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- Nov 14, 2008
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You are all adventurers Traveling to Selena city the Capital city of the Human kingdoms, answering to the call for a Champion sent out to the world by the emperor. He sent this Call for a Champion as a New threat has emerged in the West, a threat unknown to the world until now. People started calling it The Blight, what exactly this New threat is nobody knows as so for nobody has heard from any survivors from the lost territory’s.
As an adventurer answering to the Call for a Champion, you travel to Selena to take part in the champion tournament, a tournament witch will decide who will be the Champion that will lead the Human army’s into Battle against this threat.
As an adventurer answering to the Call for a Champion, you travel to Selena to take part in the champion tournament, a tournament witch will decide who will be the Champion that will lead the Human army’s into Battle against this threat.
coming soon
Name: Grim Blackhart
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Assassin
Character path: Path of the Warrior
Description: Silver hair, green eyes. (Though it rarely sighted) Careless.
Equipment: A small sword, plate black armor (big, but it doesn't protective from what it looks), helm (he rarely wear this), metal gloves, smoke bombs.
Biography: He was an hired assassin, traveling from town to town, taking request and kill. His armor making him doesn't look like an assassin, but warrior (this is one of his tricks). He got many money from his job as an assassin and bounty hunter, but nobody knows where did he hide the money,
Weapon of a Champion: Atlantica, a long sword. Yellow as a gold and blue as a ocean. This sword will produce water that can used to attack at will (though not so many in quantities). A valuable treasure ever mentioned in the sunken ruins. But this weapon is not an ordinary long sword, the blade tip can be detached, revealing the gun (probably rifle) inside, which the trigger is on the handle.
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Assassin
Character path: Path of the Warrior
Description: Silver hair, green eyes. (Though it rarely sighted) Careless.
Equipment: A small sword, plate black armor (big, but it doesn't protective from what it looks), helm (he rarely wear this), metal gloves, smoke bombs.
Biography: He was an hired assassin, traveling from town to town, taking request and kill. His armor making him doesn't look like an assassin, but warrior (this is one of his tricks). He got many money from his job as an assassin and bounty hunter, but nobody knows where did he hide the money,
Weapon of a Champion: Atlantica, a long sword. Yellow as a gold and blue as a ocean. This sword will produce water that can used to attack at will (though not so many in quantities). A valuable treasure ever mentioned in the sunken ruins. But this weapon is not an ordinary long sword, the blade tip can be detached, revealing the gun (probably rifle) inside, which the trigger is on the handle.
Name: Elori Naldaren
Race: Wood Elf
Age: Young
Elori is around 20 human years old.
Gender: Female
Path: Path of the Mage - Divine Magic
Elori began her teaching in the divine magics rather late compared to others. This makes Elori work harder than most other.
Appearance: Long scarlet red hair, freckles, pale skin, plump lips and a round yet sharp face that reveals distinct dimples when she smiles, green eyes with tiny spots of dark brown; people say they look like an evergreen forest. Like all Wood Elves Elori has flecks over her entire body. On her shoulder she has a distinct one that looks much like the silhouettes of a wolf and a deer (hunter and prey) in harmony. It is placed on the back of her left shoulder and Elori is very proud of it.
Equipment: Elori carries a robe in natural colors of green and brown and beige. The robe is roughly cut right above her knees and is tied with a thin leather string around her waist. The dress is rather open around the neck making Elori's well defined collar bones visible. Elori often let's the dress be slightly tilted so that one can see the tattoo on her left shoulder. When walking for longer periods of time she uses leather straps to wrap around her feet, but prefers to walk barefoot when she can. Elori has a short wand hidden under her robe, on the outside of her right thigh. Partly because she doesn't want the wrong people to know she has a wand, and secondly she wants to be able to walk and leap and dance freely without having to hold something in her hand all the time.
Biography: Elori grew up in a common Wood Elf family, with a loving mother, a successful father and a little brother named Nen. As a child Elori went on many adventures alone in the forest. She used to try to speak with the animals and mimic their ways. Her mother always claimed she was certain Elori would become a renowned druid one day. But one of Elori's adventures went wrong when she tried to speak to a bear. The bear did not appreciate it as it was in fact a mother bear who was protecting her cubs. Poor little Elori who was only around 10 years old at the time didn't know this. Luckily Elori wasn't hurt in the encounter as the mother bear and her cubs ran away when Elori's father came and scared them off. But Elori never really forgave herself for angering the mother bear and frightening the cubs. A stubborn as she is Elori decided she wouldn't be a good druid after all. However, her father's sense of duty and her mother's continuous consolation made her drag herself to the lessons in druidism. She cared little for anything at first, but one day they had an unusual lesson in herbalism where Elori's teacher mentioned divine magics. Elori was incredibly fascinated by this phenomenon. When she came home that day she kept nagging her mother and father about learning divine magics instead until they finally said she could try it out. And as Elori progressed quicker than any other child in the arts of divine magics her parents accepted that it was the right thing for her.
Legendary: Two parts of a magical things. The first being a magical gem that holds strong healing magical powers. It is said it was created when one of the first elves in history gave up his life to save the woman he loved. The seconds being a specific type of wood from a specific tree. Nobody knows for sure where the tree is growing, not even what type of tree it is. Legend has it that when you find the tree you shall wait for a branch to fall, and when it happens, the magical gem will automatically find it's way into its socket.
Race: Wood Elf
Age: Young
Elori is around 20 human years old.
Gender: Female
Path: Path of the Mage - Divine Magic
Elori began her teaching in the divine magics rather late compared to others. This makes Elori work harder than most other.
Appearance: Long scarlet red hair, freckles, pale skin, plump lips and a round yet sharp face that reveals distinct dimples when she smiles, green eyes with tiny spots of dark brown; people say they look like an evergreen forest. Like all Wood Elves Elori has flecks over her entire body. On her shoulder she has a distinct one that looks much like the silhouettes of a wolf and a deer (hunter and prey) in harmony. It is placed on the back of her left shoulder and Elori is very proud of it.
Equipment: Elori carries a robe in natural colors of green and brown and beige. The robe is roughly cut right above her knees and is tied with a thin leather string around her waist. The dress is rather open around the neck making Elori's well defined collar bones visible. Elori often let's the dress be slightly tilted so that one can see the tattoo on her left shoulder. When walking for longer periods of time she uses leather straps to wrap around her feet, but prefers to walk barefoot when she can. Elori has a short wand hidden under her robe, on the outside of her right thigh. Partly because she doesn't want the wrong people to know she has a wand, and secondly she wants to be able to walk and leap and dance freely without having to hold something in her hand all the time.
Biography: Elori grew up in a common Wood Elf family, with a loving mother, a successful father and a little brother named Nen. As a child Elori went on many adventures alone in the forest. She used to try to speak with the animals and mimic their ways. Her mother always claimed she was certain Elori would become a renowned druid one day. But one of Elori's adventures went wrong when she tried to speak to a bear. The bear did not appreciate it as it was in fact a mother bear who was protecting her cubs. Poor little Elori who was only around 10 years old at the time didn't know this. Luckily Elori wasn't hurt in the encounter as the mother bear and her cubs ran away when Elori's father came and scared them off. But Elori never really forgave herself for angering the mother bear and frightening the cubs. A stubborn as she is Elori decided she wouldn't be a good druid after all. However, her father's sense of duty and her mother's continuous consolation made her drag herself to the lessons in druidism. She cared little for anything at first, but one day they had an unusual lesson in herbalism where Elori's teacher mentioned divine magics. Elori was incredibly fascinated by this phenomenon. When she came home that day she kept nagging her mother and father about learning divine magics instead until they finally said she could try it out. And as Elori progressed quicker than any other child in the arts of divine magics her parents accepted that it was the right thing for her.
Legendary: Two parts of a magical things. The first being a magical gem that holds strong healing magical powers. It is said it was created when one of the first elves in history gave up his life to save the woman he loved. The seconds being a specific type of wood from a specific tree. Nobody knows for sure where the tree is growing, not even what type of tree it is. Legend has it that when you find the tree you shall wait for a branch to fall, and when it happens, the magical gem will automatically find it's way into its socket.
Name: Vesphora Feramore
Race: Imperial Elf
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Path: Path of a ranger
Description: White hair, average height, deep blue eyes.
Equipment: Black cloak and hidden inside are a light armor, smoke bombs, 2 short swords, and throwing knives. He carries on his back is a long bow and arrows.
Biography: He is the prince and the only survivor of an honorable clan. His clan was destroyed by unknown forces during the night and his father sacrificed himself to save his only son. Now, Vesphora wishes to bring back his clan back and prevent people from experiencing what he went through.
Weapon of a Champion: In the legends, a sword was created by Grieve, the god of destruction and he named it "Dark Spawn". With this sword he created shadows to destroy his enamies, he became invincible and waged war against Zephon, the king of the gods, and the other gods for the throne. As the battle raged on, Zephon knew that he was no match for Grieve because of the sword so he created another sword and used it to defeat Grieve and seal him onto the sword. Zephon hid away the 2 swords on earth so that it will not fall into the wrong hands.
Race: Imperial Elf
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Path: Path of a ranger
Description: White hair, average height, deep blue eyes.
Equipment: Black cloak and hidden inside are a light armor, smoke bombs, 2 short swords, and throwing knives. He carries on his back is a long bow and arrows.
Biography: He is the prince and the only survivor of an honorable clan. His clan was destroyed by unknown forces during the night and his father sacrificed himself to save his only son. Now, Vesphora wishes to bring back his clan back and prevent people from experiencing what he went through.
Weapon of a Champion: In the legends, a sword was created by Grieve, the god of destruction and he named it "Dark Spawn". With this sword he created shadows to destroy his enamies, he became invincible and waged war against Zephon, the king of the gods, and the other gods for the throne. As the battle raged on, Zephon knew that he was no match for Grieve because of the sword so he created another sword and used it to defeat Grieve and seal him onto the sword. Zephon hid away the 2 swords on earth so that it will not fall into the wrong hands.
Name: Marcus Stuart
Race: Human
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Class: Ranger
Path: Path of a ranger.
Description: 5"8. Short,messy,dark brown hair. Blue eyes. Fairly skinny.
Equipment: Standard Longbow. Large Quiver full of arrows and makes new arrows. Also has a small knife.
Biography: Born and raised an orphan, Marcus learnt to defend himself at a young age,showing a particularly uncanny ability with the longbow, he is deadly accurate with it, although he is fairly skilled with his knife. Young,curious, and an optimistic character, once Marcus heard of the challenge, he set out in the hopes of becoming the champion.
Weapon of a Champion: Quiver of Quantity: Legends speak of a legendary quiver which seems to never run out of arrows.
Race: Human
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Class: Ranger
Path: Path of a ranger.
Description: 5"8. Short,messy,dark brown hair. Blue eyes. Fairly skinny.
Equipment: Standard Longbow. Large Quiver full of arrows and makes new arrows. Also has a small knife.
Biography: Born and raised an orphan, Marcus learnt to defend himself at a young age,showing a particularly uncanny ability with the longbow, he is deadly accurate with it, although he is fairly skilled with his knife. Young,curious, and an optimistic character, once Marcus heard of the challenge, he set out in the hopes of becoming the champion.
Weapon of a Champion: Quiver of Quantity: Legends speak of a legendary quiver which seems to never run out of arrows.
Name: Calatine Silmar
Race: Human
Age: He lost track of his age, but is young. Still sprightly.
Gender: Male? Has been confused with females and other things people would better term "it".
Class: Better fits the bodytype of a vagrant, but will slowly learn bits of magic, here and there. In other words, weak physically, but with snappy reflexes and an adept mind.
Description: When you think of a human who lives in a noble house, you think of someone who at least looks respectable. Not so much with Calatine, nicknamed Cala by his owners. Though an objective observer would call them rags, Cala's clothes suit his duties well. As a messenger, he has freedom of movement to weave and dive through the crowds. Of middling height and width, he could be considering handsome, if you could get the layers of caked dirt and soot off of him. At first glance, his hair and skin appear to be darkish, but in reality, he's fair-skinned and with hair the color of quicksilver. A shame, really, that he looks so normal, if but a little dirty. In terms of clothes, he wears anything he can find, but prefers simple things. These articles range from pants of fur and leather to bits of towel sewn together to form some sort of cloak. What he treasures most, however, is a pair of gloves recovered from the ashes of his past by his maid. These gloves, sewn of silk and mithril, would be considered priceless and are nigh indestructible. He keeps them hidden away, in the darkest of places, for they represent the only tie to his past and to what he once was.
Equipment: Whatever he has on his back, a pair of mithril and silk gloves, and his own two feet. All he really needs are his wits, which have gotten him in and out and then in again of events he really shouldn't have been dallying in.
Biography: Due to an unfortunate tragedy, Calatine found himself orphaned at a young age. You see, it was during one particular incident that two mages, one of legendary talent and one of years of experience, duelled for honor (And the reward of a title, at that!). While it may be inconsequential who won, a stray fireball essentially immolated his parents, who were having a chat, and the house. Cala only escaped being turned to ashes by the fact he was in the bath with the human maid.
So the two of them started a new life and the maid soon found a suitor, who loved her dearly. He, however, did not love Cala one bit, viewing him as a threat to his next of kin, but put up with raising the child. Several years passed in this manner, and Cala gained an aptitude for books and knowledge, devouring anything he could read. Even the husband had to admire a little bit the effort he put into learning about the world. Fate was to bestow a harsh blow to Cala, though, as a sudden and deadly illness took the maid out of the blue and into the hands of death. With her parting words, however, she bestowed upon a pair of soft, yet firm gloves and his name, Calatine.
Though the two shared a common grievance, the husband could not bear the sight of Cala; for him, it was a constant reminder of his lost love. And though he knew in his heart it was not right, he made the decision to sell the child into indentured servitude, because he would lose his mind if he did not. With honeyed words and a bit of anesthetic, Cala thus left his current dwelling and entered the life of a servant.
After much wailing and the occasional beating, Cala adjusted to his new life rather quickly. Realizing the key to his survival lay in his wits, he learned the basics quite fast and rather impressed his captors with how well he could speak and how much he knew of the outside world. Seeing his potential as a servant for the noble class, his owners decided to invest in him the skills and knowledge that such a servant would need. Eloquence in speech, a cool head under fire, and the ability to surreptitiously disappear or come up with the right item for any job were just a few of the skills he learned while in captivity. It was not long before a family of renowned wealth took interest in the boy while they perused the servants' quarters and they acquired him for a princely sum.
Though Cala was more than competent at his duties, he was still too young to be considered for a role among the nobility, so they assigned him duties that would be considered rather mundane, like serving as a message courier or helping to maintain the gardens. In time, their rationale was, he would become a fine servant, but it was not his time yet to shine. They were not a particularly cruel family, but moreso pragmatic; only the fittest and brightest servants live on, hence the lack of possessions, equipment, and clothes Cala possesses. They provide ample nutrition and make sure their servants are healthy, so Cala was fortunate to end up in such a place.
As for how Cala ended up in the Tournament of Champions... A mere clerical error, but not one that can be taken back. Noble families, you see, were expected every so often to field an heir fit for competition in the tournament, which served to rank the status of houses from time to time. It was well known that the Silmars did not have an heir at the time, due to the wife's inability to carry a child to term, so they were not expected to field anyone. It was merely by accident that Cala's name ended up on the invitation, which was mistaken for scrap paper used for writing practice. Once written, however, his name was enchanted onto the invitation permanently, highlighting perhaps the most prominent blunder Cala has gotten himself into.
There was much arguing, a little bribery, and perhaps a little alcohol on the side, but the Silmars eventually settled the matter with tournament officials. Cala would still be required to participate in the tournament, but would not be connected in any way, shape, or form to the house which he served at. Perhaps on a whim, the Silmars have offered to give him his freedom should he impress in the tournament. With no formal weapon or magic training, though, they find the wager rather amusing. While gossip and secrets shadow him wherever he goes, as a mystery entrant in the Tournament, Cala cares not. He is but a child, with a mind well beyond his years, and the reward of a new life awaits him, should he complete this next challenge. Compared to dodging through the traffic of a convoy or sneaking into the chambers of a rival house to "borrow" something, Cala has the naive faith of a child who could take the world on and win. Maybe it'll get him far or maybe he'll end up nothng but dust, but there's only one way to find out.
Weapon of a Champion: Djinn's Brush: Besides serving as a handy brush for painting or dusting off old antique relics, this brush of gnarled driftwood and human hair has served many a master over the ages as a focal point of magic for those who earn the right to use it. Let not its grizzled appearance fool you, however, for there are far greater secrets locked away in its wrinkles. To tell its story, however, requires a little more knowledge.
There are many myths to describe how magic became widespread and this is just one of them. Long ago, in a far away and barren land, people thought of magic differently. Not everyone could use it, for one, and only those blessed by a spirit could do so with any certainty. In this land, there was a man who wanted to meet one such spirit, so that he could bring back magic to his people, but he knew not how to find one or how a spirit looked like.
Imagine his surprise, then, when he encountered a lady, clad in a white gown that seemed to be made of starlight on the shores of a sea no man had ever visited or will ever visit. Overwhelmed by the sight of such a presence, he fell into a swoon, much to the bemusement of the lady. She took a fancy to such a man and took care of him, tending his wounds and feeding him what she could find on the seashore. When he awoke from his rest, only love remained in his heart, and his quest lay forgotten, buried in the sands of his being.
For a time, they lived happily on the seashore and even had a daughter, who would sometimes walk on the beach and pick up seashells to adorn their clothing. Yet to live by a star is to often live too close to one; one will only burn up in the radiance of such a thing. Such was the man's fate and all he could do before passing into the shadows was whisper his love in hushed tones to the two he left behind. In his dying moments, she saw into his heart and what lay there saddened her even more. In his quest to find magic, he had married the embodiment of it. What pointless irony, she thought, and no matter how great her powers were, she could not save him from herself.
When the Elves sing of the sorrows of old, how the gods suffered through loss and torment, such tales echo the lament of the Lady. Her spirit extinguished, she sang songs of such poignant sadness that the winds still carry her plaintive voice in that land around the world for eternity and beyond. Though her daughter grew and left for faraway lands, the lady remained on the shore where she met the man, haunted by a mixture of guilt and love. Over time, it is said she grew roots and became a plaintive willow on the shores of the sea and there she remained, until recent times.
With time, though, comes change. People evolve and adapt to their circumstances and even remodel the fabric of nature to suit their will. Nature has long swallowed up that lonely beach into the sea, and the willow disappeared in the currents and gyres of the ocean only to turn up as splinters and pieces of driftwood around the world. It is said these splinters took root and imbued the world with greenery, while the pieces of driftwood became the great forests that hum with life and a mystic power. In these areas, people were able to control magic and bend it to their aim, which allowed them to expand and explore new areas of the world. Over time, the forests grew and the land became lush and verdant, creating an environment where any being could harness magic, if they had the gift and the talent to master it. In this way, the man's quest was achieved and magic appeared in the world.
It is a mere foot in length and made of wood made seemingly indestructible by the elements. Though wrinkled and rough, it is not entirely uncomfortable to hold or to swing, being very light. A curious thing about the Djinn's Brush is that it adjusts for each person who holds it and influences their magic in different ways, if it allows them to cast magic at all. The hairs that make up the Brush are known to be human, but how it gets there is a mystery. They shorten and lengthen at will and transmit the artist's thoughts and dreams onto any canvas or work. Many an artist has created a masterpiece with this tool and say it is a blessing of nature that such a brush exists.
It is rumored that this piece of driftwood comes from that very myth, but any rational person would dismiss it as impossible. From owner to owner, people do say it helps with focusing magic power, but no more than any simple wand bought second-hand. The occasional person says there are voices from the gnarled piece of wood, but such people invariably go missing or insane or both. These people say a spirit resides in the wood, talking to them, challenging them to prove their worth, and taking from them their sanity when they cannot. From these reports, a rumor has emerged that the piece of driftwood is cursed by a malicious spirit who preys on magicians and takes from them all but their lives. As for artists, the fame won by their masterpieces soon falls to ruin and in many cases all that remains of the artist is a painting. Though in different styles and patterns, the subject always hauntingly remains the same: A tree on a beach and a man and his daughter lying under the tree.
This infamy, however, has resulted in it having great value to collectors or members of the nobility and it has passed through many, many, many hands. As for whose hands currently hold it, no one knows or cares, but with the right price, any bit of information can be found, especially in the city.
Race: Human
Age: He lost track of his age, but is young. Still sprightly.
Gender: Male? Has been confused with females and other things people would better term "it".
Class: Better fits the bodytype of a vagrant, but will slowly learn bits of magic, here and there. In other words, weak physically, but with snappy reflexes and an adept mind.
Description: When you think of a human who lives in a noble house, you think of someone who at least looks respectable. Not so much with Calatine, nicknamed Cala by his owners. Though an objective observer would call them rags, Cala's clothes suit his duties well. As a messenger, he has freedom of movement to weave and dive through the crowds. Of middling height and width, he could be considering handsome, if you could get the layers of caked dirt and soot off of him. At first glance, his hair and skin appear to be darkish, but in reality, he's fair-skinned and with hair the color of quicksilver. A shame, really, that he looks so normal, if but a little dirty. In terms of clothes, he wears anything he can find, but prefers simple things. These articles range from pants of fur and leather to bits of towel sewn together to form some sort of cloak. What he treasures most, however, is a pair of gloves recovered from the ashes of his past by his maid. These gloves, sewn of silk and mithril, would be considered priceless and are nigh indestructible. He keeps them hidden away, in the darkest of places, for they represent the only tie to his past and to what he once was.
Equipment: Whatever he has on his back, a pair of mithril and silk gloves, and his own two feet. All he really needs are his wits, which have gotten him in and out and then in again of events he really shouldn't have been dallying in.
Biography: Due to an unfortunate tragedy, Calatine found himself orphaned at a young age. You see, it was during one particular incident that two mages, one of legendary talent and one of years of experience, duelled for honor (And the reward of a title, at that!). While it may be inconsequential who won, a stray fireball essentially immolated his parents, who were having a chat, and the house. Cala only escaped being turned to ashes by the fact he was in the bath with the human maid.
So the two of them started a new life and the maid soon found a suitor, who loved her dearly. He, however, did not love Cala one bit, viewing him as a threat to his next of kin, but put up with raising the child. Several years passed in this manner, and Cala gained an aptitude for books and knowledge, devouring anything he could read. Even the husband had to admire a little bit the effort he put into learning about the world. Fate was to bestow a harsh blow to Cala, though, as a sudden and deadly illness took the maid out of the blue and into the hands of death. With her parting words, however, she bestowed upon a pair of soft, yet firm gloves and his name, Calatine.
Though the two shared a common grievance, the husband could not bear the sight of Cala; for him, it was a constant reminder of his lost love. And though he knew in his heart it was not right, he made the decision to sell the child into indentured servitude, because he would lose his mind if he did not. With honeyed words and a bit of anesthetic, Cala thus left his current dwelling and entered the life of a servant.
After much wailing and the occasional beating, Cala adjusted to his new life rather quickly. Realizing the key to his survival lay in his wits, he learned the basics quite fast and rather impressed his captors with how well he could speak and how much he knew of the outside world. Seeing his potential as a servant for the noble class, his owners decided to invest in him the skills and knowledge that such a servant would need. Eloquence in speech, a cool head under fire, and the ability to surreptitiously disappear or come up with the right item for any job were just a few of the skills he learned while in captivity. It was not long before a family of renowned wealth took interest in the boy while they perused the servants' quarters and they acquired him for a princely sum.
Though Cala was more than competent at his duties, he was still too young to be considered for a role among the nobility, so they assigned him duties that would be considered rather mundane, like serving as a message courier or helping to maintain the gardens. In time, their rationale was, he would become a fine servant, but it was not his time yet to shine. They were not a particularly cruel family, but moreso pragmatic; only the fittest and brightest servants live on, hence the lack of possessions, equipment, and clothes Cala possesses. They provide ample nutrition and make sure their servants are healthy, so Cala was fortunate to end up in such a place.
As for how Cala ended up in the Tournament of Champions... A mere clerical error, but not one that can be taken back. Noble families, you see, were expected every so often to field an heir fit for competition in the tournament, which served to rank the status of houses from time to time. It was well known that the Silmars did not have an heir at the time, due to the wife's inability to carry a child to term, so they were not expected to field anyone. It was merely by accident that Cala's name ended up on the invitation, which was mistaken for scrap paper used for writing practice. Once written, however, his name was enchanted onto the invitation permanently, highlighting perhaps the most prominent blunder Cala has gotten himself into.
There was much arguing, a little bribery, and perhaps a little alcohol on the side, but the Silmars eventually settled the matter with tournament officials. Cala would still be required to participate in the tournament, but would not be connected in any way, shape, or form to the house which he served at. Perhaps on a whim, the Silmars have offered to give him his freedom should he impress in the tournament. With no formal weapon or magic training, though, they find the wager rather amusing. While gossip and secrets shadow him wherever he goes, as a mystery entrant in the Tournament, Cala cares not. He is but a child, with a mind well beyond his years, and the reward of a new life awaits him, should he complete this next challenge. Compared to dodging through the traffic of a convoy or sneaking into the chambers of a rival house to "borrow" something, Cala has the naive faith of a child who could take the world on and win. Maybe it'll get him far or maybe he'll end up nothng but dust, but there's only one way to find out.
Weapon of a Champion: Djinn's Brush: Besides serving as a handy brush for painting or dusting off old antique relics, this brush of gnarled driftwood and human hair has served many a master over the ages as a focal point of magic for those who earn the right to use it. Let not its grizzled appearance fool you, however, for there are far greater secrets locked away in its wrinkles. To tell its story, however, requires a little more knowledge.
There are many myths to describe how magic became widespread and this is just one of them. Long ago, in a far away and barren land, people thought of magic differently. Not everyone could use it, for one, and only those blessed by a spirit could do so with any certainty. In this land, there was a man who wanted to meet one such spirit, so that he could bring back magic to his people, but he knew not how to find one or how a spirit looked like.
Imagine his surprise, then, when he encountered a lady, clad in a white gown that seemed to be made of starlight on the shores of a sea no man had ever visited or will ever visit. Overwhelmed by the sight of such a presence, he fell into a swoon, much to the bemusement of the lady. She took a fancy to such a man and took care of him, tending his wounds and feeding him what she could find on the seashore. When he awoke from his rest, only love remained in his heart, and his quest lay forgotten, buried in the sands of his being.
For a time, they lived happily on the seashore and even had a daughter, who would sometimes walk on the beach and pick up seashells to adorn their clothing. Yet to live by a star is to often live too close to one; one will only burn up in the radiance of such a thing. Such was the man's fate and all he could do before passing into the shadows was whisper his love in hushed tones to the two he left behind. In his dying moments, she saw into his heart and what lay there saddened her even more. In his quest to find magic, he had married the embodiment of it. What pointless irony, she thought, and no matter how great her powers were, she could not save him from herself.
When the Elves sing of the sorrows of old, how the gods suffered through loss and torment, such tales echo the lament of the Lady. Her spirit extinguished, she sang songs of such poignant sadness that the winds still carry her plaintive voice in that land around the world for eternity and beyond. Though her daughter grew and left for faraway lands, the lady remained on the shore where she met the man, haunted by a mixture of guilt and love. Over time, it is said she grew roots and became a plaintive willow on the shores of the sea and there she remained, until recent times.
With time, though, comes change. People evolve and adapt to their circumstances and even remodel the fabric of nature to suit their will. Nature has long swallowed up that lonely beach into the sea, and the willow disappeared in the currents and gyres of the ocean only to turn up as splinters and pieces of driftwood around the world. It is said these splinters took root and imbued the world with greenery, while the pieces of driftwood became the great forests that hum with life and a mystic power. In these areas, people were able to control magic and bend it to their aim, which allowed them to expand and explore new areas of the world. Over time, the forests grew and the land became lush and verdant, creating an environment where any being could harness magic, if they had the gift and the talent to master it. In this way, the man's quest was achieved and magic appeared in the world.
It is a mere foot in length and made of wood made seemingly indestructible by the elements. Though wrinkled and rough, it is not entirely uncomfortable to hold or to swing, being very light. A curious thing about the Djinn's Brush is that it adjusts for each person who holds it and influences their magic in different ways, if it allows them to cast magic at all. The hairs that make up the Brush are known to be human, but how it gets there is a mystery. They shorten and lengthen at will and transmit the artist's thoughts and dreams onto any canvas or work. Many an artist has created a masterpiece with this tool and say it is a blessing of nature that such a brush exists.
It is rumored that this piece of driftwood comes from that very myth, but any rational person would dismiss it as impossible. From owner to owner, people do say it helps with focusing magic power, but no more than any simple wand bought second-hand. The occasional person says there are voices from the gnarled piece of wood, but such people invariably go missing or insane or both. These people say a spirit resides in the wood, talking to them, challenging them to prove their worth, and taking from them their sanity when they cannot. From these reports, a rumor has emerged that the piece of driftwood is cursed by a malicious spirit who preys on magicians and takes from them all but their lives. As for artists, the fame won by their masterpieces soon falls to ruin and in many cases all that remains of the artist is a painting. Though in different styles and patterns, the subject always hauntingly remains the same: A tree on a beach and a man and his daughter lying under the tree.
This infamy, however, has resulted in it having great value to collectors or members of the nobility and it has passed through many, many, many hands. As for whose hands currently hold it, no one knows or cares, but with the right price, any bit of information can be found, especially in the city.
Name: Kantis IometaRace: Human
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Character Path: None
Description: Thin, short black hair, Vivid blue/gray eyes and pale skin, She stands 5' 11'' and while thin, has a strong, muscular build.
Equipment: A long, rusted sword, an unusually fine yew longbow, and a rough ash short-bow. She is clothed in thin, tattered, threadbare tunic and tatted leggings.
Biography: [[ I would rather reveal this during the RP ]]
Weapon of a Champion: Iciel, A a long, heavy duelists sword that for some inexplicable reason can find the holes in enemy defenses, a unconscious, slow, but unstoppable force. Can slice through armor, and can absorb magical effects.
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Character Path: None
Description: Thin, short black hair, Vivid blue/gray eyes and pale skin, She stands 5' 11'' and while thin, has a strong, muscular build.
Equipment: A long, rusted sword, an unusually fine yew longbow, and a rough ash short-bow. She is clothed in thin, tattered, threadbare tunic and tatted leggings.
Biography: [[ I would rather reveal this during the RP ]]
Weapon of a Champion: Iciel, A a long, heavy duelists sword that for some inexplicable reason can find the holes in enemy defenses, a unconscious, slow, but unstoppable force. Can slice through armor, and can absorb magical effects.
None
Prologues Quest:
as you wake up and look around the destroyed street you think back how you ended up there. you remember walking towards the Arena for the first day of the champion games and then, a shockwave come over the district, whit the arena as the epic center. You remember seeing three pillars of light rising up from it and loads of screams in the distance. and then everything was a blur, wat was certain tough is that the district was under attack, and it started in the arena. You once again look around the street, ruble everywhere, people lying on the ground either unconscious or dead. there are signs of battle everywhere, arrows lying on the grounds, shattered swords and... weird dark brown and red skinned creatures, ugly creatures whit curved backs and sharp teeth, the ones in the street are dead but they must be the creatures responsible for the attack. you make up your mind quickly and decide you have to make your way towards the northern district exit.
Objective: you are alone, in a destroyed street of the arena district, find the exit and possibly other survivors.
as you wake up and look around the destroyed street you think back how you ended up there. you remember walking towards the Arena for the first day of the champion games and then, a shockwave come over the district, whit the arena as the epic center. You remember seeing three pillars of light rising up from it and loads of screams in the distance. and then everything was a blur, wat was certain tough is that the district was under attack, and it started in the arena. You once again look around the street, ruble everywhere, people lying on the ground either unconscious or dead. there are signs of battle everywhere, arrows lying on the grounds, shattered swords and... weird dark brown and red skinned creatures, ugly creatures whit curved backs and sharp teeth, the ones in the street are dead but they must be the creatures responsible for the attack. you make up your mind quickly and decide you have to make your way towards the northern district exit.
Objective: you are alone, in a destroyed street of the arena district, find the exit and possibly other survivors.
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