TfE 2- Downfall (Closed)

[Artorius]

(Please read the below paragraph for story information. If you'd like to skip to character creation, go down to "character sheet." However it is recommended you read the entire post.)

Five years ago on the Grand Continent, the greatest war Tyrosia had ever seen had reached a stalemate. To the north and south, powerful kingdoms vied for control of the continent- Gornada and her allies, against the kingdom Enola and her allies. Just as it appeared there would be no victor in this conflict, Enola made a valiant push northward. In a matter of months they managed to launch a campaign that garnered greater gains than any previously seen in the war. It was known as The Push. In five subsequent years, the scales have tipped in favor of Enola, but Gornada won't go down without a fight. To put down Gornada once and for all, and end this nearly decade old conflict, a small, but elite Enolan force known as the White Knights have been sent on a dangerous mission.

World

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Characters

Spoiler:

Character Sheet
Please note all primary characters battle attire must be white armor. However, personalization is allowed. Casual clothing, or in the case of armor damage or loss may be of any material, color, or kind. Also, any secondary characters are not required to wear white armor.

Spoiler:

Races

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Essence

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Rules

1. No God-mods.(this includes auto hits, power playing, and using player knowledge as character knowledge)

2. A minimum of one post a week is expected

3. Ask a person permission to use/kill/harm their character before doing so.

4. Two characters is the limit.

5. What I say goes. No matter what I say. Unless its something totally preposterous, in which case its still recommended.

6. Follow these rules.

If you fail to abide by these guidelines you will be given a warning. Three warnings and you are kicked from the RP.

Updates
Important announcements will be placed here. Please check often for new updates.

1-19-12: Introduction post updated.
1-28-12: IC is up. http://www.footstepsofghosts.com/t4229-downfall#101045

[xraineyesx]

Question: maybe I didn't read carefully enough, but what kind of era is this set in?

[Artorius]

No, you read what was there. I didn't think to include a little more world information, so check under the world tab again and you'll see general world information to go along with the specifics.

[xraineyesx]

No big deal. I was just curious. The information is exactly what I was looking for. :]

I would definitely say that I am interested in this, by the way.

[Mustakrakish]

I am interested in this as well, a very well thought out story that has the potential to be an excellent roleplay.

[Artorius]

Thank you two for expressing your interest! Please do draft up some characters and if you have any questions don't be afraid to ask.

On a side note, the first post was updated. Some spelling mistakes were corrected and "Briek the wanderer" was added at the end of the "Characters" section. "Others" was added at the end of the "World" section.

[quakernuts]

Ze Quaker has expressed interest in this because it has mole people and fish people.

I sense a comedic duo approaching!

[Artorius]

Excellent! This is garnering some serious interest. I like it.

[Guilty Carrion]

Alright, ya got me.

Reserved for future infection.

[Artorius]

For now, the RP is CLOSED to new members. I still have 3 spots reserved for returning members from episode 1. If they fail to apply within a reasonable time frame, their spots will free up for additional players.

[striDer]

I'm in like Flynn.


Name: Earl Set, A.K.A. Iron Hand
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: No one amidst the White Knights has ever seen Earl without his helmet or some kind of face cover, although, rumor has it that he’s hiding something out of shame. Standing at 6’ 1”, Earl’s constitution is not as imposing as it is lithe and athletic.
Arsenal: Apparently left-handed, Earl wields a standard steel sword, but what really stands out is the gauntlet on his right arm. Garnering him the nickname “Iron Hand”, the gauntlet is able to dispel all kinds of elemental essence (fire, water, earth, wind...), even though conjurations such as illusion and summoning are still effective against him. Not only that, but his hand seems to possess strength far beyond the human threshold and also a durability which rivals that of black steel.
Bio: The only man known to have survived the Tallonite ritual of Ul Grah D’ehn (“Cleansing of the Spirit” in the common language), Earl is quiet most of the time, though he’ll never hold his tongue when needed. Most everything else is a mystery about him: no known relatives, friends, or homeland. However, he’s been known to craft small wooden figurines every now and then, but to what purpose? Nobody knows.

Rising through the ranks of the White Knights, Earl has managed to achieve the title of lieutenant within one of its companies, only below his captain, Renna Vicksburg, who doesn’t seem to hold him in high regard, probably because of their clashing personalities. Although, when the time of battle comes, even Renna admits that Earl’s template demeanor and precise tactics always manage to pull them through.


My second character's bio will come later, as it's lengthier. But first, let me know if this one gets approved.

[Artorius]

Approved! Welcome back my friend. Just change his bio to put a man named Id above him in rank as well.

[striDer]

Of course there are dozens of people above him and his captain. There's the colonel, the marshal, general, etc. I already edited the post so it would specify that he's a lieutenant in one of the companies within the White Knight division.

[Artorius]

Doubly accepted then.

[Ruu]

~Here's my bio! Thanks!

Name: Saec
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Race: Drakonian
Appearance: Saec is a tall, rugged man with dark hair like burnt charcoal and eyes the color of rust. He is fairly muscular around the arms and legs, though the rest of his body is lean and lithe. He has a pair of dragon-like wings on his back, customarily hidden by an illusory spell. His skin is tanned and dark, as if he had spent much of his life under the sun. Though his body seems youthful, his eyes are filled with the wisdom of many years and the discovery of hidden things...
Arsenal: Saec has a greatsword, heavy and cumbersome, the likes of which he believes only he can yield. He also has a few throwing daggers. He tends to rely on Essence in battle, however, and has special command over the fire element.
Bio: Not much is known about Saec before he joined the White Knights, and he reveals very little. He has said that he was once a diplomat, though from where and to whom is constantly under question. His claims of being a dignitary wear rather thin considering how he is honed for combat. He began as a lowly soldier of the White Knights and though his skill could have won him acclaim and a higher position, he has declined all such offers. He prefers to work in the background when he can, and doesn't like to bring the spotlight to himself.

This aversion of the spotlight shows even in battle. He prefers to use ranged attacks to keep his enemies at bay, and has a strange aversion to killing if he doesn't have to. For all this, it would be wise not to anger him, for he does have his limits. His fellow White Knights will not forget the day he was driven to anger, and all that remained of the battlefield were burnt and charred remains...Saec is constantly vigilant, and his eyes rarely miss important details. He is one to think out situations before acting and says that one well-laid plan is better than a thousand poor strategies. As such, he tends to take charge of tactical considerations in battle and even some of the higher ranked members will defer to him in this regard.

[quakernuts]

Name: Herter "Hair" Grashken

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Melesian

Appearance: Herter is, like all other Melesians, small. Standing at a measely 3'6 and wandering around near the knees of people, he is often not noticed until he is standing directly in front of them. His face is contorted, resembling a mole creature in every facet save for having no eyes whatsoever. A couple of scars mar the surface of his face, causing some hair to stop growing where the wound occured and displaying it in great detail. His claws are like, but slightly different then regular Melesians. While they are huge, and their primary use is for digging, Herter has honed them to fine points to he can perform more nimble tasks.

His apparel is that resembling a sack on his body. A brown one piece hood and cape is loosely tied around his neck covering a pack on his back. On his chest he wears a black T-shirt underneath died white leather armour. On his legs he adorns himself with cargo pants that, just from the look of them, always seem to be filled with some miscellaneous junk. He wears no shoes to speak of, since his race lives underground and makes digging their life's work, his skin has hardened to the point of being resistant to any and all natural hazards that would otherwise plague a regular person.

Arsenal: Herter carries a small dagger on his side, but it appears to be for show only. His main weapons are his claws, extending 6" from the tips of his hands outwards. He carries with him several small devices of his own creation. He calls them 'Booms'. Acting as a ball of pure fire, he lights the small device with any fire that he can come across, throws it, and after a few seconds, lights the place up with an explosion and shrapnel. In his cargo pants he holds necessary components to make more, as well as add any additional effects to these fire makers. While he has made plenty, he still has not mastered a way to create them effectively without a risk to himself. He'll often excuse himself and set up in a remote corner in order to make more 'Booms'.

In his backpack he carries multiple items in hopes that at some point, he will be able to make something from them. Ranging from simple string to metal plates to potions. Every item that he thinks is worth taking goes in there.

As far as his powers go, Herter has been induced with purified essence. This grants him an ability like sonar, but more effective. It stretches his senses to the limit, and creates a mental image of the surrounding area within ten feet. So, while Melesians don't have eyes, Herter can still see. Blue orbs will glow where his eyes would have been placed, creating a very creepy image about him, but he doesn't mind. This ability is what allowed him to start crafting items in the first place, one of the only Melesians with technical sight. Since this ability is mainly inward, rather than an outword ability, even when activelly using it the drain is minimal. This allows him to keep the ability going almost constantly.

Bio: Herter was raised in the underground city of Ulicree. When he was but a small child, he was already being put to work in the mines, as is the custom among their people. During his tenth year of life, a merchant came into the city offering such things as food, medicine, and even purified essence. Many of Herter's people were wondering just how he managed to get a hold of the stuff, but he refused to sell it to anyone. It was to be sold to those where it would be more useful, such as scholars or warriors. So, throughout the day many Melesians wandered up to the man and tried to buy the purified essence for any cost, hoping that it would give them wondrous powers. They all failed, and were eventually pushed away from the merchant's bodyguards.

Finally Herter himself came forward, standing at only 1'9 at the time, he nearly went unnoticed by the merchant until he stepped forward. Though he couldn't see him, he still felt his presence as the man knelt before him. A small conversation took place as to what exactly purified essence was, and when the merchant told him, Herter was filled with excitement. Like all the others, he wanted to see what would happen to him should he manage to get a hold of something like that. He was refused, like the others, but Herter had other ideas. He wandered off, making sure to keep track of just how far away he was and where the merchant was.

Herter spent that entire night burrowing a small tunnel underneath the merchant. When he got close enough, he poked up from the small hole just a few short feet from where the merchant's stash was. Herter sniffed the air, trying to get a sense of where everyone was, and only then did he find out where the merchant was. He had popped up right beside where the man was sleeping, and guessing from the scent, the bodyguards were watching outwards rather than inwards. Herter hopped out of the hole, and sniffed around, trying to be as sneaky as possible. Finally, he caught scent of some food, and where the food was, the stash would have to be close. Soon, he was rummaging through a few backpacks as quietly as he could, and his hands wrapped around a few vials. He had no idea if this was what he was after, but as he sat there sniffing the object, he heard mumbles behind him. The merchant was waking up, he didn't have time to sit there and guess. He used all his cunning to get back to his hole, and climbed back in. He closed up the top, and followed the tunnel he had made back to a relatively unused tunnel.

Soon, he ingested what he guessed was the essence, and threw the vial away. He waited, wanting something to happen, and when nothing did, he cursed himself. He must have gotten the wrong vial, and he didn't have time to go back for another try. Dissappointed and sad at his loss, he made his way home.

The next morning he woke up with the biggest headache he had ever had. He rolled around on his bed, until he eventually rolled onto the floor. Images were popping into his mind as he tried to make sense of what they meant. They appeared to be a colourful or colourless vision of someplace, since he had never seen colour himself. Finally the image solidified in his mind, and the headache went away. He sat there for a moment, pondering the image in his mind's eye and trying to pinpoint where it had come from. He had never actually 'seen' anything, so these images were not from his memory. He tried to slowly stand, and as he did so, he noticed that the image changed with his movement.

He walked forward, and everything got closer. Backwards, and everything got farther. He tried something, and reached out to touch something, and found that his hand connected with whatever was in his image. In fact, his hand was now displayed in the image. He must have grabbed the right vial, and it had given him the gift of sight! He was so happy, he ran out of his room at top speed, and went to see what his city actually looked like.

It was a marvel, with tunnels going miles in every direction. Other Melesians wandered around, oblivious to his condition due to their blind nature. He was a kid in a candy store for about a year, wandering through the tunnels and doing things previously impossible. The merchant never found out about the vial, or assumed he lost it somewhere else, for he left and never returned. However, with this new sight came a quick sense of boredom. Before, it wouldn't have mattered where Herter went, he would always be blind to it. Now, he wanted to see the world! Actually look at it and see it! So, without telling his family he was leaving, for they would surely have tried to stop him, he left for the world at the tender age of 12.

He managed to get a little less than a year out on his own, scavenging what he could from everyone and everything. However, his luck was running out. He hadn't had food in little over a week, he was completely lost in a foriegn town, and he had no hopes of being able to pay for anything. Fortune randomly came to his side in the appearance of a Viala who happened to notice the young Melesian out on his own.

The Viala's name was Breshkin Kilneera. He was a fisherman and merchant by trade, but had actually taken several self defense classes along with sword and shield training. Upon helping Herter, they ended up travelling together. During this time, Herter found himself tinkering with several items that Breshkin had accumulated over the years, and after years of teaching, Herter took on a life of his own. His essence fueled sight either ignited a spark of genius previously unavailable to Herter, or was fueling his capacity for knowledge. Either way, Herter quickly became an inventor, crafting items that Breshkin would later sell to the local populace. They started small, with simple things such as a geared mechnism that hid a blade inside to miniature pully and lever systems.

Breshkin was amazed at Herter's intelligence, and together they formed a rather well known duo who travelled the land selling and buying what they could. It wasn't until the war that Herter turned his attention more towards violence geared inventions. During the five wars, he managed to make and scrap several inventions, but one he kept and reproduces are his 'Boom' devices.

Seeing the possibility for this duo to make more inventions on the move, and how Breshkin had managed to educate himself further on being a warrior, purely in the form of self defense he claimed, and a healer, the kingdom of Enola enlisted their help. It was made clear they wouldn't be needed to pick up the brunt of the fighting, but provide a more behind the front line sort of deal. With this in mind, they were assigned to the White Knights and given appropriate died white leather armour. Herter is excited for this adventure, but Breshkin is apprehensive, and while not really wanting to fight in a war that he doesn't feel he belongs in, can't help but think about what he would be missing should he back down now.

---

Name: Breshkin Kilneera

Age: 33

Gender: Male

Race: Viala

Appearance:

Spoiler:

The clothing that Breshkin is often seen wearing are very common shirts and pants. His shirts vary in colour, but are usually short sleeved and tight. His pants are often the same way, with a few extra pockets to care the rare item that he comes across. A breathing apparatus is wrapped around his neck like a collar. It's filled with water that prevents Breshkin from, quite literally, drowning on land. Like Herter, he wears died white leather armour instead of the usual metal.

Arsenal: A steel short sword for close range, a metal spear for long range and throwing, and a small round shield used solely for blocking swords and axes, not arrows.

Bio: Born underwater, as all Viala are, Breshkin was brought to life in the small region known to everyone as the Blue River to a trader and a healer. Much like a human, Breshkin was treated as any infant would be, and grew up with a relatively normal childhood. Much of his life before he was eighteen is simply filled with adolescent hijinks and the occasional conflict with teachers or law enforcement. During these years though, he sought to take after both his mother and his father, learning both the ways of a trader and a healer.

When he turned 18, and finally graduated from his schools of choice, he was told that he would need one final thing before being able to commit to being a trader. He would need to go see the queen, a terrifying and amazing moment all at the same time. She was a benevolent leader, but just being in front of someone who controlled a whole race was someone to both be feared and loved. Breshkin, along with a few others from the Trading school, quickly went to meet with the queen.

After a short visit, and wearing their brand new collars, Breshkin had thought that the meeting had gone rather anti-climatically. The Queen herself hadn't been there, but instead another Viala acting as he voice had issued the collars quite quickly once they showed their certificates of education. Despite this, Breshkin was still excited for what lay ahead of him, and couldn't wait to go and meet the rest of the world. With a quick goodbye to his friends and family, Breshkin gathered what he could for trade, and made a move out of the Blue River.

After a few short years, Breshkin had already become a fairly decent trader. He wasn't top of the line, but he wasn't bottom of the barrel either. He got by rather easily, making a living selling and trading, with the occasional sparring match for money. He had ended up taking self defence training from several warriors, since he often travelled alone. He managed to garner enough experience to justify buying himself his own weapons, but he has never initiated a fight, simply protected himself. He was the age of 22 when he first met Herter.

A small Melesian child who looked lost in the wide open city where Breshkin had managed to wander into. Normally these creatures were kept at a distance, but this one seemed different. He seemed to be fully aware of his surroundings in a way that normal Melesians shouldn't have been. As Breshkin got closer, he saw the child's eyes...or where his eyes would be if had them, were glowing. Breshkin's curiosity overtook his hesitancy to approach one of the dirty people, and he stopped to talk to the young Melesian.

Several minutes of conversation and a meal later, Breshkin had learned that Herter's new found sight was an essence power. Despite being so dirty and hyper, Breshkin took a liking to Herter. From there, they ended up travelling together. At first it was like mentor to student, but soon quickly became close friends. When Herter became a practical genius with inventions seemingly over night, Breshkin knew that this partnership was probably one of the better ideas he had ever had.

They became slightly known around the smaller towns, where Herter's small inventions would amuse and impress the local populace. When the war started, they did their best to stay out and away from the fighting, but they both knew it was simply a matter of time until the war became too wide spread and chaotic to really avoid. Eventually they started picking sides as the territories of the fueding sides engulfed their trade routes. When the Push started, Breshkin and Herter were little more than merchants. When it started to falter and there was rumour of citizens being recruited into the White Knights, Herter had been noticed by some of the Enola leadership for his inventions, specifically the 'Boom' balls. Herter accepted almost instantly, his curiousity and need for adventure coming over his common sense. Breshkin was hesitant, knowing full well what war brought with it, but he didn't want to leave Herter to his own devices. He was still almost child like, despite being 23 years old. He wasn't a natural fighter, and wouldn't last one battle without some sort of backup. Besides, Herter's influence was starting to affect Breshkin. He knew this would bring adventure, and couldn't bring himself to back down.

Whatever they were in for, he was going to be in it right to the end.

[Artorius]

Accepted, quaker and Ruu. Very interesting characters.

[striDer]

"The next morning he woke up with the biggest headache he had ever had."

And thus, Herter discovered what a hangover was, for he had stolen the merchant's ale!

[xraineyesx]

Working on mine, just so you know. I'll probably have it up this afternoon.

[striDer]

Name: Renna Vicksburg
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Race: Crossbreed (Werewolf/Human)

Appearance: 5’ 9” tall and exhibiting no wolf-like traits whatsoever (with the exception of some excessive hair growth and her father’s maroon eyes), Renna’s built like a rock. She’s not grossly muscular, but the Knight’s harsh physical training (combined with her feral ancestry) has honed her body to a most notable peak. Also to be noted is her wild auburn hair, naturally brisk and groomed with neat bangs. Furthermore, her features may not be the most delicate and beautiful among the female kindred, but the way she tidies herself up, along with the proud and confident look in her eyes, do certainly make her an attractive woman.
She always makes it a point to look impeccable, as she believes every aspect of one’s appearance plays an important role in their persona. “You want respect? Look respectable.”

Arsenal: Taking full advantage of the strength granted by her father’s lycan heritage, Renna usually wields a two-handed greatsword called “Asunder”, named after the gruesome hack which has claimed the life of over a dozen men already. For long distance combat, she usually favors throwing knives over bow and arrow, as they are easier to carry and don’t get in the way of her powerful swings.

Bio: Renna’s life is not a happy one. In fact, many would call it tragic and ill-fated, but she prefers to look at it as “the path which brought me to my true calling”. From birth, Renna was already destined to a wretched existence. The offspring of an affair between a meager servant and a werewolf mercenary, Renna was forced into servitude for as long as she remembers. Not only that, but she served no other than her own father, who at the time was working under the employment of a very powerful duke in the small nation of Nock. As such, she had to witness the constant abuse dealt by her father to her mom and the other servants, many of which were also her friends. There was no one (and nothing) she was more afraid of than him. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind her as long as she didn’t break anything and kept doing her chores efficiently. It wasn’t until many years later, when Renna’s mother was murdered by one of her father’s drunken friends, that his attention turned towards her. At this point, tasks that previously belonged to her mother were passed on to her; EVERY single one of them. Thus, after contemplating suicide for almost a year, Renna finally gave in one night, when she was to meet her father in his private quarters. Taking a knife with her, Renna planned to end his life and do herself in thereafter. So, in the middle of the act, once he was most vulnerable, Renna took the blade to his throat and went for the kill. However, being a seasoned veteran and remarkable warrior, her father managed to escape the fatal stroke, losing an eye in the process. Knowing her failure would mean death anyway, Renna was not yet ready to give up, not without taking him down as well. The confrontation lasted mere seconds before her father managed to restrain her, and even then she resisted, struggling like a wild animal. “You may have your mother’s frailness.” he told her then “But the fire in your eyes is mine; you are no mere human waste.”
Knowing she had potential, Renna’s father locked her down in the dungeon, where he would break her before she could be rebuilt.
“You seek my death, yet you lack the skills. Let your hatred fuel your determination and learn from me as I learned from my father; only then will you be able to raise your blade against me!”
Only after three weeks of mental strain and physical torture, pleading for death every day, did she agree.
“Look at yourself.” he goaded her, holding her beaten body in front of a cracked mirror “You are the image of weakness, so hopeless. Should I impart death upon you, it’d be an act of mercy!”
With each of his words firing her rage, Renna promised herself that one day she would stand proudly in front of that mirror, holding her father’s corpse as he held her now.

The years passed and Renna only grew stronger, enduring things no girl her age should’ve been able to endure. Eventually, on her 24th birthday, the girl, now turned woman, stepped before her father as he returned from one of his ventures. Their eyes met as she descended the cold stone steps of the facade, holding the black steel greatsword which would eventually come to be known as “Asunder”. Her intent was clear, and her words did nothing but confirm it.
“’You knew this day would come.”
The battle was heated and strenuous, lasting several hours before night covered the land. In the end, Renna was victorious, finally settling the score she’d been yearning to settle for all those years. Just then, as she quietly stood over his battered body ready to end him once and for all, small tears began to trickle down her expressionless face.
Heaving heavily, her father cackled mockingly at her.
“Don’t tell me…that even after all these years…after all the terrible things I did to you…you still feel for me as your father.”
“No.” she was quick to reply “These aren’t tears of sadness, these are tears of joy; the last tears that I’ll ever cry.”

Renna’s father was the first and only life she ever took willingly.

Once the deed was done, Renna freed all the slaves who served her father, set the manor on fire, and walked away, never to look back again.

During the next years, Renna took on mercenary jobs for a living, making a name for herself throughout Tyrosia. That was until the war started and she chose to enlist with the White Knight army.
She’s never told anyone why she sided with Enola instead of Gornada, but who knows? Maybe she figured one side was just as good as the other.

[Guilty Carrion]

Name: Ukarahu of the Feral Step
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance: A Tallonite, Ukarahu is as tall as most men, standing 6 foot even.

Arsenal: Ukarahu fights primarily with her glaive, and on rare occasions, will use her hunting bow to pick off foes.
Bio: Ukarahu is a fighter, bred, built and taught for it. Her father spared nothing in his teachings, and from a young age, she has been adept at combat. While others sought out companions, coin, love, and other toils of material, Ukarahu dedicated herself to mastery of the kill. In her homeland of Tallon, and the many lands around it, she has hunted and killed every beast, as well as the unfortunate warriors who caught her eye.

Her skill is fearsome, and she garnered a reputation of both awe-inspiring skill, and terrifying determination. She is rumoured never to have quit a hunt, pursuing one unfortunate soul beyond the trees and deep into Reardon. Few know of the truth of her time spent amongst the militaristic nation, but she returned with twin trophies. The head of her mark, and the permanent companionship of a Reardon War Beast, whom she simply calls Thrall. Their relationship, while it appears to be that of Master and Slave, is confusing at best and enigmatic at the worst. What remains certain, is the two are bonded, and it would take something far greater than death to separate them.

When Tallon was annihilated, Ukarahu survived where her kin died, although the exact nature of her survival is questionable. For whatever reason, shortly after, she was recruited into the White Knights of Enola, which many amongst her people view as a sign of betrayal. Ukarahu’s title is not of her own design, but she uses it all the same. Of the White Knights, she is an oddity, wearing no real armour to mark her as one of them, making her all the more dangerous to her marks. She is said to move without sound, and if you’re aware she’s there, it’s because she wants you to know. Rumours or no, much about Ukarahu and her motives are secret, but there is little doubt that she acts not for Enola, but for herself. To what end is for her to know, and the world to dread.

[Mustakrakish]

Hey guys, I'm really sorry that I have to do this but I am going to have to pull out of this RP. I just don't have the time right now to invest in another RP, though I wish you all the best and hope you have a blast.

[Artorius]

No problem Mustakrakish. GC and striDer, both of your characters are accepted.

[Torturous Flame]

You minded

Name: Rosalind

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Race: Vampire

Appearance: She is very small, about five feet tall and barely weighing in at one hundred pounds. She dresses in all black (unless in her armor). The all black attire is generally a simple and slightly ragged dress with a pair of boots and black tights. She is very pale, morso than most vampires. Her hair
falls just past her shoulders and is dark brown. Her red eyes are always hungry looking and are a bit deep set into her think face.

Arsenal: Rosalind has a her own magical prowess in dark magic and a wide selection of enchanted knives that are hidden all over her person.

Bio: Rosalind began her life as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family who lived in Fossa before the turbulence really began. She lived a very cushy life and had been the heart break of many a young man who tried to woo her. Her father insisted they train her in some sort of fighting. She chose magic and the use of knives. She became rather skilled in her chosen fields and often practiced her magic or with her knives to blow of steam, for she had a bit of a temper. Unfortunately her family's wealth had not come honestly. Her parents dealt with the black market and one day the family got on the wrong side of a group of vampires.

In retribution, the vampires kidnapped Rosalind from her bed and turned her, as a warning. Her family was terrified and banished her from their home. Her family never spoke to her again. Rosalind was crushed and fled Fossa to the vampire cities. It was there where she encountered artificial essence. She spent all of the money she had on it, she had been starving. From that day her body began to crave it, even natural essence could not sate the need, despite that it felt better to her. Years past, she became known as a powerful vampiress that would do anything for either artificial essence or money to buy artificial essence. She found the White Knights who eventually made her one of their own. Slowly both the addiction and the artificial essence drove her insane.

She laughed as she watched Fossa burn.

[Artorius]

After much thinking I've decided that White Armor will be for ceremonial and appearance purposes foremost. However, when in a combat situation, there will be no limitations on apparel. This however, means a stricter dress code around a White Knight encampment or when in Enola.(White plate armor)

[Artorius]

http://www.footstepsofghosts.com/t3488-tales-from-evanotia-episode-1-the-mirror-ic

There is the link to episode one. Later today I will be adding an "Episode 1" tab to the intro post which will include the link as well as a plot synopsis.

EDIT:

The IC is up! Post at your own convenience. What am I saying? REPORT FOR DUTY! (just joking, post at your conveniennce.

[Guilty Carrion]

Name: Thrall
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Race: War Beast
Appearance:
Arsenal: Thrall fights with a massive sword and a massive shield, using his massive size and horns to crush any foes.
Bio: Thrall is like any of his people. Taught from birth to be subservient and absolutely loyal, Thrall obeys any order from his perceived master, even if said order means rushing headlong to his death. As a male of suitable build, Thrall was drafted as a war slave, given a club of some weight and marched in mass alongside thousands of his kind to weigh down and eventually overrun heavily fortified positions.

Thrall was lucky enough to survive his battles, getting away with injuries small enough to be worth treating. After surviving the countless battles, Thrall was considered to be a rather suitable breeding stock, and was set to be transported back to the capital for auctioning and a simple existence of breeding to feed the war machine. Halfway through the journey, the caravan picked up a ragged looking man who offered a small fortune to travel within the convoy. The guards eagerly accepted and brought him into their protection. The journey continued without incident, and before long, they were within sight of the capital. Striking camp, the men settled comfortably into their bunks for the easy ride ahead of them.

When they awoke, they found a gruesome sight. The sentries all killed, an arrow jutting from their breast and pain twisted on their faces. From inside his cage, Thrall heard the panic and confusion, and the stuttering call for attention from their late addition. In hushed tones that Thrall had to strain to hear, he spoke of a demon he’d stumbled across in the depths of Tallon, one that threatened to hunt him to the ends of the earth. He’d felt confidant it would not be able to reach him once inside the mighty city, but that meant they needed to escape it, immediately, before it set upon them again. In favour of their lives, they abandoned their cargo. For two days, and two nights, Thrall simply sat in the confines of his container, listening for the return of his masters.

At sunset on the third day, he heard someone passing through the remnants of the camp. The footsteps stopped as they reached his container, and the war beast snorted as a pair of mismatched eyes appeared in the lone source of light. The eyes simply watched him for a moment, before flicking to look at something on the outside. Moments later, the container swung open, and a lone Tallonite woman stood before the war beast, not that he knew what a Tallonite was. The two spent what felt like hours simply sizing each other up, but the woman eventually turned her back and started to leave, murmuring something in a language he didn’t understand.

The ruined camp held nothing for him, and it wasn’t long before he was lumbering after her. She moved quickly, but his massive stride allowed him to keep some semblance of pace. They travelled in utter silence almost the entire journey to Tallon, but as they reached her homeland, the Tallonite looked to him finally, and spoke in a language he understood. “You’re still following. Why?”

The war beast didn’t respond, and the huntress simply sighed. “What is your name?” Again, he simply stared. “Very well…we’ll call you Thrall for now.” She continued on, and Thrall once more followed. Rarely has one been seen without the other since their meeting, and Thrall has loyally followed everywhere Ukarahu goes. It is no secret the two are close, and any who know Ukarahu know the best way to find her is to simply find Thrall first. Wherever he is, she won’t be far off.

He's late, but there's the ever loyal Thrall.

[Artorius]

I like the character. Definitely accepted GC. Also...

http://www.footstepsofghosts.com/t4229-downfall

There is the link to the IC!

[Torturous Flame]

Hey bro, edited my previous post as you asked. Can put up another character if you need me too.

[Artorius]

Hey bro, edited my previous post as you asked. Can put up another character if you need me too.

Nope! Perfectly fine! Two characters is optional. Welcome back

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