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  1. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE BURNING OF WHITEHALL ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I: THE GLUTTONY IN DARK One hundred minas. Seax. Father’s old gambeson. Scarf. Favorite fur hat, woven by mother. Silent as a fox, the pig-nosed, chubby young lad prepared this bundle of small possessions in the dim light of the slowly dying hearth fire set by mother. Enough was enough, and Milonir of Whitehall could tolerate no more. Tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of little Milonir’s life. He would prove to his father and everyone who laughed at him that he was a real man, and a true warrior. Papa would see, they’d all see. But now was the time rest. Not without second supper, of course. See, it had been a habit of Milonir’s for the last few years to collect a second serving of supper after mother and father had fallen asleep. They certainly knew, on account of young Milonir’s drastic weight gain. Mother, at least, said little about it. Father on the other hand, was not so silent about his disdain for Milonir’s weight, and often made sport of the subject. Vegetable soup again. He had done this a million times; harking the leftovers and cleaning plates when no one was looking. Perhaps it was because it was late, or perhaps he was too comfortable with his habit. Milonir, careless as he was, had managed to knock over the pot of soup. While this alone would be cause for some small concern, the loss of second dinner was not what caused the horrified expression overtaking his visage. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ II: THE FOOL OF FLAME He had not only managed to spill his second dinner, but a number of coals too at the base of father’s clan tapestry. And to punish him for his gluttony, gods beyond his control saw it fit that the tapestry was to be set ablaze before he could act. Milonir could only stare in panicked horror as the tapestry that had been in his father’s clan for generations was devoured by intense, contagious flames. What could he do against such an enraged flame? The blaze would claim not only this prized tapestry, but now soared to the thatching of their home. The thatch house began to cough sparks in all directions like an angry blacksmith pounding away at an anvil. Growing, growing, growing. Completely optionless, despaired Milonir hurried out of the shabby little thatch home as fast as his pubescent legs would take him. It was surprising in this state that he was even able to manage that. A good distance away from the home, Milonir froze in abject, paralyzing horror at the sight before him. Everything he knew, all of his memories, and his very childhood were set ablaze in the inferno. His family raggedly stumbled outside, awoken from the commotion and smoke. Mother and father, covered in ash and coughing, doggedly made for Milonir’s side. Mother, through her infinite love, appeared confused, betrayed, completely heartbroken. Father’s expression told a different story. The bleeding emotions of righteous rage, betrayal, and a satisfying confirmation that he was right gripped his visage. The family blade gripped within his white knuckles told it all. No words were exchanged, yet Milonir squeaked “No, no,” barely mustering the words. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ III: THE COWARD'S WAY OUT Panic overtook him, and Milonir backed away from his kin, like a desperate, cornered animal. Run. All he could do was run. With his bundle of possessions under his armpit, Milonir escaped into the pale, cold moonlight. Not stopping to look back at the product of his foolishness, Milonir noticed a much brighter orange glow out of the corner of his eye. Whitehall burned. His legs carried him as far as they would. Echoes throughout the valley could be heard; panicked voices familiar to Milonir, and the thundering masses of timber that fell in on themselves. They slowly dissipated until all was silent and dark. Run. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Whitehall burns. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IV: THE ACCIDENT It was an accident. He didn’t mean it. What had he done? It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean for this to happen. Young Milonir had proven to Whitehall that their words were right. That Milonir was exactly what they said he was. A useless, fat pile of shit. Reality set in. Milonir stopped only to vomit the vegetable soup he had eaten earlier. Everything he knew and loved was ripped from him that night. He was alone in the dark forest, left with nothing. All he could do was keep running until dawn broke. The bustle of Haense lie before him. A new day. Milonir would make this right. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a year, or even ten. But he would make it right. He swore it. He swore it a million times. Milonir would right the wrongs of the past.
  2. * From ages 10-14 Charelle began her studies into becoming a Jovenaar while still trying to hold onto the little child-hood she had left before reforming into a woman. It had been some time since her father Erwin Bishop passed away from an Orenian execution. Charelle, who loved her father dearly, was still filled of grief; locking herself away in her room throwing away all that brought her joy and instead putting all her attention into her studies in hopes the pain would seep away into the note and pages of her work. At 13 she began rehabilitating from life out of her room with learning how to bake; as her sister Heleana was soon to be married to a Savoyard noble and move out of the Manor, someone had to replace her as the family cuisinest. Though it was grievous, Charelle's soul would slowly grow to it’s fierce self thought, viewing the world in a new light.
  3. Main Charactrer Identity Name: Dr.[Gunder] Antaris Nicknames: Dr, Antaris, Dr. Antaris, Gunder Age: 35 Gender: Male Race: Highlander Status: Single Main Character Description Height: 5'9 Weight: 201lbs Body Type: Decent Eyes: Brown Hair: Dirty Blonde Skin: White Markings/Tattoos: Scratched out left eye Health: Aside from missing an eye, fine Personality: Kind, Nice Main Character Other Things Alignment*: N/A Deity*: N/A Religion: N/A Alliance/Nation/Home N/A Job/Class: Science Title(s): Doctor Profession(s): Alchemist, Scientist, Special Skill(s): He can brew strange concoctions Flaw(s): Can't see that well due to a missing eye Main Character Maaaaaaagiiic Current Status: N/A Arch-type: Conjuration Sub-Type: Illusion Rank: T1 Weakness(es): N/A Strength(s): N/A Current Spell(s): N/A Main Character Weaponry Fighting Style: Stab Trained Weapon[s]: Knife w/ Poison Favored Weapon: Poisoned Knife Archery: N/A Split Persona Identity Name: Gordon Rammet Nicknames: Gordon, Ugly, Hideous Description Height: 4'10 Weight: 230lbs Body Type: Strong, well built, but terrible posture and a bit stout Eyes: Brown Hair: Dirty Blonde Skin: Welts Markings/Tattoos: Scratched out left eye, big nose with nose hairs sticking out Health: Fine aside from a scratched out eye Personality: EEEEVIL Strength: He is strong enough to beat up a strong Uruk, but not an Olog Life Style Alignment*: Evil Deity*: N/A Religion: N/A Alliance/Nation/Home N/A Job/Class: N/A Title(s): N/A Profession(s): Thief, Beating people up Special Skill(s): Uppercuts Flaw(s): He is really ugly and evil land mean and is easily pissed off Maaaaagic: N/A Weaponry Fighting Style: Punching Trained Weapon[s]: Fists Favored Weapon: Fists Archery: Flying Uppercut Biography: Gunder Antaris, as a young person, was always trying to make potions and mystical brews out of things he found in his garden. He always used to venture the nearby woods looking for plants and picking them up. Afterwards he tried to mix stuff together and crush it and put it in water and see if it would do anything. Half the time he made something poisonous. When he became an older man he went to the University of Petrus where he studied to become an alchemist and also became a conjurer through...other means. He graduated, got his doctorate, and then went on to make a miniature lab in his parent's house. Dr. Antaris made a breakthrough in Alchemy and Conjuration when he made a potion that could change your identity and physical form. He made enough batches to last him his life, until when he used the ingredients from a different source they made poison. He scoured the place where he found the ingredients for months and realized they weren't what he thought they were. He had no clue what had contaminated the plants but whatever it was made his potion work. His split personality was revealed every time he drank the potion. He would go unconcious and wake up as the man he called "Gordon Rammet." Afer he realised how strong Gordon was after having a run-in with an Uruk he knew he could rely on changing into him to beat people up. He always changes to Gordon or back to Gunder at random times, when it was was normally indicative of how angry or happy he was. If Gordon was elated he would turn into Gunder, if Gunder was pissed off he'd turn into Gordon. Screenshots http://imgur.com/uM4ubhr - Gordon http://imgur.com/G0gDYbj - Gunder So AT team anything need be done?
  4. Finn No-Name Nicknames: None yet. Age: 25 Gender: Male Race: Human Highlander Status: Alive and determined. Description Height: 5'6'' Weight: 172 Body Type: Stocky Eyes: Green Hair: Dark Red, slicked back Skin: Light Skin, slightly tanned Markings/Tattoos: None (yet) Health: Normal, no injuries or sickness Personality Archetype- Tearatologist Studying monsters, to destroy them. -read anything pertaining to monsters -constantly seek better ways to destroy them Trouble - Us vs Them Sees it as Humanity vs Iblees, Darkness, Monsters, Whatever is threatening humanity. -makes him slightly bigoted against other races - will not willingly fight with other races - dislikes buying/selling to other races Other Characteristics: I Came Prepared - Got potions, smokebombs, a gold tipped stake, a hatchet, a net, 15 feet of spider silk rope, enchanted leather coat, steel tipped shoes, knife, some garlic jerky, a tent and a bag to hold all them in without me being weighed down. How yah like meh now? - learn enchanting and alchemy -and tinkering for mechanical items Let’s Party - Never hunt alone. Also, drink large amounts of alcohol to soothe the pain of losing your wife to the forces of darkness. - Keep a party of at least 4 humans when hunting. - Dat damage bonus. It’s Not Paranoia if They're Out to Get Me - Worried constantly that creatures of darkness, necromancers, Ikuras, and Giant Miniature Space Hamsters are out to get him. Does not discuss his abilities or history with people he doesn’t trust implicitly. Weaponry Fighting Style: Stab or Burn it until it stops moving. Also recently added Crossbow for long range encounters. Trained Weapon: None Favored Weapon: Blessed Ferrum Dirk Archery: Little skill, but training Biography Parents: Missing Siblings: None Wife: Dead Children: None Extended Family: None Pet(s): None
  5. Character Card of Q. Campbell Character Name: Quinlan O'Keefe-Campbell Nicknames: Quin, Quinny. Age: 36 Gender: Male Race: Human (Adunian) Status: Alive n' stuff Height: 6'1 Weight: 197 lbs Body Type: Big, broad shouldered and burly, like a football player. Eyes: Light Blue Hair: Dark coffee brown. Skin: Slightly Tanned Markings/Tattoos: Scars on chest from wolf mauling. Health: Fairly Healthy. Personality: He has an optimistic, humourous attitude towards life. On the surface a sarcastic and ironic kind of person, underneath, a steely determination to keep his loved ones safe. He is starkly loyal to his superiors and to his wife and family. Quinlan is one who often speaks whatever is on his mind, often construing it in a very cynical or twisted way. When leading drills, he's like that sarcastic wise cracking substitute teacher you had that one time whom everyone hated the guts of. Inventory: <> A Steel Claymore (Two handed blade) <>An Arbalest (Big crossbow) <>Lute Alignment*: Konigreich of Aesterwald, The Aesterkorp Deity*: The Creator Religion: True Faith Alliance/Nation/Home: Aesterwald Job/Class: Soldier, HalbBruden of the Aesterkorp Title(s): HalbBruden, Jager. Profession(s): Swordplay, Archery, Lute playing. Special Skill(s): Game hunting, music, et cetera. Flaw(s): No sense of organization, he has a scattered mind. He can also be very stubborn. Weaponry Fighting Style: Quinlan takes advantage of his size and strength to overpower his opponents in melee. Though he prefers to get the advantage on them with an arbalest if he can. Trained Weapon: Claymore, Longsword, Crossbow/Arbalest, Longbow Favored Weapon: Claymore and Arbalest. Archery: Meh-ish. Biography Parents: Byron Campbell, Unknown Mother Siblings: Edrik Campbell (Anawkin52), Catherine Campbell (TheH0neyb33), Desmond Campbell (Arzar). Spouse: None Children: Ciara Campbell (emilyathegreat), Adrian Campbell (Theidlemuse) Extended Family: Eoghan Campbell (Adoptive Chieftain), Scotty O'Keefe (Uncle) Pet(s): n/a History [WIP] BIRTH The birth of Quinlan Campbell is a vague one, his father Byron O'Keefe was no stable man. Not one to keep a family. Old man Byron in his younger days had slept around quite a bit, sired a few bastards. One such bastard he'd been approached with alongside one of his former dalliances. The mother of the newborn child forced the baby into Byron's care, and was never seen again. And so the life of Quinlan began, with a father whom never intended him to exist and a mother whom did not want him. Byron was a wanderer as well and not one to be tied down by the prospect of fatherhood, and so he left his son with his brother, Scotty O'Keefe, in the frigid southern town of Vaerhaven. CHILDHOOD As a child, Quinlan grew up amongst the likes of many other Adunians of various clans. His home was in Campbell hall, a big tower-like structure in the back of town. His oldest memories include that of lectures from the Adunian Archfather Tarus, learning of the old gods and the old faith. Young Quinlan was a quiet creature, a stark contrast to his Uncle and main guardian, Scotty. The tall, booming and often drunk patriarch of the O'Keefe Campbell line berated Quinlan for his softness. A proud O'Keefe is no weasel! He is a bear! Scotty would proclaim. A bear is formidable, he stands headstrong in the face of his foes, a weasel uses deceit and trickery, that is a despicable way of life. And so, Quinlan was taught that all a boy needs to become a man is a strong arm and a brave heart. Quinlan grew up without many friends for the most part, save for Torrah Campbell, son of Eoghan. A girl his age adopted into the clan. By adopted they meant kidnapped as a child from the McHarnishes of course, but there was no reason for Quin to know that. Torrah and Quinlan considered each other like siblings as well as close friends, and the two would get up to all sorts of mischief. RITE OF MANHOOD Clan Campbell was a tad more harsh on it's children than other Adunian clans in the sense that boys at the age of 15 had to prove themselves in order to be considered men. This trial involved trekking out into the cold snowy wilderness outside the walls of Vaerhaven and slaying a wild wolf. This was accomplished through both cunning and strength, and all Campbell boys were expected to accomplish this. Despite the sentiments of his uncle, Quinlan was no killer and no warrior. He certainly wasn't the pinnacle of physical strength. He was sent outside the safe walls of Vaerhaven alone for the first time shortly after his fifteenth birthday. It was a week of surviving on his own before Quinlan found a wolf, a majestic creature of a pure white pelt. The adolescent boy was terrified of the idea of having to face it. He ended up trapped the beast after laying down a pit trap with smoke from burning hare's flesh at the bottom. When he returned to Vaerhaven's walls, he convinced Scotty the wolf had died by his blade. YOUNG ADULTHOOD AND LOVE Quinlan spent his next few years in relative anonymity. Though one thing had really changed, his old friend and someone he had considered his sister had grown into a very attractive young woman. Torrah and Quinlan were both eighteen now, they celebrated the birthday of the former quietly, in Vaerhaven's cozy tavern with a pint of ale. It was there Quinlan asked her if she would do him the favour of accompanying him on a date. It was a foreign yet familiar concept, the two had been spending time alone with each other for years, but neither was too naive to realize this would be a different experience entirely. The first date was a simple affair, young Quinlan had no concept of glamour and had no concept of 'dinner and a play'. Instead he took her out to one of his favourite places, a simple stone menhir with a table, by a frozen lake outside of town. They shared a drab of whiskey and stared at the clouds, she kissed him. Though elated by his new found love, not all was well for Quinlan. News of the budding couple had reached the jealous ear of a resident member of another of Vaerhaven's Adunian clans, Cymrych Douglas. A love triangle was inevitable and the race to impress Torrah began. Cymrych was ingeniously subtle, often getting himself injured to play the pity card for Torrah. Quin knew nothing of subtly, he had been brought up by the man who could barely tell the difference between a 'P' and a 'q' in a book. The fact that Cymrych was a twin made it doubly furious. The Douglas twins gave Quin no end of grief, but it did not matter in the end, for Torrah was faithful to him. Loss, Recovery, and Loss Again Life with Torrah was content and peaceful for Quinlan. Two adjectives that would rarely describe his life in the years to come. At around the age of 18, Quin began to feel the looming presence of the Scourge, and setherien's menace. He had lived in the newly Renovated Keep of Ard Kerrack at the time with the rest of his Adunian kin. Adunia itself was in it's prime, having occupied the last previously owned by Kaedrin of House Chivay. However all was not well in the land of the tartan, as the aforementioned scourge had begun launching minor skirmishes and harassing strikes upon the kingdom. Fully grown and Able-bodied, Quinlan was expected to take up arms to fight off these raids. With Torrah fighting at his side, they came to blows with pale faced cultists and abominations with steel welded to their flesh. However as all of Adunia was soon to learn, these guerrilla strikes were merely the beginning. It all accumulated to one big conflict, the battle of Ildon. With the forces of Adunia ready to defend their home against a horde of cultists, unholy creatures and winged beasts. For Quinlan, it was his first experience of true battle. As swords clashed, and the sounds of courageous war cries and screams of agonizing pain screeched through the atmosphere, Torrah was snatched up by a daemon of eldritch wings, carried off. The war for Adunia had been won, but Quinlan had lost the biggest part of his life. His love. He spent the next full year looking tirelessly for her, as Adunians throughout the kingdom looked on with pity, wondering when the heartbroken young man would move on. It turned out however that he would not have to, at a steep price... Torrah Campbell returned. But not as the same person she was when the agents of Setherien snatched her away. Found huddled in the corner of an inn 2 years after her disappearance, she was a sorry sight. One missing hand, scars that marred her entire body in a grotesque mess, her hair falling out at it's foundations. Still young and naive and unable to heal or do anything to help, Quinlan and Torrah eloped from Adunia, settling in the remote elven town of Lenniel, far to the west. Torrah's mental state had deteriorated rapidly, and was showing signs of insanity. To Quinlan's dismay, it seemed that Torrah had been influenced with scourge like tendencies during her time in their captivity. As she became slowly more and more sinister. Setting elven trees alight, asking Quin to hire assassins to perform hits for her as if it were a casual requests, among others. The simple minded young man was no psychologist and no amount of pleading and coercion was able to revert the now scarred and grotesque Torrah from the dark shell of her former self she had become. And one day, she simply vanished. A New Beggining Following Torrah's final dissapearance, Quin was left with no more purpose in life. He spent a few more years in Lenniel, making his living as a hunter and developing a good reputation among the wood elves whom lived there. However, life had lost most of it's colour. It was age the age of 25 when the wanderlust set back in and Quin packed up his things, leaving his home to travel the roads once more, this time, to the land his people hated: Oren. The journey to the eastern plains of Anthos was fairly peaceful, Quin managed to reach the grand walls of New Abresi in quick time. The bustling streets, town criers and the city smell were foreign to him, having grown up as a country boy. It was there he met a man in a white tabard adorning a red cross, whom introduce himself as Theodoric Hamlen. Theodoric informed Quin that he was a member of the Holy Order of Saint Lucien. A knightly order devoted to defending the true faith of the human race. With no other real options open to him, Quin decided, on a whim, to join. The keep of Ard Krallach was a massive structure built into the side of a mountain under what was once the Grand Palace of Emperor Godfrey. And the Lucienist soldiers whom made their home in it were equally impressive. It was on his first day Quin met the stalwart but friendly Raigeki Kato, an eastern man and officer of the Holy Order. Raigeki got Quin acquainted with the people and the sights of Ard Krallach, as well as providing him with his own white and red tabard. Early life as a Lucienist was rigourous, but rewarding. Quin quickly made friends out of his Brothers in the order, and learned to be strong, good with a sword, and quick on his feet. But it wasn't with the order where his life truly took it's next dramatic turn. On an off day in the Captured Kha inn in Abresi, Quin sat. He often enjoyed the company of friends on days like these, but today was alone. Through the door came a woman, a pretty thing of dark red hair and emerald eyes, accompanied with her cousin, a raven haired woman of formidable height. Both were attractive, but it was the red haired lass, whom would later introduce herself as Ayallia Meridian, that Quin had his eyes on. After a rather embarrassing attempt to get in bed with her following giving them a tour of the city with the help of a Subudai tribesman, Quin parted ways with the lovely lass feeling rather turned down. However he didn't let it deter him from his goal. Torrah was gone forever. He was in a new country, with new friends and new family, it was time to find new love. After a few semi-successful attempts to get closer to Aya by spending time in her tailory shop, Quin successfully asked her out on a date. It was quite a date. Nearly a days worth of walking back to Vaerhaven, but it was worth the journey. Quin gifted Aya with the wolf pelt he'd won to earn his rite of manhood so long ago. They watched the stars from atop the masts of dwarven ships, and shared their first kiss. War and Married Life Fast forward to three years later, and Quinlan and Aya would be happily married and living a secure life together. Aya lived with her family, the Meridians, in a complex in Abresi. Quin stayed often though work often took him to the keep of Ard Krallach where he would serve among the Lucienists. The two did not spend as much time together as perhaps a normal couple should, but they cherished the moments they had. The idyllic lifestyle would not last, however. As trouble soon began to brew within Oren. -more to come- Artwork
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