Project: Characters Of Asulon

[steelersfan1221 300]

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Characters of Aegis l Characters of Asulon l Characters of Anthos

 

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Hey LotC!

This thread is going to be one of the first additions to the new “History” sub-forum. This is a thread where you can post things about the characters that you played in Asulon. I felt this would be a nice place to look back on memories of previous characters, or friend’s characters, or any kind of Asulon roleplay in general.

This is how it is going to work. Simply fill out the form that is given below with whatever information you would like to include about your character! (very similar to a character card) Feel free to add any more information even if it is not included in the form!

Please contribute by adding information on your character! We need you all for this project to be a success!

Copy and paste this little form into your post.
 

[color="#FFA500"]Name:[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Gender:[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Is your character currently alive?[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]If so, what is his/her age?[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Race:[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Biography:[/color]

[color="#FFA500"]Screenshots/Skins[/color](Please use a spoiler)

 

Example:

Name: Elrohir Elendil

Gender: Female

Is your character currently alive? Yes

If so, what is his/her age? 182

Race: High Elf (Mali'aheral)

Biography: My parents were both born in Laurelin. They were not able to make it as far as Asulon, as they died on the journey there. Thankfully, I survived. I managed to group up with the other High Elves that were traveling to Asulon. I then helped build up the city of Haelun'or. Haelun'or is the High Elven capital of Asulon. I speant many years in Haelun'or, but after a point, I grew a bit bored of the same old lifestyle. I left the city, interested in a warrior group called the Warhawkes.

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

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[steelersfan1221 300]

[reserved]

[Thu'um 530]

You actually used my sub-forum. This is glorious, my ninja friend.

[reserved for my character. :)]

[MetaSolaray 242]

Reserved - :P

[jtringl 35]

[color="#FFA500"]Name:[/color] Casimir Amedaius II

[color="#FFA500"]Gender:[/color] Male

[color="#FFA500"]Is your character currently alive?[/color] Yes

[color="#FFA500"]If so, what is his/her age?[/color] Near 80. Was 15 when traveling to Asulon

[color="#FFA500"]Race:[/color] Human

[color="#FFA500"]Biography:[/color] coming soon

[color="#FFA500"]Screenshots/Skins[/color][i](Please use a spoiler)[/i]

[cruzazul 2815]

Name:

Tiburon Leary

Gender:

Male

Is your character currently alive?

No

If so, what is his/her age?

208

Race:

High Elf

Biography:

Being a Lord of Khabbi Tiburon excels at leading his men. He was born in Laurelin and moved to Asulon like the normal citizens. He was not the strongest of warriors, he didn't find much thrill in fighting. His main talents included blacksmithing and studying his vast collection of books. Once Khabbi fell so did Tiburon. He did not want to live a life without his glorious city. He killed himself for that very reason, leaving his wife and son alone to fend for themselves.

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

I will add in a screenshot once mc.net is up.

[Samler 1566]

Name: Seth Calith

Gender: male

Is your character currently alive? Yes

If so, what is his/her age? 391

Race: High Elf (Mali'aheral)

Biography: ((Comming soon))

Screenshots/Skins: ((Comming soon))

[Lita 677]

Name: Lucian Evermist Goldmoon

Gender: Male

Is your character currently alive? Yes

If so, what is his/her age? 346

Race: Mali'Aheral

Biography: Lucian has been a monk for almost half of his life, perfecting his healing magic and working hard to help those less fortunate. He was taught by Monk Zachai (Boogerbuster) of the ways of the Triumvirate, and he assumed control after Zachai vanished. When Lucian too vanished, he traveled far, living in the wilderness for months where he perfected his practice of magical healing. He recently returned to the Temple, where he assumed control of the Monks after Monk Jae's death, however, he did not assume the title of head monk.

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

[Urahra 5781]

Name: Brunhylde Volsung, the Witch Mother

Gender: Female

Is your character currently alive? Unknown.

If so, what is his/her age? Frost Witches don't age. She looks the age she did when she first transformed. That is, 25. Her actual age would probably be about 55, though.

Race: Fjarriauga (Frost Witch) - formerly human.

Biography:

There is no honor for the daughter of a tavern wench.

In the lands of Skjoldier, far to the north, there are only two types of women. There are the honorable women, who live their lives virtuously, marry, and have children. Then there are the harlots – the tavern wenches, the whores. They linger in the streets and outside mead halls, smoking, drinking, and offering their favors to any man who looks at them for more than a moment. Such women are necessary – it’s a lonely life, sailing the oceans and rivers of Skjoldier – but they are looked upon with contempt all the same. A wench is not fit to marry. A wench is only fit for a quick tumble. While the children of wenches are still tied to their kin, they are not the same as the children of proper wives. Thus, it happens often that such children are rejected by their kin and, often, end up as wenches and whores themselves. After all, when a wench has tumbled with a hundred men, who’s to know who is really the father of her child?Olaf One-Eye was an old man when he laid with Brunhylde’s mother, Gretchen the Wench. And, like with all the women he laid with, Olaf took his fill and left without a second thought.

Gretchen herself, a w-h-or-e by trade since her youth, thought nothing of it until she began to feel her body growing heavy with child. Brunhylde was born many months later in the dead of winter. One night, while drinking with her patrons, Gretchen the wench collapsed and gave birth directly on the tavern floor. The birth blood mixed with spilled ale. The child’s first sight when she opened her eyes was her mother’s leering patrons, their beards unkempt and teeth crooked.

Perhaps it was out of some misguided sense of mercy that Gretchen raised Brunhylde the way she did. The daughter of a wench had nothing to look forward to, except becoming a wench herself. Though she gave Brunhylde a feminine name, Gretchen never used it. She shortened the name to “Brun” and slapped Brunhylde if she dared call herself anything else. Brunhylde’s mother cut her hair short and dressed her in boys’ clothes. A girl would be tainted by a wench-mother’s reputation, but a boy had a chance for greater things, provided he could prove himself. Brunhylde, coerced by her mother’s harsh discipline, accepted her role as a boy. As a child, she did not quite understand why her mother referred to her as a boy, but kept quiet about it. Questions brought beatings. Brunhylde dutifully called herself “Brun” and referred to herself as a “he”. After a while, it became a part of her identity and no longer seemed strange. Brunhylde, for a time, seemed to forget her true gender. She blended in with the boys of her village perfectly, though her peers often mocked her for being the son of a w-h-o-r-e.

Brunhylde lived like this for ten years. Toward her fifteenth birthday, Olaf returned to the village, seeking young men to join his crew. Gretchen, fearing that puberty would bring an end to Brunhylde’s disguise, sought to pawn her off to Olaf, presenting her as an ideal cabin boy. By then, Brunhylde had not quite hit puberty and grown into her feminine figure. Olaf, partially blind and aging, was fooled by Gretchen’s ruse the same as every other man and boy in the village. Brunhylde resisted her mother at first, but Gretchen threatened her. In the time since Brunhlyde was born, Gretchen had lain with another man and produced a beautiful daughter – too beautiful to disguise as a boy. Brunhylde loved her sister Freja deeply and Gretchen, taking advantage of this, told Brunhylde that Freja would suffer if she didn’t go. Brunhylde joined her father’s crew, but very unwillingly.

Brunhylde began work as a cabin boy for her father. The crew saw the effeminate young man aboard their ship and took to teasing him. Brunhylde became a favorite target of their drunken mocking. Olaf mostly ignored her. However, as the months passed, both Brunhylde and the crew adjusted to her presence. The mocking faded and Brunhylde, despite her effeminate physique and lack of beard, began to blend in with the crew. She drank and ate with them, swearing and boasting like any other man aboard the ship. The crewmen taught her the ins and outs of shipbuilding and, less than a into her service on her father’s ship, Brunhylde could scale the rigging and steer the wheel as well as any man on the deck. She accompanied her father’s crew on raids and did her fair share of killing and looting.Puberty made the ruse difficult to hide, though. Between binding her breasts and washing the suspicious bloodstains from her clothes, Brunhylde couldn’t continue to manage her duties as a sailor while still disguised. The binding on her chest made it difficult to climb the rigging and the cramps and moods that her period brought hindered her work. To hide the natural swaying of her hips, she forced herself to walk rigidly and painfully. Eventually, the ruse became too hard to bear and Brunhylde gave up. By this time, she’d been serving on her father’s ship for a number of years. She doubted word would ever reach Gretchen of the ruse’s failure.

Though timid at the thought of how the crew would react to her womanhood, Brunhylde slowly stopped fighting her femininity. To her surprise, no one in the crew much commented on her seemingly sudden gender change. She’d been serving with them for years already, proving herself as capable as any sailor. The rough life of a sailor had worn away any beauty she might have had as well. Though her hair grew long and her body feminine, none of the sailors aboard her father’s ship acknowledged the difference. Olaf himself was too old and blind to even see the change and continued to refer to her as a ‘lad’ long after her true gender asserted itself.

Olaf, perhaps realizing he was aging, sought to find a new target for his pillaging and claim more glory for the Volsung before his death. After consulting a frost witch with whom he’d once lain, Olaf settled on a land far to the south. He sailed to every village and hamlet he’d ever been to on his journeys, collecting lost sons and daughters for his raiding crew. Brunhylde’s beloved sister, Freja, was among them – taken along for her skill at cooking and farming. Brunhylde was overjoyed to be reunited with her sister, but quickly became overprotective of her. Brunhylde admired the beautiful young woman Freja had become and made it her mission to give Freja the life of a proper lady, not a tavern wench like their old mother. Brunhylde became suspicious of her fellow crew. Though rough, windswept Brunhylde held no temptation for the men, Freja was young and soft and beautiful – the perfect target for a lonely man on the high seas. Brunhylde made herself Freja’s bodyguard for the voyage, often neglecting her duties on board to watch over her young sister. The journey wore on everyone’s patience and Brunhylde was often scolded for her neglect. Brunhylde ignored the scolding and continued looking after Freja.

Finally, as they begun closing in on the new land, a storm caught the ship. The Volsung fought valiantly to keep control of their ship, but to no avail. The ship wrecked and the Volsung found themselves washed ashore on a strange land.Their boat damaged and their bodies exhausted, the Volsung climbed a nearby hill and began searching for shelter of some kind. After cutting several trees, they erected a makeshift fort with a mead hall in the center. “Volsung Fort,” they called it. The Volsung allowed themselves to rest for some months. Several of the brothers left the fort to scout the nearby coasts. Only three Vikings -- Brunhylde, her sister Freja, and half-brother Dagmar Cleftjaw – remained to watch over the fort.A few uneasy months passed. Freja kept busy by tending to a garden she’d planted in the fort. Brunhylde stayed close to her sister’s side, determined not to let her fall prey to any of the new land’s wicked monsters. During this time, Dagmar and Freja struck up a friendship that soon bloomed into love. Brunhylde felt happy for her sister, but at the same time, worried. Brunhylde, who had witnessed the boorishness of her brothers up close for many years, strove to preserve her younger sister’s innocence and virtue. While at first she did not trust Dagmar, Brunhylde eventually warmed up to him. When he and Freja announced their engagement, Brunhylde was pleased, if not slightly jealous. Living as a sailor aboard her father’s ship had made it impossible for her to find a love of her own.

During this time, a camp appeared on the shore below the fort. Out of curiosity, Brunhylde left the fort to explore the camp. There, she encountered the people of the Subudai, a band of nomads who claimed that the shoreline was their ancestral camping grounds and that they’d lived on the land since long before the Volsung arrived. Brunhylde, perplexed, told them that there’d been no camp on the shore when they built the fort. The Subudai accused her of lying. They grew angry, saying the fort violated nature and prevented the normal herds of animals from entering their hunting grounds. Brunhylde insisted that they had nowhere else to go, saying their ship was still damaged and that the Subudai could tear down the fort when the Volsung left. Unfortunately, the Subudai were not that patient. Due to a combination of poor diplomacy and miscommunication, the Subudai attempted to ambush the fort. Brunhylde, Freja, and Dagmar barely escaped with their lives. The Subudai burned the fort, leaving the Volsung without a home. Brunhylde, Freja, and Dagmar fled to the Cloud Temple sanctuary, swearing revenge on the cruel tribesmen who’d forced them from the only home they had in these strange lands.

Some weeks later, the three resettled in the kingdom of Renatus. They made their home in the small town of Ager. There, their lost brother Vidarr found them. The four settled quietly into the town, keeping their heads low while they struggled to find their place in the foreign society. However, soon after, the transformation began.

***

This transformation began long before Brunhylde ever arrived on Asulon.

Olaf the Old, Brunhylde’s ancient, senile, but still formidable sea raider father, looked in the mirror in his captain’s quarters one day and realized, to his horror, that he was growing older. His hair had long ago bleached to white, his teeth were beginning to fall out, and he could not swing an axe with the same vigor he had when he was younger. Upon realizing his growing weakness, Olaf resolved to go on a massive final raid to prove he was still one of the greatest raiders the land of Skjoldier had ever seen. The aging raider, who had long dominated the icy northern seas, sought a new target to pillage for his great final conquest. In order to locate a new place, he went to the home of a Fjarriauga Witch Mother with whom he had once lain and produced a son. The Fjarriauga used her scrying powers to locate a fertile land far to the south – the land of Asulon. However, it was a grave mistake for Olaf to speak to this Witch Mother. Docking his ship near her coven, he allowed her to spy upon his crew and spot one of the lone women on the ship. This woman was Brunhylde Volsung, the unfortunate daughter of Olaf. The Witch Mother, seeing the chance to spread her curse to the new land, placed her mark upon Brunhylde.

Any woman marked by a Witch Mother must either combat the curse all her life or succumb to it. Brunhylde never even knew she was marked. The mark, which manifested as a blue mark on the back of her neck, was covered by her long hair and hidden from view. After crash landing on Asulon, the Volsung faced many trials that tested their resolve. Their first fort was burned to the ground by the Subudai. Afterward, they were forced to flee to Renatus, where they bore the endless antics of the noble class. Brun in particular suffered. Upon coming to Renatus, she met one of her long lost half brothers, Vidarr Volsung (coincidentally, also the son of the Witch Mother who marked her). Charmed by Vidarr’s golden hair and striking blue eyes, Brunhylde found herself uncomfortably attracted to her half brother. However, there was never a chance to succumb to her feelings, for Vidarr vanished suddenly several months after they’d settled in Renatus. Beforehand, he’d mentioned falling in love with a dark haired beauty. Naturally, Brun assumed he’d run off to marry her. Brunhylde, who’d fallen in love with Vidarr herself, was heartbroken. She tearfully admitted her love to her other siblings, who did their best to comfort her, but to no avail. Brun kept her crushing loneliness to herself, forcing a smile when she dealt with her siblings or the other citizens of Renatus.

She wouldn’t remain lonely for long, though. She became friends with a nobleman of Renatus, Count Lorethos Basileus. Shortly after, Lorethos admitted his attraction to Brun and asked for her to be his mistress. Brunhylde refused at first. She was a virgin and the Volsung deeply believed that sexual pleasure should remain inside the confines of marriage. However, between her own lack of confidence and crushing loneliness, Brun soon gave into the Count’s advances and began seeing him on the sly. Unable to keep the secret to herself, she admitted her tryst with the Count to her brother, Dagmer. Dagmer did not approve of what she was doing, but kept it to himself. He was growing ill and didn’t have the strength to argue with Brun about it. Eventually, word of the affair reached Dagmer’s wife, Freja, who condemned the affair. She scolded Brunhylde for sleeping with Lorethos and scolded Dagmer for allowing it. Lorethos, seeing the strife he’d caused in the family, broke off the affair. Brunhylde, who had developed feelings for Lorethos during their time together, was crushed.The feelings were too much to bear. Brunhylde felt desperately unhappy and ashamed. Though she had fallen in love with Lorethos, they could never be together due to her peasant status. Her sister, whom she loved deeply, hated her for her actions. And Vidarr, the only man she had ever loved besides Lorethos, remained missing. If all that wasn’t enough, word of her tryst with Lorethos was spreading among the nobility. They met her with sneers and vulgar suggestions. Her reputation as a good, hard working woman was ruined. Everything that Brunhylde loved was gone.

Too ashamed to return home, Brunhylde fled from Renatus into the wild, snowy forests of Hanseti. Intending to kill herself via exposure, she wandered deep into the woods and waited. When night came, she laid her head down in the snow and fell asleep, not expecting to wake up again.To her surprise, though, she woke up the next morning alive and undamaged. Her body showed no signs of frostbite despite spending all night half buried in snow. She woke up with a strange hunger rumbling in her gut. Taking her trusty axe, she went hunting in the woods. Killing a small wild boar, she dug into the raw, bloody meat with her bare hands and began stuffing it in her mouth. The raw meat only slightly satisfied her craving. With blood dripping down her chin, she hunted for hours in the forest, killing and consuming whatever unfortunate animal she could get her hands on.The days began to blur together. Brunhylde slept out in the cold with no problems. She woke up every morning under a blanket of snow and spent most of the day killing and eating woodland creatures. She tried only once to cook the meat but found she couldn’t stand the taste. Cooked meat tasted like ash in her mouth. The grief she’d experienced in Renatus left her numb to feeling. She wandered mechanically around the forest, killing and eating and sleeping without thinking about why she did any of it. All she went was a dull, throbbing sadness in her chest that seemed to grow each day she spent alone in the wilderness.

A few months passed this way. It was only after three months had passed that Brun began to notice a few strange changes in her body. For the last two months, her period had not come. She’d been too depressed, too swallowed up by her fog of sadness, to notice its absence. Her breasts swelled and ached. Though Brunhylde had never been pregnant herself, she knew the signs. Her mother was a *****. The other whores she hung around with were often pregnant, meaning Brunhylde knew easily what pregnancy looked and felt like. The realization that she was pregnant with Lorethos’s child shocked her out of her depressed haze. She went into a frenzy. If her family hated her before, they would hate her even more now. She couldn’t go home carrying her lover’s child. If the baby was to be born, it would be born alone in the woods. And it would probably die. These realizations brought on a fresh wave of self hate and sadness. Brunhylde screamed to herself, all alone in the frozen woodland, and fell asleep with tears on her face.

The next morning, when she awoke, everything had changed.

During the night, at her moment of complete and utter despair, Brunhylde’s body underwent a transformation. She succumbed to the dark curse brewing in her body. When she awoke, her skin had turned grey and her eyes shone with a mysterious blue light. Her hair, once blonde, had turned a silvery snow-white. With her transformation completed, she experienced the first true hunger pangs of a Fjarriauga. She staggered through the forest, pulled by her hunger, until she found a road. Two young boys on a caravan became the first victims of her hunger. After feeding for the first time, though, she realized in horror what she’d done and what exactly she had turned into.Afraid and alone, Brunhylde struggled to understand her new body. The baby, remarkably, survived the transformation and continued to grow inside her. Brunhylde, after a few more months of struggling with her powers, was able to disguise herself long enough to find a town to deliver her child. The baby was born as a normal human, though many people commented on the infant’s strange, almost luminous blue eyes. Brunhylde fought to keep her true identity a secret while trying to feed and shelter her child. She moved from town to town, feeding and growing in strength as a Fjarriauga. Her constant movement made it difficult for anyone to get close to her and she skipped town immediately after each feeding. This way, she was able to survive.Moving from place to place grew difficult, though, and the curse inside Brunhylde body began giving her even more strange urges. It urged her to create new witches – to curse young women and make them fall, just as she had.

As the first Fjarriauga in Asulon, Brunhylde grew faster in power than any other witch. Almost without realizing it, she had become powerful enough to become a Witch Mother. And every Witch Mother needs a coven. And, with time, the coven grew.

***

Nearly twenty years passed since Brunhylde first felt the bitter coldness of the Fjarriauga curse. Back during the first years of her transformation, she was wracked with horror and guilt over the awful things her curse forced her to do. The insatiable hunger for flesh filled her with disgust and she rarely fed out of shame for her weakness. Holding onto what little morality she still had, Brunhylde pledged never to infect a woman with the curse if she didn’t want it. What she didn’t expect was how readily people volunteered themselves for the infection. As the years passed, she met with several women who not only asked for the curse, but took to being Frost Witches as easily as if they’d been born into it. These women, women who were often filled with rage and hate, women who were sometimes already cannibals, began changing her views about the curse. As the years rolled on, Brunhylde’s shame and disgust over being cursed began to fade. When Areon Baldwin, her on-and-off lover, proposed searching for a cure for her curse, Brunhylde emphatically refused him.

She had grown comfortable in her ice-cold form and had grown to like the magical powers she exercised with it. Killing and eating people was no longer something that horrified her, simply something she had to do in order to survive. The brutal slaughter she conducted almost daily became extremely routine. Human body parts, things that once made her squeamish, were as commonplace to her as bread or pork. She took to carrying slabs of flesh in her pack as a normal adventurer might carry provisions. Everything about being a Frost Witch had become normal. People became food. Even Areon, her lover for many of the years she ruled the coven, was not exempt from this. Brunhylde would occasionally joke about how, when he first showed up at her tower, she had intended to kill him and eat him. The only thing that saved his life was the fact that he wore chain mail armor that day. He survived past the first visit thanks to his clothing and the subsequent visits because Brunhylde had grown fond of him. Before falling in love with Areon, though, she regarded him as more of a pet than an actual friend. As other relationships went, though, the only other human Brunhylde could sympathize with was her own daughter, Amalia. Strangers on the street, though, may as well have been items on a buffet table. Brunhylde viewed people with faint hunger and disgust, ignoring them entirely unless they inserted themselves into her life.

Further disruption came later, in the form of the White Rose. One day, while hunting casually in the area around Salvus, Brunhylde encountered a young man in armor. Deciding she was up for a challenge, she implored the man to escort her to her remote home, which she claimed was overrun with giant spiders. The man, Velwyn Ashford, agreed to accompany her. Leading him out to a suitably remote location, Brunhylde turned on Ashford and attacked him. Ashford struggled, managing to shove her off a small cliff and injuring her leg. This was the beginning of a years long rivalry. Brunhylde ran across Ashford’s Order, the Order of the White Rose, one day after visiting Areon. She crept into their Keep, reaching their inner sanctum with the help of a smitten scout. There, she encountered Ashford a second time. Knowing better than to attack him while he was surrounded by his allies, she flashed a sharp-toothed grin at Velwyn and fled the Keep.She and Velwyn would meet several times in the future. He thwarted many of her hunting attempts in Oren. A deep hatred of Velwyn and the White Rose ignited in Brunhylde’s cold heart. She became consumed with thoughts of killing and eating him.

The rivalry was brought to a head when she discovered her long lost nephew, Bran, was a member of the White Rose. Capitalizing on Bran’s affection for Amalia, Brunhylde began to plant the seeds of betrayal in Bran’s mind. She warned him that the White Roses were evil men, evil men who would kill both her and Amalia if they got the chance. Bran swore quietly to aid both Amalia and his aunt.Family once meant everything in the world to Brunhylde. As a human, she was a devoted and loving sister. At the beginning of her reign as witch mother, she even struggled to be a good mother to Amalia. However, the curse has eroded her morality down to almost nothing. As such, she didn’t hesitate to manipulate Bran for her own gain. She mothered a single male son with Areon and, after giving birth, she dumped the child off with her lover and left him, likely to never speak to the boy’s father again. Her own desires, such as her desire to slaughter the White Roses, override any faint concern she might have for other people. Her safety, Amalia’s safety, and the Coven’s safety are the only things that matter to Brunhylde anymore.She has fallen far. Once a kindhearted, if stern woman, she has degraded into a cheerfully ruthless sociopath who feels no remorse and no responsibility for the lives she’s destroyed or the people’s she hurt. She fully embraces her powers and hungers as a Witch Mother, damn all the consequences. The only people that matter anything to her are the people she’s fond of.

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

[emberhard 82]

Name: Emberhard

Gender: Male

Is your character currently alive? Very

If so, what is his/her age? 542

Race: Elf

Biography:

This bio is short, sweet and to the point with many, many details and other tid-bits left out.

Born in Laurelin to a mildly wealthy family, he is a direct grandson of Malin. Ember taught himself through youth, being quite the brilliant troublemaker and picking up a little bit from every trade he could get his hands on. Ember went off for a few years to explore the world, nothing significant happened other than he picked up his favorite pass-time of brewing and drinking upon visiting the dwarves. After a few hundred years of that Ember settled down in the town of Corvus Animus just outside Laurelin. The town was owned by the White Raven guild and he soon became mayor of the town, and therefore a member of the White Ravens (WR).Ember went on to fight several battles agains the undead, build and command the best fort known in the verge, fort Ultimum Stabit, get captured and hunted by the Dark Brotherhood, and many other guild related activities. Upon reaching Asulon Ember continued his career with the WR, once again mayor-ing for the guild owned town of Aliquam Purus. Ember continued his brewing but soon saw the WR starting to corrupt and collapse from within, he fled with a few friends of his to live in the wilds for a few years before becoming lord and head farmer of the island nation of Holm. Ember was eventually banished for harboring a wrongfully charged "fugitive" in which he then went on to pursue his love of brewing. In the small town of Ursakar he established his elegant brewery, in which he also then built his ship, "The Keg" and became the Ambassador of Malinor. -EDIT- He is now a prince of Malinor.

Screenshots/Skinsmeh, I will get to it eventually

[Stephensj 327]

Reserved!

[DKC1011 10]

Name: Drake'O'Hara

Gender: Male

Is your character currently alive? Drake is surprisingly still kickin'

If so, what is his/her age? He's pushing a hard 46

Race: Human

Biography: Drake'O'Hara lived not an easy life by any stretch of the imagination. Born in the wilds to his father, Atlas, and his mother, Aisling, onto a small wheat farm in the north. Drake was a happy child and life was simple. Unfortunetly, Aisling, Drakes mother died of starvation, having surrendered his well being with what little food she had left during a particularly winter when she offered it to her hungry children. Atlas, Heartbroken, struggled to raise his children alone. As Drake grew older he faced many a hardship. One being his younger brother, Timber, taking to crime in the small villages of the wilds, marauding in a group of bandits he called the Redrock Saints.

Drake grew to resent his brother and when his father passed away at the age of 51 (When Drake was 19) due to both illness and the hard life he had lead, Drake felt there was nothing left for him at the old farm and took off into the wilds with nothing buy his fathers sword, Scarline, his fathers leather cigar pack, his fathers hunting jacket and a bottle of whiskey. Drake wandered the wilds for years, along with him was his childhood friend, Ulrik. Ulrik was a smith who chose to tag along with Drake in his ventures. However, at the age of 20, Drake came across a camp of wood elves who were under attack from a group of marauders. The Redrock Saints. Drake helped the elves fight off the marauders, and even though he had to engage his own brother, he was relieved that Timber escaped. The elves, feeling grateful that the young human would go out of his way to aid them in the fight, accepted him and Ulrik into the tribe. Drake took to the tribe like fish to water, but Ulrik was not so happy, and chose to move on. Drake even found love in the elven camp. Marrying a wood elf named Kayla. They were madly in love, but one day, against all odds, Drake discovered that Kayla was pregnant, and in a moment of panic, he cut and ran. Drake travelled the land for a long time. Always ashamed of what he had done, but always too scared to return. Drake, at the age of 36, arrived in Ursakar, a barony under the control of the Guivrets in the Duchy of Auvergne.

By this time Drake was dirt poor, starving, and very sick from the weather around him. The Duchess of Auvergne, Helaine Guivret (You know him as STEALTHNINJAAP, thats right) saw this and took Drake in, giving him a job as a miner and putting a roof over his head. Now, with somewhere to live, Drake began to feel confident about his position and as the Duchy grew, Drake decided to offer his fathers sword in service to the Guivrets. Until Drake was 43 he served as a bannerman in the guivret corps, having seen combat in places such as the battle of Kal'Alras. At that age he was granted the position of Knight as a reward for his loyal service to the duchy. But, when Drake was 44, many of the Guivrets were killed in a raid, Including the Duke himself (Lugarthecougar) and much of his family, and Drake was devistated. So much so that he layed down his sword as a knight of the Guivrets, as all of his friends had left or died. Even the adopted Guivret child, Seria Aran, who Drake had personally guarded since she was 16, left with her husband, and Drake was left friendless once again. Drake still lives, and still seeks out some of his friends who disappeared from the Duchy during his time in service.

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

[maxkenny23 8]

I hereby declare this comment Reserved! :D

[KidKrinkles 2044]

Name: Eze'kiel Tarus, aka, Lust the Bandit, aka, Blood the Manhunter / Lord Inquisitor Blood I.

Gender: Male.

Is your character currently alive? Deceased.

[see the Death of Eze'kiel Tarus]

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77526-the-death-of-ezekiel-tarus/

If so, what is his/her age? 314, on death.

Race: Half-Adunian, Half-Elf. Closely identifies himself to Human.

Biography: The King of Renatus, when ti was still a Kingdom, Eze'kiel Tarus was loved by his friends and hated by his enemies. He often warred with Salvus and the Teutons, something that would haunt him even to his death. After the Battle of Das Boot, he inexplicably disappeared, and began working with Lucas Black to kill both Salvan and Teutonic forces a like, as Lust the Bandit of Caravan, in an act of vengeance. Upon his return, he named Godfrey Horen I his successor and stepped from his throne.

It was at this time he married a woman and raised four children, Atriana II, Elizabeth, Edward, and Edgar, in order of oldest to youngest. He felt complete in his life- even if his wife had died in labor, and he felt devoid of any true companionship outside his family. He spent most of this time building his fortress town, a mostly vacant swamp keep, called Indelwood, named after Indelwehn, his second, strongest, love interest.

He began to feud constantly with the Flays are began tying himself closer to the Elendil house and Adunian people, as well as reconnecting to old Dwarven friends. He found more family members and flattened Indelwood to erect Gustavold, the Tarus Stronghold. From here he simply constructed the fort to bide his time until something worth doing showed itself. In the mean time, he invented a simple group of assassin's amongst his family, a nameless group of faceless men in gray cloaks. He went on to become the infamous Blood, a Manhunter, and later Lord Inquisitor.

He was fooled by two wizards, Blundermore, and Ambros, believing their logic that Godfrey was truly undead, and so were the Hightowers. He began making plots to usurp the throne and garnered some military backing in a rather short time. However his plans were caught early and they were forced into the open. The unprepared group of rebels, comprising of Houses Norsem, Elendil, and Tarus mostly, were quickly eliminated at Winterhold. Artorus Elendil and Norsem, two of his closest friends, were both killed at the battle. He was offered a pardon but took exile and went to the Dwarves with his family. He brought along his new love interest, Ryder Crownlance, and married her in Dwarven territories. He was given land and proclaimed the Rightful King of Humanity.

Before he could consummate his marriage he thought it important to return to Oren to speak to Godfrey and try to bury the hatchet. He felt suspicion when High Sheriff Kais was ordered to arrest him, and suddenly, inexplicably, delayed on that order. He kissed his new wife goodbye and told her "...I'll be back, I promise..."Despite a gut feeling, Eze'kiel disarmed himself and permitted Godfrey his guards and they spoke. He was quickly restrained and held down, his death ordered. He managed to release a canister of experimental thermite and dive n it to avoid beheading, clawing at Godfrey in a last spiteful maneuver, gone to the ashes.

His movement was later reinvigorated by Radahan, a doctor who befriended Eze'kiel, to reunite the people of the North under one nation, their own nation, for the three fallen Northern lords, "The North Remembers".

[see the Battle of Winterhall]

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/74196-the-battle-of-winterhall/page__p__607943__fromsearch__1#entry607943

[ See Fall of a Phoenix, Parts One to Five]

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/76974-the-death-of-a-pheonix-part-one/page__p__639302__fromsearch__1#entry639302

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77060-the-death-of-a-pheonix-part-two/page__view__findpost__p__641634__fromsearch__1

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77107-the-death-of-a-pheonix-part-three/page__view__findpost__p__642700__fromsearch__1

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77174-the-death-of-a-pheonix-part-four/page__view__findpost__p__643945__fromsearch__1

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/77200-the-death-of-a-pheonix-part-five/page__view__findpost__p__644603__fromsearch__1

Screenshots/Skins(Please use a spoiler)

All of Eze's Skins.

[Urahra 5781]

Name: Tanith Toov

Gender: Female

Is your character currently alive? Yes.

If so, what is his/her age? 112 years old.

Race: Dark Elf

Biography:

It began with the sound of the ocean's waves crashing against the hull.

The ten year old elf sat in against the wall of the cargo hold, knees hugged tight to her chest. Cold moonlight swept across the contents of the hold, the luminance swaying back and forth as the ship rocked from side to side. The modest schooner seemed to sway with each little movement of the water. The elf child squeezed her knees, fighting not to be sick. The captain warned her that if she ruined any of his cargo, he'd cut off one of her hands.

She sat surrounded by goods - crates of fresh Malinor apples, barrels of spiced Pumpkin wine, bundles of fine timber and luxurious elven silks. All these goods sat piled on top of one another, tied down with ropes so they didn't slide around. Darkness drowned the hold save for the tiny porthole window on the far side away from the little elf. She tried not to shiver or cry out. Mother had told her there was nothing to be afraid of, but the moaning of the hull and the chilly half-light only made the little dark elf more frightened.

Alone in the dark hold filled with luxury goods, the little elf had hardly anything. An empty birdcage sat by her foot, the perch inside swinging back and forth as the shipped swayed. Her clothing looked nothing like the richly dyed bolts of elven fabric beside her. Dressed in a slightly stained pinafore and cotton dress, the little elf looked extremely out of place. This ship was devoted to fine, expensive items, after all, and a dirty faced little girl was neither fine nor expensive. Of course, most people wouldn't have guessed that she, herself, was a luxury good.

Tanith's childhood ended the day her parents, desperate for any kind of money they could use to pay their debts, sold her into slavery. Born to poor parents living on a derelict farm in the Malinor countryside, she spent her early childhood working the land with her family. However, at the tender young age of ten, her parents, desperate for money to support their failing farm, auctioned her off into servitude. The slavers, who imported luxury Malinor goods to the human lands as well as living cargo, had shoved her in the dark hold and told her to behave. Tanith didn't even have the comfort of another would-be slave. The only living piece of cargo aboard the ship, she found herself totally isolated. Terrified and alone aboard that schooner destined for human lands, the ten year old elf clung to anything she could find for comfort. During the night, only the gentle back and forth swaying of the ship did anything to ease her anxiety. She lived in quiet terror of the traders aboard the ship, daring only to make her presence known when hunger started gnawing at her gut. The ocean, with its soft, constant murmur, sang her to sleep and whispered soft reassurances. When the schooner finally made land in the port city of Alk'hazar, Tanith almost felt sad to leave its comforting presence.

The slaver lead her up to the auction block, sitting her beside the luxury goods he'd brought over from Malinor. The citizens of Alkhazar clustered around the docks, amazed to see what looked like a young dark elf slave crushed in among the goods. One by one, the barrels of apples and bolts of silk were sold to eager buyers. Finally, Tanith was the only thing left standing on the aunction block. Her arms and legs shackled, she struggled not to cry as the auctioner beckoned her forward. Standing there before the crowd, she felt her heart thundering in her chest. The humans watched her pitilessly, their eyes crawling over every aspect of her scrawny, underfed form. Thoughts of her home in Malinor, even with its creaky floors and muddy, fruitless fields, flooded her mind as she gazed out into the crowd. Her only possession, the birdcage where she used to keep her little pet sparrow, sat on the corner of the auction block. Tanith watched as one of the sailors stepped up to remove it, taking the bird cage by its handle and preparing to carry it to the garbage can. She could no longer hold her tears. Right there, in front of the crowd, she began to bawl uncontrollably, howling in broken elvish how she missed her parents and wanted to go home. The crowd murmured, watching as the elf sobbed, snot dribbling from her nose and tears pouring from her eyes. The captain of the schooner stormed the stage, riding crop in hand, and whipped young Tanith across the back of the neck. She gasped in pain and the tears fell swifter. Blow after blow fell on her back, shoulders and neck. "Stop crying, you *****!" the captain spat. Tanith fell to her knees, gasping in pain and shock and struggling to stem the flow of her tears. Coughing awkwardly, the auctioneer called for bids.

The humans of Alkhazar, their city sensibilities offended by the sight of the beating, had mostly fled. One gentleman remained, though. An older man with dark, neatly trimmed hair and grey eyes, he looked like the perfect example of the Orenian middle class. Clearing his throat, he lifted a gloved hand. "Ninety minas," he said, his voice low and clear. Awkwardly glancing around, the auctioneer cleared his throat.

"Sold for ninety minas to..." He gestured to the well dressed man.

"Leopold Kingsman," the man answered. The slaver lifted Tanith up by her collar and gave her a shove toward the edge of the stage. Gazing tearfully down at the man who would become her new master, Tanith murmured something in elvish. Leopold grimaced and glanced toward the slaver. "She speaks Common?"

"She understands it. Getting her t' speak it will require a bit of lashing," the captain replied. Leopold sighed -- the sigh of a man who had borne entirely too much in his short human life -- and picked Tanith up off the stage. The captain handed him a leash, which he attached to her collar. For the rest of the day, Leopold lead her around like an animal on the leash. Tanith followed quietly and tried her best to silence her crying, if only due to the risk of being beaten again.

At the end of the day, he loaded her up into the back of a carriage. Sitting down in the seat opposite her, Leopold stared her down with cold, emotionless grey eyes.

"Your name," he said.

Tanith murmured something in elvish. He promptly leaned over and slapped her, hard, across the face.

"You will speak common, not your dirty elf language. Now tell me your name."

"Tanith," Tanith muttered. He slapped her again.

"You will speak clearly and enunciate. I will not tolerate muttering."

"M-My name is Tanith," Tanith replied in halting Common. Her parents had only ever spoken to her in Elvish on their isolated farm. The words felt unfamiliar and improper on her tongue.

"Very well, Tanith. I am your owner now. You will address me as 'master' or 'sir'. If you ever speak my name, I will whip you raw. Understood?"

"Yes," Tanith replied. Again, she felt the sting of his palm colliding with her cheek.

"Yes, sir," he corrected, his voice still cold. Tanith squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the deluge of tears she could feel building up inside her.

"Yes, sir," she squeaked. Leopold nodded. They sat in silence until they arrived at his manor, a massive, dusty mansion on the outer limits of Winterfell. Their first conversation would set the tone of Tanith's years serving under him. Leopold demanded nothing less than absolute perfection. As a result, Tanith rarely made the same mistake twice. As the only slave taking care of his modest manor, everything that was beneath Leopold fell to her to take care of. She washed windows, swept floors, cooked meals, and washed clothing. As promised, Leopold delivered a swift and brutal beating, usually with a switch or a riding crop, whenever Tanith made a mistake. A young dark elf with no experience besides planting seeds made many, many mistakes at first. Tanith's first year in Leopold's employ was marked with many a beating, leaving indelible marks on her small body. Whenever she mastered one task, Leopold would just as quickly assign her to another. The work was overwhelming. Tanith's only rest came late at night when she was able to grab small snatches of sleep between tasks. Many nights, she found herself staying up late and performing chores by candlelight. By the end of the first year working for Leopold, the beatings and constant late nights of work had ruined Tanith's eyesight.

Recognizing his servant had been running herself ragged, Leopold did the first kind thing he had ever done for her since she came to work for him. He gave her a day off work and took her with him into Alkhazar by carriage. Holding the near-sighted dark elf's hand, almost like a father would, he lead her through the busy streets to a jeweler. The jeweler spent several hours conducting tests, measuring just how bad Tanith's eyesight had become, and crafting a pair of glasses meant just for her. Because she could not work without being able to see, the day trip to Alkhazar represented a much needed break. Moreover, it represented that Leopold cared. Perhaps he only bought the glasses for her so that she could keep being useful, but the exhausted and work-worn dark elf child didn't interpret it that way. She saw the glasses as a symbol of her master's affections and the day trip as a sign that he truly cared. Upon receiving the glasses at the end of the day, Tanith cried for joy at being able to see again.

The next day, Tanith threw herself wholeheartedly into her work. She completed everything she was supposed to do to the utmost of her abilities. At the end of the day, Leopold looked down at the spotless floors, dust-free furniture, and perfectly prepared meal. He deigned to smile at his eager servant, even told her that she did a good job. From that day on, Tanith knew what she had to do. The only reason Leopold hadn't been kind to her was because she had frustrated him with her bad work. But his gift -- the precious, precious gift of sight -- meant that he could love her just as much as any father if she only tried hard enough. From that day on, Tanith would not allow herself to make a mistake. Her chores became her life. She coached herself, learning to perform her tasks quickly and flawlessly. Even though Leopold's manor might have normally needed three servants or more to keep it well maintained, Tanith managed to do it by herself. All the while, she taught herself etiquette by mimicking her master. By the end of her second year as Leopold's slave, she could speak and dress as well as any human girl. She kept the manor running without help and performed all her chores to the best of her ability. Tanith pushed herself to the brink of her ability. Though only two years had passed since her parents had sold her, Tanith felt as though she had changed immensely. All out of the hope that Leopold would smile at her and tell her she'd done a good job.

Years passed. Tanith grew older. The work became easier with time. Tanith's determination never failed her. Leopold remained cold to her, but even with his coldness, there came brief, shining glimpses of the affection Tanith craved. She would never forget the day - ten years into her employment - where he introduced her to a colleague. He heaped praise on her, calling her a "model servant" and complimenting her cooking. Tanith's heart swelled with pride and affection for her aging master. Though he never became the father she wanted him to be, the brief flashes of warmth and kindness were enough to sustain her.

Tanith served Leopold for thirty years. She watched him become an old man. One day, while washing his handkerchiefs, Tanith noticed splotches of blood on the fabric. Within the month, Leopold crawled into bed and never again left it. He wasted away in bed, constantly coughing up blood. Tanith tended to him faithfully. Tanith would never forget the day of his death. In his last moments, he reached out and took her hand. He patted it gently, smiling with wrinkled lips. "You are a good girl, Tanith." Those were his final words. Tanith locked the words in her heart. 'Good girl'. She was a 'good girl'. Those two, short words made the beatings and her lost eyesight worth it. She held Leopold's hand long after he died, tears streaming from her eyes. A part of her, the sad, broken hearted part of her that still missed her family, begged him to come back. Begged him to call her a 'good girl' one more time.

Tanith, like the rest of Leopold's possessions, fell to his estranged son after his death. Leopold's son, Vladimir, lived in the heart of Alkhazar. Leopold barely spoke of him. If his name was mentioned, it was in scornful, loathsome tones. Tanith gathered what few items she could call her own and made the long trip to Alkhazar by carriage road. This turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. A curse because of Vladimir's treatment of her, but a blessing because Winterfell and the northern reaches of the human kingdom fell to the Undead shortly after her departure.

Vladimir fit the definition of "playboy" to a T. At first, he was overjoyed by the healthy inheritance his father left behind. At the same time, he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the scrawny female slave that came along with the money. News of the Undead occupation in the north came on Tanith's heels, which made Vladimer hate her even more. Her black mourning dress and strange, red eyes solidified Tanith as a harbinger of doom in his mind. Tanith did her best to serve Vladimer as she had served Leopold, but she could feel his hate-filled glances burning into her whenever she turned her back to him. The news of the encroaching Undead exacerbated Vladimir's bad habits. There was not a single night he did not go out drinking. His crude mannerisms, so different from Leopold's, set Tanith on edge. Though she never let her irritation show, Vladimer could also feel her dislike bristling beneath the surface.

The beatings did not help.

It began one night when Vladimir stumbled home after a bad night at the gambling house. Frustrated by his losses and itching to brawl, he punched his servant hard in the stomach as she opened the door for him. Tanith crumpled to the floor, but did not fight back. Delighted by his discovery, Vladimir proceeded to beat Tanith til she bled. He kicked her and punched her, laughing drunkenly if she tried to wriggle away. Stumbling off to bed, he laughed to himself about how she made a great punching bag. Tanith wept silently on the floor that night. After that, the beatings came regularly. Vladimir beat her for a myriad of reasons. He beat her if he received bad news. He beat her if he lost at the gambling house. He beat her for no reason other than the fact that she was there.

One night, however, he went too far. Tanith would never know the reasons for the beating. She would never know that he was tortured by nightmares of the Undead. To her, it was simply the most brutal beating she'd ever endured. He came at her while she was preparing dinner, wrenching the iron skillet from her hand and smacking her about the head and shoulders with it. Tanith flinched away from the blows, tried to dodge. She begged him to stop, but to no avail. Finally, he delivered a skull cracking blow to her head. Tanith collapsed on the floor, fading rapidly in and out of consciousness. She would never quite know what he did to her while she was unconscious, but she could assume. She woke up in pain. She woke up feeling damaged in a way she had never felt before. He had savaged her body in a way she could barely articulate. Tanith screamed. Her facade of cool perfection disintegrated. She thrashed and screamed and cried, clawing at her skin as if hoping to tear free of her body. She wanted to die.

Hours later, she regained her composure. She made a pact with herself. She would never allow something so awful to happen to her again.

The next night, when he came at her with the iron skillet, she turned and stabbed him with a kitchen knife.

Vladimir sold her the very next day.

The beatings changed Tanith's relationship to her body. She grew afraid of even the slightest touch, shuddering at even the briefest physical contact. Her body was something damaged, worthless, sullied. The scars marked her as something broken. While a warrior might proudly display the scars he earned in combat, Tanith hid hers behind long, body-length dresses in shame. There was nothing honorable about her scars. They were simply signposts leading the viewer through her lifetime of abuse.

She lived her life in a deep, dark despair. In the end, she barely noticed the change from Aegis to Asulon. They loaded her onto a ship as a good, the same as they had done when she was first sold. To a slave, one place was the same as another. Her servitude was the same everywhere. Asulon represented simply another change in scenery. It seemed as though her despair would last forever, until one day when her contract fell into the hands of the dual Barons Peter and Thomas Chivay.

One day, after going shopping in Arethor for her newest master's supper, Tanith accidentally boarded the wrong carriage. By accident, she found herself in Rivia, the home of the Chivays and the newly formed White Rose Order. The first sight that greeted her upon stepping off the carriage was the corpse of a dark elf swinging from the gallows. The dark elf, tall and black-haired like her long lost father, sent spasms of heartbreak through Tanith's body. She burst into tears in front of the gallows. It was there, sobbing with her ankles buried in the snow, that Velwyn Ashford found her. After checking her for weapons or magic, Ashford offered to let her stay in the keep for a night until the next carriage left in the morning. Tanith explained to Velwyn that she was a maid working for a nobleman of Salvus some distance away. It was then that Ashford seemed to notice the dusty, dirty condition the room in which they sat. He asked her right then and there to come clean house for the Rose. Tanith was taken aback by the offer. She explained she would consider it but that she didn't think her master would part with her contract.

Shortly after, however, due to family circumstances, her master chose to let her go. Tanith immediately sought work with the Rose. She scraped together enough to purchase a cottage in Rivia and began work for the White Rose just days later. Mere hours into her first day at Rose Hold, she met Captain Baldir Toov. The large, intimidating Captain startled her with how kind he was. Though he kept his face hidden behind a gleaming great helm, he laughed and flirted with her only seconds after their introduction. No man had ever behaved that way toward Tanith before. She'd long ago accepted that she was too plain and skinny to catch a man's eye. However, the roses Toov left on her doorstep and his kindness toward her hinted that perhaps that wasn't the case. Tanith found herself intimidated and yet at the same time exhilarated. The idea of anyone making romantic overtures to her, of all people, was new and a little scary. Still, she found she liked Toov. While his appearance had frightened her at first, she found his large size and stoic demeanor somewhat comforting. He was a man who could protect her. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her ever again.

What began with some innocent flirtation soon turned into an earnest, if somewhat ham-handed, romance. Toov’s patience and kindness with her quickly earned Tanith’s liking and soon, her love. While Tanith's phobia of touch proved to be an obstacle at first, the Captain's kindness and gentleness gradually overcame it. When the Captain finally asked for her hand in marriage, Tanith did not hesitate to say yes.

Within the first year of their marriage, however, things began to change for the couple. The move from Rose Hold to the new Krak du Rhoswen was already stressful to begin with. Shortly after the move, though, Toov was knighted and inducted as a member of the Oren Inquisition. Toov flew up the ranks within days, suddenly adopting the title of "Lord Inquisitor". The Inquisition demanded the lion’s share of Toov’s attention. While Tanith was proud of her husband and urged him to do his best with the Inquisition, she found herself overwhelmed with feelings of loneliness and inadequacy. Her husband had suddenly turned into an incredibly powerful man, skilled with both magic and sword and admired by many. The Inquisition dominated his time, reducing the amount they spent in each other’s company. The difference between their quiet courtship at Rose Hold and their marriage at Krak du Rhoswen was palpable.

Tanith struggled to deal with the change. Baldir was the first person she had felt truly close to in decades. Though he still tried to spend time with her, Tanith found herself feeling lonely and faintly jealous whenever he was called away to deal with some Inquisition matter. She felt unequal to him, nothing but the little wife always waiting for him to come home. An off-hand comment he made to her as they were lying in bed together determined the direction she would take to rectify this.

“Then maybe I’ll just learn magic and fight beside you next time.”

“Zhat would be nice.”

It was true that Tanith would never be as strong as her husband or as admired. She could not handle a blade or a bow. However, there was one thing she could learn to stand on equal footing with him – magic. Tanith inwardly resolved to learn magic and stand beside him, not in his shadow. At first, the poor elf was at a loss for just how to accomplish such a task. She had only very recently learned how to read properly. The challenge of studying and learning something as delicate and complicated as magic loomed before her like an insurmountable wall. Even so, Tanith determined she would not give up. She took to observing her husband and the other mages in the White Rose closely, studying even small acts of magic. She watched with fascination even when Toov did something as small as light a piece of paper on fire. Though her mind still did not grasp the concept of the Void, she began to understand that elemental magic was something a mage willed into existence. A mage had to create his fire or water or earth. He could not manipulate what was already there.

In her free hours, Tanith began to study the movement of water. She felt a certain kinship to the element. Sitting by the moat outside Krak du Rhoswen, she spent hours watching the way the ocean rippled and splashed. Though not accustomed to traveling alone outside the Keep, Tanith found herself making the journey back and forth to Arethor more often. In the bustling Arethor marketplace, she found herself digging through the wares at antique stalls, seeking out the big, dusty books that might hold some small key to the knowledge she sought. Any handful of minas she acquired for personal use was spent on these books. Soon enough, she’d acquired a small pile of old magic texts, which she kept hidden in a nook in the Krak du Rhoswen kitchen.

Most of the books proved too difficult to understand for a woman with Tanith’s reading level. The cramped pages, dense with text, made her head swim. Still, she did not give up. Reading and reading pages, Tanith struggled desperately to gain some semblance of understanding for magical theory. The theories on mana, on the Void, and on the uses of magic proved too overwhelming for Tanith. However, one of her books contained a few simple exercises for a novice mage to attempt. Trying to remember what she could about mana and how to summon it, Tanith began attempting these exercises in the private corners of the keep.

It was her secret, the attempts at magic. Her incomplete understanding of the Void and mana lead to repeated failures, though. Frustrated, she went back to observing the other mages in the Order, trying to make sense of how they conjured their elements. Nothing clicked. Finally, after hundreds of failures, Tanith managed to will a single drop of water into existence. While it was a small victory, it filled her heart with an alarming joy. Finally, through sheer force of will, she’d accomplished an act of magic.

One drop became two and two became three. The effort took hours of focus, but the magic seemed to come a little bit easier every time. Within a month or two, Tanith could create tiny pools of water in her hands. She could not move the water nor freeze it, but the simple creation of magical water delighted her and urged her to keep practicing. She read and re-read the books she’d bought in her leisure hours, finally understanding a little bit of magical theory now that she had accomplished some small feat of magic by herself. It was a first step – a first, shaky step toward being able to stand proudly at her husband’s side.

Her magic grew with time and practice, becoming a source of pride for Tanith. Although her beloved husband's long absences left her lonely, she had at last reached a time in her life where she could be happy. She had grown to love her friends in the White Rose. Her work cleaning and cooking for the Rose kept her busy and happy. Her growing abilities in magic gave her something to be proud of - palpable evidence of her growth. She wasn't weak and alone anymore. She had friends. She was powerful in her own, small way. Though the dark cloud of her past still hung over her at times, she no longer felt mired in a swamp of depression.

At last, she'd found peace.

However, no peace is meant to last forever. Soon, the winds came and giant waves began to crash against the shores of the once verdant and peaceful Asulon. The evacuation came suddenly.

It had started one day when the order came to Krak du Rhoswen for everyone to start preparing to leave. They were leaving Oren. Today. No one quite understood what was going on. Everyone in the White Rose and neighboring town Crestfall had received an Imperial Order to evacuate at once and report to Arethor. No reason was given, but the Imperial seal on the order and the signature of the Emperor looked official enough. All of a sudden, the entire keep erupted into a flurry of activity. What had started as a sleepy morning soon transformed into a mad rush. Tanith, who'd awoken at her usual hour and had come downstairs to start breakfast, found herself walking smack dab into the middle of a swarm of soldiers, all dashing to grab their valuables and armor before they were forced to leave the keep (perhaps for good). Tanith, still wearing her bedroom slippers, watched over the railing as Thomas Chivay barked orders at the scurrying footmen.

Walking timidly down into the main hall, Tanith found her husband standing among the men as they stripped the mountain keep bare of all its furnishings and valuables. The two of them watched as the men carried everything out to the small ship standing in their harbor. Toov explained, in hushed, comforting tones, that the Emperor had ordered them to leave and today was the day. Tanith, worried and upset by the sudden change, stuck close to him as the last of the furnishings were carried out. They had lived in Krak du Rhoswen for a good seven years and it struck her as terribly sad to be leaving. Violent winds howled around the keep and the choppy waters of the oceans surrounding Krak frightened Tanith. The whole world seemed to be churning as though it were ready to come apart. When the Rose arrived at Arethor, though, tragedy struck. Massive waves - fifty foot high walls of frothy ocean water, slammed into the Arethor docks. One moment, the Oren navy floated proudly in the waters and the next, it was gone - nothing more than bits of canvas and wood floating in the froth. Panicked, the people of Oren turned to their Emperor for guidance.

The order came at last for everyone to head to the Cloud Temple. The monks' ships had not yet been overwhelmed by the massive storms. There, Tanith was surprised to see a mass of all three other races. It seemed as though every armada in Asulon had been destroyed by the onslaught. With teams of half-panicked ship builders for each race, the people of all the nations scrambled to build the ships that would take them to their destiny. All their belongings lost, except for what little they could carry with them, the White Rose climbed aboard the human vessel with the rest of the refugees and settled in for a long, painful journey.

After many troublesome weeks at sea, they hit Elysium. The White Rose quickly established a base on the far side of the island, placing their new keep atop a snowy peak and establishing a village on the beach down below. Tanith settled into the new location and, though uneasy at first, grew used to it. The first few days in Elysium were marked by strife, though. The Flays and Teutons had decided to make the Rose their enemy and bloodshed came in waves. Struggles in the capitol of New Arethor meant that Toov was away for long periods of time. Recruits and men appeared and disappeared and suspicions of certain unoathed being spies abounded. Tanith remained uneasy, though she performed her chores as well as she was able. Thieves often targeted their camp, destroying her crops and stealing what few valuables they could get their hands on. Tanith had frequent nightmares. Several times, she was nearly killed in a raid by the Flays. Her practice with her water magic fell unfortunately by the wayside as the tense days and nights prevented her from working on it. However, water magic had only been her little hobby anyway. Her efforts to become a strong mage turned out to be ill fated. Her physical weakness limited her abilities, making her a poor magical fighter. She found little use for her abilities besides using them to clean the floors and windows of the White Rose base. Tanith resigned herself to this, though she often felt that the time spent learning and mastering the art of Water evocation had been a waste.

The conflicts came to a head when August Flay, the long lost leader of the Flays, returned to reclaim his noble House in Oren. The Emperor, to the shock of the Roses, welcomed him with open arms. To this, the White Rose presented an ultimatum - either the Flays and Teutons go...or they go. Emperor Godfrey agreed to these terms and made sure both groups were dissolved. However, this was not the end of the unrest. August Flay was later absolved of his crimes and given a position in Oren again, but not before threatening in the presence of Toov to spill Oren's blood. Toov confided in his wife that he feared Flay would be the end of him. Taking her weeping husband in her arms, Tanith promised that should he die, she would be right beside him on his path to Heaven. Seeing her husband in such distress tore at her heart, though. Just earlier that same day, she had begged him to teach her healing magic so she could be of more use to the Rose. Now she feared she would lose him before he studies were even complete.

However, the bloodshed Flay promised did not seem to come. Things began to settle again. While elven unrest mounted in the capitol, the Rose camp itself had grown calm. No longer assaulted by the Flays and Teutons, Tanith could at last allow herself a little peace. However, this peace was disturbed still by her husband's frequent absences and Tanith's own loneliness. She began to wish for children, thinking that maybe a son or daughter would bring Toov home to her more often. This was when Viyr came into their lives. A young blonde orphan of only seven, he appeared to Tanith as a timid creature under the care and keeping of Thomas Chivay. The dark elf quickly grew to like the little boy. Viyr, in turn, grew to like Tanith. Their fondness for each other lead to Viyr asking to be adopted. Tanith, seeing the child she had longed to have in Viyr, begged Toov to let her care for him. Toov agreed and thus Viyr became their unofficial son. While adoption was illegal in Oren, it did not hurt to take on a ward. Tanith doted on the child, giving him sweets and teaching him to read. At last, she had the child she'd been praying for. Her only hope was that their new son would bring Baldir home more often too.

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