The Rising Age [invite only]

[Crystal Tears]

Fall free of the shackles of mortality,
granted through the elegance of the Majesty.
Your blood turned cold and empty,
as you drank from the still spewing wound.
The mark of murder that transcends reality,
blackness darker then the Shal.
Forever claiming the descendants of the betrayer,
the void of sin everlasting.
A ritual born of hate,
blood spilt of the purest grace.
Heartbroken and left to wander,
a punishment of the harshest type.
In his death your people were made beautiful,
yet empty is the gorgeous shell.
He who is the sky rose from his grave,
the Tyrant of the Earth fell from heaven,
the spirit of the traitor made null.
In the darkest depths of ash,
beyond the reaches of the divine light,
a beast rises up.
Eyes of cleansing fire,
chest empty of a beating heart,
a creature of pure malice…
Abomination of its kind.
The devils unite,
for tonight it dines on the souls of the lost.
Oblivion trembles as it comes to power.
The ultimate sin made anew,
Calen the betrayer,
rises once again.

- The Fox Prophet, The Rising Age, Seeking Quarter

Ten years ago, the Seeking Quarter came to an end with a mysterious spirit creature only known as the Fox Prophet appearing to each leader of the races. He appeared to Des’len Nirros of the Elves, to the Four Shadow Lords; Lady Ira, Lord Osus, Lord Avar, and Lady Luxria, and finally the ruler of Humanity, King Dorian.

He told them a simple poem, he spoke of the fall of Daggoth, and how he rose from his grave to become the God that many had come to love and cherish. He also whispered of Calen, the Elven warrior who struck down the Dragon Lord when he lost control of his hate and anger. He kept going, telling history, pleasing the Shadow Lords when he mentioned how the foolishness of the fabled Elf tore open a portal to the Shal realm and brought the damned race of the Umbra back into the light of the sun.

But as he reached the end, his song took an unexpected turn. He sang of the rise of the betrayer, that the ash world his spirit was sent to when he fell now trembles under the fallen God’s wrath. The Elves were thrilled, but when the Fox Prophet told them that the divine traitor would do to them what he had done to Daggoth, fear began to seep into their veins. The Shadow Lords roared in anger when the storyteller told of the second damning of their kind, sent back to the eternal void to suffer alone again. The Human King stayed silent, mulling over the idea of the fallen tearing down their God.

With that he left, vanishing into thin air. He left the races alone, and separated from one another they tried to think of how to stop what the mysterious prophet said was coming.

Eeva; a word from a forgotten tongue meaning “beauty”. It is said that Daggoth named the lands this, as he found that this world was beautiful beyond what he could have ever dreamed of.

The lands of Eeva are separated into three domains. To the west, there are the darkened lands of the Umbra, where the Shadow Lords’ powers keep the sun at bay by summoning a constant overcast or stormy sky during the day. When night falls, the clouds move away to reveal the sparkling, star studded sky which many of the Umbra have come to cherish above all else. Their capital city is the fallen Alarath, once home to the Elves before Calen perished and tore one final hole open that connected to the Shal. Many of their legends and myths have a home in the stars, and their buildings are constructed in accordance to certain notable ones. Alarath itself is situated under the Divine Star, the brightest star in the sky.

To the east is the Elven forest known as Nav’uo, extremely hard to navigate and understand, the forest is forbidding to all those who don’t possess a keen sense of direction and a rational mind. Only the Elves know how to properly travel this enchanted place, and to that end they make their home in the deepest depths of the woods. The ‘city’ is known as Fel’navi, and is the central gathering of the harsh and warrior race. It is here that major rituals and sacrifices occur. Separating the Umbra and the Elves is the large and intimidating Human empire that spans the North, Central and Southern areas. Silveredge is far to the south, built on the resting place of Daggoth to honour the risen Lord.

Magic is a skill that can be taught to all, yet truly mastered by no one. In ages past, it is believed that Daggoth saw the evil potential of spellcasting and thus made it so only certain types could be learned by the Humans and Elves. Humans, with their unwavering faith were given the ability of Curing magic, along with Aids and Ailments. Elves, with their powerful spirits and keen understanding of Eeva were given the power to control the four elements. However, when Calen rose to power, his tainted spirit granted the Elves another type of magic. It was the forbidden magic of the ash world, Demonic magic. It was also in his haste and fall, that he released the Umbra, who possessed the skill to summon spirits and to create illusions.

If one truly wants to master magic, then they must befriend others from all walks of life. Perhaps that was Daggoth’s intent, yet he was murdered before people could question him about it. Though it was clear that the Umbra were not part of his original design, for when he was resurrected, he was forced to stem the tide of the Shal beings by creating a fourth race.

The Dragons.

Powerful beasts of mere legend, Daggoth charged them with defending Humanity from the Umbra. As such, a major war was fought between the Shadow Lords and the mighty Dragons. When the Umbra finally surrendered, this allowed mankind to befriend the powerful winged beasts so they could try and end the Elven reign. Their first attempt was thwarted; Calen simply struck them down, now that the Umbra were lesser in number and not straining his magic.

Striking a deal with the Shadow Lords, Humanity and the Umbra united. Unable to ride Dragons however, the Umbra summoned Abyss Ravens from the Shal, and joined their allies in the sky. His magic broke, and Calen was struck down from his heavenly seat by the two very races he had sought to control. The Elves fled as their God tumbled down to the ground, in one final act of vengeance, Calen tore open a massive portal to the Shal realm.
If he could not have Alarath, then he would ensure Humanity would not have it either.

With a surge of power, the Shadow Lords betrayed mankind, forcing Humanity to retreat back to their lands as the Umbra twisted the once proud city into a mockery of what it once was. With that act of treachery, it was ensured that the Umbra would never mount a dragon as a ride.

That was the Betrayal Age, long ago history that is still fresh in people’s minds as they go about their day to day business.


The Rising Age: named for the prophesied second rise of Calen, the Earth Tyrant. Though many have brushed such a tale off as a mad spirit’s legend, an Umbra scholar in the remote Shade of Na’aya has seen changes in the stars. Their silver beauty is not nearly as strong as it once was, and the yearly passing of Eeva’s Comet has not come to pass. Ssus wrote down his concerns in his journal, and quickly ran to Alarath’s Astral Librarium to report his findings. It was there that Ssus and fellow scholars came to a horrifying realization, that the absence of the comet was an omen.

A terrible omen; one which they could only partly understand.

The silence between the races was broken, the Shadow Lords sent emissaries to both Silveredge and Fel’navi. They called for a gathering of scholars, mages, shamans, interpreters… Anyone who believed they could help shed light on the phenomena. The gathering was marked to happen in the ancient city of Sith, a place far to the North and built into the unexplored mountains.

Sith, a city once home to Elves and Humans alike, for years it laid quiet and abandoned. In its depth was a sacred hall of knowledge, where the ancient tongue and symbols from the Betrayal Age are preserved perfectly in the walls of the chamber. In the center is a statue of a dragon, fearsome and awe-inspiring, its eyes glowing from a still active ancient spell. In these halls, people gathered; commoner, or highborn. Anyone with knowledge of the arcane, or just an insatiable sense of curiosity appeared.

But another omen is about to appear, one with a far stronger message than the last. Those that have gathered for whatever reason are about to be thrown into an adventure that will be the ending tale of the Rising Age.

What will the Final quarter hold?

THE RISING AGE
The Final Quarter

Magic:

Healing + Aids & Ailments: Not meant for the front lines, those who specialize in healing can will a comrade’s flesh to heal in seconds, or eradicate poison from someone’s bloodstream. Aids & Ailments allow the caster to weaker enemy armor, while perhaps strengthening an ally’s.
Crystal Tears (High Maiden Cicily)

Zealot: Also known as smiting, Zealot magic is the brutal side of Daggoth. It takes the form as bright lights and arcs of lightning. It has a superb effective on the unholy creatures of Eeva, particularly demons. Using smiting magic on a pure soul however, can have ill effects on the mage who cast the spell…
ChobiChibi (Sir William Casland)

Elemental: Control of the four elements: Earth, Fire, Water and Air. Many creatures are aligned with a particular element, and using the opposite of them can make the battle that much easier. A word of warning though, as perhaps the most destructive aspect of magic, it can be hard to control, and can easily consume the wielder.
Mew Master (Shaman Ugdagah of the Fire Mountain Tribe)

Demonic: Opposing Zealots, Demonic magic is harnessed from the depths of the Ash world. Tainting your own soul, the mage wields the blackest of spells, able to use their mind to destroy an opponent. They can also receive prophetic nightmares from the demons they’ve made deals with, though each time the mage strikes a new deal, the darker their own soul becomes.
VirtualPlay (Demon Hunter Morea)

Illusions + Curses: Perhaps the most subtle spells, illusions can throw an enemy off, make the caster incredibly persuasive, or cause the enemy to kill him or herself. Curses are slow to take effect, often lying dormant for minutes to years (pending on the hex). However, once a curse has begun to take effect, those who turn out to be victims, will beg for a death the curse is likely to draw out for eons.
River (Mercenary Johann Stein: A Walking Weapon)

Evoker: The oldest of magics, and by far the hardest to master. Evoking summons a spirit to aid the summoner; whether it’s in a specific task or battle. Evokers must make deals with spirits to be able to summon them, and no Evoker can have more than four spirits tied to them at a time.
Weasel Overlord (Stargazer Leeryl Kkaht Rylkk)

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: Human, Elf, or Umbra. Halfbreeds are allowed.
Religion: Majesty’s Chapel (Daggoth: Healing + Aids & Ailments, or Zealot), Calen Ka’lon (Earth Tyrant: Elemental or Demonic), Shalyss (Lady Ira, Lord Osus, Lord Avar, Lady Luxria: Illusions + Curses or Evoker)
Magic Specialty: Be careful when you pick, when the types have a ‘+’ between them, that means you can have both. When there is an ‘or’, you can have one or the other. Not both.
Appearance: Umbra are the most diverse, seeing as they are original spiritual beings, when they turn physical, they can look like almost anything. Use your imagination when you’re an Umbra.
Personality:
History:
Weapon: Medieval weapons, no guns or cannons.
Spells: General idea, don’t start off with too many.
Home: Which city/village/town/clan/shade (Umbra town) do you come from? You can make up places, just be sure to mention what it’s like and where it is on a map.
Mount: Dragon (Wyvern, Drake, Wyrm), Abyss Raven or None. You do not need a mount to be important.
Mount’s Name:
Mount’s Appearance: The Mount’s appearance depends on the Rider’s. A pure soul who has a Dragon will have a Wyvern, the most beautiful of Dragons. Those who are evil or corrupt will have a Wyrm, twisting dragons that are sinister. Drakes are for those who fall somewhere in between.
Other:

[Mew Master]

w00t! I'm in! Reserve me a spot if you haven't already Miss Tears.

[Crystal Tears]

Name: Cicily Mhathúna

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Race: Hybrid: Human + Elf


Religion: Majesty’s Chapel

Magic Specialty: Healing + Aids & Ailments

Appearance: Cicily stands at a quaint 5’5’’ with dark red (nearly crimson, but at times shines a brilliant dark orange) hair comes down her to chin. Her eyes are a vivid, beautiful green that changes shades depending on her emotions. Her skin is beautiful fair, without a blemish or scar in sight. As it should be really, the girl has led quite the sheltered life in the Majesty’s High Chapel in Silveredge. She wears a simple, pure white robe that would be more form fitting it there wasn’t daring slits in the sides. They travel up, all the way to her very upper thigh before the slit stops. The front is loose and a deep v-neck, exposing her chest and abdomen to a point. However, she wears a dark blue, piece of clothe over her breasts, so she’s not revealing anything indecent. Often she’ll have her hood up, hiding her face in shadow. Many say she shouldn’t though, Cicily is known throughout the chapel for her unrivaled beauty, but her shyness keeps her from openly flaunting it around (she does not wear shoes or boots, it is forbidden for a Maiden of the Majesty to do so). Her ears, while elf like, are shorter than the average elf, and a little less edgy. She does retain the ability to move them however, which is an envied Elven trait.

Personality: Cicily is quite shy; since she was little people have spoken of her beauty and flawless design. This should’ve boosted her ego, but instead, as she was flaunted around by her proud, controlling high-born parents, she withdrew. When she hit sixteen, and the suitors began to appear at the door, Cicily ran to the Chapel for an escape. There, they encouraged her quiet, reserved nature to the point where the girl only talked to other people if absolutely necessary. Cicily then can be summed up in three words: kind, curious, and shy. Often she will try to solve puzzles and problems on her own, as she has apprehensions about interacting with people. When talking to people, particularly attractive men, she most often blushes, even if she’s not embarrassed.

History: As stated in her personality, Cicily was born into the Mhathúna family. However, she was not exactly what her human father was expecting. She was the result of a shady affair her mother had with an Elven bodyguard. Cicily never knew her real father, as the guards to the family were quickly changed after her birth. Surprisingly, her human father welcomed her happily into his life, her mother, perhaps outraged that her child’s physical appearance had revealed her less then desirable affair, shunned her most of the time. As she grew though, neither parent could deny her outstanding beauty, and thus her mother took to flaunting her fledging daughter around. Such attention was unwanted however; Cicily grew intimidated by how many people were captivated by her. Her parents would fight about it, but in the end her mother won. Cicily was parading around more like a prized dragon then a human being.

Her father, in attempt to bring happiness to his daughter, introduced Cicily when she was fifteen to a Knight named Selene. Selene had been anxious to meet the teenager who was thought to be the most beautiful person in all of Eeva. Upon meeting the reserved girl, Selene found it a challenge to even get the girl to accept she was at least attractive, let alone beautiful. Cicily would always counter that people thought her skin was beautiful, not her soul, and thus because no one actually knew her, how could she be beautiful? Wanting to convince the girl, the young knight pulled some strings in the Chapel’s Dragon Registration and gave to Cicily a drake. After the bonding ceremony, the drake transformed into a gorgeous silver wyvern, whose once intimidating horns had transformed into sleek, long silver feathers. In front of her was proof that she was indeed as pure and wonderful as so many thought, and the teenager was thrilled.

But home life was getting worse, as her mother began to try and marry her off. Cicily, only sixteen, was clearly not ready for that. She bolted from her home, and ran to the Majesty’s High Chapel as a refuge. It was then and there she joined the Chapel, never wanting to have any part of the noble life ever again. Though her father was saddened by his daughter’s choice, he could understand it.

Cicily’s life in the Chapel was a simple one, she rose up the ranks because she was quiet, understanding and spent most of her time wandering the grounds with Selene, reading, or in meditation. Though recently rumours had begun to surface at just how close Selene and Cicily were, the High Maiden chose to go to Sith without her faithful companion. That soon stopped the rumours, though Cicily would’ve much preferred to travel with her old friend.

Weapon: None. She doesn’t fight. She has some basic combat training, but that’s it. It looks much more like dancing though, the combat aspect was only taught by Selene to try and give the poor priestess some defense.

Spells: Simple healing spells, she can ease the symptoms of poisonings so someone else can arrive to cure the victim. Her most handy spell is basic mana armor, as long as she can concentrate on the spell, a single ally will receive a bonus to defense.

Home: Grand City of Silveregde, a sprawling city of proud humans, some of which frown on her because of her Elf father.

Mount: Wyvern

Mount’s Name: Aiday

Mount’s Appearance: Aiday is a Wyvern, a beautiful, majestic dragon who is covered in gleaming silver scales and sleek feathers. She looks a bit more bird like then the drakes, and she cannot roar. Instead she sounds like a falcon or an eagle; very rarely does she manage to force a terrifying call out of her throat worthy of the name ‘Dragon’. She’s an older dragon, intended as a broodmother until she saw Cicily and felt a spiritual bond with the meek girl. Her appearance gives off the impression of regal, important, and maybe even royal. Her eyes are a deep, capturing purple, and her pupils are vaguely star shaped. Aiday is large enough to have three people sit comfortably on her, anymore and it gets crowded.

Other: Across Eeva, Cicily is renowned for her beauty, some going as far as calling her the spirit bride of Daggoth.

Eventually I draw her... Eventually... XD

[VirtualPlay]

Name: Mórea
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Half-Elf (Half-Human), but hides it and appears Human.
Religion: Calen Ka’lon
Magic Specialty: Demonic

Appearance: Mórea stands around 5'7", with a slim figure that hides her muscles. Her skin is a pale ivory, with a slight ashy tinge to it. Her face is slender, framed by a head of wavy, raven black hair; her irises are also solid black, so one can't tell how wide her pupils are.
Mórea wears a sturdy yet flexible leather chest-piece, black in color with no sleeves and the neck settling in a low V that would border on indecent save for a blood red tube of cloth she wears around her breasts under the tunic. She has a pair of short leather shorts that, if any shorter, would probably be indecent as well; these are also black.
She wears a pair of leather gloves that expose her fingertips and which are padded on the back of her hand and fingers, as well as a padded headband she wears which, along with her wavy hair, covers her elven ear tips; they are both stained blood red. Her boots are black leather as well, come halfway up her calf, and have pockets in which she hides throwing knives.
Her daggers hang in sheathes off of a blood-red leather belt; the sheathes themselves are black and have runes etched into them for the names of the two blades.

Personality: Mórea's personality can be summed up in two words: sassy bitch. She is first and foremost for herself; everyone else's concerns are second to her own needs. She doesn't talk much, but when she does she makes sure everyone hears what she has to say. However, she's not hot-headed, nor is she stupid, and actually thinks about what she's going to say before letting the words fly. She also listens to people and puts their information to good use, even if it's for her own use later on.
If you get on her good side, she definitely won't kill you in the night, and if you're lucky she might personally help you out once or twice. Get on her bad side and you had better hope you sleep with a full guard.

History: Mórea has had a tough life from the start. She was born a half-elf into an elven community, and as such was looked down upon by the pure elves around her as she grew up. Her elven mother was one of about half a dozen that did not share this same prejudice. Which explains why when her mother was murdered by unknown entities, Mórea snapped a little inside. As she wasn't even 17 yet (really young for an elf, even a half-elf), nobody in the elven community felt she had matured enough to handle it properly. Which is why they were surprised when she ran away not too long after.
Mórea wandered the elven lands, searching for a means to exact her vengeance. Her mother had told her stories of demons who made 'deals' for wishes or special abilities. Despite her age, she knew the risks and the price, yet still sought out a demon to make a deal with. A few presented themselves to her, but she shooed them away, saying she didn't like their style. Finally, after about six months of searching, she found a demon who struck her as the right kind.
Mórea made her first deal that day, coincidentally on her 17th birthday. The demon, who called himself Gral, gave Mórea the ability to become invisible, asking her to use this ability to slay a certain few elves as payment. Mórea knew this was an easy task, yet rather than treating it as such and getting full of herself, she took a few months and completed the task as carefully as she could. Gral seemed genuinely impressed, and went on to make her more deals to help her exact her vengeance, ones that would take a lot longer to repay.

Weapon: She has a pair of daggers, twins made by the same blacksmith. They are Umbral in origin and are called Brial and Koen. They are slim daggers with a slight curve on the back edge. The handles are wrapped with thin black leather straps, and the hilts have a blood red gem in each. She also has a bunch of throwing knives she carries in small pockets in her boots.
Spells:
- Invisibility: She can make herself completely invisible, and only the most advanced magics can see through it. She can't move very quickly or it'll break.
- Improved Vision: Her eyes have been enhanced, allowing her to see at night as if it were a clear sunny day, as well as letting her see far off objects clearly; currently the distance vision hurts her head if used too frequently.
- Coercion: She can talk her way into and out of just about anything by creating an aura of demonic energy around herself that messes with the minds of those she speaks to; it currently is still a strain to use for much longer than a couple minutes.

Home: Fallothan Village, about 70 miles south-southeast of Fel'navi.
Mount: Dragon - Wyrm
Mount’s Name: Rámamornie - literally, wings of blackness. Mórea calls her Ráma for short.
Mount’s Appearance: Ráma, as her namesake claims, has wings of the darkest black. Her body is a deep crimson color, about the color of blood. She is a relatively small wyrm, only able to carry Mórea, and only because Mórea is rather small herself.
Other: Her natural elven beauty is the only thing that keeps her looking as human/elven as she does after all the deals she has made with Gral.

[Weasel Overlord]

Am I the only one who finds it near-impossible to read such dark text? BE LESS DARK, PLX.

Anyway. This is long. I have no apologies.

Name: Leeryl Kkaht Rylkk
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Race: Umbra
Religion: Shalyss
Magic Speciality: Invoker
Appearance: Looking at Leeryl, the first thing that would come to mind is “insubstantial.” She stands at an exceptionally tall 7' 2”, and any bared flesh is the colour of smoke – with the intense feeling that, should you wish it, you could pass your hand right through her. You can't, though. And if you should try, Leeryl will probably punch you in the face with her whip handle. Though she is so tall, she doesn't look ungainly with it – her figure is slender enough to be beautiful, but not thin enough so that she looks gangly and clumsy. She has knotted muscles at her arms and legs, and her stomach is as hard as starmetal. But as for her outward appearance, she looks somewhat like an approximation of a chimera: her feet are clawed like a big cat, her hands taloned like an eagle; her hair resembles that of a lion and her legs and arms are scaled like a reptile, tapering off and blending together until nubs of feathers start to form – as such, her elbows, ankles and any protruding bones are feathered long, elegant and flexible. Her eyes are like stars, too bright to look directly at if she is in a rage or intensely happy, and dimming to grey when pensive or at peace. Her nose is sharp, with a tinge of eagle about it, and there are feathers flecked throughout her leonine hair, which reaches down to the back of her knees – it surrounds her face as a lion's mane does, only longer, and is attached to her spine until it reaches the bottom and tapers like a ponytail.
Her scales are flashing silver and smoke, near blinding when they catch the light; her feathers are all colours imaginable, red, magenta, royal blue, and all the brightest shades; her hair is white like the light of a star, and the fine, wispy parts silver to brightness (the feathers in her hair are the same as the others – varying in colour); her claws and talons are blackest pitch.
She wears scraps of clothing as so-called “modesty” requires, but she cares not whether her breasts are showing or whether she looks “indecent.” Her skirt is short and makeshift, nothing but a broad silver belt about her slender waist with scraps of coloured material interspersed with smoke-colour dangling from it. None of the scraps is the same length as another, and they are all raggedly cut. On her top half, Leeryl wears a hood/mini-cloak thing. It falls about her shoulders (and not much lower), with a gathered hood that she barely ever puts up – the material is insubstantial and gauzy, and of a similar pale silver colour to her belt. On her feet, she wears nothing. How can you get shoes to fit clawed feet? Her skirt-belt contains loops for her Evoking dirks on her left and right hips, and she carries her whip tucked into it, next to her skin.
Personality: Leeryl is sort of a terror. She is proud to a fault, haughty and will not hesitate to chastise anyone she does not like. She is quick-tempered, completely asexual save for her “starlord,” whom she will not mention except for the times before her Evocations, when she utters a breathy prayer to him, whoever he may be.
Though quick to temper, she is also quick to laugh – she feels her emotions deeply, though she will never divulge their precise nature. Leeryl is defiant of orders she finds stupid, and openly disdainful to those she counts as fools. She is strikingly intelligent, and certainly not afraid to argue a point.
She has no forced-upon ideals about how one should look when travelling outside Umbra-territory, and so she cares not a jot about people's reactions to her outlandish form. When met with stares, she will stare right back, her head held high and her eyes piercing until the rude one is subdued.
During the night, she is in her element, and she can often be found looking upwards, searching for the stars she calls her friends.
History: Leeryl has spent the majority of her life studying the magic of Evoking, and her knowledge of it is deep. Her childhood was not out of the ordinary. And I hate histories, so I will reveal as the RPG goes on. ^_^;;
Weapon: Primary - Whip. It's pure, black-as-pitch and made of a material that is unknown. Leeryl might claim that it's the hairs of a star-lord, plucked from a fallen and plaited, but you shouldn't believe her. What you should believe is that it's harder than leather has any right to be, and would hurt like a bitch if it hit you. It also is quite capable of taking off a limb. The whip is three metres in length, and Leeryl is extremely deft with it. The handle is of the same polished wood as her Evoking dirks, and is very hefty. Good for smacking people with, should they come too close.
Secondary – Leeryl needs a sharp weapon for her Evoking-work, and this comes in the form of a small dirk (size between a knife and a shortsword). Spirits are demanding folk, and they will not be satisfied with any old dirk; as such, Leeryl must have one per spirit, for fear of something going wrong and her control slipping. At the moment, she has the ability to Evoke two spirits, who will be described below, and so she carries two of these dirks at her waist. Their blades are long and twisted (similar to a narwhal's tusk – mostly, they look a mess), each one is different as blown glass, and as it is, fairly impossible to injure anyone with by slashing. The tip is the only dangerous part, as with the rapier and épée. Now, on a quick glance, the blades would look to be of a strange, swirling design, darkest red in colour, but closer inspection reveals that they are actually filled with blood – the blades are hollow. An Umbra's blood is much darker than any other race's, and it seems to shine from within with unholy light. If you ever saw the dirks before Leeryl begins her first joining, you would see that they're made of a strange material similar to glass, with a blackish tinge. The hilts are sturdy and fit perfectly to Leeryl's hands; made of smooth black wood, polished and smoothed to perfection. They feel warm to the touch, and where they join the blades, there is a deep groove, into which a thread is fitted with a dangling charm to signify which spirit it belongs to. Each charm is different, and will be described in the section below.
Spirits: (1) Castevaris. He is Leeryl's first spirit-deal, and her fondest as far as one can be fond of a spirit bound to you by blood. He matches her for height, and is similar in his chimera appearance, the main differences being that Castevaris is white-winged as a pegasus. His specialisations are aerial reconnaissance, being as eagle-eyed as his origins state, and he can spot an enemy from miles away. His talons are sharp as metal, though he is a spirit, and he excels in scout combat – attacking from the air and diving away before he can be hit. His personality is bird-like, and he is quick to insult. His dirk's glass is whiter than the second, and his charm is a single wing on white thread.
(2) Firrenar. She is Leeryl's second spirit-deal, and her dirk is purer black and nearly opaque. Her spirit-form is that of a panther, as smoke-insubstantial as Leeryl's skin and green-eyed as emeralds. She is as good as Castevaris as spotting enemies, but she works best on the ground. Her fighting style is subtle; she stalks her enemy and brings them down with a tackle. Her charm is an emerald caught in a pitch claw, dangling from green thread.
Home: Polaris – a small eyrie-type Shade deep within the mountains. It is star-linked to its namesake, Polaris.
Mount: None. Leeryl is a firm believer in using what you were born with to live by, and so she is firmly supported by her legs.
Other: A note on pronunciation: if you think you've got it right, you probably haven't. Umbra language is incomprehensible to both humans and elves, but a close approximation could be reckoned at “Lee-rill Kuh-kat Rill-kuh-kuh,” with much emphasis on the italicised parts.
A note on Evoking: to begin an Evocation, Leeryl must first make a new dirk for the ritual. This process is secret to those who do not follow the magic of Evoking. Once the dirk is made, it requires a blood-sacrifice to fill it, hence the sharpened point, which contains a hidden hole. The point must be stabbed into a place of power on the body – a place where blood runs freely. The blade must be kept in the artery til it is completely full, and then, near-fainting from blood-loss, the Evoker must draw a specific symbol on the ground with her sacrificed blood. This is the spirit-circle, and as long as there is blood within the dirk, the summoned cannot leave. Each spirit-circle is different, and unique to whichever spirit is required, and so research must be done to determine which would be best for the Evoker's needs.

[Crystal Tears]

^_^ Kirst and Mike, your both accepted! Good work to the both of you.

[Mew Master]

Name: Ugdagah Kek Tura
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Religion: Calen Ka’lon (Earth Tyrant: Elemental)
Magic Specialty: Elemental
Appearance: A very large man. Every member of his tribe are large compared to normal humans. Years of living in the wild untamed lands have bred for the large and strong as well as the quick witted. Ug himself stands at around seven foot tall and is strongly built at around 300 lbs of toned and hardened muscles. Scars etch around his heavily muscled body. His skin is a darker tone, scarred and burned from the elements. This face is chiseled, with a thin beard growing along his jaw line and long unkempt hair with various talismans and bones tied into it. Ug's clothing is mostly skins and hand-crafted leather covering his waist, feet, and wrists. The rest of his body is bare for showing off the ritualistic tattoos and scars. A wolf pelt hangs off his head and is tied around his chin, making him almost look more feral. His eyes blaze with power and rage, a dark red flickering in the dark. Some of his tattoos also cover his face and shoulders.
Personality: Blunt, and to the point. Ug carries himself without deceit. Those that survive their right of passage in the Tribe have gained the right to live, and Ug managed to do that and more. He thrives in battle, and thinks that the simplest solution to most problems is to kill it so it doesn't come back to kill you later. He takes slights as personal attacks on his honor and will challenge those that don't honor him in one fashion or another. Honor to family, tribe, and comrades means a lot to Ug, and he will die to defend or aid anyone that he has honor for. Those that don't survive had no right to life, but that doesn't mean he's a cold heartless bastard.
History: Ugdagah is the third son of the chieftain of the Fire Mountian Tribe. Born to the harsh life of living next to an active volcano chain, his tribe has been known for their powerful magic that channels the natural rage of the land. As the chieftain third son, Ug had to grow up competitively with his older brothers. Even though the average life of the tribe members was short, their father lived hard, fast, and always survived. And thus the way to win the seat of chieftain was to be decided whenever their father died. Which he never seemed to do.

Ug grew up being a scrapper, getting stronger and stronger with every fight. His brothers, other young members of the tribe. It was a world of conflict, battle, survival and honor. At 13, Ug passed the Rite of Passage, the youngest in the Tribe's history, surpassing his own father who had completed it at 14. Like some of the tibe, Ug had the elements on his side. He could hear the elements speak. Speak of pain and loss, of rage and passion, of words and wisdom. With the element's help he passed the rite of passage.

The rite of passage was to claim a Dragon for the tribe and their personal mount. However, instead of getting one Dragon, Ug managed to get a Broodmother! Communing with the elements, he had managed to 'one-up' his brothers and their rite of passage by presenting a massive gift of food and promises of safety.

Competition between the brothers was still fierce, but the bonds of family and honor stopped them from killing each other, or using underhanded tactics. Their father still lives and leads the tribe, with the brothers fufilling various duties throughout the tribe.

The Tribe had in its possesion, thanks to Ug, a Dragon Broodmother under their care. The Dragon allows the tribe to take her brood for mounts, as long as the tribe protects her and her younger collection of chicks. In the last few days, a band of raiders tried to take the mother, but was repelled by the tribe's ferocity and tenacity. They had managed to get their hands on a single egg before retreating. When this was found out, Ug wasted no time in issuing a warband to gather and go after the raiders. They were last seen heading south, towards Sith...
Weapon: Two large Great Axes. Made of sharpened bone and hard wood. The handles are about as long as Ug's forelimb with a massive curved blade at the end of each and a small pike jutting opposite of the blade.
Spells: Fire of Rage (causes the blades of the axes to glow red-hot without damaging the bone, making them slice through flesh like a hot knife through butter), Earth Fury (jagged rocks cover his fists), Voice (send a message on the wind to an individual, arrives in a breeze), Battle Rage (Flares up the adrenaline in anyone who can hear him and whipping them into a frenzy, based off of water and fire elements).
Home: The Fire Mountian Camp. Several days travel north/northeast of Sith.
Mount: Drake
Mount’s Name: Erak Tu Rudak (Third son)
Mount’s Appearance: Ug's Drake is the third born of the brood after the Broodmother came to the Tribe. The two being's souls resonated, and just as Ug has the soul of a frenzied warrior, Erak also looks rugged and battle-ready.

Erak has small, thin, forearms that can't support its weight, while his wings are large and massive causing the wings to act as a pair of forelimbs. His hind legs are large, developed, and digitgrade. While running he can support his movement with his hind legs, however without that momentum, he has to relay on his wings for stability. He has a long tail that helps in aerial and terrestrial balance.

Erak's head is a massive wedge-shaped with a maw lined with sharp irregularly shaped teeth. Scales along his body are long, sharp and jagged, making it dangerous to approach him without his permission. His scales are a dark crimson red.
Other: Theme: Indestructible
Quote: “You take what you want, leave little behind. You don't hear the earth's cries, the fire's roars, the water's pain, the wind's rage. Be patient, and I will show you their anger.”

[ChobiChibi]

Name: Sir William Casland
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Religion: Majesty’s Chapel
Magic Specialty: Zealot

Appearance: Standing at around 6ft even, William has a strong, athletic build, reflecting the numerous years of training he has endured. His muscles are well defined, but he is not a broad chap. He has thick, dark brown hair, probably around 4 inches at its longest point, and never really looks the same. He tends to let it do whatever it feels like, often sporting a bed head look even if he has actually tried to tame it. His eyes are an odd olive green colour and are often the feature that gives away his emotions first if he is trying to mask them (which he isn’t very good at in the first place). As for armour, William chooses lighter armour, mostly just on the upper half of his body (he favours agility rather than defense). It is in quite good condition, silver in colour (although certainly not as shiny as it once was), with a few little dents and scrapes here and there. This consists of a breastplate, extending over the shoulders and around his bicep, stopping just before his elbow. Underneath, he wears a dark grey long sleeved t-shirt, which is rather well fitting. Attached to the breastplate at the collar bone is a cape that reaches to the back of his knees. It is navy blue in colour, with silver edgings and the crest of the Majesty’s Chapel embroided in silver stitching. Around his waist are two belts: one to hold up his trousers (for want of a better word...), which is black with a silver buckle, and the second holding the sheath for his sword which is a more durable and worn looking black leather. His trousers (cos I refuse to use the word pants) are also black, tucking into his leather boots. Across his chest are two black leather straps, criss-crossed over each other, one holding his shield onto his back, the other attached to his quiver (holds around 30 arrows). His body is covered in numerous scars from previous battles and training, but strangely, there are quite a number on his hands. He makes no attempt to cover them, but doesn’t like to talk about how he got them.

Personality: William’s superiors, if asked, would make a point to emphasize just how much determination the man has. He will never give up on a cause, no matter how unlikely it is to succeed. He is loyal to the point where he will fight to the death, especially if he feels any attachment to the cause, or even perhaps the person, he is fighting to protect. Unfortunately, he tends to learn lessons the hard way, often ignoring advice and running into the fray with little thought, landing himself in trouble. However, he is skilled enough to get himself out of such situations (a high pain threshold helps!).
Away from his duties, William is generally a nice guy to be around. He longs to help people, often to the point where it might be seem like he is protecting them. He can’t help it; he’s just rather compassionate and empathises with others easily. He has a strong sense of justice, which is why he will often hold grudges against people (sometimes for an unreasonable amount of time) if he feels that they have wronged him, or anyone he is close to. He has a good sense of humour, and although his enthusiasm for causes to fight for come across very strongly, he tries to hide emotions that could get him far too involved, knowing exactly where the line is between work and socialisation. However, that doesn’t mean to say that he wouldn’t be willing to cross that line. He finds it very hard not to get attached to people, but tries to be professional about it. Brave. Brave and heroic.

History: His training started at the age of 16 and became a full knight at the age of 20. His grandfather was also a knight and specialised in archery which is partly the reason why he wanted to join in the first place. The bow he uses belonged to his grandfather also. He has just been assigned to protect Cicily. He has met her before, but only briefly, with no memorable conversations or incidents, just small talk.

Weapon: A standard issue sword (boring and plain, but sharp and shiny), shield (of a similar design to the cape: silver edges, navy background with the crest in silver) and his grandfather’s bow. The bow itself is made of a lightweight metal rather than wood and is supposed to resemble the shape of a dragon’s wing (I will draw it soon, so it makes more sense).

Spells: William only has one spell: Smiting. Lightning crackles around his weapon (applies to both sword and arrows) and strikes his foe at the same time as his weapon. However, it varies in intensity, which is conveniently colour coded! The least powerful is yellow, going to orange, red, purple, blue, florescent blue and bright white. There is one level higher than that where a lightning bolt comes down from the sky and strikes the enemy, but this is rare and causes instant death most of the time. He has indefinite control over the yellow and orange intensities, and if he tries really hard, the red too.
For him, his Zealot can be affected by his emotions. Sometimes, if he is in a situation where he could die, or his enemy is too strong for him to be able to keep the person he is protecting safe, the intensity of his smiting can spike out of his control, reaching the higher end of the spectrum. As he’s not used to such power, it tires him after use (so it had better be effective!).

Home: A reasonable sized town a few miles outside Silveredge called Wicker, but currently resides in the Majesty’s Court in Silveredge.

Mount: None. Although he has been taught how to ride, he prefers not to.

Other:Ummm...

[Crystal Tears]

Awesome! 8D You're both accepted as well! Now all we do is wait for Rio... *goes to prod*

[Pichu Luver]

Name: Johann Stein (Yo-han Sh-tine)

Age: 95

Gender: M

Race: Human/Umbra hybrid

Religion: Shalyss

Magic Specialty: Illusions and Curses

Appearance: A tough ragged man who amazingly has no scars on his face even though he has never worn any armour to protect it. His is not huge, only 5'10, but he is a tough muscle-bound man. He isn't a 'body-builder' type but anyone can tell you do not f*** with this guy. His eyes are a striking blue colour that glows in the dark. Most of time (at least when the suns out) he wears dark tinted glass lenses wrapped in leather over his eyes. His hair is a light blond colour and a couple inches long. He normally has a couple days old beard.

For 'clothing' he wears a metal chest plate with shoulder guard. His waist is protected with linked armour so he can move. The outside of his upper thighs are protected by a 'skirt' of metal coming off the waist and his calves are also wrapped in steel. His helmet has a neckguard in the back and the chest plate folds up a bit to protect the front. The rest is hardened leather but all of it has been etched with a pattern of flying birds. His feet are protected by tough leather boots. Underneath his wears a white tunic with formfitting brown trews. He also has a navy blue cloak and the hood is normally up, nearly obscuring his face.

Personality: This man don't take no shit and but gives lots of it. He revels in fighting as he is exceptionally good at it. He tells it like it is and what he thinks with no pesky censor getting in the way of his words. No patience to speak of but he doesn't have temper. He just goes about his rather unsavory business. He doesn't have many morals other then the main one of you don't f*** with women unless they invite you to their bed. And they usually do as he ain't a bad looking man. He has his pride, honour for his word, but not much in the way of ethics (what he's paid to do he'll do, other then the one mentioned above). He don't kill people for looking at him sideways except if they doubt his skills at combat, then they find their eye fixated that way in death. He drinks but can hold his liquor well, and in most ways can be described as an asshole. But you don't dare call him such or you'll find yourself with a new one. Not that he cares about your opinion really it just you were irritating.

History: His dad disappeared somewhere after 'experimenting' with his mom. Don't matter much to him as his mom raised him fine. Well he's not the most polite fellow ever but someone had to pay the bills and he found he was good at fighting. He went to the 'proper' channels but found all that 'fighting for the right reasons' complete bullshit. So he went from Knight training to mercenary. Politeness is not something to be found in the Mercenary Guild. Least not the one he went too to train. He got shit for being a half-breed but once he started beating the other trainees into the ground they found it wise to stop their cracks. Since then he went from job to job, the ones that paid the best and generally he's a wealthy man. He is VERY good at killin' folks of all kinds. Known to anyone who wants someone or something dead; so long as the pay is good, and it can be killed with physical weapons, it's done (anything, so that includes children). He could stop but doesn't see the point. He's good at it and thanks to his faithless pa, rather still young for his age, appearing to be in his early thirties. While he can still swing a fan he going to keep on killin' folks as it seems there's always a need for it.

Weapon: He's a friggin' walking armoury. You name it he has it somewhere on his person. A longsword, pair of long knives, probably around 25 small throwing daggers (he isn't sure), a dagger, a shortbow, poison darts, smoke bombs, a retractable blade on both his wrists, two hatchets, two sickles, pair of fans, a walking stick that can either be another thin sword or a spear, an umbrella, acid in flasks and a leather working kit. His armour is not to be messed with either. His armour has sharpened points on it. He does not have a face guard though.

Just to note where everything is on his person,
His longsword, hatchets and dagger are on his belt. Along with a few throwing knives. His long knives are on his back under his pack and quiver. The poison dart thrower is usually near his mouth to launch them. His smoke bombs are on a belt around his stomach on his front. The sickles are attacked to the armour on the outside of his thighs. The fans are up his sleeves. The umbrella is on his back with his pack, leather working kit, quiver and shortbow. His acid is not normally with him unless he needs it. The rest of the throwing knives are spread throughout his person.

Spells: Illusions: Drunken Fool: Useful in cities, makes people believe he is stumbling around very, very drunk.

Illusions: Cackle: Makes one believe a bunch of goulies are haunting them, scaring the shit out of most people.

Curses: Mind that Divot: Makes one trip constantly for a week starting almost instantaneously.

Home: Tillot, a human village on the edge of their lands next to the Umbra.

Mount: Abyss Raven

Mount’s Name: Vona

Mount’s Appearance: A giant blue-black raven with golden eyes. She is a tad bigger then the eagles of the RotK movie. She has a sturdy leather saddle on her and a few more throwing daggers and arrows attached to it. She has much of the appearance of her rider, don't mess with her or your very much dead.

Other: Likes to call dragon riders 'lizard lovers' and their dragons 'wannabe birds'

[Crystal Tears]

Awesome, your accepted. :3 This will start soon!