of tutelage under Oren Ray had subdued his free mind.<br/><br/>A year passed with the same girl passing by him every day at the exact time when he stood guard, even when his hours changed. He struggled with thoughts about this girl but could no longer share them with his fellows. Even among the other Templars he was considered a bit behind. An excellent warrior, but Oren Ray had ruined him, some whispered as he passed them. He knew there was something missing, but he couldn't remember what, and when he tried to concentrate on it, the girl popped up in his head. When the High Templar decided to reinforce the Black Gate down below, he knew he wouldn't have another chance to find out. He changed hours with another guard, getting the evening hours. As always the girl came walking through the shadows and this time she had an older woman with her. As they passed him, the woman cried and Corto finally realized what was missing.<br/><br/>As he was moved down to the Black Gate his mind was ablaze with thoughts and feelings he couldn't described. The monotone of standing watch at the Gate only furthered his contemplations, far from the stoic meditations of the other Templars. His dreams were haunted by images printed with flame on charcoal, fleeting away as they quickly burned with a crackling sound. One night on watch he was overcome at the gate and had a lustfilled moment with his fellow guard. Not a sound disturbed them, even as the Gate silently slid open and closed. The same night the fiery demon that had slipped through set a large abode ablaze before it was banished, killing several families. Oren Ray in turn decided to banish Corto until he had atoned for his sins in the eye of Kartan and the Templars. Wrought with guilt and confusion the young warrior was cast out from the only place he had ever known.<br/><br/>He would find however that even as a Templar Errant, questing for penance, he was welcomed in many a city. Firstly in the halls of the dwarves where dwarven devouts took him in. Repenting or not, the Templars were the living servants of Kartan and wandering shrines. For years he would wander the world, always finding a home in each city and always finding comfort in the open starlit sky. Once again he felt a strange sensation within him, as if he had yearned for this for his whole life. Not even the grim reality of the world could break his illusion, he simply brought the wrath of Kartan to those that were wicked in his eyes. The road to the Silver Leaves was just the beginning of his journey, a pitstop where he could gain new experiences. Or so he thought...<br/><br/><strong>Country of Origin:</strong> Mt.Kartan is a volcano within the Ogr Kingdom, said to be the home of Kartan, God of Destruction and Master of the Elements. In times ancient the dwarves of the mountain, then named Mt.Vhargan after its inhabiting dwarven clan, began digging into and beneath the great mountain. Down there they found precious gems and metals which made them into one of the riches and most powerful clans in Ogr. The further down they mined though, the more aloof and agressive they became, overcome with a greed and paranoia more powerful than the original dwarven curse. In the end they dug too deep and found an ancient evil which enslaved them, spewing out hordes of evil twisted Vhargan clanners and terrible monsters from the abyss beneath the mountain. It was a dark time in the ancient history of Ogr.<br/><br/>At this time a gathering of human warriors came to the High King of Ogr and offered him their help in exchange for the ownership of the mountain. Believing the handful of humans wouldn't succeed where his mighty armies had failed, the King laughingly agreed and gave his oath to them. The mystic men and women fought their way up the mountain barehanded, losing many to the axe and teeth of the corrupted Vhargans. Only three reached the top, where they called down the wrath of their god, Kartan, to cleanse the mountain. The sky opened with fire, accompanied by a strong hurricane and whipping rain. The mountain cracked open, the evil within letting out a wail of terror as a giant meteor fell into the mountain. The evil was sealed underneath the newborn volcano and the King was bound to his oath to gift the mountain to the devoted of Kartan, thus giving it its current name. It changed considerably over the following decades, surrounded by strong winds, frequently shaken by earthquakes and even sprouting a heated waterfall out of its side. It is around this waterfall that the devoted make their home in a city sized monastary.<br/><br/>For a while any devoted pilgrim of Kartan was allowed to settle in the small enclave of the mountain, no matter what race or creed, as long as they followed the commandments of the Templars. However the High King was suspicious of the elves living within the mountain and threatened war unless they be evicted. The Templars answered in kind by evicting not only the elves, but anything non-human. Other races has since been allowed to briefly visit the Temple of Kartan within the volcano, but for a while Mt.Kartan was on the brink of holy war with other devoted of a non-human persuasion. Feeling that a holy civil war within his kingdom was unwanted, the High King agreed to let elves pass through his kingdom to visit the temples, thus averting a catastrophic conflict.<br/><br/>The humans who live at Mt.Kartan live like any other, yet very differently. While everyday life is as ordinary as anywhere else, two things set them apart from the rest of the world. First off at birth, when the parents must present their child to the High Templar so that he or she can read the child's soul, determining what aspect of Kartan that dwells within the child. Secondly, the soul of the child determines which caste it belongs to, divided into te different elements. The most common caste is Waterborn, consisting mostly of workers, craftsmen and monks. The Earthborn maintains the structures of Mt.Kartan and are master artisans. The Windborn serves as contacts with the outside world, being merchants, missionaries and explorers. The most uncommon cast are the Fireborn.<br/><br/>The Fireborn's hearts contain a wildfire that is the wrath of Kartan, or so the Templars believe. All the great heroes, kings and tyrants are Fireborns. Unchecked it grows into evil and violence, while a person with great willpower can overcome the wild nature of their hearts and harness its powers for good. As such all Fireborn children born within the society of Mt.Kartan is taken away from their parents and raised within the confines of the Templar Order within the volcano. They are brought up and thought the value of inner strength, stoic contemplation and devotion to Kartan, for outside this path lurks madness and corruption. Through this dicipline they grow up to become Templars, Warrior-Monks of Kartan. Such is their atunement with the God of Elements that they become masters of elemental magic. Such is their skill and strength that they cast aside all weapons and fight only with their bare hands and the gifts from their God. The rise of the crossbow however have forced them to adopt thick and heavy armor, which has only made them more fearsome in the eyes of any enemy that dare set foot on the mountain.<br/><br/>The Templars have fought many a holy war in the name of Kartan outside of Ogr. The High King knows better than to stir the anger of these warriors, because the battlefield is the only place where they may let loose their inner wrath, often to cataclysmic effects. However their greatest enemy doesn't lie outside Mt.Kartan, but beneath it. The ancient evil of the abyss under their feet and the vengeful anger of the Vhargans errupts from time to time to consume the world around them. In the deep catacombs of the Kartan Temple there is a titanic gate where the Templars make their stand against these eruptions. Lately the High Templar has become increasingly anxious. Predictions tell of a catastrophic eruption in the near future, while the High King of Ogr begs him for aid against the ever expanding Legado Empire. Even if he ignores the High King's pleas, what is to say that the Empire will not conquer Mt.Kartan as well? And should the Templars fall, who will keep back the hordes of darkness beneath the mountain?</div></div></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Sara Nilsson / Morgalla Ironfast</div><div class="spoiler_body">Username: Sara Nilsson<div class="floatright">(http://www.vixenrose.com/hosting/files/253/stuff%20for%20rp/morgalla.jpg)</div><br/>Name: Morgalla "the Mirthful" Ironfast. Only to very dear friends will she ever introduce herself as Morgalla Ironfast, to most she is just Morgalla the Mirthful, unless they pissed her off or she wishes to insult them. If so she introduces herself only as Morgalla of the dwarves.<br/>Age: 87 (early 20s in human years)<br/><br/>Archtype: Assassin<br/>Personality: Morgalla is a very cheerful young dwarven maiden, she still sees the world with the optimism and positive attitude of a young dwarf who hasn't seen enough bloodshed to start grumbling about how much better it used to be, and how much tougher the dwarven enemies used to be, or how watery the ale is these days. She can list the number of complaints that is usually told if someone asks, and has a few hours. Because lets face it, what old greybeard doesn't love to complain? She tries to keep it under control but she has a tendency to get very stubborn if things don't go as planned and can sometimes take almost suicidal risks in order to still accomplish what she set out to do in the first place.<br/><br/>Weapons: A set of sharp daggers she keeps strapped to her legs which are her primary weapons, and then across her chest she has a few throwing knives for backup.<br/><br/>Abilities: Expert at making and using poisons, very good at picking locks, and very sneaky.<br/><br/>Misc: Master crafted dwarven leather armor with metal greaves and wrist guards. The armor has metal plates and well hidden metal bands to help reinforce it making it far sturdier then normal human armor would ever be. Lots of lockpicks hidden in tiny compartments in her armor underneath the metal plates, a thick leather belt where she keeps several vials of poisons.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Race: Dwarf<br/>Height:3'11'' (1.17m)<br/>Weight: 108 pounds (49kg)<br/>Appearance: She has long flowing red hair that she usually keeps braided into two long braids down her back, but when she is working she just tucks it all into the back of her armor to keep it out of the way even if that means she has to spend ages brushing it out. She has dark green eyes that peer out from underneath slightly bushy eyebrows and a wide flattened nose in typical dwarven fashion. Like all of her kind her body is stocky with well defined muscles, and like most dwarven maidens she is quite busty and she doesn't mind showing off her ample cleavage when it is appropriate.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Background: Her parents Thorgwar and Minty Ironfast (smith and heartguard respectively) where overjoyed when little Morgalla was born, they had tried for many years to have a baby and finally they had been blessed with a healthy little baby girl. Morgalla grew up in the hold of Thzak-Urdokr not lacking much in the way of parental love or friends. As she reached puberty however it was clear she lacked the temperament to either take up her fathers trade in the smith or to stand in the shield line with her mother, and yet within her the fire to protect the hold burned as brightly as in any dwarf. However the Guild of Shadows soon heard about her and before she knew it she had begun the secretive training to be an assassin in the defense of the dwarven nation. In what would normally be a cutthroat environment in a guild like this, no dwarf would ever dream of harming a fellow member of the Hold so they instead practiced a lot in working side by side to carry out their missions to take out the leaders of any enemy that dared threaten them. Her graduation mission was to take out the orc leader of a warparty that was harassing their supply lines and by the break of dawn the band woke up to find their leaders head on a pike in the middle of the camp with no clue as to who killed him. Morgalla decided after that to travel the human realms for a few years to hone her skills and this is when she heard of the Silver Leaves.<br/>Country of Origin: Ogr<br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Kythia / Allana of the Crimson Lady</div><div class="spoiler_body">Username: Kythia<br/><br/>Name: Alanna of the Crimson Lady<br/>Age: 23<br/><br/><br/>Archtype: Healer<br/>Peronality: Alanna is quiet and detached usually.  This isn't through a shy personality or similar, she simply believes in conserving her energy for when it is needed.  If the group is socialising she will socialise, if cooking she will help cook.  However, if there is nothing to do she will happily sit with her eyes closed and do nothing.<br/><br/><br/>Weapons: Touch<br/>Abilities: Alanna has total control over her body temperature - normally she's slightly warm to the touch but when required she can warm herself to unpleasant levels (the touch mentioned above as weapons).  Herbalism/Alchemy<br/>Misc: Unarmoured.  Wears a number of necklaces and lockets containing various medicinal herbs - Dragonsbane protects against the plague, Keller's Ear for protection against colds and coughs, etc.  Healer's kit.<br/><br/><br/>Race: Human<br/>Appearance: (http://img234.imageshack.us/img234/3916/valglove7se.jpg)<br/><br/>Background: Alanna was orphaned at an early age, too young to remember her parents, and grew up in a foundling's orphanage in Lussi.<br/><br/>The orphanage was entirely dependant on the charity of powerful merchants and was never wealthy, it was situated in the slums between a tanner's and a tavern.  When she was around five - she's not certain exactly how old she is - plague swept through the slums of the town.  In an attempt to save the rest of the orhpanage one of the children, Alanna, was pledged to the priesthood of the Crimson Lady.<br/><br/>Church myth claims that the Crimson Lady was the first human to die of a fever.  That's probably not true, but the story holds.  The Lady is one of the innumerable minor goddesses, in the service of Hesele though most assume Mortina for some reason.  A minor goddess of healing she is correctly the goddess of Fevers - burning away disease and infection.<br/><br/>Alanna was raised as a cleric and accompanied her mentor in his travels from village to town dispensing healing, the Lady's particular brand, to all in exchange for food and other basic necesseties.  Eventually her apprenticeship was served and she did the same on her own.<br/><br/>Priests of the Crimson Lady are actively recruited by the Silver Leaves.  Their quick and dirty healing is neither as effective nor as pleasant for the patuent as other methods, but it means they can travel lighter than most.  Further, their control over their own temeprature makes them comfortable serving anywhere from the frozen north to the middle of the desert.<br/><br/>Country of Origin: Lussi<br/></div></div><br/>Small Note: Feel free to be knowledgeable about each other if you have stayed with the guild for  a little while. This speeds up the interactions and the story telling a bit I find. Of course, this is all up to you.