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		<title><![CDATA[Mesalia Forums - Dead characters]]></title>
		<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/</link>
		<description><![CDATA[Mesalia Forums - https://www.mesalia.net/forum]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sat, 22 Aug 2026 21:59:05 +0000</pubDate>
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			<title><![CDATA[Serf Hameline]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=1079</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 09 Dec 2017 12:34:19 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=992">SankareaUL</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=1079</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/3wYOuDI.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3wYOuDI.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">^ Credit to sentaipink ^</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Appearance</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Build : Well built</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Head : Black, scruffy hair. Green eyes. A few cuts.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Clothing : Ragged farming clothes.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Rest of body contains more cuts and scars.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">He is 19, but looks much older.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Personality</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Serf is quite a laid back guy. He is a hard worker and always does his best to make sure things are sorted out. Around other people, he will usually make an attempt to get to know them well in a friendly manor.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">He usually has no problem with keeping a conversation going, and is in a happy mood most of his time, even when labouring on the fields. He is quite polite and shows respect to those who deserve it.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">His life</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Serf was born on a farm at a town a little bit away from Nightveil. It was quite a small area, so he didn't get to go outside much, unless it's on the farm lands. He grew up with 3 sisters and 2 parents. As he grew, he was given more responsibilities on the farm, starting from helping his mother in the kitchen as a kid, to eventually being responsible for the farms animals and the slaughter of them by 16. He was very handy and had a natural passion for farming. At the age of 8, his older sister, Millicent, vanished. He doesn't know why, and at the time whenever he asked about her, his parents would change the subject. He has never forgot her, and is currently looking for her to this day.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Current skillset</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Farming : Competent</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Animal Husbandry/Domestication : Competent</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Hunting : Apprentice</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Archery : Apprentice</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Relations</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ff3399;" class="mycode_color">Love</span> | <span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Like</span> | <span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Neutral </span>| <span style="color: #993333;" class="mycode_color">Dislike </span>|<span style="color: #ff3333;" class="mycode_color"> Hate</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Caius</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Adreanna</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Eyena</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Yukio</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Candy</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #993333;" class="mycode_color">Brandon</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, whilst out in the field late at night, Serf had noticed a light in the forest near the fields. He decided to go investigate, and it turns out it's a shit ton of dusk. They get the best of him, one of them being dead with a hoe in its head, and Serf died.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/3wYOuDI.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3wYOuDI.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">^ Credit to sentaipink ^</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Appearance</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Build : Well built</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Head : Black, scruffy hair. Green eyes. A few cuts.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Clothing : Ragged farming clothes.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Rest of body contains more cuts and scars.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">He is 19, but looks much older.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Personality</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Serf is quite a laid back guy. He is a hard worker and always does his best to make sure things are sorted out. Around other people, he will usually make an attempt to get to know them well in a friendly manor.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">He usually has no problem with keeping a conversation going, and is in a happy mood most of his time, even when labouring on the fields. He is quite polite and shows respect to those who deserve it.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">His life</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Serf was born on a farm at a town a little bit away from Nightveil. It was quite a small area, so he didn't get to go outside much, unless it's on the farm lands. He grew up with 3 sisters and 2 parents. As he grew, he was given more responsibilities on the farm, starting from helping his mother in the kitchen as a kid, to eventually being responsible for the farms animals and the slaughter of them by 16. He was very handy and had a natural passion for farming. At the age of 8, his older sister, Millicent, vanished. He doesn't know why, and at the time whenever he asked about her, his parents would change the subject. He has never forgot her, and is currently looking for her to this day.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Current skillset</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Farming : Competent</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Animal Husbandry/Domestication : Competent</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Hunting : Apprentice</div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Archery : Apprentice</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Relations</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ff3399;" class="mycode_color">Love</span> | <span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Like</span> | <span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Neutral </span>| <span style="color: #993333;" class="mycode_color">Dislike </span>|<span style="color: #ff3333;" class="mycode_color"> Hate</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Caius</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffccff;" class="mycode_color">Adreanna</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Eyena</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Yukio</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #ffcc33;" class="mycode_color">Candy</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #993333;" class="mycode_color">Brandon</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, whilst out in the field late at night, Serf had noticed a light in the forest near the fields. He decided to go investigate, and it turns out it's a shit ton of dusk. They get the best of him, one of them being dead with a hoe in its head, and Serf died.]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Terry Riggs]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=824</link>
			<pubDate>Fri, 05 Jun 2015 05:17:54 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=24">LuckyLeaf</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=824</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[Name: Terry Riggs<br />
<br />
Gender: Male<br />
<br />
Age: 30<br />
<br />
Skills:<br />
<br />
Hunting: Competent<br />
Herbalism: Apprentice<br />
<br />
Appearance: <br />
<br />
The most striking part about Terry is his bloodshot eye, where the damage to the iris is quite permanent and had left his right eye quite impaired, but not blind. Some would say he is quite handsome, with his angular jaw and well tanned skin, but not so many hold on to that opinion after a morning's session of chatting with the man. He sports a short ponytail which he cuts now and again for use in his experiments, and constantly wears a wide-brimmed hat to protect himself from the 'aethery rays' from the sun. Other garments include fairly frayed and tattered clothing mainly of cotton and leather. <br />
<br />
Personality:<br />
<br />
If Terry starts talking, a man's advice to his enemy would be: run. Terry can seemingly talk for hours on end without regard to the degrading attention of his fellow men, and will occasionally start to talk to himself if he hasn't an audience. He is a fairly jovial fellow, and does not take offense easily, but mainly fails to see why people around him tend to be so busy whenever he tries to talk to them. <br />
<br />
Regarding his deteriorating health due to his expereiments, he is only positive that he is making progress, and will be exhaustingly adamant as to the sound logic of others. But aside from his one mentally flawed goal and his hyper active tongue, he is a very likeable fellow, sympathetic and simple, and quite diligent in his work - including hunting.  <br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
Backstory:<br />
<br />
The clanging of bells and the rabble of sailors by the sails and the port announced the departure of a ship was departing at the far end of port. One Jonas Sodor couldn’t have been gladder for it. It wasn’t that he disliked the man; he was friendly enough and had a lot of interesting things to say, but Jonas could say with certainty that he had never before encountered a man that could talk <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">that</span> much about anything while deviating wildly at the slightest whims.<br />
<br />
The man seemed like a regular traveler. He was dressed the part for one, and since the man wasn’t carrying around anything that could be merchandise except for the bow and the quiver, Jonas had guessed that he was one of those free souls that was rare to the quite backwards town such as Dagger’s End, named so for the shape of the port that jutted out a ways into the sea into a point. Eager to hear what stories this man had to tell, Jonas had struck up a conversation in the hopes of the stories alleviating his somewhat stale life, only to end up on the receiving end of an unwelcome monologue.<br />
<br />
Jonas sighed as he massaged his forehead. On the counter in front of him sat an empty mug of ale. He gazed at the dregs of his drink for a couple of moments before making up his mind. “Give me another round would you?”<br />
<br />
A burly hand briskly took the mug off the counter and refilled it. “Always something as too much.”<br />
<br />
“True, true,” murmured Jonas as he gratefully raised his mug to his lips. “If a mouse could talk, it couldn’t have spoken any faster than he did.”<br />
<br />
“Was talking about your drink,” replied the barkeep and looked thoughtfully at the seat beside Jonas. “Although, the man did speak a lot. Very strange for a Xitian.”<br />
<br />
Jonas frowned. “Xitian? The man gave me a tour round the Nether but he was clean Mesalian.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep tapped one eye with his sausage of a finger. “One of his eyes was red. Definitely nether in his blood.”<br />
<br />
Jonas dismissed the barkeep’s logic with a flick of a hand. “Bloodshot eye, not Xitian; the whites of his eye were red. Besides I know he isn’t one, because he <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">wants</span> to become one.” He took a swig of his ale. “Damned nutter he is.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep raised his brows in interest. “I dunno anyone that’d want to become a Xitian.”<br />
<br />
“Now we do.” Jonas shrugged. “Claims he’s a researcher of sorts, trying to find a way to change the nature of us Mesalians or something like that.”<br />
<br />
“I wasn’t listening,” admitted the barkeep. “But why?”<br />
<br />
“Got mad-eyed for a Xitian, apparently, and parents would hear none of it. The Xit’s would not have a Mesalian dirty up their brood, and the bloke’s didn’t want the same. The guy didn’t give up, got disowned, and now he’s looking for a way to become a Xitian.” Jonas shook his head. “Touched in the head, I say, or got dropped head first to the floor when he was a wee one.”<br />
<br />
“Tough,” said the barkeep. “With the gate being now open and all.”<br />
<br />
Jonas snorted. “Won’t faze him if you ask me. He didn’t care going round looking for Xitians during the Civil Wars. A gate opening isn’t going to stop a man like him.” <br />
<br />
“You sound sure.”<br />
<br />
He shrugged. “I’ve heard his entire life story and more, I should know.” He put down his mug and traced numbers on the counter as he chronologized. “Born in a town far west, called Barns, (which apparently is a quiet town with a stream cutting through it in which you can catch fish in the summer) father a hunter, mother a herbalist, and grew up learning the trade (and a great lot of mischief, including poisoning the stream that gave everyone in town a mild case of diarrhea), father got enlisted, died, (a great deal of episodes on how the crying was done) and took over as the town hunter at the young age of 16.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep chipped in as Jonas took another swig. “Sounds like he figured his life out.”<br />
<br />
Jonas raised a finger. “Only until he became 22. I suppose he was straight as a board till then. Least, from what he tells me, he learned most of what he knows of his craft in those seven years, the plants, the cutting up, and whatever else those hunters do with their bows and arrows.”<br />
<br />
“But then?”<br />
<br />
“But then, the chap just happens to meet this Xit. He was making his rounds in the forest for herbs and the like, and ventures much further than he usually does, and comes across this cabin in the woods, with a family of Xits just living there, plotting Isohel knows what.” Jonas takes a long drink and looks demandingly at the barkeep. “And what’s a good level-headed man to do? Alert the authorities, right? But this nutter, he goes and makes friends with them, giving them advice on the edible plants in the forest and whatnot, and then goes and falls in love with the daughter!”<br />
<br />
The barkeep scratches his bald head. “Ah, well. Surely nothing too bad about that? Some of them Xitians do look mighty fine.”<br />
<br />
Jonas waves his mug irritatedly. “Doesn’t give you the reason to want to marry them. It’s not moral. Anyways, the man goes and proposes, and gets declined because he’s clean-blooded, none of this Aether or the Nether in his blood like you or I, and makes a scene of it. He starts trying to mix the nether into himself to become one of them, and of course that raises a lot of questions in town. You can imagine how his mother reacted; in his own words, she was “raving like a cat that’s been thrown into the river and held by its tail afterwards”. The barkeep chuckled and Jonas grinned appreciatively. “So the lad gets kicked out of town, but not before promising those Xits that he’d return one of them, and starts going round the lands looking for more Xits and doing everything to his body that would upset even the dastardliest of necromancers all round – wouldn’t be surprised if the chap falls over dead in the ship. He was positively giddy when the portal reopened, and would have run straight for it if it wasn’t for the high tension in the area. Now, he’s just going over to the Forbidden Lands to see if folks there know anything better about degrading one’s body with nether. Like he hasn’t done enough damage already! I’ll wager that’s how he popped his eye.” He raised his mug to find it empty. He looked confused for a few moments, then turned his longing gaze to the barkeep, and was candidly ignored. He sighed and licked the few drops in his mug. “Well, what a nutter eh? That’s what I get for talking to strangers, an earful of things that I’ve no concern for.”<br />
<br />
Jonas bid the barkeep goodbye and left a few silvers on the table. And only when he had left did the barkeep let out a tired sigh of relief as he took the mug off for washing. A couple of other patrons smiled sympathetically, and one chuckled. “Tough day ain’t it?”<br />
<br />
The barkeep shrugged. “Ain’t too bad. Least if Jonas hadn’t talked to that other chap, he would’ve talked to me, and I’d have had to listen to both of them.” He shuddered at the thought and pushed the silvers into his pouch.<br />
<br />
“Eh, what’s the name of that crazy bloke again? Did Jonas ever say?”<br />
<br />
The barkeep shook his head. “Didn’t, but I caught it: Terry Riggs, it was. Man of thirty.”<br />
<br />
“Terry, is it? Well cheers for the chipper and his crazy quest! May we never hear from him again!”<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
The simpler version:<br />
<br />
Terry Riggs was born in a relatively large but quiet town of Barns, to parents that loved him dearly. His father was a hunter, his mother was a herbalist, and they provided much for the town and were respected for their contributions. To these rather prominent figures of the town, Terry was a late child, and an only one at that, and was given much love. As such, Terry got away with the many mischiefs that would've meant some good amount of scolding or lashing for other children of the town. This treatment rather got to inflating Terry's ego and his daring nature, in other words, he was spoilt.<br />
<br />
Terry as an infant, round the age of 3, realized quite quickly that he could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted if he cried loud enough. Then round when he started running about with the other kids in town, round the age of 7, he realized that his father was the leader of the hunters in the town, and provided much food for the townspeople, and that his mother was the most knowledgeable on the topic of herbs of the local forest. Even the mayor was less important in the monthly town gathering; times were hard, what with the wars ravaging the lands, the people who could provide efficient means of survival were held above all others.  <br />
<br />
He was untouchable, and the moment his realization reached thus far, he began to have his way in life at the young age of 10. At first, it was benign. He would take the wares from shops liberally, and commanded the other kids in town follow his orders when they played together. It was quite harmless, people thought, after all, they were benefitting greatly from Terry's parents being in town. But as Terry reached his adolescent years of 14, he rapidly came to be the thorn in everyone's side that they just couldn't pull out in fear of offending his parents. They did however, hint at Terry's parents that his antics needed some fixing, and while the parents grasped the problem soon, they couldn't put Terry under a firm enough grasp. They did much to direct his seemingly endless energy towards causing havoc elsewhere, such as taking him along on their hunting/foraging trips, but they only gave him more armament to causing some of Terry's more spectaculr pranks. <br />
<br />
The year Terry turned 16, his father was enlisted into the Civil war efforts, and that gave Terry more of a free reign, as his mother was powerless to stop him. But some time after Terry poisoned the town's water supply that caused an onslaught of diarrhea, which he just barely got away with by pleading innocence by ignorance of the properties of the herbs that he 'accidentally' dropped into the stream, news came to the town that his father had died, barely a year since the last time Terry had seen him.<br />
<br />
To Terry, his father was invulnerable. No wild animal could stand up to him, and each arrow from his father's bow found its target and made sure the target stayed still. The fact that he had died made everything seem so pointless. Terry and his mother sat in the dining room for days. His mother sobbing silently by the window, and he, just staring at a spider making itself a home in the corner. At the last hour of the week, Terry rose from the table, a fresh look of determination on his face, and fetched his father's bow and arrows from his room, and before his mother could say anything, left the house. <br />
<br />
He later returned, head to toe covered in dirt and leaves. There were no remaining arrows in the quiver, and he had no catch to claim his own, but his face said it all. His mother rose from her spot, and embraced her son, a fresh stream of tears running down her face. And he managed, for almost a decade, to contribute to the development and welfare of the town. Not as well as his father had done, but well enough to earn his respect and cast the old memories of him aside. Well, almost; he still talked too much.<br />
<br />
All seemed to be going well for the town of Barns and young Terry. The Civil War had ended a year ago, and Terry at the ripe age of 21, was almost as respected as his father had been. But then as it happens to all youth, he fell in love. Long story short, he came across a family of Xitians hiding out in the wilderness and after a period of friendship, he fell in love with the daughter. However, although the Xitians were quite fond of the lad, they did not want Mesalian blood in their family. Rejected, Terry returned home with a heavy heart, and much to his mother's worries, did not eat or talk for the whole day.<br />
<br />
The very next day, however, he met the day full of enthusiasm and excitement, and utterly confused and even horrified the townspeople when he started talking of how he would become a Xitian. <span style="color: #00FF00;" class="mycode_color">The elderly knew of the horrors that the Xitians had caused firsthand, and even those who were relatively young knew enough of the slavery and the Purges to know what had to be done when a Xitian was spotted nearby; Terry knew of these tales as well as the next person, but as far as he was concerned, they were stories of the past.</span> Soon, the whole tale was out. The first response of the people was to go after the evil Xitians who had bewitched their resident hunter, but nobody aside from Terry knew where to find them. The second response was to try and reason with Terry, mainly by his mother, but no sense or logic could find a way to into his euphoric mind. The third and last resort, was to chase him out of town. He had been touched by the Xitians, and there was no telling what he might do under the influence.<br />
<br />
Sad to see his distraught mother, but unable to convince her of his love, he left, deciding to embrace the freedom he now had from the responsibilites of hunting for an entire town. He travelled all over, making inquiries, experimenting - mainly on himself - to find some clue as to how he might turn his blood into that of an Xitian's. When the portal to the Dusk Realm opened again, he was one of the first to run to the area, although with different intentions than that of most others. When refused admission to the vicinity of the portal, Terry decided to resume his travels and return some other time when things would be smoothened out between the races. His search carried him far and wide, for nearly eight years he traveled, hunting and selling meat and leather for his traveling expenses.<br />
<br />
He learnt nothing in those long years, except that perhaps infusing nether directly onto his eye might not have been his best idea. <span style="color: #00FF00;" class="mycode_color">The Xitian who did the infusing was wholeheartedly of the same opinion, but the job was easy money, and he wasn't too bothered leaving Terry writhing in pain, stripped of his valuables. His rather unfortunate plight set him back, but his enthusiasm didn't wane.</span> His next destination was the Forbidden Lands, where it was still full of mysteries and unexplored lands. He had had heard of tales that some Xitians of old had ran to those lands during the Purges, and he had hopes that he would run into some that would perhaps know of a way to fulfill his dream. So thirty and his heart buzzing with excitement, he boarded the first ship to the Forbidden Lands to a settlement quite deep in those lands, in hopes of finding what he had been searching for, for the past nine years. <br />
</div></div></div></div> <br />
Items brought to the setting:<br />
<br />
A worn longbow<br />
A quiver and three arrows<br />
Two notebooks of 'research' notes<br />
A couple of bottles containing the remains of dusk spawns<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
Terry awoke. The clinic was pitch dark; the moon wasn't out and all lights had been extinguished. The wind told him that clouds were approaching and it would rain by midday tomorrow. <br />
<br />
Or is it today? He wondered.<br />
<br />
He lay still, looking up at the beams of the ceiling. His head was the clearest it had been in months. The infection that had claimed half of his face had apparently stopped throbbing, and the constant headache that had ailed him so was tormenting him no longer. Half of his vision still remained dark, but he had accepted that his eye was a lost cause. <br />
<br />
Maybe he was cured, he thought, maybe some miracle had happened.<br />
<br />
He noticed then that his leg that was mangled by the dragon wasn't in pain either. He then noticed that his leg wasn't feeling anything at all. A wave of doubt surged over him as he tried to sit up. He could tell his limbs were moving, but he couldn't tell what they were touching or if they were touching anything but the void in the first place. It took him a few tries before he realized that one of his arms hung limp, unresponsive to his commands. He did manage eventually, and saw that his functioning hand was shaking. <br />
<br />
He knew then. He was going to die.<br />
<br />
He wasn't afraid. He had always embraced the thought of death, and was even thankful he didn't have to feel its clutches at the last moment. But he wasn't going to die peacefully in a bed, he knew that. <br />
<br />
He kicked away his sheets and pulled himself off the bed, and instantly fell to his knees as his maimed leg refused to carry his weight. Cursing, he crawled his way out of the clinic. Once out, he tore out a length of his cloths and gathered enough twigs and branches to make a rudimentary cast for his leg. He only needed to use it this one time. <br />
<br />
It was a grueling task, and he was out of breath before the task was done, but he managed to tie some of the branches into place enough for him to limp on the leg. His leg buckled, but he ignored its reluctance and headed on his way. He stayed out of the paths, and chose the grass to walk on to stay away from the patrols. It would be too much trouble, and he would probably die before he could convince the likes of Lien. That wouldn't do.<br />
<br />
He tired quickly and had to take many breaks in his last journey, but no creatures came to disturb him. The hunters of the night gave him a wide berth, and the dusk spawn didn't even seem to notice his presence. <br />
<br />
He traveled as far as he could before collapsing. The night was almost over, and he could see the stars say their goodbyes one by one. He pulled himself into an alcove and lay panting weakly. <br />
<br />
This should be far enough, he thought. <br />
<br />
He knew that death was one source of the nether. And with his body corrupted as it is, he knew that his death wouldn't be pretty. He himself could've turned into one and attacked someone, or attracted enough to cause trouble, and he rather he didn't take the chances.<br />
<br />
He felt faint, and could feel his heart was near the end of its race as well. He sighed, took a glance at the rising sun one last time. <br />
<br />
And closed his eyes. </div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[Name: Terry Riggs<br />
<br />
Gender: Male<br />
<br />
Age: 30<br />
<br />
Skills:<br />
<br />
Hunting: Competent<br />
Herbalism: Apprentice<br />
<br />
Appearance: <br />
<br />
The most striking part about Terry is his bloodshot eye, where the damage to the iris is quite permanent and had left his right eye quite impaired, but not blind. Some would say he is quite handsome, with his angular jaw and well tanned skin, but not so many hold on to that opinion after a morning's session of chatting with the man. He sports a short ponytail which he cuts now and again for use in his experiments, and constantly wears a wide-brimmed hat to protect himself from the 'aethery rays' from the sun. Other garments include fairly frayed and tattered clothing mainly of cotton and leather. <br />
<br />
Personality:<br />
<br />
If Terry starts talking, a man's advice to his enemy would be: run. Terry can seemingly talk for hours on end without regard to the degrading attention of his fellow men, and will occasionally start to talk to himself if he hasn't an audience. He is a fairly jovial fellow, and does not take offense easily, but mainly fails to see why people around him tend to be so busy whenever he tries to talk to them. <br />
<br />
Regarding his deteriorating health due to his expereiments, he is only positive that he is making progress, and will be exhaustingly adamant as to the sound logic of others. But aside from his one mentally flawed goal and his hyper active tongue, he is a very likeable fellow, sympathetic and simple, and quite diligent in his work - including hunting.  <br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
Backstory:<br />
<br />
The clanging of bells and the rabble of sailors by the sails and the port announced the departure of a ship was departing at the far end of port. One Jonas Sodor couldn’t have been gladder for it. It wasn’t that he disliked the man; he was friendly enough and had a lot of interesting things to say, but Jonas could say with certainty that he had never before encountered a man that could talk <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">that</span> much about anything while deviating wildly at the slightest whims.<br />
<br />
The man seemed like a regular traveler. He was dressed the part for one, and since the man wasn’t carrying around anything that could be merchandise except for the bow and the quiver, Jonas had guessed that he was one of those free souls that was rare to the quite backwards town such as Dagger’s End, named so for the shape of the port that jutted out a ways into the sea into a point. Eager to hear what stories this man had to tell, Jonas had struck up a conversation in the hopes of the stories alleviating his somewhat stale life, only to end up on the receiving end of an unwelcome monologue.<br />
<br />
Jonas sighed as he massaged his forehead. On the counter in front of him sat an empty mug of ale. He gazed at the dregs of his drink for a couple of moments before making up his mind. “Give me another round would you?”<br />
<br />
A burly hand briskly took the mug off the counter and refilled it. “Always something as too much.”<br />
<br />
“True, true,” murmured Jonas as he gratefully raised his mug to his lips. “If a mouse could talk, it couldn’t have spoken any faster than he did.”<br />
<br />
“Was talking about your drink,” replied the barkeep and looked thoughtfully at the seat beside Jonas. “Although, the man did speak a lot. Very strange for a Xitian.”<br />
<br />
Jonas frowned. “Xitian? The man gave me a tour round the Nether but he was clean Mesalian.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep tapped one eye with his sausage of a finger. “One of his eyes was red. Definitely nether in his blood.”<br />
<br />
Jonas dismissed the barkeep’s logic with a flick of a hand. “Bloodshot eye, not Xitian; the whites of his eye were red. Besides I know he isn’t one, because he <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">wants</span> to become one.” He took a swig of his ale. “Damned nutter he is.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep raised his brows in interest. “I dunno anyone that’d want to become a Xitian.”<br />
<br />
“Now we do.” Jonas shrugged. “Claims he’s a researcher of sorts, trying to find a way to change the nature of us Mesalians or something like that.”<br />
<br />
“I wasn’t listening,” admitted the barkeep. “But why?”<br />
<br />
“Got mad-eyed for a Xitian, apparently, and parents would hear none of it. The Xit’s would not have a Mesalian dirty up their brood, and the bloke’s didn’t want the same. The guy didn’t give up, got disowned, and now he’s looking for a way to become a Xitian.” Jonas shook his head. “Touched in the head, I say, or got dropped head first to the floor when he was a wee one.”<br />
<br />
“Tough,” said the barkeep. “With the gate being now open and all.”<br />
<br />
Jonas snorted. “Won’t faze him if you ask me. He didn’t care going round looking for Xitians during the Civil Wars. A gate opening isn’t going to stop a man like him.” <br />
<br />
“You sound sure.”<br />
<br />
He shrugged. “I’ve heard his entire life story and more, I should know.” He put down his mug and traced numbers on the counter as he chronologized. “Born in a town far west, called Barns, (which apparently is a quiet town with a stream cutting through it in which you can catch fish in the summer) father a hunter, mother a herbalist, and grew up learning the trade (and a great lot of mischief, including poisoning the stream that gave everyone in town a mild case of diarrhea), father got enlisted, died, (a great deal of episodes on how the crying was done) and took over as the town hunter at the young age of 16.”<br />
<br />
The barkeep chipped in as Jonas took another swig. “Sounds like he figured his life out.”<br />
<br />
Jonas raised a finger. “Only until he became 22. I suppose he was straight as a board till then. Least, from what he tells me, he learned most of what he knows of his craft in those seven years, the plants, the cutting up, and whatever else those hunters do with their bows and arrows.”<br />
<br />
“But then?”<br />
<br />
“But then, the chap just happens to meet this Xit. He was making his rounds in the forest for herbs and the like, and ventures much further than he usually does, and comes across this cabin in the woods, with a family of Xits just living there, plotting Isohel knows what.” Jonas takes a long drink and looks demandingly at the barkeep. “And what’s a good level-headed man to do? Alert the authorities, right? But this nutter, he goes and makes friends with them, giving them advice on the edible plants in the forest and whatnot, and then goes and falls in love with the daughter!”<br />
<br />
The barkeep scratches his bald head. “Ah, well. Surely nothing too bad about that? Some of them Xitians do look mighty fine.”<br />
<br />
Jonas waves his mug irritatedly. “Doesn’t give you the reason to want to marry them. It’s not moral. Anyways, the man goes and proposes, and gets declined because he’s clean-blooded, none of this Aether or the Nether in his blood like you or I, and makes a scene of it. He starts trying to mix the nether into himself to become one of them, and of course that raises a lot of questions in town. You can imagine how his mother reacted; in his own words, she was “raving like a cat that’s been thrown into the river and held by its tail afterwards”. The barkeep chuckled and Jonas grinned appreciatively. “So the lad gets kicked out of town, but not before promising those Xits that he’d return one of them, and starts going round the lands looking for more Xits and doing everything to his body that would upset even the dastardliest of necromancers all round – wouldn’t be surprised if the chap falls over dead in the ship. He was positively giddy when the portal reopened, and would have run straight for it if it wasn’t for the high tension in the area. Now, he’s just going over to the Forbidden Lands to see if folks there know anything better about degrading one’s body with nether. Like he hasn’t done enough damage already! I’ll wager that’s how he popped his eye.” He raised his mug to find it empty. He looked confused for a few moments, then turned his longing gaze to the barkeep, and was candidly ignored. He sighed and licked the few drops in his mug. “Well, what a nutter eh? That’s what I get for talking to strangers, an earful of things that I’ve no concern for.”<br />
<br />
Jonas bid the barkeep goodbye and left a few silvers on the table. And only when he had left did the barkeep let out a tired sigh of relief as he took the mug off for washing. A couple of other patrons smiled sympathetically, and one chuckled. “Tough day ain’t it?”<br />
<br />
The barkeep shrugged. “Ain’t too bad. Least if Jonas hadn’t talked to that other chap, he would’ve talked to me, and I’d have had to listen to both of them.” He shuddered at the thought and pushed the silvers into his pouch.<br />
<br />
“Eh, what’s the name of that crazy bloke again? Did Jonas ever say?”<br />
<br />
The barkeep shook his head. “Didn’t, but I caught it: Terry Riggs, it was. Man of thirty.”<br />
<br />
“Terry, is it? Well cheers for the chipper and his crazy quest! May we never hear from him again!”<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
The simpler version:<br />
<br />
Terry Riggs was born in a relatively large but quiet town of Barns, to parents that loved him dearly. His father was a hunter, his mother was a herbalist, and they provided much for the town and were respected for their contributions. To these rather prominent figures of the town, Terry was a late child, and an only one at that, and was given much love. As such, Terry got away with the many mischiefs that would've meant some good amount of scolding or lashing for other children of the town. This treatment rather got to inflating Terry's ego and his daring nature, in other words, he was spoilt.<br />
<br />
Terry as an infant, round the age of 3, realized quite quickly that he could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted if he cried loud enough. Then round when he started running about with the other kids in town, round the age of 7, he realized that his father was the leader of the hunters in the town, and provided much food for the townspeople, and that his mother was the most knowledgeable on the topic of herbs of the local forest. Even the mayor was less important in the monthly town gathering; times were hard, what with the wars ravaging the lands, the people who could provide efficient means of survival were held above all others.  <br />
<br />
He was untouchable, and the moment his realization reached thus far, he began to have his way in life at the young age of 10. At first, it was benign. He would take the wares from shops liberally, and commanded the other kids in town follow his orders when they played together. It was quite harmless, people thought, after all, they were benefitting greatly from Terry's parents being in town. But as Terry reached his adolescent years of 14, he rapidly came to be the thorn in everyone's side that they just couldn't pull out in fear of offending his parents. They did however, hint at Terry's parents that his antics needed some fixing, and while the parents grasped the problem soon, they couldn't put Terry under a firm enough grasp. They did much to direct his seemingly endless energy towards causing havoc elsewhere, such as taking him along on their hunting/foraging trips, but they only gave him more armament to causing some of Terry's more spectaculr pranks. <br />
<br />
The year Terry turned 16, his father was enlisted into the Civil war efforts, and that gave Terry more of a free reign, as his mother was powerless to stop him. But some time after Terry poisoned the town's water supply that caused an onslaught of diarrhea, which he just barely got away with by pleading innocence by ignorance of the properties of the herbs that he 'accidentally' dropped into the stream, news came to the town that his father had died, barely a year since the last time Terry had seen him.<br />
<br />
To Terry, his father was invulnerable. No wild animal could stand up to him, and each arrow from his father's bow found its target and made sure the target stayed still. The fact that he had died made everything seem so pointless. Terry and his mother sat in the dining room for days. His mother sobbing silently by the window, and he, just staring at a spider making itself a home in the corner. At the last hour of the week, Terry rose from the table, a fresh look of determination on his face, and fetched his father's bow and arrows from his room, and before his mother could say anything, left the house. <br />
<br />
He later returned, head to toe covered in dirt and leaves. There were no remaining arrows in the quiver, and he had no catch to claim his own, but his face said it all. His mother rose from her spot, and embraced her son, a fresh stream of tears running down her face. And he managed, for almost a decade, to contribute to the development and welfare of the town. Not as well as his father had done, but well enough to earn his respect and cast the old memories of him aside. Well, almost; he still talked too much.<br />
<br />
All seemed to be going well for the town of Barns and young Terry. The Civil War had ended a year ago, and Terry at the ripe age of 21, was almost as respected as his father had been. But then as it happens to all youth, he fell in love. Long story short, he came across a family of Xitians hiding out in the wilderness and after a period of friendship, he fell in love with the daughter. However, although the Xitians were quite fond of the lad, they did not want Mesalian blood in their family. Rejected, Terry returned home with a heavy heart, and much to his mother's worries, did not eat or talk for the whole day.<br />
<br />
The very next day, however, he met the day full of enthusiasm and excitement, and utterly confused and even horrified the townspeople when he started talking of how he would become a Xitian. <span style="color: #00FF00;" class="mycode_color">The elderly knew of the horrors that the Xitians had caused firsthand, and even those who were relatively young knew enough of the slavery and the Purges to know what had to be done when a Xitian was spotted nearby; Terry knew of these tales as well as the next person, but as far as he was concerned, they were stories of the past.</span> Soon, the whole tale was out. The first response of the people was to go after the evil Xitians who had bewitched their resident hunter, but nobody aside from Terry knew where to find them. The second response was to try and reason with Terry, mainly by his mother, but no sense or logic could find a way to into his euphoric mind. The third and last resort, was to chase him out of town. He had been touched by the Xitians, and there was no telling what he might do under the influence.<br />
<br />
Sad to see his distraught mother, but unable to convince her of his love, he left, deciding to embrace the freedom he now had from the responsibilites of hunting for an entire town. He travelled all over, making inquiries, experimenting - mainly on himself - to find some clue as to how he might turn his blood into that of an Xitian's. When the portal to the Dusk Realm opened again, he was one of the first to run to the area, although with different intentions than that of most others. When refused admission to the vicinity of the portal, Terry decided to resume his travels and return some other time when things would be smoothened out between the races. His search carried him far and wide, for nearly eight years he traveled, hunting and selling meat and leather for his traveling expenses.<br />
<br />
He learnt nothing in those long years, except that perhaps infusing nether directly onto his eye might not have been his best idea. <span style="color: #00FF00;" class="mycode_color">The Xitian who did the infusing was wholeheartedly of the same opinion, but the job was easy money, and he wasn't too bothered leaving Terry writhing in pain, stripped of his valuables. His rather unfortunate plight set him back, but his enthusiasm didn't wane.</span> His next destination was the Forbidden Lands, where it was still full of mysteries and unexplored lands. He had had heard of tales that some Xitians of old had ran to those lands during the Purges, and he had hopes that he would run into some that would perhaps know of a way to fulfill his dream. So thirty and his heart buzzing with excitement, he boarded the first ship to the Forbidden Lands to a settlement quite deep in those lands, in hopes of finding what he had been searching for, for the past nine years. <br />
</div></div></div></div> <br />
Items brought to the setting:<br />
<br />
A worn longbow<br />
A quiver and three arrows<br />
Two notebooks of 'research' notes<br />
A couple of bottles containing the remains of dusk spawns<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
Terry awoke. The clinic was pitch dark; the moon wasn't out and all lights had been extinguished. The wind told him that clouds were approaching and it would rain by midday tomorrow. <br />
<br />
Or is it today? He wondered.<br />
<br />
He lay still, looking up at the beams of the ceiling. His head was the clearest it had been in months. The infection that had claimed half of his face had apparently stopped throbbing, and the constant headache that had ailed him so was tormenting him no longer. Half of his vision still remained dark, but he had accepted that his eye was a lost cause. <br />
<br />
Maybe he was cured, he thought, maybe some miracle had happened.<br />
<br />
He noticed then that his leg that was mangled by the dragon wasn't in pain either. He then noticed that his leg wasn't feeling anything at all. A wave of doubt surged over him as he tried to sit up. He could tell his limbs were moving, but he couldn't tell what they were touching or if they were touching anything but the void in the first place. It took him a few tries before he realized that one of his arms hung limp, unresponsive to his commands. He did manage eventually, and saw that his functioning hand was shaking. <br />
<br />
He knew then. He was going to die.<br />
<br />
He wasn't afraid. He had always embraced the thought of death, and was even thankful he didn't have to feel its clutches at the last moment. But he wasn't going to die peacefully in a bed, he knew that. <br />
<br />
He kicked away his sheets and pulled himself off the bed, and instantly fell to his knees as his maimed leg refused to carry his weight. Cursing, he crawled his way out of the clinic. Once out, he tore out a length of his cloths and gathered enough twigs and branches to make a rudimentary cast for his leg. He only needed to use it this one time. <br />
<br />
It was a grueling task, and he was out of breath before the task was done, but he managed to tie some of the branches into place enough for him to limp on the leg. His leg buckled, but he ignored its reluctance and headed on his way. He stayed out of the paths, and chose the grass to walk on to stay away from the patrols. It would be too much trouble, and he would probably die before he could convince the likes of Lien. That wouldn't do.<br />
<br />
He tired quickly and had to take many breaks in his last journey, but no creatures came to disturb him. The hunters of the night gave him a wide berth, and the dusk spawn didn't even seem to notice his presence. <br />
<br />
He traveled as far as he could before collapsing. The night was almost over, and he could see the stars say their goodbyes one by one. He pulled himself into an alcove and lay panting weakly. <br />
<br />
This should be far enough, he thought. <br />
<br />
He knew that death was one source of the nether. And with his body corrupted as it is, he knew that his death wouldn't be pretty. He himself could've turned into one and attacked someone, or attracted enough to cause trouble, and he rather he didn't take the chances.<br />
<br />
He felt faint, and could feel his heart was near the end of its race as well. He sighed, took a glance at the rising sun one last time. <br />
<br />
And closed his eyes. </div></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Haara'ta Torrelk'Horta]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=687</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 30 Oct 2014 16:53:16 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=9">SentaiPink</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=687</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/3c/a3/7c/3ca37c29061fce8aea80945c2dd7b3f9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3ca37c29061fce8aea80945c2dd7b3f9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div><div style="text-align: justify;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The gods speak to me. </span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Lofa ah'sha ah'banwamun cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They always have.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa holk ah'cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I just never listened.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa ah'sha jocha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I should have listened all along.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa id ah'sha cha chana.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I can hear them so clearly now.</span><span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color"> Aantha ah'cha lofa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They have great plans for us.</span> <span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color">Th'ok kaawa hotha ban ah'cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The voice of the goddess of the moon is so clear and simple.</span> <span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color">Maj aantha lofa ah'Sulwamun.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I can hear her loudest of all.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Th'lofa Ah'Sulwamun teek.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">She speaks like a bell rings, unmistakable and beautiful.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Aantha des majokik, ah'motha <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">bells</span> Sul'lofa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">She has told me my child would be special.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Ikkoka, ah'mun funna cha Sul'lofa owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The goddess says he will hold many secrets and many more truths.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaawa'motha ah'soya ja'hori, maj kaa'motha, ah'sha marrin.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I must not let the others know.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Yayumu jo'marrin oma waarr'tha ban.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They will never understand the goddess.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Marrin Sulwamun ah'cha jo'chuuna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They cannot hear her as I do.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Sul'lofa ah'cha jo'chuuna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I am choosen, Hades is choosen.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Katha Hades teek, katha holk ah'sha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">We are special.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Ikkoka ah'banu.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">Isohel speaks to me like a great rolling thunder.</span> <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'motha th'lofa buumbo, Isowamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">It rumbles and the ground shakes and his words are clear and wise.</span>  <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Midew des aantha ah th'lofa Isowamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He knows all that is true.</span> <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'motha teek ah'sha Isowamun marrin.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He knows Sulena has blessed Hades and me.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Mun ah'banu</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He has told me the future he sees.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Fuuna Isowamun marrin, Isowamun athoka.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">My son will be great.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Th'ok Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will be powerful.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Marrik Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will rule over man.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Kaawa Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will take this world for his own.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'thokchura Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I will make him wise and just.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'Motha des kaakoum ah'sha korefunna</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The gods have told me.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'lofa banwamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They do not lie.</span><span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'Motha ah'cha cha jo.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They have told me everything.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Lofawa ah'sha punna.</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">It all makes such perfect sense. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"> Marrin aantha ah'sha cha. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #339933;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size">Taking care of herself and baby Hades.</span></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/wTGg9Ia.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: wTGg9Ia.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name: </span>Haara’ta “Hara” Torrelk’Horta<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age: </span>27 [AV 47 - Nov 2015]<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender: </span>Female<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance: </span><br />
Dark coppery skin with straight black hair that falls below her shoulders, but she generally keeps in a short but messy braid. She has almond shaped, brown eyes, and often will paint markings on her face. Hara doesn’t dress in Ko’ban garb, usually though she will wear Ko’ban styled necklaces and adornments. She wears earrings in her right ear, but all the piercings on the left have been ripped out leaving her ear scared and her partially deaf on that side. Small scars from fighting and accidents while working dot her body.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Personality: </span><br />
Hara has never had a problem talking to people. Infact most people have a problem with her talking to them. She’s open and chatty, but this causes conflict more often than not, and it seems through intention on her part. What makes her antagonization so effective is her keen perceptiveness and her somewhat stubborn pragmatism. She has little interest in making friends or meaningful connections, but theres no way of knowing if she wants to get to know someone or find something to use against them when talking to her. One thing that becomes clear is her love of provoking reactions from people, both good and bad. It’s just unfortunate she doesn’t know when to stop prodding people, as this often can and does escalate into violence. Violence which she has no problem participating in, and perhaps maybe even the goal for her.<br />
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She’s not impossible to get along with or even befriend, but it takes a certain willingness to overlook her brutal sense of humor to see the woman she actually is. Which isn’t really all that great either. She’s almost dangerously reckless and seems to have little care for her own well being. But oddly enough should she befriend someone she can show a great deal of selflessness in their favor, but never enough to halt her dangerous behavior and reckless habits. She does have a want for companionship but if her behavior doesn’t ward suitors off then her abusive nature usually finishes the job. It’s not that she sets out with the intention to harm the ones she cares about, but she doesn’t do anything in half measures and that includes emotions and love. She gives her all or nothing and this is often causes her problems.<br />
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Her heedless approach to life is aided by her being callously apathetic towards consequence. A lot of her behavior betrays that the only thing she gives less of a thought to than consequences, is authority. She’s always of the opinion that whoever is in charge isn’t good enough, and often feels the desire to voice this as rudely as possible.<br />
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All in all, Hara isn’t a good person, nor does she pretend to be. She does however have her own dreams and wants for life. She desires on some level to better herself but is still young enough to resent the idea of ‘settling down’ but old enough to know there is no future for how she currently lives. Intelligent but not wise, she’s a strange and somewhat dangerous mix. It’s a fair bet that a lot of this comes from deep guilt in regards to her history, and said guilt leads her to the defensive nature and a lifestyle that may put her in an early grave. Though she doesn’t personally believe in suicide, nor does her naturally pugnacious attitude imply she’s in anyway unwilling to fight for survival. But she’s far too intelligent not to know her behavior maybe the end of her.<br />
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During the worst stent of infighting among the clans of the Ko’ban, Haara’ta (Hara) was born. A blessing to a young chief names Haro, and his wife Wohota. Haro was a good leader whose battle tactics and peacemaking has thus far managed to keep his tribe alive and afloat in spite of the civil fighting both in the clans and outside of them. Though they still had enemies and battles to fight. But regardless of this troubled time, Hara’s birth was celebrated.<br />
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The addition to his family redoubled Haro’s efforts to find peace and balance for the tribes, and he strove to unite first his clan. This took years. By the time the Ban’Torrelk had unified, the tribes that had called themselves the Ban’Kinnta Clan had fallen into chaos. The fighting reached it’s bloodiest for those outside the Ban’Torrelk while Hara was still a little girl.<br />
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This blood shed resulted in Hara starting to learn how to defend herself very young. When she was 8 she started to study how to defend herself. Though trying all manor of weapon with the girl she only ever showed interest in the way the Ban’Torrelk raiders faught, which was unarmed. Haro was begrudged to let his daughter become a raider but he let her start her training there for the sake of her to be able to defend herself at the least.<br />
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Both Wohota and Haro were concerned with Hara’s interest in the raiding parties, so they agreed to teach her how to build and create as well. For Haro it was important that she learn that the Ko’ban make almost everything they needed, the Ban’Torrelk especially, and that the raids on the settlements outside their lands where only in desperate times. Haro was trying to groom his daughter to one day be chief.<br />
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As Hara grew though it became clear that inspite of her aptitude with the work provided to her, she enjoyed fighting more. She would constantly be sparing or outright starting fights with the other children, and sometimes those much older than she. She wasn’t the best fighter, but her tenacity had at the very least earned her fathers respect in the matter. He let her continue her raider training so long as she also worked to help build and maintain homes between training and raids.<br />
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All Ban’Torrelk tribes tend to raid infrequently, and most have their own way of doing it, for the Ban’Horta (Hara’s tribe) they relied on stealth and came into the town unarmed, secured and subdued obstacles (IE, people) without the noise of weapons, the intention was to sneak close or drop down on them. The raider training included not only how to fight but how to climb, move silently and use the traditional building styles of the Mesalian people to their advantage. For the most part, raids were about medicine, metal tools, and winter food. Haro managed to keep the raids to a minimum, knowing the risk to his entire tribe each one gambled.<br />
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The years of training Hara and the other raiders got was part of mitigating this risk to the Ban’Horta people. Though there were plenty of aspects of it Hara found dull, she enjoyed the risk. By 12, the proud Hara was determined to prove herself ready for actual raids. So one day, she and the other students were to observe the neighboring village from a hill top, hidden in the long grass and trees. This was an all day activity to teach patience. Something Hara had and still has, little of. Hara started to creep closer and closer to town. Until finally it became a contest between her and the others in training to get as close to the town as possible undetected.<br />
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This act of disobedience put her and the four other Ko’ban youth in training nearly in the town when the town was suddenly attacked. By then the civil fighting in the clans had been quelled and for the most part there was peace. For the youth’s it was easy to overlook or forget the rest of the mainlands had not got that far just yet. The small group found themselves in the middle of chaos and war, they, like the villagers tried to escape.<br />
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Only one of the children escaped to reach the tribe to tell Haro and the warriors what had happened. Hara had left behind her friends as they were dragged off and beat by soldiers. She had been nearest to town, and saw the fighting first, and she had the good fortune of being small finding a wheel barrel to over turn and hide under. She had to listen until the soldiers had moved on before she could run back to the safety the sunflower plains alone. She would never forgive herself for abandoning her friends. Her father and his men went to save the children, at the end of the day, it had been for naught. The children were lost and Haro’s attempts to retrieve them cost him another three warriors, and grievously wounded two more.<br />
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The loss of children for the Ko’ban is a serious matter, so much so that Haro’s leadership was called into question. The village that was raided was raised to the ground, the neighboring towns only saw Haro and his men carrying the wounded and dead Ko’ban from the remains, It was inevitable that they would be blamed for the pillaging. Hara’s father was shamed, and stripped of his title, and their tribe dissolved into neighboring ones. Hara had a hard time appreciating this, upset and angry at herself to such a degree she didn’t appreciate what was happening until they had to move to a new tribe.<br />
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Things did not improve there, Hara was helpless to fix matters, her father started to waste away, sickness soon set in. He was dying, and all she could do was confess her fault in the matter to him. She tearfully begged his forgiveness for her disobedience and he just gave a sickly smile and ran a hand through her hair.<br />
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'You are brave, and powerful, you survived when others did not. You know your own limitations and you were just testing them. You meant no harm my little one. You meant for none of this, but don’t stop pushing yourself. Always do better.' Was all he said on the matter. Hara and Wohota spent their time trying to help him recover, but soon, he passed away to sickness. Leaving Hara and Wohota to forge a new life with only one another in a new tribe. While they weren’t treated poorly in the tribe, they never felt home as they had in the Ban’Horta.<br />
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Hara wasn’t trusted enough to be made a raider so she only worked on her building and with her free time, she would widdle small figurines of the gods. As if their presence would offer guidance. But they never did. She had remained feeling lost and guilty as her rite of passage came up when she was 14. With no love for her tribe she decides it’s time she leaves when it comes. She gives her mother her final farewell and sets out on her own. She leaves the Ko’ban lands and presses out into the world. At first wary of the villages and towns she soon found herself with an apprenticeship buildings houses.<br />
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The apprenticeship didn’t pay. Hara wasn’t aware at the time that she was being used as free labor, she was far more skilled than the other apprentices and even more so than some of the regular laborers. Hara grew restless with this position, and at first tried to find people willing to spar with her in her off time. A few one sided fist fights later and no one would give her the time of day.<br />
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By the time she was 16 she not only knew she was being used and was at the least a laborer, though she was making less than the rest due to the simple fact that she was Ko’Ban. Hara finally had enough, so she went to ‘discuss’ her wages with her foremen. In this instance, she decided to start the conversation with a punch. Needless to say, she got into a fight with the foremen and won. But the foremen had her arrested for it. After her stay in jail she left town and went to find some fair work somewhere else.<br />
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Hara started to travel around floating from one jobsite to the next. She made sure she was paid fairly, and during her nights she would challenge people to fights and take bets. She ended up with more wins than losses but not everyone was a honorable challenger or fought fair. It was a bar fight at the end of the day. So she would often arrive to work beat up with fresh bruises and bandages. After a while, no one questioned it. Her floating around continued until late in her 17th year when she met someone.<br />
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She fell in love with a man named Rodrick. Rodrick was a good man, and he’d been captivated by Hara’s strength. But the drawback to this was that Hara didn’t know how to manage a relationship, or even how to treat him. She ended up an abuser, mistreating the man she loved in emotional outbursts that sometimes weren’t even his fault. Though Rodrick loved Hara he knew she was unhealthy for him, and eventually left her. She had spent three years with him, living in one spot and still fighting with strangers in the bar at night after work. Her lifestyle didn’t do well for the stability that Rodrick offered and wanted. So when he left her, the now 20 year old Hara went back to floating from town to town.<br />
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Over the course of a long meandering year she found herself at the coast. She poked around the port for a while, finding she generally got along with the sailors and they they where fun to be around. Most of which more understanding of the occasional bar brawl. Finally she picked a lengthy trip to the forbidden lands and a little known town. She needed something new, and different.. The way she’d been living was no longer fulfilling after losing Rodrick to her poor self control.<br />
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<br />
0 AV Ko’ban have freedom.<br />
0-13 AV Ko’ban struggle to rebuild clans and hunt chase outsiders from their lands.<br />
13-20 AV Civil war breaks out among the clans.<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">20 AV Hara is born</span><br />
21 AV Lucin and Xitian Shamen falls out of practice.<br />
24-29 AV The Ban’Kinnta falls into chaos and starts to destablize.<br />
30 AV The Ban’Horrek and Ban’Moraantha form from the remains of Ban’Kinnta.<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">32 AV Hara disobeys [12]</span><br />
33 AV Civil War ends<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">34 AV Hara’s rite of adulthood [14]</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">36 AV Hara leaves apprenticeship. [16]</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">37 AV Hara fights for money and works during the day [17]<br />
40 AV Hara grows restless after losing love and starts traveling again [20]<br />
41 AV Hara arrives</span><br />
*41 AV is November/December.</div></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Capabilities: </span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Unarmed Combat</span> - Competent<br />
As a child she started to learn how to move quickly, deftly and quietly. The most silent way to move, is to not carry weapons that rattle and knock into things. As a result she learned how to fight with fist, foot and joint. Hara never become the raider she’d envisioned as a child, but she never forgot her training and has continued to advance this skill since she was 8. She fought for years for money in bar bets, her style involves brutal grapples and disarms (not unlike Krav Maga) and a healthy amount of kickboxing. Her marital skill focuses on either disarming and subduing foes as quickly as possible or, failing that, beating the ever living tar out of them with fist and foot. She’s not only deadly in combat but her body remains nimble and capable of impressive physical feats of agility and flexibility.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Carpentry</span> - Competent<br />
Building houses, furniture, whittling and small crafting projects. Primarily she knows how to build in the most traditional sense, everything from homes, shacks, outhouses, sheds, treehouses, furniture, carts, and all points between. Her spare time is often spent alone, whittling. While she strictly builds with wood, clay, and stone, she’ll whittle with everything from bone to wax and potatoes.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Masonry</span> - Apprentice<br />
She has a strong foundation in masonry and she actually learned this before her carpentry, she works well with clay and simple cobblestone foundations and structures. Hara’s relatively limited use of bricks in her work keeps this skill from advancing further.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Handicrafts</span> - Novice<br />
Simple crafts like basket weaving, candle making, bead making, her whittling and her dye making (that extends past what’s strictly needed for her carpentry). Most of which she learned pursuing her job fields or just being raised Ko’ban. On their own not worthy of a skill but collectively weigh enough to count as something additional.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Knowlage:</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Ko’Ban Language</span> - Advanced<br />
Hara understands Ko’ban flawlessly, she was raised speaking it and inspite of not using it much she retains the ability and often thinks or speaks to herself in it. Her time in training as a raider taught her some simple hand signals to communicate movements without words. The Ko’ban believe this is how sign language started. Theres no evidence to support their claim.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Common Language</span> - Compatent<br />
Hara started learning common young, though didn’t use it much until after she left home. Some of the reason her first foremen could screw her over on wages was because she didn’t fully understand him when they spoke. Which doubled her efforts to learn the language until she was fluent.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Common Writing</span> - Apprentice<br />
With the help of Zarkaylia, Hara's ability to read and write in common has come leaps and bounds ahead of where it was. She can read and write now though it takes her time as it is still a new skill for her.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Leadership</span> - Apprentice<br />
Leading people is difficult, and while Hara still has to work on some of the social skills it takes to do so well, she has a firm understanding of the logistical obligations in leading a town or community. This includes trade obligations, expansion, revenue management and more. This is entirely due to her training under Zarkaylia.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Additional Comments:</span><br />
I hate the term martial art, but since the Ko’ban don’t have a style of fighting strictly native to them I had to mesh things that would be appropriate for what she’d be using the skill for as a raider. I am more than aware Krav Maga wasn’t a thing until the 1900’s, which is why I only use it’s reference in regards to the brutality of the style, you could also draw similarities to judo but in some cases judo doesn’t really go far enough. The idea is that instead of twisting an arm to get a dagger out of someone’s hand, it’d be dislocated or broken. The style isn’t designed to be pretty or for competition, it’s to hurt people, quickly. And I’m aware this will never actually work in RP, but that doesn’t change the nature of her skill. The boxing element is close to savate in style in which it utilizes fist, foot, shin and knee.<br />
<br />
Savate is an element of Krav Maga as is Judo, Jujitsu, wrestling, grapples and Mai Tai. The two styles can and do mesh well together. This also sort of helps reinforce the slightly disjointed nature of the style as the Ko’ban sort of borrowed whatever effective martial move they could find to develop something for their incursions. At least, the tribe she was from did, anyway. Other Ban’Torrelk tribes may have different methods which is why I didn’t feel I didn’t need to update my lore, but I can and will if necessary.<br />
</div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/3c/a3/7c/3ca37c29061fce8aea80945c2dd7b3f9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3ca37c29061fce8aea80945c2dd7b3f9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div><div style="text-align: justify;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The gods speak to me. </span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Lofa ah'sha ah'banwamun cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They always have.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa holk ah'cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I just never listened.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa ah'sha jocha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I should have listened all along.</span> <span style="color: #ffd00a;" class="mycode_color">Lofa id ah'sha cha chana.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I can hear them so clearly now.</span><span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color"> Aantha ah'cha lofa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They have great plans for us.</span> <span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color">Th'ok kaawa hotha ban ah'cha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The voice of the goddess of the moon is so clear and simple.</span> <span style="color: #ffb70a;" class="mycode_color">Maj aantha lofa ah'Sulwamun.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I can hear her loudest of all.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Th'lofa Ah'Sulwamun teek.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">She speaks like a bell rings, unmistakable and beautiful.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Aantha des majokik, ah'motha <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">bells</span> Sul'lofa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">She has told me my child would be special.</span> <span style="color: #ffa60a;" class="mycode_color">Ikkoka, ah'mun funna cha Sul'lofa owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The goddess says he will hold many secrets and many more truths.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaawa'motha ah'soya ja'hori, maj kaa'motha, ah'sha marrin.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I must not let the others know.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Yayumu jo'marrin oma waarr'tha ban.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They will never understand the goddess.</span> <span style="color: #ff9a0a;" class="mycode_color">Marrin Sulwamun ah'cha jo'chuuna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They cannot hear her as I do.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Sul'lofa ah'cha jo'chuuna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I am choosen, Hades is choosen.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Katha Hades teek, katha holk ah'sha.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">We are special.</span> <span style="color: #ff890a;" class="mycode_color">Ikkoka ah'banu.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">Isohel speaks to me like a great rolling thunder.</span> <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'motha th'lofa buumbo, Isowamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">It rumbles and the ground shakes and his words are clear and wise.</span>  <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Midew des aantha ah th'lofa Isowamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He knows all that is true.</span> <span style="color: #ff7d0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'motha teek ah'sha Isowamun marrin.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He knows Sulena has blessed Hades and me.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Mun ah'banu</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He has told me the future he sees.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Fuuna Isowamun marrin, Isowamun athoka.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">My son will be great.</span> <span style="color: #ff660a;" class="mycode_color">Th'ok Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will be powerful.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Marrik Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will rule over man.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Kaawa Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">He will take this world for his own.</span> <span style="color: #ff550a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'thokchura Hades funna.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">I will make him wise and just.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'Motha des kaakoum ah'sha korefunna</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">The gods have told me.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Ah'lofa banwamun owa.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They do not lie.</span><span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Kaa'Motha ah'cha cha jo.</span><span style="color: #141414;" class="mycode_color">They have told me everything.</span> <span style="color: #ff3e0a;" class="mycode_color">Lofawa ah'sha punna.</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">It all makes such perfect sense. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"> Marrin aantha ah'sha cha. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #339933;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size">Taking care of herself and baby Hades.</span></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/wTGg9Ia.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: wTGg9Ia.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name: </span>Haara’ta “Hara” Torrelk’Horta<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age: </span>27 [AV 47 - Nov 2015]<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender: </span>Female<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance: </span><br />
Dark coppery skin with straight black hair that falls below her shoulders, but she generally keeps in a short but messy braid. She has almond shaped, brown eyes, and often will paint markings on her face. Hara doesn’t dress in Ko’ban garb, usually though she will wear Ko’ban styled necklaces and adornments. She wears earrings in her right ear, but all the piercings on the left have been ripped out leaving her ear scared and her partially deaf on that side. Small scars from fighting and accidents while working dot her body.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Personality: </span><br />
Hara has never had a problem talking to people. Infact most people have a problem with her talking to them. She’s open and chatty, but this causes conflict more often than not, and it seems through intention on her part. What makes her antagonization so effective is her keen perceptiveness and her somewhat stubborn pragmatism. She has little interest in making friends or meaningful connections, but theres no way of knowing if she wants to get to know someone or find something to use against them when talking to her. One thing that becomes clear is her love of provoking reactions from people, both good and bad. It’s just unfortunate she doesn’t know when to stop prodding people, as this often can and does escalate into violence. Violence which she has no problem participating in, and perhaps maybe even the goal for her.<br />
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She’s not impossible to get along with or even befriend, but it takes a certain willingness to overlook her brutal sense of humor to see the woman she actually is. Which isn’t really all that great either. She’s almost dangerously reckless and seems to have little care for her own well being. But oddly enough should she befriend someone she can show a great deal of selflessness in their favor, but never enough to halt her dangerous behavior and reckless habits. She does have a want for companionship but if her behavior doesn’t ward suitors off then her abusive nature usually finishes the job. It’s not that she sets out with the intention to harm the ones she cares about, but she doesn’t do anything in half measures and that includes emotions and love. She gives her all or nothing and this is often causes her problems.<br />
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Her heedless approach to life is aided by her being callously apathetic towards consequence. A lot of her behavior betrays that the only thing she gives less of a thought to than consequences, is authority. She’s always of the opinion that whoever is in charge isn’t good enough, and often feels the desire to voice this as rudely as possible.<br />
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All in all, Hara isn’t a good person, nor does she pretend to be. She does however have her own dreams and wants for life. She desires on some level to better herself but is still young enough to resent the idea of ‘settling down’ but old enough to know there is no future for how she currently lives. Intelligent but not wise, she’s a strange and somewhat dangerous mix. It’s a fair bet that a lot of this comes from deep guilt in regards to her history, and said guilt leads her to the defensive nature and a lifestyle that may put her in an early grave. Though she doesn’t personally believe in suicide, nor does her naturally pugnacious attitude imply she’s in anyway unwilling to fight for survival. But she’s far too intelligent not to know her behavior maybe the end of her.<br />
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<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Backstory</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
During the worst stent of infighting among the clans of the Ko’ban, Haara’ta (Hara) was born. A blessing to a young chief names Haro, and his wife Wohota. Haro was a good leader whose battle tactics and peacemaking has thus far managed to keep his tribe alive and afloat in spite of the civil fighting both in the clans and outside of them. Though they still had enemies and battles to fight. But regardless of this troubled time, Hara’s birth was celebrated.<br />
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The addition to his family redoubled Haro’s efforts to find peace and balance for the tribes, and he strove to unite first his clan. This took years. By the time the Ban’Torrelk had unified, the tribes that had called themselves the Ban’Kinnta Clan had fallen into chaos. The fighting reached it’s bloodiest for those outside the Ban’Torrelk while Hara was still a little girl.<br />
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This blood shed resulted in Hara starting to learn how to defend herself very young. When she was 8 she started to study how to defend herself. Though trying all manor of weapon with the girl she only ever showed interest in the way the Ban’Torrelk raiders faught, which was unarmed. Haro was begrudged to let his daughter become a raider but he let her start her training there for the sake of her to be able to defend herself at the least.<br />
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Both Wohota and Haro were concerned with Hara’s interest in the raiding parties, so they agreed to teach her how to build and create as well. For Haro it was important that she learn that the Ko’ban make almost everything they needed, the Ban’Torrelk especially, and that the raids on the settlements outside their lands where only in desperate times. Haro was trying to groom his daughter to one day be chief.<br />
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As Hara grew though it became clear that inspite of her aptitude with the work provided to her, she enjoyed fighting more. She would constantly be sparing or outright starting fights with the other children, and sometimes those much older than she. She wasn’t the best fighter, but her tenacity had at the very least earned her fathers respect in the matter. He let her continue her raider training so long as she also worked to help build and maintain homes between training and raids.<br />
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All Ban’Torrelk tribes tend to raid infrequently, and most have their own way of doing it, for the Ban’Horta (Hara’s tribe) they relied on stealth and came into the town unarmed, secured and subdued obstacles (IE, people) without the noise of weapons, the intention was to sneak close or drop down on them. The raider training included not only how to fight but how to climb, move silently and use the traditional building styles of the Mesalian people to their advantage. For the most part, raids were about medicine, metal tools, and winter food. Haro managed to keep the raids to a minimum, knowing the risk to his entire tribe each one gambled.<br />
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The years of training Hara and the other raiders got was part of mitigating this risk to the Ban’Horta people. Though there were plenty of aspects of it Hara found dull, she enjoyed the risk. By 12, the proud Hara was determined to prove herself ready for actual raids. So one day, she and the other students were to observe the neighboring village from a hill top, hidden in the long grass and trees. This was an all day activity to teach patience. Something Hara had and still has, little of. Hara started to creep closer and closer to town. Until finally it became a contest between her and the others in training to get as close to the town as possible undetected.<br />
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This act of disobedience put her and the four other Ko’ban youth in training nearly in the town when the town was suddenly attacked. By then the civil fighting in the clans had been quelled and for the most part there was peace. For the youth’s it was easy to overlook or forget the rest of the mainlands had not got that far just yet. The small group found themselves in the middle of chaos and war, they, like the villagers tried to escape.<br />
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Only one of the children escaped to reach the tribe to tell Haro and the warriors what had happened. Hara had left behind her friends as they were dragged off and beat by soldiers. She had been nearest to town, and saw the fighting first, and she had the good fortune of being small finding a wheel barrel to over turn and hide under. She had to listen until the soldiers had moved on before she could run back to the safety the sunflower plains alone. She would never forgive herself for abandoning her friends. Her father and his men went to save the children, at the end of the day, it had been for naught. The children were lost and Haro’s attempts to retrieve them cost him another three warriors, and grievously wounded two more.<br />
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The loss of children for the Ko’ban is a serious matter, so much so that Haro’s leadership was called into question. The village that was raided was raised to the ground, the neighboring towns only saw Haro and his men carrying the wounded and dead Ko’ban from the remains, It was inevitable that they would be blamed for the pillaging. Hara’s father was shamed, and stripped of his title, and their tribe dissolved into neighboring ones. Hara had a hard time appreciating this, upset and angry at herself to such a degree she didn’t appreciate what was happening until they had to move to a new tribe.<br />
<br />
Things did not improve there, Hara was helpless to fix matters, her father started to waste away, sickness soon set in. He was dying, and all she could do was confess her fault in the matter to him. She tearfully begged his forgiveness for her disobedience and he just gave a sickly smile and ran a hand through her hair.<br />
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'You are brave, and powerful, you survived when others did not. You know your own limitations and you were just testing them. You meant no harm my little one. You meant for none of this, but don’t stop pushing yourself. Always do better.' Was all he said on the matter. Hara and Wohota spent their time trying to help him recover, but soon, he passed away to sickness. Leaving Hara and Wohota to forge a new life with only one another in a new tribe. While they weren’t treated poorly in the tribe, they never felt home as they had in the Ban’Horta.<br />
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Hara wasn’t trusted enough to be made a raider so she only worked on her building and with her free time, she would widdle small figurines of the gods. As if their presence would offer guidance. But they never did. She had remained feeling lost and guilty as her rite of passage came up when she was 14. With no love for her tribe she decides it’s time she leaves when it comes. She gives her mother her final farewell and sets out on her own. She leaves the Ko’ban lands and presses out into the world. At first wary of the villages and towns she soon found herself with an apprenticeship buildings houses.<br />
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The apprenticeship didn’t pay. Hara wasn’t aware at the time that she was being used as free labor, she was far more skilled than the other apprentices and even more so than some of the regular laborers. Hara grew restless with this position, and at first tried to find people willing to spar with her in her off time. A few one sided fist fights later and no one would give her the time of day.<br />
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By the time she was 16 she not only knew she was being used and was at the least a laborer, though she was making less than the rest due to the simple fact that she was Ko’Ban. Hara finally had enough, so she went to ‘discuss’ her wages with her foremen. In this instance, she decided to start the conversation with a punch. Needless to say, she got into a fight with the foremen and won. But the foremen had her arrested for it. After her stay in jail she left town and went to find some fair work somewhere else.<br />
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Hara started to travel around floating from one jobsite to the next. She made sure she was paid fairly, and during her nights she would challenge people to fights and take bets. She ended up with more wins than losses but not everyone was a honorable challenger or fought fair. It was a bar fight at the end of the day. So she would often arrive to work beat up with fresh bruises and bandages. After a while, no one questioned it. Her floating around continued until late in her 17th year when she met someone.<br />
<br />
She fell in love with a man named Rodrick. Rodrick was a good man, and he’d been captivated by Hara’s strength. But the drawback to this was that Hara didn’t know how to manage a relationship, or even how to treat him. She ended up an abuser, mistreating the man she loved in emotional outbursts that sometimes weren’t even his fault. Though Rodrick loved Hara he knew she was unhealthy for him, and eventually left her. She had spent three years with him, living in one spot and still fighting with strangers in the bar at night after work. Her lifestyle didn’t do well for the stability that Rodrick offered and wanted. So when he left her, the now 20 year old Hara went back to floating from town to town.<br />
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Over the course of a long meandering year she found herself at the coast. She poked around the port for a while, finding she generally got along with the sailors and they they where fun to be around. Most of which more understanding of the occasional bar brawl. Finally she picked a lengthy trip to the forbidden lands and a little known town. She needed something new, and different.. The way she’d been living was no longer fulfilling after losing Rodrick to her poor self control.<br />
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<br />
0 AV Ko’ban have freedom.<br />
0-13 AV Ko’ban struggle to rebuild clans and hunt chase outsiders from their lands.<br />
13-20 AV Civil war breaks out among the clans.<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">20 AV Hara is born</span><br />
21 AV Lucin and Xitian Shamen falls out of practice.<br />
24-29 AV The Ban’Kinnta falls into chaos and starts to destablize.<br />
30 AV The Ban’Horrek and Ban’Moraantha form from the remains of Ban’Kinnta.<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">32 AV Hara disobeys [12]</span><br />
33 AV Civil War ends<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">34 AV Hara’s rite of adulthood [14]</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">36 AV Hara leaves apprenticeship. [16]</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">37 AV Hara fights for money and works during the day [17]<br />
40 AV Hara grows restless after losing love and starts traveling again [20]<br />
41 AV Hara arrives</span><br />
*41 AV is November/December.</div></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Capabilities: </span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Unarmed Combat</span> - Competent<br />
As a child she started to learn how to move quickly, deftly and quietly. The most silent way to move, is to not carry weapons that rattle and knock into things. As a result she learned how to fight with fist, foot and joint. Hara never become the raider she’d envisioned as a child, but she never forgot her training and has continued to advance this skill since she was 8. She fought for years for money in bar bets, her style involves brutal grapples and disarms (not unlike Krav Maga) and a healthy amount of kickboxing. Her marital skill focuses on either disarming and subduing foes as quickly as possible or, failing that, beating the ever living tar out of them with fist and foot. She’s not only deadly in combat but her body remains nimble and capable of impressive physical feats of agility and flexibility.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Carpentry</span> - Competent<br />
Building houses, furniture, whittling and small crafting projects. Primarily she knows how to build in the most traditional sense, everything from homes, shacks, outhouses, sheds, treehouses, furniture, carts, and all points between. Her spare time is often spent alone, whittling. While she strictly builds with wood, clay, and stone, she’ll whittle with everything from bone to wax and potatoes.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Masonry</span> - Apprentice<br />
She has a strong foundation in masonry and she actually learned this before her carpentry, she works well with clay and simple cobblestone foundations and structures. Hara’s relatively limited use of bricks in her work keeps this skill from advancing further.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Handicrafts</span> - Novice<br />
Simple crafts like basket weaving, candle making, bead making, her whittling and her dye making (that extends past what’s strictly needed for her carpentry). Most of which she learned pursuing her job fields or just being raised Ko’ban. On their own not worthy of a skill but collectively weigh enough to count as something additional.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Knowlage:</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Ko’Ban Language</span> - Advanced<br />
Hara understands Ko’ban flawlessly, she was raised speaking it and inspite of not using it much she retains the ability and often thinks or speaks to herself in it. Her time in training as a raider taught her some simple hand signals to communicate movements without words. The Ko’ban believe this is how sign language started. Theres no evidence to support their claim.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Common Language</span> - Compatent<br />
Hara started learning common young, though didn’t use it much until after she left home. Some of the reason her first foremen could screw her over on wages was because she didn’t fully understand him when they spoke. Which doubled her efforts to learn the language until she was fluent.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Common Writing</span> - Apprentice<br />
With the help of Zarkaylia, Hara's ability to read and write in common has come leaps and bounds ahead of where it was. She can read and write now though it takes her time as it is still a new skill for her.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Leadership</span> - Apprentice<br />
Leading people is difficult, and while Hara still has to work on some of the social skills it takes to do so well, she has a firm understanding of the logistical obligations in leading a town or community. This includes trade obligations, expansion, revenue management and more. This is entirely due to her training under Zarkaylia.<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Additional Comments:</span><br />
I hate the term martial art, but since the Ko’ban don’t have a style of fighting strictly native to them I had to mesh things that would be appropriate for what she’d be using the skill for as a raider. I am more than aware Krav Maga wasn’t a thing until the 1900’s, which is why I only use it’s reference in regards to the brutality of the style, you could also draw similarities to judo but in some cases judo doesn’t really go far enough. The idea is that instead of twisting an arm to get a dagger out of someone’s hand, it’d be dislocated or broken. The style isn’t designed to be pretty or for competition, it’s to hurt people, quickly. And I’m aware this will never actually work in RP, but that doesn’t change the nature of her skill. The boxing element is close to savate in style in which it utilizes fist, foot, shin and knee.<br />
<br />
Savate is an element of Krav Maga as is Judo, Jujitsu, wrestling, grapples and Mai Tai. The two styles can and do mesh well together. This also sort of helps reinforce the slightly disjointed nature of the style as the Ko’ban sort of borrowed whatever effective martial move they could find to develop something for their incursions. At least, the tribe she was from did, anyway. Other Ban’Torrelk tribes may have different methods which is why I didn’t feel I didn’t need to update my lore, but I can and will if necessary.<br />
</div></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[Peyton Cameron]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=510</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 31 Mar 2014 15:30:44 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=234">.xXNemoXx.</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=510</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/w7DI5jJ.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: w7DI5jJ.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: x-small;" class="mycode_size">Thank you, SentaiPink/Rachel, for the beautiful artwork!</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name:</span> Peyton Cameron<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender:</span> Female<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race:</span> Mesalian<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age:</span> 23 <br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Birthday:</span> 11th (Summer and Winter)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physicality:</span> Peyton has on overall tanned skin tone, save the dark brown birthmark on her right hip and the light, tiny, but plentiful scars across her forearms, palms, fingers, knees, calves and the soles of her feet. She has a rather long, rectangular face with soft cheekbones and a harsh jawline. Her eyes are prominently a cactus-green color, though upon closer look you can see she has specks of variant greens, giving her eyes a stony look. A long nose is proportionate to her long face, tilting upwards just slightly at the tip and is overall somewhat wide. Peyton's lips are a mix of pink and beige color, rather thin with soft edges and a slight 'puffy-ness' to them, and have a scar down the left corner of her bottom lip. Her hair is wild, with not a single straight hair, it is all very curly and voluminous. It's a soft black and brown color, short and barely reaches her shoulders. Body wise, Peyton has mild curves, and some toned muscle throughout her, just the lightest amount of visible body fat. Enough to make her look healthy, that is. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills:</span><br />
Singing - Competent<br />
Herbalism - Competent<br />
Healing - Competent<br />
Climbing - Apprentice<br />
Minor Skills - Reading &amp; Writing<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Singing:</span><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUSd2viF6zI" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">One Morning in May</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrsxWeBgadA" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url"> Cigarette Daydreams</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8rtJRlLdI8" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Breathe</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKJqMnuzhFU" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Riversong</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_RWtdm81WU" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Drunken Sailor</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wY1fUAPYH3M" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Don't Forget Your Old Shipmate</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Peyton's Book:</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"> This book is hand crafted, seamed together very well. Whoever made this book knew what they were doing. The spine of the book and it's edges are a little worn, but it is obvious the book is handled with care. Each page is numbered with a small number in the bottom outer corner. All of the work inside is Peyton's.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 1</span>:<br />
Peyton's Book<br />
*A note is scribbled on the bottom of the page.*<br />
This book and its contents are FRAGILE and PRIVATE!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 2 to 18</span>:<br />
*Specific Plant/Herb Name*<br />
*The medicinal plant/herb named above can be found pressed between the book's pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 19 to 25</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 26-28</span>:<br />
Painting!<br />
*These pages consist of how to create her clay-paints, color contrasting notes, what she has noticed on how color and line adds realism, and what the clay paint will dry on.*<br />
*There is minor clay-paint residue smeared into the pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 29</span>:<br />
*There is no title on this page, but it is scribbled notes all the way across. There on on a talk her Father had with her. "The Talk".*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 30-51</span>:<br />
*These pages have been harshly ripped out of the book.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 52-70</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 71</span>:<br />
*A beautiful, detailed sketch of Peyton from the chest up is on this page, done out of a coal pen. All of her hair is held up in a bun as she wears her Mother's dress and corset, she sits straight and proud. Holding a relaxed face in the sketch, her head is turned slightly to the right.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 71 to 100</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
Loose sheets of paper are in the back of the book.</div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/w7DI5jJ.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: w7DI5jJ.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: x-small;" class="mycode_size">Thank you, SentaiPink/Rachel, for the beautiful artwork!</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name:</span> Peyton Cameron<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender:</span> Female<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race:</span> Mesalian<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age:</span> 23 <br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Birthday:</span> 11th (Summer and Winter)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physicality:</span> Peyton has on overall tanned skin tone, save the dark brown birthmark on her right hip and the light, tiny, but plentiful scars across her forearms, palms, fingers, knees, calves and the soles of her feet. She has a rather long, rectangular face with soft cheekbones and a harsh jawline. Her eyes are prominently a cactus-green color, though upon closer look you can see she has specks of variant greens, giving her eyes a stony look. A long nose is proportionate to her long face, tilting upwards just slightly at the tip and is overall somewhat wide. Peyton's lips are a mix of pink and beige color, rather thin with soft edges and a slight 'puffy-ness' to them, and have a scar down the left corner of her bottom lip. Her hair is wild, with not a single straight hair, it is all very curly and voluminous. It's a soft black and brown color, short and barely reaches her shoulders. Body wise, Peyton has mild curves, and some toned muscle throughout her, just the lightest amount of visible body fat. Enough to make her look healthy, that is. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills:</span><br />
Singing - Competent<br />
Herbalism - Competent<br />
Healing - Competent<br />
Climbing - Apprentice<br />
Minor Skills - Reading &amp; Writing<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Singing:</span><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUSd2viF6zI" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">One Morning in May</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrsxWeBgadA" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url"> Cigarette Daydreams</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8rtJRlLdI8" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Breathe</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKJqMnuzhFU" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Riversong</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_RWtdm81WU" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Drunken Sailor</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wY1fUAPYH3M" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Don't Forget Your Old Shipmate</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Peyton's Book:</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"> This book is hand crafted, seamed together very well. Whoever made this book knew what they were doing. The spine of the book and it's edges are a little worn, but it is obvious the book is handled with care. Each page is numbered with a small number in the bottom outer corner. All of the work inside is Peyton's.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 1</span>:<br />
Peyton's Book<br />
*A note is scribbled on the bottom of the page.*<br />
This book and its contents are FRAGILE and PRIVATE!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 2 to 18</span>:<br />
*Specific Plant/Herb Name*<br />
*The medicinal plant/herb named above can be found pressed between the book's pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 19 to 25</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 26-28</span>:<br />
Painting!<br />
*These pages consist of how to create her clay-paints, color contrasting notes, what she has noticed on how color and line adds realism, and what the clay paint will dry on.*<br />
*There is minor clay-paint residue smeared into the pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 29</span>:<br />
*There is no title on this page, but it is scribbled notes all the way across. There on on a talk her Father had with her. "The Talk".*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 30-51</span>:<br />
*These pages have been harshly ripped out of the book.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 52-70</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 71</span>:<br />
*A beautiful, detailed sketch of Peyton from the chest up is on this page, done out of a coal pen. All of her hair is held up in a bun as she wears her Mother's dress and corset, she sits straight and proud. Holding a relaxed face in the sketch, her head is turned slightly to the right.*<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Page 71 to 100</span>:<br />
*Blank pages.*<br />
<br />
Loose sheets of paper are in the back of the book.</div></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Amelia de Lacy]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=248</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 18 Jun 2013 05:44:30 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=7">Michelle</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=248</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">
<br />
<img src="http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g158/mnguy3/a01e6798-8d69-4fc3-af1e-917c435af7c9_zpsc7d80040.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: a01e6798-8d69-4fc3-af1e-917c435af7c9_zpsc7d80040.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Amelia de Lacy (Emily)</span><br />
46<br />
Female<br />
Lucin<br />
Engineer, Miner<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Orphanage and Birth (0-12)</span><br />
A year before the war of Veld, a dying Lucin woman in labour stumbled into one of Aerstone’s churches. She called for the priest, who called for the midwife, who helped the woman deliver her child. The new mother, who was a beggar, died. The priest baptised her baby as ‘Emily’. Emily was sent to the orphanage, which was on the ‘poor side’ of Aerstone, a city in the Celestial Realm. Despite being funded by the church, the orphanage was only slightly better than being homeless because you could at least guarantee an education, and a bare minimum of food on most days. This is where Emily grew up. She’d attend daily lessons which educated her on basic literacy, numeracy, common language, religion, and element control, and once a week she’d attend church.<br />
<br />
 As she grew older, she was given housekeeping chores such as cooking and cleaning to prepare her for whatever job the church was going to assign her when she would turn twelve – that is, when she would be old enough to leave the orphanage. For Emily, it was an upbringing that wasn’t great, but it could’ve been much worse; there were plenty of people to interact with, but she lacked the individual love and affection that the standard child would get from their parents. There were also plenty of hungry nights and begging on the streets after lessons were finished for the day. Emily hated begging; it was a constant reminder that she was worthless to the rich, that her prayers and suffering were too insignificant for acknowledgement. This made her a cynical and bratty child, with a mild resentment for those who had her envy: the rich, the priests, even Rhise herself. She felt ignored by them all, and yet more deserving than them all; after all, she had been through much more than any of them.<br />
<br />
At the age of eight, Emily dropped the begging act and began to do something common amongst her older counterparts; she thieved. It started with Oscar. He was eating an apple that afternoon, and a few more bulged out of his coat pockets; this coat was too warm for such a hot day. Instead of asking where he had obtained the apples, she merely followed him the next time she saw him leave the orphanage in the same coat. This act lead her to the people she would call her ‘buddies’. They were the kind of buddies who weren’t really your buddies, the kind who would abandon anyone who got stuck on the farmer’s fence whenever they stole produce. But despite being told this, Emily remained. There was something new and exciting about thievery; she had control over something, something that was significant enough to someone else, and that was enough to make thievery worth more than extra food. She had power. And so Emily fell down the slippery slope. From the age of eight to the age of sixteen, petty theft became petty crime. She was never caught during this time: not by the church, not by the orphanage, and not by the guards. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Estate and Arrest (12-16)</span><br />
At the age of twelve, Emily grew too old for the orphanage, and was sent to live under a lord’s estate as a servant. As one could imagine, this did not improve Emily’s bitter resentment for the upper-class, and it did not improve Emily’s behaviour. She was regularly beaten for disobedience, which made the other servants avoid her out of fear of association. For Emily, there was nothing to turn to other than her ‘buddies’, and the life of crime she had built for herself during the night. Whenever night came, she trespassed, and stole, and arsoned, and vandalised, and punched people out until a large stash of gold was found in her sheets. Emily had stolen it from the lady of the estate, who was the current head of the house because her husband was recovering from the Veld war. Emily hated this woman; she was spoilt, ignorant, and hypocritical (and ironically, Emily would become this woman). ‘Those poor, poor souls,’ the lady of the house would say as she ate swan meat, her favourite meal, in front of her starving and unpaid servants. Her slaves. ‘Enslaved by those filthy blood-eyes for thirty years... and now they go to war for us. May Rhise have mercy!’ She was the embodiment of the upper-class, and it followed that Emily wanted to ‘punish’ the woman. Unfortunately however, Emily didn’t think about this unemotionally, and so she rashly hid her stolen gold. You know the rest of the story.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Convict Mines and Surviving (16-26)</span><br />
When Emily was caught, she was immediately arrested and sent to the Middle Realm as a convict. She was sixteen years old, and the purges had just ended. Emily was now in a small convict settlement by the mountains. It was a place where convicts from all over the Celestial and Middle Realms were put to work in mines; prisons everywhere were now emptier, and the Celestial Kingdom recovered slightly from the financial loss of the Veld war. Emily spent the next ten years in this convict mining settlement. It was a ruthless and unforgiving place; everyone was looking out for themselves, and the guard was corrupt. If enough people didn’t like you, then they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you in a cavern deep in the mines and say it was a dusk spawn, or a cave in, or a nasty fall. It was the kind of environment you could only thrive in if you were useful to others. Accomplishing this was initially difficult for Emily; as an orphan, people thought she was worthless from the moment she was born, and the situation did not change when she entered servitude and criminal activity. But here at the convict mines, she had to show she was anything but worthless to the guards and other convicts. However, Emily wasn’t particularly good at anything, so there wasn’t much for her to offer. Luckily for her though, the mines were roughly nine parts Mesalian and one part Lucin. This meant what little ability she had in the elements was a rarity, and if she could just be good enough at manipulating one of them, she would ‘make friends’ easily. <br />
<br />
Any semblance of innocence was abandoned quickly for survival. She started banding with the other Lucin convicts, who taught her to channel Aether as a means of combat, healing, and light. She was also taught to how and where to punch a dusk creature in case the former didn’t work. She gradually improved in her mining skills, which upped her productivity, which then put her in a good light with the guards of the colony. She learnt to manipulate those around her to guarantee her own safety, her own stability, her own control over the situation. Within the first six months, she had power of the lie, the half lie, and the truth wrapped around her fingers. She became cut-throat and dangerous. She became a struggler, a survivor, a clinger to power, and when she was eighteen, she decided nothing would stand in her way. Not the guards, or even the entire Celestial Realm. You see, she had just been told that her sentence had been extended for another five years. Sentences were always extended for one reason or another; the Celestial Realm needed their resources. Numerous convicts died while serving their sentence. Although the control she now had over the other convicts was alluring and comforting, Emily needed her freedom. In the mines, she was nothing but a slave; she might as well have been Mesalian. Plus, freedom was what she, the misfortuned, the survivor, deserved. Originally, she had it all planned out; she would serve her sentence, then leave the settlement and return to the Celestial Realm, but she wouldn’t return to servitude. She would be a miner, a miner who actually got to keep what she had mined. She would work hard and have an estate of her own. She just needed her freedom. But now, Emily knew she wasn’t going to have her freedom unless she escaped.<br />
<br />
From the very start, it seemed logical to her that her only chance of getting out was with the runes. She was only vaguely familiar with them; the minecart system was powered by runes, and she had seen the engineers who built them use little stones to disappear, to move around the mines at a blink of the eye. The other convicts called them ‘home runes’. She spent the next few months ‘befriending’ a Mesalian before letting him in on her plan. He agreed to kill two engineers, take their home runes, and escape with her. Unfortunately for him, Emily let him use his home rune first; he was caught immediately when the home rune teleported him into the guard barracks, and was killed on sight. After hearing about her partner-in-crime, Emily didn’t use her home rune; she now knew that home runes worked in pairs. She instead broke hers, cracking it open and studying its insides intently during her breaks. Two years later, at the age of twenty, she was told again that her sentence was to be extended another five years; this was when Emily began to truly experiment with runes. She would mine the ores, and then stow small amounts away in her clothes. Whenever she was alone, she would attempt to recreate the home rune with absolutely no success, though she was slowly beginning to understand how the strange, red powder worked; how it transferred some kind of energy within the stone shell, but the energy slowly died out, and how it needed something else to keep it going. By the time she was twenty-two, Emily understood slightly more about the mysterious ways of runes after watching engineers work on the minecart tracks, like how different things such as levers and lights could make the energy ‘go’. But she could only watch from a distance, so her knowledge was still limited; the engineers weren’t convicts, and asking them about their work was sure to raise suspicion. <br />
<br />
Despite her lack of success, Emily never gave up. She became stubborn and determined, knowing that if she did give up, she would be a Mesalian - powerless over her situation. She didn’t even give up after she nearly burned her arms off. She was twenty-two; it was in the middle of a work day, in a cave that was deep enough to not have a guard patrolling, but not deep enough for Lucins to feel sick. To this day, Emily does not know what caused the small explosion, which caused the fire, which burnt her arms, but it was bound to happen eventually. She was experimenting with runes, without the proper safety equipment and with minimal knowledge of potential risks. She used her arms to protect herself from the small blast. Her screams of pain brought others running. Later, when she was questioned, she said she had come into contact with a zombie set aflame by an Aether blast. She was searched, and when nothing was found, she was treated and left alone. Were it not for the ‘friends’ she had made, Emily might’ve been killed that day, after she discovered she was too badly burnt to return to mining immediately. For the next few months, others agreed to mine for her, and Emily’s job for those months was to push the minecarts back to the surface and heal the injured -  jobs that didn’t necessarily require hands. After her hands had healed sufficiently, leaving disfiguring scars, she resumed her dabbling in runes. After all, she had come so far, and now she had gotten a taste of the hidden potential in runes. It was a power like no other, and power was something Emily could not resist.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Escape (26)</span><br />
When Emily was twenty-four, the Middle Realm had broken out into Civil War. However, the first attack on the convict camp wouldn’t happen until two years later, when she was twenty-six. By then, Emily’s mind was like her hands; even after her escape, they would never be the same again. Despite her eight year efforts, she was still far from the goal of escape via home rune. However, when a nearby city ambushed the remote camp for resources, it no longer mattered. Emily took the opportunity before her, and escaped during the chaos with whatever she could find. She spent a few weeks laying low in the wilderness near a village, then spent the next few months travelling. Although she used stolen resources to obtain supplies, they were difficult months. She spent them in paranoia of being recognised. Emily spun lies, reinventing herself until she became Amelia, the Lucin apprentice of an old rune engineer who went mad and abused her. She bathed, got new clothes, cut her hair, and wore a pair of gloves. When she felt safely disguised, Amelia returned to the Celestial Realm as planned.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Fresh Start and Victor De Lacy (26-30)</span><br />
She did not return to Aerstone; she would have been recognised there. Instead, she found herself a home and a job in Lacy, an industrial city pioneered and ruled by the noble De Lacy family, who were also behind a large industrial production company. Though the pay wasn’t great (at the time Amelia thought it was modest as she had never received pay), and she struggled to regain her footing in civilised society, but it was otherwise a smooth time for Amelia. Her manipulative and ruthless ways didn’t leave her completely, but she learnt quickly that she was to keep such behaviour dormant if she was to survive her new, more civilised environment. She now had to learn to be nicer and more polite if she was to be seen as ‘useful’. Initially, her co-workers only liked her for the tireless hard work she put in everyday, but as time passed they began to like her for who she was, or who she seemed to be. By her second year in the job, Amelia had incorporated the art of subtlety and two-facedness into her manipulation; this was the beginning of the alarmingly versatile woman you see today.<br />
<br />
It was also the beginning of Amelia’s higher education and noble status, as it was in the mines that she had met Victor De Lacy. Victor De Lacy was the supervisor of Amelia’s small mining team; he was also the third son to Lord De Lacy, who was head of both the city and the family company. Contrary to what one would expect from a person in this high position of authority, Victor De Lacy was a cheery and relaxed supervisor. He spent most of his time reading while the team worked, and would gladly be of help if asked. During breaks, he would participate in conversations. Everyone liked him, even Amelia. She admired how he was able to convince others of his genuinity and kindness effortlessly, and aspired to achieve the same (that is, Amelia wanted to convince others she was genuine and kind; she didn’t want to actually be it). She would try to talk with him everyday in an attempt to study and copy his manners: his smile, his formalities, the way he used long words, yet didn’t chastise or patronise her for not understanding. In earnest, Amelia had never planned to seek him out for a romantic relationship in the beginning. After all, the idea that she would someday marry Victor belonged in stories and fairy tales at the time. No, Amelia and Victor’s relationship just began with some questions; prior to this point, they hadn’t spoken about non-work related matters. <br />
<br />
She was twenty-seven and he was twenty-five. It was late in the night; Amelia had asked to stay and work overtime, and Victor felt obligated to supervise her. He sat in the cavern a little away from her, his nose in a rune manual. Spotting it from a distance, Amelia asked him where he got the book from; although she hadn’t any real need to learn runes anymore, she felt compelled to finish what she had started many years ago. It turned into one of those long, late night conversations. It was quickly discovered that runes were a shared interest for the both of them, though neither of them really had anyone to discuss it with. Amelia asked him to teach her; he could talk about runes with someone, and she could learn more. He agreed. They talked well into the night about everything Amelia knew thus far, and eventually about themselves. Amelia lied of course, going with her usual story about the mentor who burnt her hands, but Victor De Lacy told her the truth. As the third son of the De Lacy bloodline, it was clear to Victor that he if he wanted to inherit the family company or the city of Lacy (or both), he would have to outshine the accomplishments of his brothers. He would have to do more than be studious, well mannered, and married to a woman who would bring merit to the family line; he would have to be ambitious and innovative, which was why he had studied rune engineering and business from a young age. Amelia admired his ambition; it was similar to her own. <br />
<br />
It would be this shared ambition that would drive Victor and Amelia close.  To Victor, the story of how he fell in love with Amelia is beautiful. A year would pass after that long late night talk, and Amelia would become Victor’s best friend. The two would meet regularly after work to talk, teach, and be taught. Now that she had an instructor, Amelia’s knowledge in runes was rising steadily, and after a while she had been somewhat promoted to the role of assistant engineer. This mostly involved following rune engineers as they worked on tracks around the mines, obtaining more practical experience and mining or ordering supplies specifically for them. All was well in Amelia’s side of things, but Victor slowly felt his ambition slipping away as time passed; all the stress and pressure made him want to simply give up. No matter how hard he worked, he would never surpass his brothers. He told this to Amelia one afternoon. She slapped him.<br />
‘Bullshit! Do you expect me to just believe that?! How could you give up so easily?! You have a chance to inherit a legacy! Do you know how many others are born with that chance?! You fucking have it so easy, Victor! All you have to do is TRY. You don’t even have anything to lose! The worst you have is that you work for your brother, and it’s not like that’s the only option! You can still do amazing things! Start your own business! Buy your own estate! Give it all to your third son! YOU decide what happens!’<br />
<br />
It was the closest Amelia ever got to letting someone see the real her, and although she didn’t know it at the time, Victor De Lacy fell in love with Amelia and her passion, her inability to give up on her dreams. The day he told her how he felt was also the day they decided to elope; it was a most spontaneous decision. You see, Victor wasn’t stupid; he knew pursuing a relationship with Amelia would mean nothing short of disownment. There was also the concern that he might lose Amelia’s friendship. And so, he resisted, and the two remained best friends for another two years. Victor worked tirelessly on investments and profits, while Amelia came closer and closer to calling herself an engineer. She had noticed a change in Victor’s behaviour, but she was still twisted enough to interpret it not as love, but as Victor’s shame from such a lower-class friend.  Amelia herself had noticed her own feelings long ago, but she dismissed them for reasons similar to Victor’s; such a relationship would not happen, and she needed the benefits that came with being Victor’s friend. She would not ruin her good position. And so when Victor came to her home in a manic passion and told her that he loved her, it was a sudden shock to Amelia; Victor was not ashamed of her, and somehow, without effort, she had ‘seduced’ him into loving her.<br />
<br />
She said ‘yes’ of course, after he explained the news about his estate. That day, he had decided that he didn’t want or need the De Lacy legacy; he had found something, someone, who was much more precious. Someone who he could talk with freely, who shared his interests. Someone who kept him motivated through hard times. He had done exactly what Amelia had told him to do: he had started a business that involved funding several mining projects in the Middle Realm, then collecting and trading the resources for profit. It was now doing well enough for him to comfortably buy a large estate, and Victor wanted his to be in the Middle Realm so business could be conducted more smoothly; the civil war often made sealing deals difficult over letters. He wanted to share it all with Amelia. How could she refuse? But it was a more complicated than a simple matter of finances; they both knew eloping would brand Amelia as a leeching whore, and Victor would be disowned. The only option would be to marry, which would be less scandalous than simply running away and living together. Victor was prepared for it, though Amelia wasn’t as sure about the commitment. Reluctantly, she agreed. She didn’t know if she really loved Victor, but she did know she wanted him to be happy… which was unusual and rare enough for her to believe she perhaps could love him. And so over the next few days, they married in secret, bought their estate, and left for the Middle Realm.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Married Life in the Middle Realm (30-39)</span><br />
The next nine years were the best of Amelia’s life. Amelia and Victor had bought their estate in a mountainous, seaside city named Mistlyn. They chose Mistlyn for its slowly-developing mining industry, which showed plenty of potential due to its geographical location. It was a place that was small enough to be quiet, but large enough to be seen along the coast or on a map, which also made it ideal for trade. It also had a military to protect the city from invasion, and this military could benefit from iron-forged arms. Here, they worked together to start a mine together, which became profitable at a rapid pace thanks to rune-powered mine tracks that sped-up the mining process. Amelia continued her education, whilst applying what she learnt with Victor on the tracks, and soon she became good enough to call herself an engineer. By the time Amelia was thirty-four, Victor was able to buy out every other other mine in Mistlyn until they had a monopoly. They often joked about buying out the mines back in Lacy. Amelia’s in-laws had visited Mistlyn once; though impressed by Victor’s property, they would not stop looking at her from the corners of their eyes. They never spoke to her.<br />
<br />
With their mining business in a stable and profitable position, they both moved onto other pursuits, though these still related to maximising profits. Driven by her ever present power fantasies, Amelia began making plans to reinvent the explosives the Xitians used in the Veld War. With these, Amelia explained during a dinner, they could gain resources faster. And if they could have the Celestial Kingdom fund the research, it would be less investment on their part. Victor whole-heartedly agreed to this plan; as a noble man, he was loyal to the Kingdom and could not see the harm. And so with Victor’s letters of recommendation, Amelia was able to gain funding from the Celestial Kingdom to research and develop explosives; a De Lacy could be trusted with such a task, it seemed. Even the illegitimate wife of one, though this view of Amelia usually remained within Lucin culture; Mesalians, even noble ones, would never question her position in nobility, because it was difficult criticise someone for being a former commoner when you were once a former slave. Over these years, Amelia became much more refined in her mannerisms; this was mostly thanks to Victor’s help, who was more than happy to teach Amelia high etiquette. These lessons would become essential, as the many business and trade deals they had made with often meant travel, and attending events. It was around this time that Amelia had begun to wear gloves often; various high-class interactions made her ashamed of her hands.<br />
<br />
Amelia was thirty-three when construction on a private laboratory was completed and staff were hired to help her with the project, and she did not struggle to lead them;  Once it had commenced, the project was slow and difficult in its development. The first few years mostly involved obtaining and studying pre-Veld texts to understand the very bare methods of Xitian explosive engineering. Eventually they moved onto experiments. These experiments, or at least the ones that were potentially dangerous, were conducted in the safest conditions the budget would allow; Amelia and her staff often spent daylight hours outside and away from Mistlyn, with medical staff standing by. Over the years, they’d have a few casualties, both minor and major, two deaths, and many, many failed experiments. At first, it was difficult to get a prototype to produce more than smoke upon detonation, but eventually they had managed to get full-blown explosions; the kind that were unsafe and unstable for practical use. From here, Amelia would be working with her team to stabilise them every single non-religious day… up until she found Victor’s dead body.<br />
<br />
Victor and Amelia’s married life during these nine years was smooth-surfaced; as they did in Lacy, they met daily after work to discuss and catch-up with each other. Thus, they never really grew distant of one another, though at the same time, they did. This was because Victor’s love-confession had shifted the power-dynamic between them; Amelia now knew she had influence over Victor, a power over Victor, and was now actually trying to use it by consciously manipulating Victor. Amelia never told him about her life as Emily, and in fact she ended up keeping even more secrets from him whenever her experiments had caused injuries and death (it wasn’t that she said nothing about it entirely, it’s just that her manipulation made everything seem minor). They also once tried for a child, but Amelia had lost it early in her pregnancy; Victor’s heartbreak then caused him to give up easily on children, but this time, Amelia did not slap and motivate him. She wanted to focus on her project, and having a child would not allow her that. <br />
<br />
Around the time that Amelia had begun to move into explosives, Victor became involved in Mistlyn’s politics. By this time, Mistlyn had become a wealthy, industrial city. What sparked Victor’s interest in politics was mostly speculative to Amelia; perhaps he was bored of his trading business, or he wanted his own city, or perhaps he desperately wanted to raise and take care of something. Regardless, it didn’t matter to Amelia up until the point when she realised she should have stopped Victor, as this involvement in politics was what led to Victor De Lacy’s death. Victor’s successful election into the role of Mistlyn’s mayor was not surprising to anyone; the city owed its livelihood to the De Lacys. The De Lacy couple kept most of the city employed, and most of the city’s wealth and development was credited to their business. This business and development also helped keep Mistlyn safe from civil war; Mistlyn now had a well-armed military and various alliances formed through trade agreements. When Victor became mayor, this security only strengthened, though it wasn’t long before Victor learnt about the Xitian influence behind the civil war. Leaders of smaller neighbouring towns had come to Mistlyn for help, informing Victor that Xitians were attempting to bribe and threaten them into attacking Mistlyn; these leaders wanted to refuse of course, as it was very apparent that Mistlyn’s resources were not worth battle against its military and allies. <br />
<br />
Victor merely responded to this by forming alliances with these neighbouring towns, thus ensuring no one would be forced to attack Mistlyn. As soon as you were being threatened, you had Mistlyn’s military joining forces with your guards. The added protection was generally enough to make the Xitians leave for good. This was about the time where Amelia realised she should have stopped Victor from pursuing politics; he was a good leader, but he was also putting himself at risk by opposing all these Xitians. But what could she say to stop him now, when he was already dedicated to leading and protecting Mistlyn? No, you can’t help the helpless because you might die? It simply could not be said to the passionate Victor De Lacy, who still had his own military to protect his life, who would only look at Amelia with doubt if she were to ever bring it up; what happened to the selfless woman he knew? It would be like stepping in front of a downhill-moving minecart. And so Amelia kept quiet; she didn’t encourage his bold political movements, but she also didn’t discourage them. She would say she was happy for him, and happy that he had found something to be happy about. Meanwhile, she would have no choice but to put her faith into Mistlyn’s guard and military. This would’ve worked were it not for Amelia’s involvement with explosives, which inspired some of Victor’s Xitian enemies to act.<br />
<br />
Amelia remembers sitting in the library that night. She had a fondness of sitting there to work when she could, as few could boast about owning a room full of books. She was reconsidering the design of her prototypes when it happened. There was a sound of a great blast; all the windows broke. There were screams from below, down in the kitchen. With broken glass in her arms and back, she looked outside. The city hall of Mistlyn was a wreckage, sprinkled with fire, rubble, and limbs. Down on the courtyard, she saw guards running: Victor’s guards. Filled with terror and adrenalin, she ran through the manor to find Victor. She knew this meant something bad was going to happen. By the time she found him, his blood was already staining a rug. Papers and trinkets littered the edges of the room; signs of air manipulation. Signs of struggle. She knelt quickly, turning on the glow in her hands, ready to heal, but then there was a sharp pain in her back; it was a sudden jolt, a burn so deep she could feel it to her bones.<br />
<br />
She remembers seeing a face before she fell. It had red eyes, gleaming with Nether.<br />
<br />
When she woke up, it was days after. Nether poisoning, her personal doctor reported. It was apparently a miracle she survived, but Amelia never thought of it as that; it was merely the product of all her hard work. Hard work had gotten her into this advantageous position, one where she had her own doctor to tend her injuries immediately, one where she had servants who would immediately search for the Lord and Lady of the estate in a state of emergency.  <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Aftermath (40)</span><br />
Amelia mourned for a year; it seemed to be an appropriate amount of mourning. She dressed in all black, and halted her research. The death of Victor De Lacy, as well as the explosion of city hall, were of course investigated, but the results were minimal. The Xitian that had poisoned Amelia hadn’t been found; the bomb which was found in the ruins of city hall had come from Amelia’s lab. People began to suspect Amelia instantly, and even though the guards never found any solid evidence to suggest Amelia murdered Victor, people theorised. Perhaps she was conspiring with the Xitians and the guard, or perhaps she somehow poisoned herself… <br />
<br />
Victor’s funeral took place a week after her recovery. It was a quick and quiet affair, as the explosion had injured many, and thus those who were able had no time to mourn. She cried, though still isn’t sure if she was crying for him, or crying for herself. His will was read a few days after his funeral; three quarters of his property and fortune were now Amelia’s. The rest went to Mistlyn’s treasury, which the new mayor put towards city repairs. Amelia made sure to donate a little more under her own name. This did not stop the rumours and accusations. <br />
<br />
Almost a month after the assassination, she would receive word from the Celestial Kingdom; her research had lost its government funding. This was because the city hall incident had put Amelia, Amelia’s research and the Celestial Kingdom under fire; after the city was bombed, the last thing the citizens wanted were explosives being developed there. Amelia attempted to save her reputation, but it was quickly diminishing before her as news of the incident reached more and more ears. People quit working for her, and people didn’t want to trade with her. Within ten months, the De Lacy monopoly was obsolete. One husband, six years worth of research, an entire trading empire… all taken away by an Xitian. The face she saw would often reappear in her dreams. She would reach out and bitterly stab it. <br />
<br />
She continued to live in her estate in Mistlyn; though she was hated there, she had no where else to go. Her fortune was still large, but she wasn’t making any new money. Moving and funding her own research was simply out of the question. But then, on the eleventh month after Victor’s death, she heard from the Celestial Kingdom again. They needed someone to lead an operation in the Forbidden Lands. <br />
She was in no position to refuse the offer.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance</span><br />
Overall, Amelia appears elegant, middle-aged, and wealthy, but simultaneously industrial and not entirely upper-class or noble. She has: a thin, pinched nose; thin, narrow, and puckered lips; a prominent nasal bone crease; puffy, sharp blue eyes; high and wide cheekbones; and high-arching eyebrows which give her the appearance of constant interest and slight surprise. Her chocolate brown hair is slowly greying and becoming tawnier in colour. This hair is wavy, and is about six centimetres (roughly two inches) past her shoulders. She usually wears it in a milkmaid braid to keep it ornate, but out of the way, with her wispy fringe still out and parted. She smells like flowery perfume failing to mask the distinct, sharp scent of rune powder: metallic, burnt, and chemical - like ionised air after lightning strikes.<br />
<br />
She’s quite short at 157 centimetres (roughly five feet and two inches) tall, and has a curvy, slightly plump, hourglass figure that’s emphasised further with a corset underneath her clothing. She has muscle, but it isn’t very visible under her clothes. One can not fairly induce that she hasn’t worked a day in her life; her skin tone is olive as a result of previous labour. She also has various scars on her body, acquired during several years as a prison labourer and a criminal. The most notable of these are the burn scars that are on her hands and up the sides of her arms, gained from a rune experiment gone wrong. The skin is discoloured, greyish and scaly. Her hands almost look reptilian. It’s not the most attractive sight; in fact, it can be off-putting. Amelia is self-conscious about the appearance of her hands, as it’s a high-class expectation for ladies to have small, smooth, clean, and attractive hands. She makes a specific effort to hide these scars with her clothing; it’s not uncommon for her to eat or sleep with gloves on.<br />
<br />
Amelia makes an effort to look good, which means her clothing has been specifically chosen to make her look good. She wears clothing that looks ornate and steampunk-inspired; it gives her the appearance of elegant, chaste nobility, whilst simultaneously hiding her scars, exaggerating her figure, and being well-suited for engineering work (depending on one’s tolerance for dirty clothing). She wears the following items of clothing: a khaki, high-collar blouse embroidered with a floral pattern in a darker shade, with buttoned cuffs, and long sleeves that are puffed on the upper-arm, but snug on the forearm; a silk, emerald-green waistcoat with golden buttons that are buttoned up; brown leather gloves, with linen bandage around her hands underneath; a pair of high-waisted, button-cuffed breeches, the waist part a dark maroon with a leather pouch sewn to it, and the trouser part vertically striped with two alternating shades of emerald-green; a pair of black stockings, embroidered florally; a pair of long, dark leather boots, laced up neatly, and a pair of gold-rimmed, purple-lensed goggles on her head, which magnify the size of her eyes when worn properly. <br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Artwork by <a href="http://aducknamedhope.deviantart.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Rachel Carlini</a> (SentaiPink).<br />
<img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img825/6817/m4o6.jpg" loading="lazy"  width="395" height="400" alt="[Image: m4o6.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
Artwork by <a href="http://artpoopoo.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Christine [SURNAME REDACTED]</a> (Campanella): <img src="http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g158/mnguy3/finished5_zpsf15055a3.png" loading="lazy"  width="395" height="559" alt="[Image: finished5_zpsf15055a3.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div></div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Personality</span><br />
Amelia’s idea of a good life is one that has been worked for; that is, a good life is one where success (which is essentially status, power, and money) has been earned through hard work. Amelia’s ideas of ‘earning’ and ‘hard work’ rely on her values. These values form Amelia’s core, and they are most of her motivation. Her personal survival is usually her main value and priority, but she believes this depends on image, power, resources and persistence. Image tends to conflict with her other values because it involves people, and her interests are mainly in herself; this can make her actions very versatile. She tends to prioritise image over the rest because as someone who relies heavily on manipulation to get her way, public image is key. For example, she has a tendency to be over-competitive with others (power), but restricts herself whenever she’s overt about it because it makes her seem impolite (image). In Amelia’s mind, everyone shares, or should share her values - particularly image. She gets annoyed when others are impolite, even more so when they get what they want in spite of impoliteness. This is because she had to be polite to earn what she wanted, and politeness is considered an effort to her. Essentially, impoliteness is considered laziness in Amelia’s eyes.<br />
<br />
In relation to her value of resources, Amelia can be economic. She hates being wasteful, and likes to keep things for reuse later. This can apply to people, as she tends to judge them on ‘usefulness’ and ‘disposability’ in relation to her interests. In this sense, she has a tendency to use and objectify people; generally she sees nothing wrong with this, as it seems necessary for her own survival. She views people in the way a mechanic might: “How do they function? What drives them? How can I learn more? How can I practically apply what I’ve learnt? Can I take them apart? Do I need them?” This means she’s observant, and  internally focused on gathering as much information on people in the shortest amount of time possible, so she can make use of them in one way or another. Despite this objectifying point-of-view, Amelia generally has nothing against people who are considered useless so long as they aren’t in the way of her goals and interests, especially since ‘useless’ people are still slightly useful in terms of Amelia’s own public image. However, she has a hard time being sentimental with people because she struggles to authentically care about other people. Even when Amelia genuinely likes someone, she feels there’s no such thing as caring for someone for the sake of caring for someone; if she likes them, there is always something she wants from them. In this sense, Amelia’s lifestyle and way of thinking is so ingrained into her actions that she can’t make actual friends.<br />
<br />
Generally, Amelia has a good balance between extroversion and introversion; she is often sociable, but would rather not be. On the surface, she’s a rigidly (but accommodatingly) polite and elegant person. This might distance others, as Amelia’s polite composure can have a disingenuity and aloofness to it; it can feel like she’s being nice because she has to be, not because she wants to be. This being said, Amelia isn’t outwardly an arsehole, and in fact tries to indulge people. She believes humouring people (Mesalians especially) is the price for ‘using’ them. In this sense, Amelia feels like she doesn’t have a choice outside of politeness. This is how she can distance people further, as Amelia tends to sound patronising when humouring people, and wields this patronising tone as her weapon against people she openly dislikes; she can be passive-aggressively polite in the most annoying way. To have Amelia’s genuine respect, a person has to share and display a following of her values (note that this means Amelia has high esteem for herself; she is confident, but narcissistic), but Amelia can still feel like she likes someone without this respect (because the person probably has something she wants). Beneath every ‘surface’ of Amelia is someone completely determined towards her goals and interests. If things begin to majorly break down around her, she becomes a survivor with endurance, perseverance and persistence. This is the point where people are not indulged, and she can get to the point of cut-throat aggression and obsession, maybe even insanity. This hidden aggressive and obsessive stubbornness can be her greatest downfall. <br />
<br />
Amelia is also a follower of Rhise, but isn’t overt or particularly committed about it as she sometimes makes herself out to be; she would attend a religious event out of good public figure. She likes taking rune mechanisms apart and putting them back together, listening to the harpsichord, the feel of fur, attending public events, learning new words, the glow of rune ores, the smell of salt, the soft tick of her pocket watch, having a chair pulled out for her, and warm food. She dislikes rune powder adhering to her skin and clothes, taking off her gloves to eat, losing small engineering parts and then finding them when she least expects it, her hand twitching mid-handshake, being given a nickname, sour wine, and the sound of slurping. Her favourites are emerald green, red wine with honey, roasted swan (spiced, of course), and using tweezers to position rune components. She is an ISTP at heart, but can be easily be an ESTP.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Vocal Details</span><br />
Amelia’s voice is clear, feminine, silvery, and articulate; it’s the voice of a businesswoman and a housewife in one. It has the tendency to carry itself; that is, projection of the voice is something Amelia can do naturally and often unintentionally. Even her whispers can be heard from a good distance away, and it is for this reason that she is calculating about what she says. Her ‘true’ or neutral tone of voice is quite formal, official, refined and dignified, but at the same time it can seem restrained, bored, aloof and lacking in approachability. She can come off more as a business associate than a friend; it can feel like she’s showing respect out of politeness rather than fondness. However, if one finds themselves in a conversation with Amelia where she only uses this tone of voice, it ironically means that she trusts them enough to let her guard down slightly, because kindness is usually Amelia’s way of distancing people from her true self.<br />
<br />
When Amelia has her guard up, she indulges and humours people. This means she has the same tone of voice as before, but this time it’s much more intimate, chatty, sing-songy, and approachable, and yet she may also come off as slightly patronising due to the fact that she usually lacks genuine interest. Depending on the type of person and her motives, she may also seem motherly, sweet, playfully teasing, and even flirtatious or bashful (and she would do this in the most lady-like fashion possible) in tone. She tends to use the same words her conversation partner uses in order to appear more relatable or in-sync with them. When addressing someone she openly dislikes, she usually puts even more distance between herself and them; this is achieved with even more kindness. <br />
<br />
If she doesn’t like you (and it’s publicly considered okay to not like you), Amelia can be overly and annoyingly honeyed, patronising and passive-aggressive with her tone of voice. Usually, this is an attempt to make the other person seem less in-control of themselves (and by extension, the situation) by manipulating and frustrating them to the point of lashing out at her. If in public, it’s also a way to make the other person seem worse in comparison to Amelia, who can claim she was only being nice. However, if Amelia ever snaps, she lets all of her guard down. Her voice goes sharp and cold when angry or particularly threatened. This is when she doesn’t indulge anyone, and when her positive public image is completely gone.<br />
<br />
In terms of her own speech patterns, Amelia has the following tendencies: calling people by titles, such as ‘Mr.’ or ‘Miss’; using new vocabulary words in conversation; verbosity with first impressions; misusing obscure words; using passive voice and gobbledygook when avoiding a topic; saying ‘oh?’ and ‘hmm?’ when she’s interested; greeting people by the time of day; and starting answers to questions with ‘well’ and ‘why’, using archaisms such as ‘pray tell’, and making the word ‘mercy’ be the strongest in her vocabulary. Various voice inspirations: Vanessa Williams, Wendie Malik, Meryl Streep, Helen Morgendorffer (of <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Daria</span>). <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physicality</span><br />
When you consider Amelia’s lifestyle before she entered the setting, it follows that Amelia’s physicality is overall elegant, distinguished, and poised. She clearly follows the rules of high-class etiquette whenever appropriate or possible, and she follows them seamlessly. Examples include the following: maintaining a rigid, upright posture in everything she does (this can really mean everything, because she wears a corset beneath her clothing, which restricts movement in her spine); curtseying; never gesturing unless delivering a speech; never speaking while sitting and her conversation partner is standing; walking at the same pace as another person; never sitting in a private setting unless invited, etc.  Her movements are also generally big, encompassing, but sparse, as though she were trying to be inviting without being outlandish or inelegant about it. <br />
<br />
Much like her tone of voice, Amelia’s physicality is dependent on the level of company she feels she’s in, meaning there are exceptions to Amelia’s general rules. For example, in a more private setting, her movements are rather small and dismissive, as though she were using minimal effort (which would make sense, given that there is little need to impress). However, it’s important to note that Amelia’s pleasant ‘states’ of physicality aren’t something she just ‘puts on’ or fakes; manipulating her body language for a very long time have made the movements natural and instinctive, as opposed to forced and aware. This means Amelia has a tendency to change and adapt her physicality to her motives without even noticing she’s doing it. For example, something she does often is to simply ‘mirror’ the body language of others, which can make her seem more relatable and likable; she may even get touchy as a way to establish a connection. <br />
<br />
The only conscious manipulation of body language Amelia uses is the manipulation of Aether. It works like this: Amelia is mostly in full control of her Aether, the main exception being when things begin to majorly break down around her. However, Lucins with less control of their Aether are likely to glow a little, usually from strong emotions or around water. Amelia essentially exploits this fact by making herself glow with Aether to create appropriate effects, for example: glowing with a smile can make her joy seem genuine, and glowing in a threatening situation can make her seem more powerful. In fact, the act of simply glowing when she seems happy or angry, etc. can make her seem less threatening, as it appears as though she has less control on her Aether than she truly does. The same kind of thing can be said about not glowing at certain situations; whether she decides to glow when wet can establish her race. The list goes on, and the point here is that Amelia knows she has something many people don’t and is willing to abuse it.<br />
<br />
When in combat, Amelia takes a physicality that is extremely different from her usual lady-like style; this is the product of how and where she learnt to fight in the first place. Her style of fighting is  similar to that of a boxer; she’s aggressive light on her feet, delivering Aether blasts and punches in quick swipes. Because of this, she avoids situations where she would have to fight, especially in close-combat. Another ‘embarrassing’ part of Amelia’s physicality is in her hands, where she has nerve damage from her third-degree burns. This means Amelia’s hands are pretty much numb to her; she has difficulty feeling with them, and has difficulty detecting differences in temperature and pain, etc. She also struggles to keep her hand muscles clenched for long periods of time, and experiences random twitching. Because Amelia is slightly insecure about all this, it’s not uncommon for her to keep her hands out of view by placing them behind her back or under a table.<br />
<br />
‘Amelisms’ include: checking her pocket watch when reminded of her husband or uncomfortable; pursing her lips when displeased; having a smug little smile when genuinely pleased; curtseying with her hands to the side and her palms facing up; raising her eyebrows when interested; rubbing or massaging the palms of her twitching hands, and leaning slightly inwards when heavily engaged in a conversation. Just like all my other characters, Amelia is left-handed.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Theme Song</span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QjpyowJ2iQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Sweet Lies - Dr. Dissonance</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Capabilities</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Advanced Aether Manipulation [skill]</span>: She mostly learnt this because her circumstances demanded it. Amelia can easily kill dusk creatures, heal a major wound and be a source of light. She is in full control of it in most cases, though often manipulates it to seem like she isn’t (see physicality). Her Aether is white, phosphorescent, and usually cold. This is because Amelia mostly uses her Aether for combat, not for healing, and because her hands (the main point of channelling Aether) have difficulty sensing heat.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Advanced Rune Engineering [skill]</span>: Provided she has the materials and time, I suppose she can create or repair any rune and wire up all the things. This skill includes smelting ore into metals for runes, as well as making objects which are relevant to rune engineering (tools, stone shells, tubes and wires, general parts, etc).<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Lucin Language [knowledge]</span>: Though slightly rusty with it due to disuse, Amelia is fluent in her native, Lucin language and has less of a chance of misusing obscure words (though she doesn’t really make an effort to learn obscure words in Lucin; there’s less people to show off to). She is also much more confident in reading and writing it; it’s not uncommon for her to be writing things in Lucin.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Common [knowledge]</span>: Having lived in the Middle Realm for more than half her life, Amelia is also fluent in common Mesalian language. She can even get verbose with her words, but still has a tendency to misuse them. Amelia can also read and write well, though she has to be a little more careful than she does with her native language.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Mining [skill]</span>: After approximately twenty years of mining, she’s become proficient at it. The only thing which limits her potential in this field is that being deep underground isn’t healthy for her, the nerve damage in her hands limits her ability to grip items for a long time, and she no longer has the fitness to work as fast as her mind does.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Chemistry [knowledge]</span>: This would mostly include general, non-specific knowledge of the elements and their effects, with more in-depth knowledge of Aether and Nether specifically. There would also be some specific knowledge of theories in relation to explosives (which chemicals are required in a bomb, etc.). See explosive engineering for more information.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Explosive Engineering [knowledge]</span>: With funding, Amelia has made some progress in the past with leading the development of explosives for the Celestial Kingdom through experimentation. She’s familiar with the theories and knows which chemical and runic components are involved, but she’s far from understanding how to combine these components in a way which would get the explosion contained and stable for safe use. She also understands that conducting experiments on her own and without resources to burn would be unsafe and impractical.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Hand-to-Hand Combat [skill]</span>: Ironically for someone who enjoys working from a distance, she knows how to pack a hit, and knows the best places for it. That being said, she’s no kung-fu master as this skill was only developed for fighting off dusk creatures.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Air Manipulation [skill]</span>: She can make a little breeze at most.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Water Manipulation [skill]</span>: She can levitate water a short distance from her hands at a slow speed at most.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Strengths</span><br />
- Water, Air, Aether <br />
- Determination of steel,  persistent<br />
- Articulate, persuasive, rhetorical<br />
- Resourceful, can survive and manage well<br />
- Well-mannered, tolerant of others<br />
- Kind (but not altruistic)<br />
- Intelligent, highly educated, observant<br />
- Versatile, can adapt to new situations<br />
- Motivated, hard-working, ambitious<br />
- Confident, brave<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Weaknesses</span><br />
- Fire, Earth, Nether<br />
- Stubborn, obsessed with achievement<br />
- Manipulative, inauthentic, aloof<br />
- Possessive with people and resources<br />
- Holds in grudges and resentment<br />
- Selfish, self-centered, falsely entitled<br />
- Racist, prejudiced, judgemental<br />
- Dependent on others<br />
- Overly competitive, insecure, obsessive<br />
- Workaholic, lack of genuine hobbies<br />
- Narcissistic, overconfident<br />
- Nerve damage in hands and arms<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Relationships</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">NOTE:</span> These are out of date. From before the guard searched the abbey.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Marty</span> (Margretha)<br />
Possibly the most useful of all. ‘Elder Councillor’ of the lower group, AKA the leader.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Spece</span> (Lance)<br />
Useful, indispensable.<br />
He better not disappoint. It would be a shame to lose him.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Mystrum</span> (Katya)<br />
Useful, indispensable. <br />
Possibly dangerous, though it would be nicer to have her pretty face on show.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Lentus</span> (Caius)<br />
Useful, dangerous. A councillor. Difficult to converse with.<br />
Unfortunately, if Margretha were to pass, he would most likely be next.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Zarkaylia</span><br />
Useful. Councillor, captain of the guard.<br />
Hard to please, but to be in her good graces would be nothing short of beneficial.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Elizabeth</span><br />
Useful, dispensable. Understands Xitian, mechanical engineer.<br />
Possibly dangerous: potential spy. So utterly stupid and spoilt.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Julius</span><br />
Useful. <br />
Has information on the councillors, though he’s beginning to seem disengaged...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Alex</span><br />
A tailor, though in his words he has ‘manly bravado’.<br />
Useful, if not for his fighting, then for his ties with the Captain.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Darl </span>(Thomas)<br />
Possibly useful. The son of Zarkaylia.<br />
A good way to him is through Elizabeth.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Dusken</span><br />
Useful, dispensable. Harmless.<br />
A jeweller may not be much, but she can make gifts.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Mittendri</span><br />
Useful, though dangerous. <br />
Maker of weapons.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Hel</span><br />
Possibly useful. Another fighter joins the Ravennan guard.<br />
Not very bright.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mrs Esrok</span> (Arua)<br />
Possibly useful.  Harmless.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Minwu</span> (Lyrxi)<br />
Useless, but harmless thus far.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Tharmon/Tharmon</span> (Nerissa)<br />
Useful, but regretfully dangerous.<br />
I don’t think your time with us will be long…<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Vaul</span> (William)<br />
More dangerous than he is useful.<br />
Perhaps too close to Tharmon...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Slither</span> (Zerek)<br />
Useless, and possibly dangerous...<br />
Umbri’tam could be using him as a spy.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Spy</span><br />
Useless, but Xitian. Husband to Zarkaylia.<br />
Best watched and best indulged...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Flavell </span>(Scarlet)<br />
An obstruction.<br />
Her anger just makes things so very easy.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Gideon</span><br />
Miss Umbri’tam’s Sapphire. An obstruction, like the rest of them. <br />
A violent arena? That’s one way to get rid of yourself.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Xitian Brat</span> (Cassandra)<br />
What lady has such excessive decadence as to have herself carried about? Brat.<br />
No matter. I’m sure she will get rid of herself, too.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Xitian Scum</span> (Duras)<br />
Disgusting, but there’s nothing like an obstruction that gets rid of itself.<br />
Goodbye, Mr. Duras.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Umbri’tam</span> (Sidian)<br />
An obstruction.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Items of Importance</span><br />
- One pocket watch (1x Clock: “Amelia’s Pocket Watch”): golden, intricate design, only has an hour hand, one line to indicate twelve o’clock on the clockface. Something like <a href="http://www.medievalcollectibles.com/p-18092-miniature-victorian-pocket-watch.aspx" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">this</a>. Inscription on the back, in Common: “<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Amelia: like time, we are eternal.</span>”<br />
- One emerald wedding ring (1x Emerald: “Amelia’s Wedding Ring”): golden, intricate design, decorated with four small emeralds. Something like <a href="http://www.custommade.com/emerald-celtic-knot-band-in-yellow-gold-with-size/by/postgatejewelers/?honeycomb=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">this</a>.<br />
- A research journal (1x Book and Quill: “Research Journal”): leather-bound covers, thick paper pages. Not kept on her person. “<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">This lengthy research journal is well-crafted, with thick, paper pages and leather hardcovers. It is written entirely in the Lucin Language. The handwriting is in cursive, but is sloppy. If translated, it contains documentation pertaining to the development of explosives for the Celestial Realm’s use. It mentions a strict budget, and many failed attempts to stabilise explosions. A few deaths are involved. The owner and writer of this book is unclear as the content is written in formal, third person. The language used is highly technical and scientific; characters who aren’t very familiar with this field should not understand much of it, but should be able to understand what it is generally about. There are many loose papers wedged between pages; most of it is paperwork. Some of the paperwork is a series of uncompleted draft-applications for the Celestial Kingdom, requesting and justifying ‘additional funding’. Some of it involves forms explaining the deaths of those who died ‘during the experimental research process’. These deaths, although gruesome, seem to be the result of unpreventable accidents.<br />
Approximately fifteen pages in from the back of the book are some notes, also written in Lucin. It’s the same handwriting, and in the same third person. If translated, the subject matter seems unrelated to the explosives; it is a copy of Margretha’s notes on Lorimar’s scroll, only put into more technical, specialised language. There’s nothing that explicitly states the information came from Margretha’s notes. Specifically, the notes detail how the runic path is laid out for a device. A specific crystal is mentioned as a power source, but how or where is obtained is not included. However, in the margin, the text ‘caverns?’ has been written.</span>”</div>]]></description>
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<img src="http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g158/mnguy3/a01e6798-8d69-4fc3-af1e-917c435af7c9_zpsc7d80040.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: a01e6798-8d69-4fc3-af1e-917c435af7c9_zpsc7d80040.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Amelia de Lacy (Emily)</span><br />
46<br />
Female<br />
Lucin<br />
Engineer, Miner<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Spoiler';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Spoiler</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Orphanage and Birth (0-12)</span><br />
A year before the war of Veld, a dying Lucin woman in labour stumbled into one of Aerstone’s churches. She called for the priest, who called for the midwife, who helped the woman deliver her child. The new mother, who was a beggar, died. The priest baptised her baby as ‘Emily’. Emily was sent to the orphanage, which was on the ‘poor side’ of Aerstone, a city in the Celestial Realm. Despite being funded by the church, the orphanage was only slightly better than being homeless because you could at least guarantee an education, and a bare minimum of food on most days. This is where Emily grew up. She’d attend daily lessons which educated her on basic literacy, numeracy, common language, religion, and element control, and once a week she’d attend church.<br />
<br />
 As she grew older, she was given housekeeping chores such as cooking and cleaning to prepare her for whatever job the church was going to assign her when she would turn twelve – that is, when she would be old enough to leave the orphanage. For Emily, it was an upbringing that wasn’t great, but it could’ve been much worse; there were plenty of people to interact with, but she lacked the individual love and affection that the standard child would get from their parents. There were also plenty of hungry nights and begging on the streets after lessons were finished for the day. Emily hated begging; it was a constant reminder that she was worthless to the rich, that her prayers and suffering were too insignificant for acknowledgement. This made her a cynical and bratty child, with a mild resentment for those who had her envy: the rich, the priests, even Rhise herself. She felt ignored by them all, and yet more deserving than them all; after all, she had been through much more than any of them.<br />
<br />
At the age of eight, Emily dropped the begging act and began to do something common amongst her older counterparts; she thieved. It started with Oscar. He was eating an apple that afternoon, and a few more bulged out of his coat pockets; this coat was too warm for such a hot day. Instead of asking where he had obtained the apples, she merely followed him the next time she saw him leave the orphanage in the same coat. This act lead her to the people she would call her ‘buddies’. They were the kind of buddies who weren’t really your buddies, the kind who would abandon anyone who got stuck on the farmer’s fence whenever they stole produce. But despite being told this, Emily remained. There was something new and exciting about thievery; she had control over something, something that was significant enough to someone else, and that was enough to make thievery worth more than extra food. She had power. And so Emily fell down the slippery slope. From the age of eight to the age of sixteen, petty theft became petty crime. She was never caught during this time: not by the church, not by the orphanage, and not by the guards. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Estate and Arrest (12-16)</span><br />
At the age of twelve, Emily grew too old for the orphanage, and was sent to live under a lord’s estate as a servant. As one could imagine, this did not improve Emily’s bitter resentment for the upper-class, and it did not improve Emily’s behaviour. She was regularly beaten for disobedience, which made the other servants avoid her out of fear of association. For Emily, there was nothing to turn to other than her ‘buddies’, and the life of crime she had built for herself during the night. Whenever night came, she trespassed, and stole, and arsoned, and vandalised, and punched people out until a large stash of gold was found in her sheets. Emily had stolen it from the lady of the estate, who was the current head of the house because her husband was recovering from the Veld war. Emily hated this woman; she was spoilt, ignorant, and hypocritical (and ironically, Emily would become this woman). ‘Those poor, poor souls,’ the lady of the house would say as she ate swan meat, her favourite meal, in front of her starving and unpaid servants. Her slaves. ‘Enslaved by those filthy blood-eyes for thirty years... and now they go to war for us. May Rhise have mercy!’ She was the embodiment of the upper-class, and it followed that Emily wanted to ‘punish’ the woman. Unfortunately however, Emily didn’t think about this unemotionally, and so she rashly hid her stolen gold. You know the rest of the story.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Convict Mines and Surviving (16-26)</span><br />
When Emily was caught, she was immediately arrested and sent to the Middle Realm as a convict. She was sixteen years old, and the purges had just ended. Emily was now in a small convict settlement by the mountains. It was a place where convicts from all over the Celestial and Middle Realms were put to work in mines; prisons everywhere were now emptier, and the Celestial Kingdom recovered slightly from the financial loss of the Veld war. Emily spent the next ten years in this convict mining settlement. It was a ruthless and unforgiving place; everyone was looking out for themselves, and the guard was corrupt. If enough people didn’t like you, then they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you in a cavern deep in the mines and say it was a dusk spawn, or a cave in, or a nasty fall. It was the kind of environment you could only thrive in if you were useful to others. Accomplishing this was initially difficult for Emily; as an orphan, people thought she was worthless from the moment she was born, and the situation did not change when she entered servitude and criminal activity. But here at the convict mines, she had to show she was anything but worthless to the guards and other convicts. However, Emily wasn’t particularly good at anything, so there wasn’t much for her to offer. Luckily for her though, the mines were roughly nine parts Mesalian and one part Lucin. This meant what little ability she had in the elements was a rarity, and if she could just be good enough at manipulating one of them, she would ‘make friends’ easily. <br />
<br />
Any semblance of innocence was abandoned quickly for survival. She started banding with the other Lucin convicts, who taught her to channel Aether as a means of combat, healing, and light. She was also taught to how and where to punch a dusk creature in case the former didn’t work. She gradually improved in her mining skills, which upped her productivity, which then put her in a good light with the guards of the colony. She learnt to manipulate those around her to guarantee her own safety, her own stability, her own control over the situation. Within the first six months, she had power of the lie, the half lie, and the truth wrapped around her fingers. She became cut-throat and dangerous. She became a struggler, a survivor, a clinger to power, and when she was eighteen, she decided nothing would stand in her way. Not the guards, or even the entire Celestial Realm. You see, she had just been told that her sentence had been extended for another five years. Sentences were always extended for one reason or another; the Celestial Realm needed their resources. Numerous convicts died while serving their sentence. Although the control she now had over the other convicts was alluring and comforting, Emily needed her freedom. In the mines, she was nothing but a slave; she might as well have been Mesalian. Plus, freedom was what she, the misfortuned, the survivor, deserved. Originally, she had it all planned out; she would serve her sentence, then leave the settlement and return to the Celestial Realm, but she wouldn’t return to servitude. She would be a miner, a miner who actually got to keep what she had mined. She would work hard and have an estate of her own. She just needed her freedom. But now, Emily knew she wasn’t going to have her freedom unless she escaped.<br />
<br />
From the very start, it seemed logical to her that her only chance of getting out was with the runes. She was only vaguely familiar with them; the minecart system was powered by runes, and she had seen the engineers who built them use little stones to disappear, to move around the mines at a blink of the eye. The other convicts called them ‘home runes’. She spent the next few months ‘befriending’ a Mesalian before letting him in on her plan. He agreed to kill two engineers, take their home runes, and escape with her. Unfortunately for him, Emily let him use his home rune first; he was caught immediately when the home rune teleported him into the guard barracks, and was killed on sight. After hearing about her partner-in-crime, Emily didn’t use her home rune; she now knew that home runes worked in pairs. She instead broke hers, cracking it open and studying its insides intently during her breaks. Two years later, at the age of twenty, she was told again that her sentence was to be extended another five years; this was when Emily began to truly experiment with runes. She would mine the ores, and then stow small amounts away in her clothes. Whenever she was alone, she would attempt to recreate the home rune with absolutely no success, though she was slowly beginning to understand how the strange, red powder worked; how it transferred some kind of energy within the stone shell, but the energy slowly died out, and how it needed something else to keep it going. By the time she was twenty-two, Emily understood slightly more about the mysterious ways of runes after watching engineers work on the minecart tracks, like how different things such as levers and lights could make the energy ‘go’. But she could only watch from a distance, so her knowledge was still limited; the engineers weren’t convicts, and asking them about their work was sure to raise suspicion. <br />
<br />
Despite her lack of success, Emily never gave up. She became stubborn and determined, knowing that if she did give up, she would be a Mesalian - powerless over her situation. She didn’t even give up after she nearly burned her arms off. She was twenty-two; it was in the middle of a work day, in a cave that was deep enough to not have a guard patrolling, but not deep enough for Lucins to feel sick. To this day, Emily does not know what caused the small explosion, which caused the fire, which burnt her arms, but it was bound to happen eventually. She was experimenting with runes, without the proper safety equipment and with minimal knowledge of potential risks. She used her arms to protect herself from the small blast. Her screams of pain brought others running. Later, when she was questioned, she said she had come into contact with a zombie set aflame by an Aether blast. She was searched, and when nothing was found, she was treated and left alone. Were it not for the ‘friends’ she had made, Emily might’ve been killed that day, after she discovered she was too badly burnt to return to mining immediately. For the next few months, others agreed to mine for her, and Emily’s job for those months was to push the minecarts back to the surface and heal the injured -  jobs that didn’t necessarily require hands. After her hands had healed sufficiently, leaving disfiguring scars, she resumed her dabbling in runes. After all, she had come so far, and now she had gotten a taste of the hidden potential in runes. It was a power like no other, and power was something Emily could not resist.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Escape (26)</span><br />
When Emily was twenty-four, the Middle Realm had broken out into Civil War. However, the first attack on the convict camp wouldn’t happen until two years later, when she was twenty-six. By then, Emily’s mind was like her hands; even after her escape, they would never be the same again. Despite her eight year efforts, she was still far from the goal of escape via home rune. However, when a nearby city ambushed the remote camp for resources, it no longer mattered. Emily took the opportunity before her, and escaped during the chaos with whatever she could find. She spent a few weeks laying low in the wilderness near a village, then spent the next few months travelling. Although she used stolen resources to obtain supplies, they were difficult months. She spent them in paranoia of being recognised. Emily spun lies, reinventing herself until she became Amelia, the Lucin apprentice of an old rune engineer who went mad and abused her. She bathed, got new clothes, cut her hair, and wore a pair of gloves. When she felt safely disguised, Amelia returned to the Celestial Realm as planned.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">The Fresh Start and Victor De Lacy (26-30)</span><br />
She did not return to Aerstone; she would have been recognised there. Instead, she found herself a home and a job in Lacy, an industrial city pioneered and ruled by the noble De Lacy family, who were also behind a large industrial production company. Though the pay wasn’t great (at the time Amelia thought it was modest as she had never received pay), and she struggled to regain her footing in civilised society, but it was otherwise a smooth time for Amelia. Her manipulative and ruthless ways didn’t leave her completely, but she learnt quickly that she was to keep such behaviour dormant if she was to survive her new, more civilised environment. She now had to learn to be nicer and more polite if she was to be seen as ‘useful’. Initially, her co-workers only liked her for the tireless hard work she put in everyday, but as time passed they began to like her for who she was, or who she seemed to be. By her second year in the job, Amelia had incorporated the art of subtlety and two-facedness into her manipulation; this was the beginning of the alarmingly versatile woman you see today.<br />
<br />
It was also the beginning of Amelia’s higher education and noble status, as it was in the mines that she had met Victor De Lacy. Victor De Lacy was the supervisor of Amelia’s small mining team; he was also the third son to Lord De Lacy, who was head of both the city and the family company. Contrary to what one would expect from a person in this high position of authority, Victor De Lacy was a cheery and relaxed supervisor. He spent most of his time reading while the team worked, and would gladly be of help if asked. During breaks, he would participate in conversations. Everyone liked him, even Amelia. She admired how he was able to convince others of his genuinity and kindness effortlessly, and aspired to achieve the same (that is, Amelia wanted to convince others she was genuine and kind; she didn’t want to actually be it). She would try to talk with him everyday in an attempt to study and copy his manners: his smile, his formalities, the way he used long words, yet didn’t chastise or patronise her for not understanding. In earnest, Amelia had never planned to seek him out for a romantic relationship in the beginning. After all, the idea that she would someday marry Victor belonged in stories and fairy tales at the time. No, Amelia and Victor’s relationship just began with some questions; prior to this point, they hadn’t spoken about non-work related matters. <br />
<br />
She was twenty-seven and he was twenty-five. It was late in the night; Amelia had asked to stay and work overtime, and Victor felt obligated to supervise her. He sat in the cavern a little away from her, his nose in a rune manual. Spotting it from a distance, Amelia asked him where he got the book from; although she hadn’t any real need to learn runes anymore, she felt compelled to finish what she had started many years ago. It turned into one of those long, late night conversations. It was quickly discovered that runes were a shared interest for the both of them, though neither of them really had anyone to discuss it with. Amelia asked him to teach her; he could talk about runes with someone, and she could learn more. He agreed. They talked well into the night about everything Amelia knew thus far, and eventually about themselves. Amelia lied of course, going with her usual story about the mentor who burnt her hands, but Victor De Lacy told her the truth. As the third son of the De Lacy bloodline, it was clear to Victor that he if he wanted to inherit the family company or the city of Lacy (or both), he would have to outshine the accomplishments of his brothers. He would have to do more than be studious, well mannered, and married to a woman who would bring merit to the family line; he would have to be ambitious and innovative, which was why he had studied rune engineering and business from a young age. Amelia admired his ambition; it was similar to her own. <br />
<br />
It would be this shared ambition that would drive Victor and Amelia close.  To Victor, the story of how he fell in love with Amelia is beautiful. A year would pass after that long late night talk, and Amelia would become Victor’s best friend. The two would meet regularly after work to talk, teach, and be taught. Now that she had an instructor, Amelia’s knowledge in runes was rising steadily, and after a while she had been somewhat promoted to the role of assistant engineer. This mostly involved following rune engineers as they worked on tracks around the mines, obtaining more practical experience and mining or ordering supplies specifically for them. All was well in Amelia’s side of things, but Victor slowly felt his ambition slipping away as time passed; all the stress and pressure made him want to simply give up. No matter how hard he worked, he would never surpass his brothers. He told this to Amelia one afternoon. She slapped him.<br />
‘Bullshit! Do you expect me to just believe that?! How could you give up so easily?! You have a chance to inherit a legacy! Do you know how many others are born with that chance?! You fucking have it so easy, Victor! All you have to do is TRY. You don’t even have anything to lose! The worst you have is that you work for your brother, and it’s not like that’s the only option! You can still do amazing things! Start your own business! Buy your own estate! Give it all to your third son! YOU decide what happens!’<br />
<br />
It was the closest Amelia ever got to letting someone see the real her, and although she didn’t know it at the time, Victor De Lacy fell in love with Amelia and her passion, her inability to give up on her dreams. The day he told her how he felt was also the day they decided to elope; it was a most spontaneous decision. You see, Victor wasn’t stupid; he knew pursuing a relationship with Amelia would mean nothing short of disownment. There was also the concern that he might lose Amelia’s friendship. And so, he resisted, and the two remained best friends for another two years. Victor worked tirelessly on investments and profits, while Amelia came closer and closer to calling herself an engineer. She had noticed a change in Victor’s behaviour, but she was still twisted enough to interpret it not as love, but as Victor’s shame from such a lower-class friend.  Amelia herself had noticed her own feelings long ago, but she dismissed them for reasons similar to Victor’s; such a relationship would not happen, and she needed the benefits that came with being Victor’s friend. She would not ruin her good position. And so when Victor came to her home in a manic passion and told her that he loved her, it was a sudden shock to Amelia; Victor was not ashamed of her, and somehow, without effort, she had ‘seduced’ him into loving her.<br />
<br />
She said ‘yes’ of course, after he explained the news about his estate. That day, he had decided that he didn’t want or need the De Lacy legacy; he had found something, someone, who was much more precious. Someone who he could talk with freely, who shared his interests. Someone who kept him motivated through hard times. He had done exactly what Amelia had told him to do: he had started a business that involved funding several mining projects in the Middle Realm, then collecting and trading the resources for profit. It was now doing well enough for him to comfortably buy a large estate, and Victor wanted his to be in the Middle Realm so business could be conducted more smoothly; the civil war often made sealing deals difficult over letters. He wanted to share it all with Amelia. How could she refuse? But it was a more complicated than a simple matter of finances; they both knew eloping would brand Amelia as a leeching whore, and Victor would be disowned. The only option would be to marry, which would be less scandalous than simply running away and living together. Victor was prepared for it, though Amelia wasn’t as sure about the commitment. Reluctantly, she agreed. She didn’t know if she really loved Victor, but she did know she wanted him to be happy… which was unusual and rare enough for her to believe she perhaps could love him. And so over the next few days, they married in secret, bought their estate, and left for the Middle Realm.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Married Life in the Middle Realm (30-39)</span><br />
The next nine years were the best of Amelia’s life. Amelia and Victor had bought their estate in a mountainous, seaside city named Mistlyn. They chose Mistlyn for its slowly-developing mining industry, which showed plenty of potential due to its geographical location. It was a place that was small enough to be quiet, but large enough to be seen along the coast or on a map, which also made it ideal for trade. It also had a military to protect the city from invasion, and this military could benefit from iron-forged arms. Here, they worked together to start a mine together, which became profitable at a rapid pace thanks to rune-powered mine tracks that sped-up the mining process. Amelia continued her education, whilst applying what she learnt with Victor on the tracks, and soon she became good enough to call herself an engineer. By the time Amelia was thirty-four, Victor was able to buy out every other other mine in Mistlyn until they had a monopoly. They often joked about buying out the mines back in Lacy. Amelia’s in-laws had visited Mistlyn once; though impressed by Victor’s property, they would not stop looking at her from the corners of their eyes. They never spoke to her.<br />
<br />
With their mining business in a stable and profitable position, they both moved onto other pursuits, though these still related to maximising profits. Driven by her ever present power fantasies, Amelia began making plans to reinvent the explosives the Xitians used in the Veld War. With these, Amelia explained during a dinner, they could gain resources faster. And if they could have the Celestial Kingdom fund the research, it would be less investment on their part. Victor whole-heartedly agreed to this plan; as a noble man, he was loyal to the Kingdom and could not see the harm. And so with Victor’s letters of recommendation, Amelia was able to gain funding from the Celestial Kingdom to research and develop explosives; a De Lacy could be trusted with such a task, it seemed. Even the illegitimate wife of one, though this view of Amelia usually remained within Lucin culture; Mesalians, even noble ones, would never question her position in nobility, because it was difficult criticise someone for being a former commoner when you were once a former slave. Over these years, Amelia became much more refined in her mannerisms; this was mostly thanks to Victor’s help, who was more than happy to teach Amelia high etiquette. These lessons would become essential, as the many business and trade deals they had made with often meant travel, and attending events. It was around this time that Amelia had begun to wear gloves often; various high-class interactions made her ashamed of her hands.<br />
<br />
Amelia was thirty-three when construction on a private laboratory was completed and staff were hired to help her with the project, and she did not struggle to lead them;  Once it had commenced, the project was slow and difficult in its development. The first few years mostly involved obtaining and studying pre-Veld texts to understand the very bare methods of Xitian explosive engineering. Eventually they moved onto experiments. These experiments, or at least the ones that were potentially dangerous, were conducted in the safest conditions the budget would allow; Amelia and her staff often spent daylight hours outside and away from Mistlyn, with medical staff standing by. Over the years, they’d have a few casualties, both minor and major, two deaths, and many, many failed experiments. At first, it was difficult to get a prototype to produce more than smoke upon detonation, but eventually they had managed to get full-blown explosions; the kind that were unsafe and unstable for practical use. From here, Amelia would be working with her team to stabilise them every single non-religious day… up until she found Victor’s dead body.<br />
<br />
Victor and Amelia’s married life during these nine years was smooth-surfaced; as they did in Lacy, they met daily after work to discuss and catch-up with each other. Thus, they never really grew distant of one another, though at the same time, they did. This was because Victor’s love-confession had shifted the power-dynamic between them; Amelia now knew she had influence over Victor, a power over Victor, and was now actually trying to use it by consciously manipulating Victor. Amelia never told him about her life as Emily, and in fact she ended up keeping even more secrets from him whenever her experiments had caused injuries and death (it wasn’t that she said nothing about it entirely, it’s just that her manipulation made everything seem minor). They also once tried for a child, but Amelia had lost it early in her pregnancy; Victor’s heartbreak then caused him to give up easily on children, but this time, Amelia did not slap and motivate him. She wanted to focus on her project, and having a child would not allow her that. <br />
<br />
Around the time that Amelia had begun to move into explosives, Victor became involved in Mistlyn’s politics. By this time, Mistlyn had become a wealthy, industrial city. What sparked Victor’s interest in politics was mostly speculative to Amelia; perhaps he was bored of his trading business, or he wanted his own city, or perhaps he desperately wanted to raise and take care of something. Regardless, it didn’t matter to Amelia up until the point when she realised she should have stopped Victor, as this involvement in politics was what led to Victor De Lacy’s death. Victor’s successful election into the role of Mistlyn’s mayor was not surprising to anyone; the city owed its livelihood to the De Lacys. The De Lacy couple kept most of the city employed, and most of the city’s wealth and development was credited to their business. This business and development also helped keep Mistlyn safe from civil war; Mistlyn now had a well-armed military and various alliances formed through trade agreements. When Victor became mayor, this security only strengthened, though it wasn’t long before Victor learnt about the Xitian influence behind the civil war. Leaders of smaller neighbouring towns had come to Mistlyn for help, informing Victor that Xitians were attempting to bribe and threaten them into attacking Mistlyn; these leaders wanted to refuse of course, as it was very apparent that Mistlyn’s resources were not worth battle against its military and allies. <br />
<br />
Victor merely responded to this by forming alliances with these neighbouring towns, thus ensuring no one would be forced to attack Mistlyn. As soon as you were being threatened, you had Mistlyn’s military joining forces with your guards. The added protection was generally enough to make the Xitians leave for good. This was about the time where Amelia realised she should have stopped Victor from pursuing politics; he was a good leader, but he was also putting himself at risk by opposing all these Xitians. But what could she say to stop him now, when he was already dedicated to leading and protecting Mistlyn? No, you can’t help the helpless because you might die? It simply could not be said to the passionate Victor De Lacy, who still had his own military to protect his life, who would only look at Amelia with doubt if she were to ever bring it up; what happened to the selfless woman he knew? It would be like stepping in front of a downhill-moving minecart. And so Amelia kept quiet; she didn’t encourage his bold political movements, but she also didn’t discourage them. She would say she was happy for him, and happy that he had found something to be happy about. Meanwhile, she would have no choice but to put her faith into Mistlyn’s guard and military. This would’ve worked were it not for Amelia’s involvement with explosives, which inspired some of Victor’s Xitian enemies to act.<br />
<br />
Amelia remembers sitting in the library that night. She had a fondness of sitting there to work when she could, as few could boast about owning a room full of books. She was reconsidering the design of her prototypes when it happened. There was a sound of a great blast; all the windows broke. There were screams from below, down in the kitchen. With broken glass in her arms and back, she looked outside. The city hall of Mistlyn was a wreckage, sprinkled with fire, rubble, and limbs. Down on the courtyard, she saw guards running: Victor’s guards. Filled with terror and adrenalin, she ran through the manor to find Victor. She knew this meant something bad was going to happen. By the time she found him, his blood was already staining a rug. Papers and trinkets littered the edges of the room; signs of air manipulation. Signs of struggle. She knelt quickly, turning on the glow in her hands, ready to heal, but then there was a sharp pain in her back; it was a sudden jolt, a burn so deep she could feel it to her bones.<br />
<br />
She remembers seeing a face before she fell. It had red eyes, gleaming with Nether.<br />
<br />
When she woke up, it was days after. Nether poisoning, her personal doctor reported. It was apparently a miracle she survived, but Amelia never thought of it as that; it was merely the product of all her hard work. Hard work had gotten her into this advantageous position, one where she had her own doctor to tend her injuries immediately, one where she had servants who would immediately search for the Lord and Lady of the estate in a state of emergency.  <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Aftermath (40)</span><br />
Amelia mourned for a year; it seemed to be an appropriate amount of mourning. She dressed in all black, and halted her research. The death of Victor De Lacy, as well as the explosion of city hall, were of course investigated, but the results were minimal. The Xitian that had poisoned Amelia hadn’t been found; the bomb which was found in the ruins of city hall had come from Amelia’s lab. People began to suspect Amelia instantly, and even though the guards never found any solid evidence to suggest Amelia murdered Victor, people theorised. Perhaps she was conspiring with the Xitians and the guard, or perhaps she somehow poisoned herself… <br />
<br />
Victor’s funeral took place a week after her recovery. It was a quick and quiet affair, as the explosion had injured many, and thus those who were able had no time to mourn. She cried, though still isn’t sure if she was crying for him, or crying for herself. His will was read a few days after his funeral; three quarters of his property and fortune were now Amelia’s. The rest went to Mistlyn’s treasury, which the new mayor put towards city repairs. Amelia made sure to donate a little more under her own name. This did not stop the rumours and accusations. <br />
<br />
Almost a month after the assassination, she would receive word from the Celestial Kingdom; her research had lost its government funding. This was because the city hall incident had put Amelia, Amelia’s research and the Celestial Kingdom under fire; after the city was bombed, the last thing the citizens wanted were explosives being developed there. Amelia attempted to save her reputation, but it was quickly diminishing before her as news of the incident reached more and more ears. People quit working for her, and people didn’t want to trade with her. Within ten months, the De Lacy monopoly was obsolete. One husband, six years worth of research, an entire trading empire… all taken away by an Xitian. The face she saw would often reappear in her dreams. She would reach out and bitterly stab it. <br />
<br />
She continued to live in her estate in Mistlyn; though she was hated there, she had no where else to go. Her fortune was still large, but she wasn’t making any new money. Moving and funding her own research was simply out of the question. But then, on the eleventh month after Victor’s death, she heard from the Celestial Kingdom again. They needed someone to lead an operation in the Forbidden Lands. <br />
She was in no position to refuse the offer.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance</span><br />
Overall, Amelia appears elegant, middle-aged, and wealthy, but simultaneously industrial and not entirely upper-class or noble. She has: a thin, pinched nose; thin, narrow, and puckered lips; a prominent nasal bone crease; puffy, sharp blue eyes; high and wide cheekbones; and high-arching eyebrows which give her the appearance of constant interest and slight surprise. Her chocolate brown hair is slowly greying and becoming tawnier in colour. This hair is wavy, and is about six centimetres (roughly two inches) past her shoulders. She usually wears it in a milkmaid braid to keep it ornate, but out of the way, with her wispy fringe still out and parted. She smells like flowery perfume failing to mask the distinct, sharp scent of rune powder: metallic, burnt, and chemical - like ionised air after lightning strikes.<br />
<br />
She’s quite short at 157 centimetres (roughly five feet and two inches) tall, and has a curvy, slightly plump, hourglass figure that’s emphasised further with a corset underneath her clothing. She has muscle, but it isn’t very visible under her clothes. One can not fairly induce that she hasn’t worked a day in her life; her skin tone is olive as a result of previous labour. She also has various scars on her body, acquired during several years as a prison labourer and a criminal. The most notable of these are the burn scars that are on her hands and up the sides of her arms, gained from a rune experiment gone wrong. The skin is discoloured, greyish and scaly. Her hands almost look reptilian. It’s not the most attractive sight; in fact, it can be off-putting. Amelia is self-conscious about the appearance of her hands, as it’s a high-class expectation for ladies to have small, smooth, clean, and attractive hands. She makes a specific effort to hide these scars with her clothing; it’s not uncommon for her to eat or sleep with gloves on.<br />
<br />
Amelia makes an effort to look good, which means her clothing has been specifically chosen to make her look good. She wears clothing that looks ornate and steampunk-inspired; it gives her the appearance of elegant, chaste nobility, whilst simultaneously hiding her scars, exaggerating her figure, and being well-suited for engineering work (depending on one’s tolerance for dirty clothing). She wears the following items of clothing: a khaki, high-collar blouse embroidered with a floral pattern in a darker shade, with buttoned cuffs, and long sleeves that are puffed on the upper-arm, but snug on the forearm; a silk, emerald-green waistcoat with golden buttons that are buttoned up; brown leather gloves, with linen bandage around her hands underneath; a pair of high-waisted, button-cuffed breeches, the waist part a dark maroon with a leather pouch sewn to it, and the trouser part vertically striped with two alternating shades of emerald-green; a pair of black stockings, embroidered florally; a pair of long, dark leather boots, laced up neatly, and a pair of gold-rimmed, purple-lensed goggles on her head, which magnify the size of her eyes when worn properly. <br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Artwork by <a href="http://aducknamedhope.deviantart.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Rachel Carlini</a> (SentaiPink).<br />
<img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img825/6817/m4o6.jpg" loading="lazy"  width="395" height="400" alt="[Image: m4o6.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
Artwork by <a href="http://artpoopoo.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Christine [SURNAME REDACTED]</a> (Campanella): <img src="http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g158/mnguy3/finished5_zpsf15055a3.png" loading="lazy"  width="395" height="559" alt="[Image: finished5_zpsf15055a3.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div></div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Personality</span><br />
Amelia’s idea of a good life is one that has been worked for; that is, a good life is one where success (which is essentially status, power, and money) has been earned through hard work. Amelia’s ideas of ‘earning’ and ‘hard work’ rely on her values. These values form Amelia’s core, and they are most of her motivation. Her personal survival is usually her main value and priority, but she believes this depends on image, power, resources and persistence. Image tends to conflict with her other values because it involves people, and her interests are mainly in herself; this can make her actions very versatile. She tends to prioritise image over the rest because as someone who relies heavily on manipulation to get her way, public image is key. For example, she has a tendency to be over-competitive with others (power), but restricts herself whenever she’s overt about it because it makes her seem impolite (image). In Amelia’s mind, everyone shares, or should share her values - particularly image. She gets annoyed when others are impolite, even more so when they get what they want in spite of impoliteness. This is because she had to be polite to earn what she wanted, and politeness is considered an effort to her. Essentially, impoliteness is considered laziness in Amelia’s eyes.<br />
<br />
In relation to her value of resources, Amelia can be economic. She hates being wasteful, and likes to keep things for reuse later. This can apply to people, as she tends to judge them on ‘usefulness’ and ‘disposability’ in relation to her interests. In this sense, she has a tendency to use and objectify people; generally she sees nothing wrong with this, as it seems necessary for her own survival. She views people in the way a mechanic might: “How do they function? What drives them? How can I learn more? How can I practically apply what I’ve learnt? Can I take them apart? Do I need them?” This means she’s observant, and  internally focused on gathering as much information on people in the shortest amount of time possible, so she can make use of them in one way or another. Despite this objectifying point-of-view, Amelia generally has nothing against people who are considered useless so long as they aren’t in the way of her goals and interests, especially since ‘useless’ people are still slightly useful in terms of Amelia’s own public image. However, she has a hard time being sentimental with people because she struggles to authentically care about other people. Even when Amelia genuinely likes someone, she feels there’s no such thing as caring for someone for the sake of caring for someone; if she likes them, there is always something she wants from them. In this sense, Amelia’s lifestyle and way of thinking is so ingrained into her actions that she can’t make actual friends.<br />
<br />
Generally, Amelia has a good balance between extroversion and introversion; she is often sociable, but would rather not be. On the surface, she’s a rigidly (but accommodatingly) polite and elegant person. This might distance others, as Amelia’s polite composure can have a disingenuity and aloofness to it; it can feel like she’s being nice because she has to be, not because she wants to be. This being said, Amelia isn’t outwardly an arsehole, and in fact tries to indulge people. She believes humouring people (Mesalians especially) is the price for ‘using’ them. In this sense, Amelia feels like she doesn’t have a choice outside of politeness. This is how she can distance people further, as Amelia tends to sound patronising when humouring people, and wields this patronising tone as her weapon against people she openly dislikes; she can be passive-aggressively polite in the most annoying way. To have Amelia’s genuine respect, a person has to share and display a following of her values (note that this means Amelia has high esteem for herself; she is confident, but narcissistic), but Amelia can still feel like she likes someone without this respect (because the person probably has something she wants). Beneath every ‘surface’ of Amelia is someone completely determined towards her goals and interests. If things begin to majorly break down around her, she becomes a survivor with endurance, perseverance and persistence. This is the point where people are not indulged, and she can get to the point of cut-throat aggression and obsession, maybe even insanity. This hidden aggressive and obsessive stubbornness can be her greatest downfall. <br />
<br />
Amelia is also a follower of Rhise, but isn’t overt or particularly committed about it as she sometimes makes herself out to be; she would attend a religious event out of good public figure. She likes taking rune mechanisms apart and putting them back together, listening to the harpsichord, the feel of fur, attending public events, learning new words, the glow of rune ores, the smell of salt, the soft tick of her pocket watch, having a chair pulled out for her, and warm food. She dislikes rune powder adhering to her skin and clothes, taking off her gloves to eat, losing small engineering parts and then finding them when she least expects it, her hand twitching mid-handshake, being given a nickname, sour wine, and the sound of slurping. Her favourites are emerald green, red wine with honey, roasted swan (spiced, of course), and using tweezers to position rune components. She is an ISTP at heart, but can be easily be an ESTP.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Vocal Details</span><br />
Amelia’s voice is clear, feminine, silvery, and articulate; it’s the voice of a businesswoman and a housewife in one. It has the tendency to carry itself; that is, projection of the voice is something Amelia can do naturally and often unintentionally. Even her whispers can be heard from a good distance away, and it is for this reason that she is calculating about what she says. Her ‘true’ or neutral tone of voice is quite formal, official, refined and dignified, but at the same time it can seem restrained, bored, aloof and lacking in approachability. She can come off more as a business associate than a friend; it can feel like she’s showing respect out of politeness rather than fondness. However, if one finds themselves in a conversation with Amelia where she only uses this tone of voice, it ironically means that she trusts them enough to let her guard down slightly, because kindness is usually Amelia’s way of distancing people from her true self.<br />
<br />
When Amelia has her guard up, she indulges and humours people. This means she has the same tone of voice as before, but this time it’s much more intimate, chatty, sing-songy, and approachable, and yet she may also come off as slightly patronising due to the fact that she usually lacks genuine interest. Depending on the type of person and her motives, she may also seem motherly, sweet, playfully teasing, and even flirtatious or bashful (and she would do this in the most lady-like fashion possible) in tone. She tends to use the same words her conversation partner uses in order to appear more relatable or in-sync with them. When addressing someone she openly dislikes, she usually puts even more distance between herself and them; this is achieved with even more kindness. <br />
<br />
If she doesn’t like you (and it’s publicly considered okay to not like you), Amelia can be overly and annoyingly honeyed, patronising and passive-aggressive with her tone of voice. Usually, this is an attempt to make the other person seem less in-control of themselves (and by extension, the situation) by manipulating and frustrating them to the point of lashing out at her. If in public, it’s also a way to make the other person seem worse in comparison to Amelia, who can claim she was only being nice. However, if Amelia ever snaps, she lets all of her guard down. Her voice goes sharp and cold when angry or particularly threatened. This is when she doesn’t indulge anyone, and when her positive public image is completely gone.<br />
<br />
In terms of her own speech patterns, Amelia has the following tendencies: calling people by titles, such as ‘Mr.’ or ‘Miss’; using new vocabulary words in conversation; verbosity with first impressions; misusing obscure words; using passive voice and gobbledygook when avoiding a topic; saying ‘oh?’ and ‘hmm?’ when she’s interested; greeting people by the time of day; and starting answers to questions with ‘well’ and ‘why’, using archaisms such as ‘pray tell’, and making the word ‘mercy’ be the strongest in her vocabulary. Various voice inspirations: Vanessa Williams, Wendie Malik, Meryl Streep, Helen Morgendorffer (of <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Daria</span>). <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physicality</span><br />
When you consider Amelia’s lifestyle before she entered the setting, it follows that Amelia’s physicality is overall elegant, distinguished, and poised. She clearly follows the rules of high-class etiquette whenever appropriate or possible, and she follows them seamlessly. Examples include the following: maintaining a rigid, upright posture in everything she does (this can really mean everything, because she wears a corset beneath her clothing, which restricts movement in her spine); curtseying; never gesturing unless delivering a speech; never speaking while sitting and her conversation partner is standing; walking at the same pace as another person; never sitting in a private setting unless invited, etc.  Her movements are also generally big, encompassing, but sparse, as though she were trying to be inviting without being outlandish or inelegant about it. <br />
<br />
Much like her tone of voice, Amelia’s physicality is dependent on the level of company she feels she’s in, meaning there are exceptions to Amelia’s general rules. For example, in a more private setting, her movements are rather small and dismissive, as though she were using minimal effort (which would make sense, given that there is little need to impress). However, it’s important to note that Amelia’s pleasant ‘states’ of physicality aren’t something she just ‘puts on’ or fakes; manipulating her body language for a very long time have made the movements natural and instinctive, as opposed to forced and aware. This means Amelia has a tendency to change and adapt her physicality to her motives without even noticing she’s doing it. For example, something she does often is to simply ‘mirror’ the body language of others, which can make her seem more relatable and likable; she may even get touchy as a way to establish a connection. <br />
<br />
The only conscious manipulation of body language Amelia uses is the manipulation of Aether. It works like this: Amelia is mostly in full control of her Aether, the main exception being when things begin to majorly break down around her. However, Lucins with less control of their Aether are likely to glow a little, usually from strong emotions or around water. Amelia essentially exploits this fact by making herself glow with Aether to create appropriate effects, for example: glowing with a smile can make her joy seem genuine, and glowing in a threatening situation can make her seem more powerful. In fact, the act of simply glowing when she seems happy or angry, etc. can make her seem less threatening, as it appears as though she has less control on her Aether than she truly does. The same kind of thing can be said about not glowing at certain situations; whether she decides to glow when wet can establish her race. The list goes on, and the point here is that Amelia knows she has something many people don’t and is willing to abuse it.<br />
<br />
When in combat, Amelia takes a physicality that is extremely different from her usual lady-like style; this is the product of how and where she learnt to fight in the first place. Her style of fighting is  similar to that of a boxer; she’s aggressive light on her feet, delivering Aether blasts and punches in quick swipes. Because of this, she avoids situations where she would have to fight, especially in close-combat. Another ‘embarrassing’ part of Amelia’s physicality is in her hands, where she has nerve damage from her third-degree burns. This means Amelia’s hands are pretty much numb to her; she has difficulty feeling with them, and has difficulty detecting differences in temperature and pain, etc. She also struggles to keep her hand muscles clenched for long periods of time, and experiences random twitching. Because Amelia is slightly insecure about all this, it’s not uncommon for her to keep her hands out of view by placing them behind her back or under a table.<br />
<br />
‘Amelisms’ include: checking her pocket watch when reminded of her husband or uncomfortable; pursing her lips when displeased; having a smug little smile when genuinely pleased; curtseying with her hands to the side and her palms facing up; raising her eyebrows when interested; rubbing or massaging the palms of her twitching hands, and leaning slightly inwards when heavily engaged in a conversation. Just like all my other characters, Amelia is left-handed.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Theme Song</span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QjpyowJ2iQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">Sweet Lies - Dr. Dissonance</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Capabilities</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Advanced Aether Manipulation [skill]</span>: She mostly learnt this because her circumstances demanded it. Amelia can easily kill dusk creatures, heal a major wound and be a source of light. She is in full control of it in most cases, though often manipulates it to seem like she isn’t (see physicality). Her Aether is white, phosphorescent, and usually cold. This is because Amelia mostly uses her Aether for combat, not for healing, and because her hands (the main point of channelling Aether) have difficulty sensing heat.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Advanced Rune Engineering [skill]</span>: Provided she has the materials and time, I suppose she can create or repair any rune and wire up all the things. This skill includes smelting ore into metals for runes, as well as making objects which are relevant to rune engineering (tools, stone shells, tubes and wires, general parts, etc).<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Lucin Language [knowledge]</span>: Though slightly rusty with it due to disuse, Amelia is fluent in her native, Lucin language and has less of a chance of misusing obscure words (though she doesn’t really make an effort to learn obscure words in Lucin; there’s less people to show off to). She is also much more confident in reading and writing it; it’s not uncommon for her to be writing things in Lucin.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Common [knowledge]</span>: Having lived in the Middle Realm for more than half her life, Amelia is also fluent in common Mesalian language. She can even get verbose with her words, but still has a tendency to misuse them. Amelia can also read and write well, though she has to be a little more careful than she does with her native language.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Moderate Mining [skill]</span>: After approximately twenty years of mining, she’s become proficient at it. The only thing which limits her potential in this field is that being deep underground isn’t healthy for her, the nerve damage in her hands limits her ability to grip items for a long time, and she no longer has the fitness to work as fast as her mind does.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Chemistry [knowledge]</span>: This would mostly include general, non-specific knowledge of the elements and their effects, with more in-depth knowledge of Aether and Nether specifically. There would also be some specific knowledge of theories in relation to explosives (which chemicals are required in a bomb, etc.). See explosive engineering for more information.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Explosive Engineering [knowledge]</span>: With funding, Amelia has made some progress in the past with leading the development of explosives for the Celestial Kingdom through experimentation. She’s familiar with the theories and knows which chemical and runic components are involved, but she’s far from understanding how to combine these components in a way which would get the explosion contained and stable for safe use. She also understands that conducting experiments on her own and without resources to burn would be unsafe and impractical.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Hand-to-Hand Combat [skill]</span>: Ironically for someone who enjoys working from a distance, she knows how to pack a hit, and knows the best places for it. That being said, she’s no kung-fu master as this skill was only developed for fighting off dusk creatures.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Air Manipulation [skill]</span>: She can make a little breeze at most.<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic Water Manipulation [skill]</span>: She can levitate water a short distance from her hands at a slow speed at most.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Strengths</span><br />
- Water, Air, Aether <br />
- Determination of steel,  persistent<br />
- Articulate, persuasive, rhetorical<br />
- Resourceful, can survive and manage well<br />
- Well-mannered, tolerant of others<br />
- Kind (but not altruistic)<br />
- Intelligent, highly educated, observant<br />
- Versatile, can adapt to new situations<br />
- Motivated, hard-working, ambitious<br />
- Confident, brave<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Weaknesses</span><br />
- Fire, Earth, Nether<br />
- Stubborn, obsessed with achievement<br />
- Manipulative, inauthentic, aloof<br />
- Possessive with people and resources<br />
- Holds in grudges and resentment<br />
- Selfish, self-centered, falsely entitled<br />
- Racist, prejudiced, judgemental<br />
- Dependent on others<br />
- Overly competitive, insecure, obsessive<br />
- Workaholic, lack of genuine hobbies<br />
- Narcissistic, overconfident<br />
- Nerve damage in hands and arms<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Relationships</span><br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" /></a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">NOTE:</span> These are out of date. From before the guard searched the abbey.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Marty</span> (Margretha)<br />
Possibly the most useful of all. ‘Elder Councillor’ of the lower group, AKA the leader.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Spece</span> (Lance)<br />
Useful, indispensable.<br />
He better not disappoint. It would be a shame to lose him.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Mystrum</span> (Katya)<br />
Useful, indispensable. <br />
Possibly dangerous, though it would be nicer to have her pretty face on show.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Lentus</span> (Caius)<br />
Useful, dangerous. A councillor. Difficult to converse with.<br />
Unfortunately, if Margretha were to pass, he would most likely be next.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Zarkaylia</span><br />
Useful. Councillor, captain of the guard.<br />
Hard to please, but to be in her good graces would be nothing short of beneficial.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Elizabeth</span><br />
Useful, dispensable. Understands Xitian, mechanical engineer.<br />
Possibly dangerous: potential spy. So utterly stupid and spoilt.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Julius</span><br />
Useful. <br />
Has information on the councillors, though he’s beginning to seem disengaged...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Alex</span><br />
A tailor, though in his words he has ‘manly bravado’.<br />
Useful, if not for his fighting, then for his ties with the Captain.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Darl </span>(Thomas)<br />
Possibly useful. The son of Zarkaylia.<br />
A good way to him is through Elizabeth.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Dusken</span><br />
Useful, dispensable. Harmless.<br />
A jeweller may not be much, but she can make gifts.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Mittendri</span><br />
Useful, though dangerous. <br />
Maker of weapons.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Hel</span><br />
Possibly useful. Another fighter joins the Ravennan guard.<br />
Not very bright.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mrs Esrok</span> (Arua)<br />
Possibly useful.  Harmless.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Minwu</span> (Lyrxi)<br />
Useless, but harmless thus far.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Tharmon/Tharmon</span> (Nerissa)<br />
Useful, but regretfully dangerous.<br />
I don’t think your time with us will be long…<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Vaul</span> (William)<br />
More dangerous than he is useful.<br />
Perhaps too close to Tharmon...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Slither</span> (Zerek)<br />
Useless, and possibly dangerous...<br />
Umbri’tam could be using him as a spy.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Spy</span><br />
Useless, but Xitian. Husband to Zarkaylia.<br />
Best watched and best indulged...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Flavell </span>(Scarlet)<br />
An obstruction.<br />
Her anger just makes things so very easy.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Mr. Gideon</span><br />
Miss Umbri’tam’s Sapphire. An obstruction, like the rest of them. <br />
A violent arena? That’s one way to get rid of yourself.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Xitian Brat</span> (Cassandra)<br />
What lady has such excessive decadence as to have herself carried about? Brat.<br />
No matter. I’m sure she will get rid of herself, too.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Xitian Scum</span> (Duras)<br />
Disgusting, but there’s nothing like an obstruction that gets rid of itself.<br />
Goodbye, Mr. Duras.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Miss Umbri’tam</span> (Sidian)<br />
An obstruction.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Items of Importance</span><br />
- One pocket watch (1x Clock: “Amelia’s Pocket Watch”): golden, intricate design, only has an hour hand, one line to indicate twelve o’clock on the clockface. Something like <a href="http://www.medievalcollectibles.com/p-18092-miniature-victorian-pocket-watch.aspx" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">this</a>. Inscription on the back, in Common: “<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Amelia: like time, we are eternal.</span>”<br />
- One emerald wedding ring (1x Emerald: “Amelia’s Wedding Ring”): golden, intricate design, decorated with four small emeralds. Something like <a href="http://www.custommade.com/emerald-celtic-knot-band-in-yellow-gold-with-size/by/postgatejewelers/?honeycomb=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">this</a>.<br />
- A research journal (1x Book and Quill: “Research Journal”): leather-bound covers, thick paper pages. Not kept on her person. “<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">This lengthy research journal is well-crafted, with thick, paper pages and leather hardcovers. It is written entirely in the Lucin Language. The handwriting is in cursive, but is sloppy. If translated, it contains documentation pertaining to the development of explosives for the Celestial Realm’s use. It mentions a strict budget, and many failed attempts to stabilise explosions. A few deaths are involved. The owner and writer of this book is unclear as the content is written in formal, third person. The language used is highly technical and scientific; characters who aren’t very familiar with this field should not understand much of it, but should be able to understand what it is generally about. There are many loose papers wedged between pages; most of it is paperwork. Some of the paperwork is a series of uncompleted draft-applications for the Celestial Kingdom, requesting and justifying ‘additional funding’. Some of it involves forms explaining the deaths of those who died ‘during the experimental research process’. These deaths, although gruesome, seem to be the result of unpreventable accidents.<br />
Approximately fifteen pages in from the back of the book are some notes, also written in Lucin. It’s the same handwriting, and in the same third person. If translated, the subject matter seems unrelated to the explosives; it is a copy of Margretha’s notes on Lorimar’s scroll, only put into more technical, specialised language. There’s nothing that explicitly states the information came from Margretha’s notes. Specifically, the notes detail how the runic path is laid out for a device. A specific crystal is mentioned as a power source, but how or where is obtained is not included. However, in the margin, the text ‘caverns?’ has been written.</span>”</div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Duras the Marauder]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=237</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 08 Jun 2013 08:15:16 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=9">SentaiPink</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=237</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">DURAS THE MARAUDER</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #DCDCDC;" class="mycode_color">Abridged; This character's sheet has been edited to avoid spoilers.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img850/842/duras2.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: duras2.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">The first words I heard in the slobbering language of the middle, are the only words I ever want to hear from it’s inhabitants.<br />
“Yes, my Xitian Master.”</div></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name:</span>  Morath Duras<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age:</span> 50 [8/13]<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender:</span> Male<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Birthday:</span> 17th<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race: </span><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Xitian</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Dress:</span><br />
A bright red tunic with yellow trim around sleeves hemlines and back. Gray trousers, heavy work gloves and brown boots often accompany this. If he’s only in his tunic he’ll usually have a heavy leather belt full of tools. Otherwise he’ll often wear a chain shirt and red-dyed leather armor over his lighter attire.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills:</span><br />
Fire - Advanced<br />
Earth - Normal<br />
Nether- Easy<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Combat:</span><br />
Battle axe - Advanced<br />
Whip - Average<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Trade:</span><br />
Building (carpentry) - Average<br />
Lumbering - Basic<br />
Masonry - Average<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Knowledge:</span><br />
Reading &amp; Writing<br />
Battle tactician<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Backstory:</span><br />
Morath was born in the Dusk realm, and was raised by two fairly distant parents, both had vested interests in their holdings in the middle realm, and both often spent their time there. It wasn’t until Morath was to start his training at around 7 that the family actually moved him with them to the middle realm. Morath’s father was a commander whose service in enslaving the middle realm scum was rewarded with bountiful lands and slaves to work them. His family lived well, with seemingly no end of slaves to serve their whims.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">“They outnumber us, son. So we must make sure the scales always tip in our favor. To that end, controlling them with fear and brutality, its the only thing these savages understand. Really, they’re not even people, just Mesalian cattle.”</span> <br />
<br />
Morath’s father was not shy about how he treated the cattle people, as not just labor, but objects for his amusement. Morath would often fight the scared slaves as part of his training. His father, Jarod, wouldn’t give them weapons, but having to catch the terrified workers  was never easy. The boy question his father and his treatment of the Mesalian’s. Sympathising with their slaves and their enemies was a weakness Jarod would not tolerate in his son, and brutally punished the boy for it. Morath rarely spoke out against his father or questioned him but the response from Jarod was almost always the same.<br />
<br />
As Morath reached his teens he showed a great aptitude for manipulating fire and for the art of war, including a preference for an axe in battle and use of a whip on the slaves. All of which were honorable traits for the Xitian youth. <br />
<br />
Ura, Morath’s mother, ensured any half-blood slaves would be elevated and trained as Xitians, giving the spawn of cattle the chance to rise above their squalor. She was the one who sought to teach Morath’s a skill outside of battle. Ura decided to counter destruction with creation and hired a master to teach him carpentry. It wasn’t until much later Morath realised his parents were preparing him for what they feared to be an inevitability. The Lucin’s had returned in numbers, their gate home was locked. Both of Morath’s parents were preparing him for the coming war. Which was soon upon them.  <br />
<br />
Morath, welcomed the chance to test his mettle and training against the armies of the Lucins, just as every teen of privilege believes himself indestructible. Morath had grown into a strong youth, broad and tall, with growing still to do. The slaves, emboldened with the knowledge of the Lucin’s conquest against the Xitians thus far, revolted. The masses that had been under the cruel boot of the Duras family rose up in the night, with pitchfork, scythe and stick. The family and their guard, whom largely consisted of half-bloods raised to be loyal to their ‘proper’ bloodline, had been prepared for the Lucin return, and the revolt was crushed, but the cost was high. With few slaves left Morath and his father set fire to the remaining slaves homes, butchering the last of them. With nothing to remain for, the family set out to join the war effort on the front lines.<br />
<br />
The Duras family served with honor and valor, befitting their Xitian heritage. They fought knowing there was no way home and no backup. They knew marching onto the field of battle they’d not come back. Morath and his half-brothers and sisters, saw the end of the war, his parents met their honorable deaths during the battles upcoming to it. They fought in what was the last battle, the last ground held by the Xitian armies, Morath was captured, soaking wet, bloodied and sick with Aether, his surviving siblings along with him. One by one, Morath watched as his siblings broke under the pressure of the Lucin’s icey torture, and their reward was a quick death. But the stubborn young man that would only answer to his family name of Duras now, would not bend, nor would he break. The Lucians kept him captive for years, occasionally torturing him but usually just letting him rot in a cold dank cell. When the order for the purge came down, the Lucin’s took the man outside to finally end him, but there were more than a few of his kin lined up to meet their fate. By the time they got to Duras he had summoned what strength he had, aided by the nether rich night, Duras managed a bright, white hot flash of fire. The risky move exhausted him, but through sheer grit and desperation he slipped away from his captors in the blinded chaos that followed.<br />
<br />
He ran until his muscles ached and his lungs burned, eventually collapsing on the stoop of a small farmstead. The owners, finding the half starved and haggard man in their yard, brought him inside to rest. Unaware of what they’d let into their home, He slept for three days, and awoke to find food and ale waiting for him. Duras drank his fill and ate, but he was weak and exhausted still. He couldn’t even muster the energy to shoo the Mesalians away. When they came to check on him and found they’d unwittingly allowed a Xitian into their home, they were quick to alert the guard and the Lucins.<br />
<br />
Duras was lucky in that he’d noticed the farmer running out to greet the guards and took the opportunity to get away. He hid from the Lucins, but having to do so ate at him. Why should a soldier of the great and cunning Xitian armies have to hide? It was unacceptable weakness. The lucins searched the farm first, which bought Duras enough time to slip away. He found a small cave and hid within it, closing off a wall with his powers. He ended up falling asleep there, exhausted still from his escape and the effort of moving the stone and dirt to hide himself. Duras didn’t even know he’d slept through the greater part of another day before he left his hole and returned to the surface. The lucin patrol had moved on and he returned to the farm to show the farmers just who he was. Duras hated the act of hiding from the lucins, and while he couldn’t take out his rage over his imprisonment or torture on them, he let out his anger for the injustices he’d suffered on the farmer and his family. After looting all he’d needed, set fire to his home leaving the man broken and chained as his home burned down around him and his family. Duras was in the wind before the Lucin patrol had returned to witness the result of their own incompetence.<br />
<br />
The cattle had cost him his home, and the Lucin’s took his family and just about everything else. Dura’s hate knew no bounds. He slowly regained his strength and with it his power. Duras had to hide, for most of the purges, he would camp in caves, sure to close off any entrances when he does so, he’d move largely at night when the dusk fiends were most active, he’d steal food from Mesalian homes and raise their farmsteads as he went along. The Lucin’s knew he was out there, but since he moved alone, never left witnesses willing to talk and didn’t follow a predictable path, they couldn’t catch or trap the madman. The purges came to an end, and Duras remained at large.<br />
<br />
Even after the purges very little changed about the way Duras operated, generally he tended to avoid the Mesalian’s and their cities, he was capable enough to build himself a small home nestle on the outskirts of the desert. Over the years to come he finally met some of the surviving Xitian people in the middle realm. What was left of the Xitian’s started to band together, meeting in secret, planning, organizing.  Duras was powerful and a natural leader, he would once more serve what remained of the glorious empire that spanned two realms. Their objective was simple enough, but the subtle political manipulations required in the plan was too gentle a tactic for him. His missions were much more straightforward. Duras was given targets for his rage, he’d raid and pillage under disguise and the banners of neighboring kingdoms, and thus stirring conflicts, suspicion and fanning the flames of war. He became known as Duras the Marauder, a title along with a job he did with pride.<br />
<br />
Soon the civil fighting was in full effect. Duras watched with delight as the cattle people killed each other. Oddly enough as things became more chaotic for those of the middle and the Mesalian and Lucin people, things settled a little for Duras. For once given opportunity to work on building for others, Duras worked on simple structures as he made a small secluded village for those that had survived the purges and remained in the main lands with him. As relatively quiet as this chapter of his life was, Morath was never satisfied with just being a builder. The village sat nestled in the desert, it felt too much like hiding to him. The Mesalians should fear and respect their Xitian masters, he always resented having to avoid them. He managed to swallow his pride though, and accept that, at the very least, he lived among his kin. Most of the Xitians in the village were older, or women, only a pair of the warrior’s aside from Duras lived there, and they were both men 20 years Dura’s senior.<br />
<br />
One of the women in the group was a skilled smith, Calli, making everything from tools to sturdy weapons and armor. Though she wasn’t a warrior Duras deemed her worthy, and went through the efforts to woo her. His gentle touch and kind words died off no sooner were they married. Even the birth of his son did nothing to aid their relationship. Far from marital bliss, things began to deteriorate. Unwilling to put up with Calli’s disrespect in regards to how he treated her, it was only a matter of time before he started putting her into her place. Calli wasn’t going to tolerate his abuse though, willful and independent, the fight between the two the night she left Duras, taking with her their son, left his home afire.<br />
<br />
More embittered than ever, Duras had no choice but to rebuild his home and continue his life without her. He wouldn’t speak of her when others asked.<br />
<br />
Over the years it became pretty normal for a handful of half-bloods to be brought into the village,  to be taught the culture of their people and how to harness their powers and hopefully sway them to serve their betters. Duras, had nothing against the process, but also was unsuited to have any part of it, not that he really wanted to help anyway. The last time this was done, Duras had set out to get lumber and supplies from outside the desert while the training was starting, upon his return, he found the village he’d help build in ruins, the buildings having been burnt down or the ground and stone they were build on ripped out from the foundations, collapsing the buildings. Those left to defend the village were crushed inside of their own homes, the rest were gone. He could smell the stink of Mesalians upon the place he’d called his home. Duras picked through the wreckage, and once more donned his armor, setting out into the sands to find the blood traitors.<br />
<br />
Inspite of the immense amount of brutal violence Duras is capable of, he is not an angry man, or even one easily spurred to anger; When he is however, he is nothing if not every bit the monster the Mesalian people whisper about to this day. He traveled for weeks before he caught up with the blood traitors, they had only two of Duras’s kin left alive. Duras rode in on the half-bloods like the very nether had opened up and spat him out. His axe bit the life from one of them before they even managed to give cries of alarm. A young man, close with the earth shook the ground under Duras’s feet, Duras stomped a foot down and the camp fire the man stood beside became a towering inferno, its flames consumed him and one of his kin before they could loose an arrow. The last two remaining of the blood traitors were the woman that lead them and a young hunter. The hunter tried to charge Duras in an attempt to defend his leader, Duras didn’t even give him the honor of death by pyre, He instead took a whip to the boy, cracking it across his face before he got even close enough to harm Duras with his sword. While he recoiled in agony Duras closed the gap between them. The blow from Duras’ axe bit into the man’s side so hard bone and flesh rended with a sickening noise, the hunter was dead before he hit the ground.<br />
<br />
This left only the woman. She called Duras a murderer, monster and slaver, none of which was untrue or the first time someone had said as much to him. She tried to counter him with sword and nether, but her skill was not of a grade where the nether could harm him, and if anything he only regained some of his spent energy. He dealt with her as well, she was the only survivor, so she could live with the shame of her failure.<br />
<br />
After freeing his kinsmen they left the desert and abandoned the ruins of their home. It wasn’t long after Duras left for the forbidden lands.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">DURAS THE MARAUDER</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #DCDCDC;" class="mycode_color">Abridged; This character's sheet has been edited to avoid spoilers.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img850/842/duras2.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: duras2.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">The first words I heard in the slobbering language of the middle, are the only words I ever want to hear from it’s inhabitants.<br />
“Yes, my Xitian Master.”</div></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name:</span>  Morath Duras<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age:</span> 50 [8/13]<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender:</span> Male<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Birthday:</span> 17th<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race: </span><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Xitian</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Dress:</span><br />
A bright red tunic with yellow trim around sleeves hemlines and back. Gray trousers, heavy work gloves and brown boots often accompany this. If he’s only in his tunic he’ll usually have a heavy leather belt full of tools. Otherwise he’ll often wear a chain shirt and red-dyed leather armor over his lighter attire.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills:</span><br />
Fire - Advanced<br />
Earth - Normal<br />
Nether- Easy<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Combat:</span><br />
Battle axe - Advanced<br />
Whip - Average<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Trade:</span><br />
Building (carpentry) - Average<br />
Lumbering - Basic<br />
Masonry - Average<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Knowledge:</span><br />
Reading &amp; Writing<br />
Battle tactician<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Backstory:</span><br />
Morath was born in the Dusk realm, and was raised by two fairly distant parents, both had vested interests in their holdings in the middle realm, and both often spent their time there. It wasn’t until Morath was to start his training at around 7 that the family actually moved him with them to the middle realm. Morath’s father was a commander whose service in enslaving the middle realm scum was rewarded with bountiful lands and slaves to work them. His family lived well, with seemingly no end of slaves to serve their whims.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">“They outnumber us, son. So we must make sure the scales always tip in our favor. To that end, controlling them with fear and brutality, its the only thing these savages understand. Really, they’re not even people, just Mesalian cattle.”</span> <br />
<br />
Morath’s father was not shy about how he treated the cattle people, as not just labor, but objects for his amusement. Morath would often fight the scared slaves as part of his training. His father, Jarod, wouldn’t give them weapons, but having to catch the terrified workers  was never easy. The boy question his father and his treatment of the Mesalian’s. Sympathising with their slaves and their enemies was a weakness Jarod would not tolerate in his son, and brutally punished the boy for it. Morath rarely spoke out against his father or questioned him but the response from Jarod was almost always the same.<br />
<br />
As Morath reached his teens he showed a great aptitude for manipulating fire and for the art of war, including a preference for an axe in battle and use of a whip on the slaves. All of which were honorable traits for the Xitian youth. <br />
<br />
Ura, Morath’s mother, ensured any half-blood slaves would be elevated and trained as Xitians, giving the spawn of cattle the chance to rise above their squalor. She was the one who sought to teach Morath’s a skill outside of battle. Ura decided to counter destruction with creation and hired a master to teach him carpentry. It wasn’t until much later Morath realised his parents were preparing him for what they feared to be an inevitability. The Lucin’s had returned in numbers, their gate home was locked. Both of Morath’s parents were preparing him for the coming war. Which was soon upon them.  <br />
<br />
Morath, welcomed the chance to test his mettle and training against the armies of the Lucins, just as every teen of privilege believes himself indestructible. Morath had grown into a strong youth, broad and tall, with growing still to do. The slaves, emboldened with the knowledge of the Lucin’s conquest against the Xitians thus far, revolted. The masses that had been under the cruel boot of the Duras family rose up in the night, with pitchfork, scythe and stick. The family and their guard, whom largely consisted of half-bloods raised to be loyal to their ‘proper’ bloodline, had been prepared for the Lucin return, and the revolt was crushed, but the cost was high. With few slaves left Morath and his father set fire to the remaining slaves homes, butchering the last of them. With nothing to remain for, the family set out to join the war effort on the front lines.<br />
<br />
The Duras family served with honor and valor, befitting their Xitian heritage. They fought knowing there was no way home and no backup. They knew marching onto the field of battle they’d not come back. Morath and his half-brothers and sisters, saw the end of the war, his parents met their honorable deaths during the battles upcoming to it. They fought in what was the last battle, the last ground held by the Xitian armies, Morath was captured, soaking wet, bloodied and sick with Aether, his surviving siblings along with him. One by one, Morath watched as his siblings broke under the pressure of the Lucin’s icey torture, and their reward was a quick death. But the stubborn young man that would only answer to his family name of Duras now, would not bend, nor would he break. The Lucians kept him captive for years, occasionally torturing him but usually just letting him rot in a cold dank cell. When the order for the purge came down, the Lucin’s took the man outside to finally end him, but there were more than a few of his kin lined up to meet their fate. By the time they got to Duras he had summoned what strength he had, aided by the nether rich night, Duras managed a bright, white hot flash of fire. The risky move exhausted him, but through sheer grit and desperation he slipped away from his captors in the blinded chaos that followed.<br />
<br />
He ran until his muscles ached and his lungs burned, eventually collapsing on the stoop of a small farmstead. The owners, finding the half starved and haggard man in their yard, brought him inside to rest. Unaware of what they’d let into their home, He slept for three days, and awoke to find food and ale waiting for him. Duras drank his fill and ate, but he was weak and exhausted still. He couldn’t even muster the energy to shoo the Mesalians away. When they came to check on him and found they’d unwittingly allowed a Xitian into their home, they were quick to alert the guard and the Lucins.<br />
<br />
Duras was lucky in that he’d noticed the farmer running out to greet the guards and took the opportunity to get away. He hid from the Lucins, but having to do so ate at him. Why should a soldier of the great and cunning Xitian armies have to hide? It was unacceptable weakness. The lucins searched the farm first, which bought Duras enough time to slip away. He found a small cave and hid within it, closing off a wall with his powers. He ended up falling asleep there, exhausted still from his escape and the effort of moving the stone and dirt to hide himself. Duras didn’t even know he’d slept through the greater part of another day before he left his hole and returned to the surface. The lucin patrol had moved on and he returned to the farm to show the farmers just who he was. Duras hated the act of hiding from the lucins, and while he couldn’t take out his rage over his imprisonment or torture on them, he let out his anger for the injustices he’d suffered on the farmer and his family. After looting all he’d needed, set fire to his home leaving the man broken and chained as his home burned down around him and his family. Duras was in the wind before the Lucin patrol had returned to witness the result of their own incompetence.<br />
<br />
The cattle had cost him his home, and the Lucin’s took his family and just about everything else. Dura’s hate knew no bounds. He slowly regained his strength and with it his power. Duras had to hide, for most of the purges, he would camp in caves, sure to close off any entrances when he does so, he’d move largely at night when the dusk fiends were most active, he’d steal food from Mesalian homes and raise their farmsteads as he went along. The Lucin’s knew he was out there, but since he moved alone, never left witnesses willing to talk and didn’t follow a predictable path, they couldn’t catch or trap the madman. The purges came to an end, and Duras remained at large.<br />
<br />
Even after the purges very little changed about the way Duras operated, generally he tended to avoid the Mesalian’s and their cities, he was capable enough to build himself a small home nestle on the outskirts of the desert. Over the years to come he finally met some of the surviving Xitian people in the middle realm. What was left of the Xitian’s started to band together, meeting in secret, planning, organizing.  Duras was powerful and a natural leader, he would once more serve what remained of the glorious empire that spanned two realms. Their objective was simple enough, but the subtle political manipulations required in the plan was too gentle a tactic for him. His missions were much more straightforward. Duras was given targets for his rage, he’d raid and pillage under disguise and the banners of neighboring kingdoms, and thus stirring conflicts, suspicion and fanning the flames of war. He became known as Duras the Marauder, a title along with a job he did with pride.<br />
<br />
Soon the civil fighting was in full effect. Duras watched with delight as the cattle people killed each other. Oddly enough as things became more chaotic for those of the middle and the Mesalian and Lucin people, things settled a little for Duras. For once given opportunity to work on building for others, Duras worked on simple structures as he made a small secluded village for those that had survived the purges and remained in the main lands with him. As relatively quiet as this chapter of his life was, Morath was never satisfied with just being a builder. The village sat nestled in the desert, it felt too much like hiding to him. The Mesalians should fear and respect their Xitian masters, he always resented having to avoid them. He managed to swallow his pride though, and accept that, at the very least, he lived among his kin. Most of the Xitians in the village were older, or women, only a pair of the warrior’s aside from Duras lived there, and they were both men 20 years Dura’s senior.<br />
<br />
One of the women in the group was a skilled smith, Calli, making everything from tools to sturdy weapons and armor. Though she wasn’t a warrior Duras deemed her worthy, and went through the efforts to woo her. His gentle touch and kind words died off no sooner were they married. Even the birth of his son did nothing to aid their relationship. Far from marital bliss, things began to deteriorate. Unwilling to put up with Calli’s disrespect in regards to how he treated her, it was only a matter of time before he started putting her into her place. Calli wasn’t going to tolerate his abuse though, willful and independent, the fight between the two the night she left Duras, taking with her their son, left his home afire.<br />
<br />
More embittered than ever, Duras had no choice but to rebuild his home and continue his life without her. He wouldn’t speak of her when others asked.<br />
<br />
Over the years it became pretty normal for a handful of half-bloods to be brought into the village,  to be taught the culture of their people and how to harness their powers and hopefully sway them to serve their betters. Duras, had nothing against the process, but also was unsuited to have any part of it, not that he really wanted to help anyway. The last time this was done, Duras had set out to get lumber and supplies from outside the desert while the training was starting, upon his return, he found the village he’d help build in ruins, the buildings having been burnt down or the ground and stone they were build on ripped out from the foundations, collapsing the buildings. Those left to defend the village were crushed inside of their own homes, the rest were gone. He could smell the stink of Mesalians upon the place he’d called his home. Duras picked through the wreckage, and once more donned his armor, setting out into the sands to find the blood traitors.<br />
<br />
Inspite of the immense amount of brutal violence Duras is capable of, he is not an angry man, or even one easily spurred to anger; When he is however, he is nothing if not every bit the monster the Mesalian people whisper about to this day. He traveled for weeks before he caught up with the blood traitors, they had only two of Duras’s kin left alive. Duras rode in on the half-bloods like the very nether had opened up and spat him out. His axe bit the life from one of them before they even managed to give cries of alarm. A young man, close with the earth shook the ground under Duras’s feet, Duras stomped a foot down and the camp fire the man stood beside became a towering inferno, its flames consumed him and one of his kin before they could loose an arrow. The last two remaining of the blood traitors were the woman that lead them and a young hunter. The hunter tried to charge Duras in an attempt to defend his leader, Duras didn’t even give him the honor of death by pyre, He instead took a whip to the boy, cracking it across his face before he got even close enough to harm Duras with his sword. While he recoiled in agony Duras closed the gap between them. The blow from Duras’ axe bit into the man’s side so hard bone and flesh rended with a sickening noise, the hunter was dead before he hit the ground.<br />
<br />
This left only the woman. She called Duras a murderer, monster and slaver, none of which was untrue or the first time someone had said as much to him. She tried to counter him with sword and nether, but her skill was not of a grade where the nether could harm him, and if anything he only regained some of his spent energy. He dealt with her as well, she was the only survivor, so she could live with the shame of her failure.<br />
<br />
After freeing his kinsmen they left the desert and abandoned the ruins of their home. It wasn’t long after Duras left for the forbidden lands.]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Daniel Vancroft]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=170</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 20 Apr 2013 20:37:43 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=58">Good_Old_Epsilon</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=170</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Daniel "Dan" Vancroft</span></div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">"I'm a Scholar... not a fighter... my weapon is a quill, not a sword..."</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i42.tinypic.com/r86r5s.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: r86r5s.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age</span></span>: 23 (Birthday on the 13th)<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race</span></span>: Mesalian<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender</span></span>: <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">♂</span> Male<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Height</span></span>: 5"5<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Alignment</span></span>: <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color">Neutral Good</span><br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Religion</span></span>: Neutral, undecided.<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Current Mood</span>: <span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">I am the happiest man alive...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Current Project</span>: <span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Writing a collection of short stories onto a book.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Past Projects/Contributions</span>: <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Managed to create Sea-Salt.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Created a toy boat for Bishop.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Assigned Jobs</span>:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Tending The Food Farms. (Early Spring - Mid Fall)<br />
Making Salt for William. (All Year)<br />
Tending the Reading Corner. (All Year)</span></div></span><br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Scars and Current Wounds';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Scars and Current Wounds';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Scars and Current Wounds</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Scars</span></span>: A small cut at the back of his head.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Wounds</span></span>: None, all of his minor wounds healed over time.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Appearance';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Appearance';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Appearance</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physical</span>: Daniel stands between 5"5 and 5"6, making him a rather short man for his age, with dark blonde hair and a fair complexion. His eyes are that of a sea mist, blue clouded with a thin layer of grey. His face looks young, and fresh, suggesting that he has not yet seen battle nor experienced any real physical trauma in his life.<br />
<br />
His build is that of a scholar, so not very strong, however he used to did have a healthy amount of fat to balance it out. During his voyage he managed to loose most of it due to extensive exercise and strain.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Clothes</span>: Currently he wears his old clothes, stitched and neatly repaired by Arua. They seem to be somewhat worn out in places, and the stitching can be clearly seen from even far away, giving it a somewhat patch-work look.<br />
<br />
He wears a neat, but somewhat simplistic fur coat made by Spy.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Body Language and Quirks';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Body Language and Quirks';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Body Language and Quirks</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He always seems to be looking away when talking to someone else and never looks them in the eye, especially if he doesn't know them much.<br />
<br />
He prefers to walk around with his walking stick, but when he doesn't, he keeps his hands loosely to his sides or crossed over his chest.<br />
<br />
When walking around he seems to be constantly looking around, due to his poor concentration and fondness of day-dreaming. <br />
<br />
When talking to someone else, he tries to look as polite as he can, and avoid making anyone angry.<br />
<br />
He sometimes gets lost in his own thoughts or memories, causing his speech to be paused at times, or make no real sense.<br />
<br />
He speaks in a somewhat quiet tone, rarely shouting or speaking angrily.<br />
<br />
He is a VERY clean person, and likes to take a bath twice a day. He keeps his clothes and surroundings neat and clean, or as much as he can anyway.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color">Green</span> = Positive Traits<br />
<span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color">Orange</span> = Neutral Traits<br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Red</span> = Negative Traits<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Absent-minded</span></span> and has <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Concentration</span></span>. He finds it hard to concentrate on someone talking to him for long, and often ends up day-dreaming about whatever thought manages to distract him at the time. This also makes him rather slow to react sometimes.<br />
<br />
He has a <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Decent Sense of Humor </span></span>and might joke around and be jovial when no-one is looking, or when he is with someone he trusts. He might laugh at a good joke, as long as it's not a mean joke aimed at him or anyone else. He doesn't like sarcastic jokes aimed at others in mean spirit.<br />
 <br />
He has <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Social Skills</span></span>, and doesn't actively seek people unless he needs to. This is due to the amount of time he has spent studying alone or with only one person at a time. He doesn't always understand the consequences of his gestures. He also wasn't a very social person when he was a child, preferring to play alone.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pedantic</span></span> and <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Stubborn</span></span>, especially about his own work. This is mostly because of his poor concentration. If people were to start manipulating what he was doing mid-way, he would lose concentration and become frustrated. He is not used to working with other people, so what he does, he sees as the only correct solution.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Naive</span></span>, due to his lack of concentration and his inability to analyze peoples actions properly. He often goes with what people say, because he can't think of what their hidden agendas might be. Unless it's obvious, he won't realize someone is trying to fool him.<br />
<br />
He can be <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Kind</span></span> and <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Polite</span></span> most of the time. This comes from his <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"> <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Inoffensive</span> </span> and <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Gentle</span></span> nature. He doesn't like conflict and doesn't like being put under stress, so he is nice towards people. He can also be quite Kind sometimes without realizing it, once again thanks to his lack of general concentration.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Cowardly</span></span> and avoids all combat at all costs, this comes from the fact he lived in a Monastery most of his life, surrounded by walls and people to keep him safe. This means he will be more likely to scream and run away from battle, than actually fight the enemy. He is also unlikely to defend someone, even if it is the right thing to do at the time.<br />
<br />
He is highly <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Independent</span></span>, <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Introverted</span></span> and prefers to work alone. Once again this is credited to him studying on his own in the Monastery, surrounded by stacks of books. He can organize himself well enough to achieve results, but ordering other people would be rather impossible for him.<br />
<br />
He is a <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Slow Learner when taught by a teacher</span></span>, as his mentor was the only person who was able to get to him and teach him. However, he does have a knack for learning on his own. Given the materials and the time, he is more than likely to learn the subject at least partially.<br />
<br />
He shows <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hidden Potential</span></span> when truly focused, given enough time and left alone. It is during these times that he can truly focus his concentration and make things work. It is also during those times that he is most creative. It does not happen often however but is something to behold nonetheless.<br />
<br />
If he is ever pushed too much, he becomes <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Agitated and Angry</span></span>, finding it hard to concentrate 'with other people breathing down his shoulder'. It is best to leave him alone during those times, to allow him to simmer down and regain his control.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Skills</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic (10%)</span> - Knows the base techniques of his/her craft with very limited knowledge to back it up. Is likely to make frequent mistakes. Further Learning requires mentoring.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Novice (25%)</span> - Knows the base techniques well, as well as a few more advanced ones with limited, but decent knowledge to back it up. Can make mistakes. Further Learning doesn't necessarily require a mentor, but would make the process faster.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate (50%)</span> - Knows a good number of advanced techniques with semi-extensive knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks efficiently enough. Further Learning can be done through experimentation, and a mentor is no longer needed. Is able to teach others up to Novice, but it's an extra lengthy process.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Expert (75%)</span> - Knows a large number of advanced techniques, with long earned knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks efficiently and achieve great results. Further Learning can only be done through perfection of his or her craft, and only if possessing the right capacity to do so. Is able to teach others up to Intermediate, but it's a lengthy process.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Master (100%)</span> - Knows every known advanced technique, with very extensive knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks quickly, efficiently and achieve outstanding results. Is unable to reach further levels in his/her craft. Is able to teach others up to Expert, but it's a lengthy process.<br />
<br />
The <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">+</span> Symbol next to the skill level means the character has made an improvement in this skill. To reach the next level, he/she must assemble three of these symbols by exploring their skill IC.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Note:</span> Whatever is not mentioned in this little list, he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">cannot</span> do or simply doesn't know.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate (+)</span> Woodwork<br />
- Able to design and create Wooden Contraptions and Pulleys<br />
- Able to work to Close Detail<br />
- Able to Process and Carve Wood<br />
- Able to roughly determine Quality of Wood<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate </span> Cooking<br />
 - Good Conventional Cooking<br />
 - Simple Baking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Herbs used in Cooking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Mushrooms used in Cooking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Fruit used in Cooking<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Novice (++)</span> Farming/Gardening<br />
- Able to plant and take care of the following plants:<br />
- Wheat<br />
- Potatoes<br />
- Onions<br />
- Carrots<br />
- Pumpkins<br />
- Hops<br />
- Barley<br />
- Sunflowers<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic (++)</span> Organizational Skills<br />
- Able to organize and work in a routine.<br />
- Able to arrange things into an order e.g. books.<br />
<br />
Can Read, Write and Count<br />
- Decent, read-able handwriting expected of a Scholar<br />
- Able to read at a normal pace.<br />
- Is able to count and measure things, especially during wood-working<br />
<br />
Knowledge History<br />
- Folklore and Myth<br />
- Vagrant History and Culture<br />
- Vagrant Language<br />
<br />
Knowledge Philosophy<br />
 - Existentialism<br />
 - General Aphorisms<br />
 - Believes in a 'Philosopher Ruler' idea.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Interests</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Sight-seeing, likes panoramic views.<br />
- Peace and Quiet, Relaxing.<br />
- Books, he loves reading those.<br />
- Tending his Garden, making food from his own produce.<br />
- Collecting artifacts of the past.<br />
- Talking about History, and discussing it.<br />
- Talking about Philosophy, and discussing it.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Long Term Objectives</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
- <span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s"><span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Find a home, a house to live in. </span></span><br />
- <span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Be with Nicole, and make her happy.</span><br />
- Find a bigger house. The current one is a little small.<br />
- Start a garden of his own, make some good food.<br />
- Get hold of some interesting books.<br />
- Explore the land, uncover its secrets, recover artifacts.<br />
- Invent and/or create something worth his Master.<br />
- Continue to improve his knowledge and skills.<br />
- <span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s"><span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Help the village as much as possible.</span></span><br />
- Create a Place where people can eat and read. (Reading Corner)<br />
- Avoid contact with monsters from the woods. Must. Avoid. At. All. Cost.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Fears</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Crowds</span> and finds it unnerving to be around one, not to a point of phobia. He simply prefers to be in places that more quiet and devoid of people, to help him concentrate. Peer pressure and many people talking to him at once, make him stumble on his own words from anxiety.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Failing</span>, or making something that's imperfect when he finally focuses on it. This causes him to become somewhat a perfectionist, constantly polishing his creation in fear of it being imperfect. He is also afraid of failing his Master, who trained him to be the best he can be.<br />
<br />
He is very afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Combat</span>, as he runs away at the nearest opportunity. He finds blood, fighting and getting hurt absolutely terrifying as a concept, let alone an experience. A Murderer trying to kill him would have him running for the hills screaming. He is unlikely to try and defend anyone, even if it is the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">He doesn't quite understand <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Romantic Relationships</span>, and he is somewhat afraid of them due to inexperience. Once he realizes someone is making an advance, he begins to stutter and stumble on his own words.</span><br />
<br />
He managed to somewhat conquer that fear, by simply being in a relationship. He is still shy, and would be embarrassed, but he no longer is startled by it.<br />
</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Nicole</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF80FF;" class="mycode_color">Crush</span><br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Close Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Likes</span><br />
<span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Neutral</span><br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Doesn't Like</span><br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Avoid at all Cost</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Arua</span>: Aura is nice, albeit a little too quiet... and her dedication to helping people... is a little strange. I mean... no-one sacrifices themselves all the time like that... not without being selfish once in a while... that's just the natural balance of things...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia</span>: Zarkaylia is still capable of ... having a baby..? I mean, I've never... seen much people to tell, but I thought old people can't have children...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Caine</span>: Nicole is my true friend... and so far, he hasn't shown me any ... courtesy, manners or even some common sense... I'm honestly giving up on him... I'm tired of his constant shows of pride... and sometimes arrogance too...<br />
<br />
I mean, he calls me ... what was it again..? Something to do with me... being a scholar... and in a negative meaning. Is he really going to go that way..? It's not like I haven't been studying most of my life... books, libraries, great mentors... it's not hard to figure out who's smarter between the two of us...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Caius</span>: He is... a walking symbol of everything... I believe in, and definitely not in a good way... He lied to me, to trick me into signing... his petition. Lying, to get to a seat of... power. I wonder what other... villainous tricks will he ... try to pull off. Time will obviously... tell... But for now... let's just hope he won't get that seat in the council...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Conradian</span>: He saved me from having to share a room... with random people... that I don't know... yeah, he's... more than just okay in my eyes... He's a good guy. I still can't believe I was given a house... so soon after my arrival... I'm so lucky it just can't get any better.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Ezri a</span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">ka "Captain"</span>: ... She completely ignored ... the fact I gave her son the boat... not to mention she beat up Nicole... and she kicked her out of the inn... *Sigh*<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Rook aka "Sir"</span>: I haven't hear from Rook... for a long time... he's probably making yet another child with Ezri... and I'm not sure if that's the <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">smartest</span> thing to do since they... already have two...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Bishop</span>: Well... at least the little boy was happy, and I did get a thank you from him... Now the kid has a toy... to occupy himself with, so he won't be... making as much trouble hopefully... I've heard he's quite energetic.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Luna aka "The Wolf-Dog"</span>: So... William decided to give her to me, to take care of... I mean, I never had a dog before, so I'm really happy he did... I just... I just hope I will be a good enough caretaker for the Wolf. And by the inventor's quill is she hard to train...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Margretha aka "Ma'am"</span>: She's been pushing... the council democracy forward... by encouraging a few people... I don't really agree with her ideas, but she's nice enough for me to like her... and she's an elder... all elders deserve respect.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Will</span><span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">iam</span>: William is one... of the few people around here who... actually understands my kind of thinking... hands-on practical type of thinking... and he gave Luna. He said he would... come to the Reading Corner, and read my book too...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF80FF;" class="mycode_color">S</span><span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">ahra</span>: I haven't... seen her in a long time... and, and now that... I feel things to Nicole... I'm quite happy to just... be a friend to Sahra... Nothing more... I just hope she doesn't... f-feel anything about me... because that would be just... awkward...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Nicole</span>: I... I... I Love her... I really do... and she loves me back... Every moment I'm with her, is filled with warmth, comfort... and pumpkin biscuits. With her, everything is perfect...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">"Mit</span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">ts"</span>: She's... alright I guess, not much ... to say about her, apart from... the fact that she doesn't... seem... aggressive. She's still... a little too loud though...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Spy (Confirmed)</span>: He sure likes to babble... and some of the stuff he says makes me chuckle... he reminds me of a lecturer I had in the monastery. Always off topic...</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme Song';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme Song';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Theme Song</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Overall Theme</span>: <br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/ccZuKOTb6ug" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When Working</span>: <br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/R4CMbLrrIQQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When with Nicole</span>:<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/hitU2jGC41o" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When Afraid</span>:<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/JdFHhQsNAwg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe></div></div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Daniel "Dan" Vancroft</span></div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">"I'm a Scholar... not a fighter... my weapon is a quill, not a sword..."</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="http://i42.tinypic.com/r86r5s.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: r86r5s.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age</span></span>: 23 (Birthday on the 13th)<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race</span></span>: Mesalian<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender</span></span>: <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">♂</span> Male<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Height</span></span>: 5"5<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Alignment</span></span>: <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color">Neutral Good</span><br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Religion</span></span>: Neutral, undecided.<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Current Mood</span>: <span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">I am the happiest man alive...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Current Project</span>: <span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Writing a collection of short stories onto a book.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Past Projects/Contributions</span>: <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Managed to create Sea-Salt.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Created a toy boat for Bishop.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Assigned Jobs</span>:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c4c4c;" class="mycode_color">Tending The Food Farms. (Early Spring - Mid Fall)<br />
Making Salt for William. (All Year)<br />
Tending the Reading Corner. (All Year)</span></div></span><br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Scars and Current Wounds';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Scars and Current Wounds';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Scars and Current Wounds</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Scars</span></span>: A small cut at the back of his head.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Wounds</span></span>: None, all of his minor wounds healed over time.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Appearance';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Appearance';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Appearance</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Physical</span>: Daniel stands between 5"5 and 5"6, making him a rather short man for his age, with dark blonde hair and a fair complexion. His eyes are that of a sea mist, blue clouded with a thin layer of grey. His face looks young, and fresh, suggesting that he has not yet seen battle nor experienced any real physical trauma in his life.<br />
<br />
His build is that of a scholar, so not very strong, however he used to did have a healthy amount of fat to balance it out. During his voyage he managed to loose most of it due to extensive exercise and strain.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Clothes</span>: Currently he wears his old clothes, stitched and neatly repaired by Arua. They seem to be somewhat worn out in places, and the stitching can be clearly seen from even far away, giving it a somewhat patch-work look.<br />
<br />
He wears a neat, but somewhat simplistic fur coat made by Spy.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Body Language and Quirks';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Body Language and Quirks';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Body Language and Quirks</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He always seems to be looking away when talking to someone else and never looks them in the eye, especially if he doesn't know them much.<br />
<br />
He prefers to walk around with his walking stick, but when he doesn't, he keeps his hands loosely to his sides or crossed over his chest.<br />
<br />
When walking around he seems to be constantly looking around, due to his poor concentration and fondness of day-dreaming. <br />
<br />
When talking to someone else, he tries to look as polite as he can, and avoid making anyone angry.<br />
<br />
He sometimes gets lost in his own thoughts or memories, causing his speech to be paused at times, or make no real sense.<br />
<br />
He speaks in a somewhat quiet tone, rarely shouting or speaking angrily.<br />
<br />
He is a VERY clean person, and likes to take a bath twice a day. He keeps his clothes and surroundings neat and clean, or as much as he can anyway.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color">Green</span> = Positive Traits<br />
<span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color">Orange</span> = Neutral Traits<br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Red</span> = Negative Traits<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Absent-minded</span></span> and has <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Concentration</span></span>. He finds it hard to concentrate on someone talking to him for long, and often ends up day-dreaming about whatever thought manages to distract him at the time. This also makes him rather slow to react sometimes.<br />
<br />
He has a <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Decent Sense of Humor </span></span>and might joke around and be jovial when no-one is looking, or when he is with someone he trusts. He might laugh at a good joke, as long as it's not a mean joke aimed at him or anyone else. He doesn't like sarcastic jokes aimed at others in mean spirit.<br />
 <br />
He has <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Social Skills</span></span>, and doesn't actively seek people unless he needs to. This is due to the amount of time he has spent studying alone or with only one person at a time. He doesn't always understand the consequences of his gestures. He also wasn't a very social person when he was a child, preferring to play alone.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pedantic</span></span> and <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Stubborn</span></span>, especially about his own work. This is mostly because of his poor concentration. If people were to start manipulating what he was doing mid-way, he would lose concentration and become frustrated. He is not used to working with other people, so what he does, he sees as the only correct solution.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Naive</span></span>, due to his lack of concentration and his inability to analyze peoples actions properly. He often goes with what people say, because he can't think of what their hidden agendas might be. Unless it's obvious, he won't realize someone is trying to fool him.<br />
<br />
He can be <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Kind</span></span> and <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Polite</span></span> most of the time. This comes from his <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"> <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Inoffensive</span> </span> and <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Gentle</span></span> nature. He doesn't like conflict and doesn't like being put under stress, so he is nice towards people. He can also be quite Kind sometimes without realizing it, once again thanks to his lack of general concentration.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Cowardly</span></span> and avoids all combat at all costs, this comes from the fact he lived in a Monastery most of his life, surrounded by walls and people to keep him safe. This means he will be more likely to scream and run away from battle, than actually fight the enemy. He is also unlikely to defend someone, even if it is the right thing to do at the time.<br />
<br />
He is highly <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Independent</span></span>, <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Introverted</span></span> and prefers to work alone. Once again this is credited to him studying on his own in the Monastery, surrounded by stacks of books. He can organize himself well enough to achieve results, but ordering other people would be rather impossible for him.<br />
<br />
He is a <span style="color: #BF8000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Slow Learner when taught by a teacher</span></span>, as his mentor was the only person who was able to get to him and teach him. However, he does have a knack for learning on his own. Given the materials and the time, he is more than likely to learn the subject at least partially.<br />
<br />
He shows <span style="color: #008000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hidden Potential</span></span> when truly focused, given enough time and left alone. It is during these times that he can truly focus his concentration and make things work. It is also during those times that he is most creative. It does not happen often however but is something to behold nonetheless.<br />
<br />
If he is ever pushed too much, he becomes <span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Agitated and Angry</span></span>, finding it hard to concentrate 'with other people breathing down his shoulder'. It is best to leave him alone during those times, to allow him to simmer down and regain his control.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Skills</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic (10%)</span> - Knows the base techniques of his/her craft with very limited knowledge to back it up. Is likely to make frequent mistakes. Further Learning requires mentoring.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Novice (25%)</span> - Knows the base techniques well, as well as a few more advanced ones with limited, but decent knowledge to back it up. Can make mistakes. Further Learning doesn't necessarily require a mentor, but would make the process faster.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate (50%)</span> - Knows a good number of advanced techniques with semi-extensive knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks efficiently enough. Further Learning can be done through experimentation, and a mentor is no longer needed. Is able to teach others up to Novice, but it's an extra lengthy process.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Expert (75%)</span> - Knows a large number of advanced techniques, with long earned knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks efficiently and achieve great results. Further Learning can only be done through perfection of his or her craft, and only if possessing the right capacity to do so. Is able to teach others up to Intermediate, but it's a lengthy process.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Master (100%)</span> - Knows every known advanced technique, with very extensive knowledge to back it up. Able to carry out tasks quickly, efficiently and achieve outstanding results. Is unable to reach further levels in his/her craft. Is able to teach others up to Expert, but it's a lengthy process.<br />
<br />
The <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">+</span> Symbol next to the skill level means the character has made an improvement in this skill. To reach the next level, he/she must assemble three of these symbols by exploring their skill IC.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Note:</span> Whatever is not mentioned in this little list, he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">cannot</span> do or simply doesn't know.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate (+)</span> Woodwork<br />
- Able to design and create Wooden Contraptions and Pulleys<br />
- Able to work to Close Detail<br />
- Able to Process and Carve Wood<br />
- Able to roughly determine Quality of Wood<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Intermediate </span> Cooking<br />
 - Good Conventional Cooking<br />
 - Simple Baking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Herbs used in Cooking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Mushrooms used in Cooking<br />
 - Knows a fair amount of Edible Fruit used in Cooking<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Novice (++)</span> Farming/Gardening<br />
- Able to plant and take care of the following plants:<br />
- Wheat<br />
- Potatoes<br />
- Onions<br />
- Carrots<br />
- Pumpkins<br />
- Hops<br />
- Barley<br />
- Sunflowers<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Basic (++)</span> Organizational Skills<br />
- Able to organize and work in a routine.<br />
- Able to arrange things into an order e.g. books.<br />
<br />
Can Read, Write and Count<br />
- Decent, read-able handwriting expected of a Scholar<br />
- Able to read at a normal pace.<br />
- Is able to count and measure things, especially during wood-working<br />
<br />
Knowledge History<br />
- Folklore and Myth<br />
- Vagrant History and Culture<br />
- Vagrant Language<br />
<br />
Knowledge Philosophy<br />
 - Existentialism<br />
 - General Aphorisms<br />
 - Believes in a 'Philosopher Ruler' idea.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Interests</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Sight-seeing, likes panoramic views.<br />
- Peace and Quiet, Relaxing.<br />
- Books, he loves reading those.<br />
- Tending his Garden, making food from his own produce.<br />
- Collecting artifacts of the past.<br />
- Talking about History, and discussing it.<br />
- Talking about Philosophy, and discussing it.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Long Term Objectives</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
- <span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s"><span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Find a home, a house to live in. </span></span><br />
- <span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Be with Nicole, and make her happy.</span><br />
- Find a bigger house. The current one is a little small.<br />
- Start a garden of his own, make some good food.<br />
- Get hold of some interesting books.<br />
- Explore the land, uncover its secrets, recover artifacts.<br />
- Invent and/or create something worth his Master.<br />
- Continue to improve his knowledge and skills.<br />
- <span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s"><span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Help the village as much as possible.</span></span><br />
- Create a Place where people can eat and read. (Reading Corner)<br />
- Avoid contact with monsters from the woods. Must. Avoid. At. All. Cost.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Fears</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Crowds</span> and finds it unnerving to be around one, not to a point of phobia. He simply prefers to be in places that more quiet and devoid of people, to help him concentrate. Peer pressure and many people talking to him at once, make him stumble on his own words from anxiety.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Failing</span>, or making something that's imperfect when he finally focuses on it. This causes him to become somewhat a perfectionist, constantly polishing his creation in fear of it being imperfect. He is also afraid of failing his Master, who trained him to be the best he can be.<br />
<br />
He is very afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Combat</span>, as he runs away at the nearest opportunity. He finds blood, fighting and getting hurt absolutely terrifying as a concept, let alone an experience. A Murderer trying to kill him would have him running for the hills screaming. He is unlikely to try and defend anyone, even if it is the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">He doesn't quite understand <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Romantic Relationships</span>, and he is somewhat afraid of them due to inexperience. Once he realizes someone is making an advance, he begins to stutter and stumble on his own words.</span><br />
<br />
He managed to somewhat conquer that fear, by simply being in a relationship. He is still shy, and would be embarrassed, but he no longer is startled by it.<br />
</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Nicole</span><br />
<span style="color: #FF80FF;" class="mycode_color">Crush</span><br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Close Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Likes</span><br />
<span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Neutral</span><br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Doesn't Like</span><br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">Avoid at all Cost</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Arua</span>: Aura is nice, albeit a little too quiet... and her dedication to helping people... is a little strange. I mean... no-one sacrifices themselves all the time like that... not without being selfish once in a while... that's just the natural balance of things...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia</span>: Zarkaylia is still capable of ... having a baby..? I mean, I've never... seen much people to tell, but I thought old people can't have children...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Caine</span>: Nicole is my true friend... and so far, he hasn't shown me any ... courtesy, manners or even some common sense... I'm honestly giving up on him... I'm tired of his constant shows of pride... and sometimes arrogance too...<br />
<br />
I mean, he calls me ... what was it again..? Something to do with me... being a scholar... and in a negative meaning. Is he really going to go that way..? It's not like I haven't been studying most of my life... books, libraries, great mentors... it's not hard to figure out who's smarter between the two of us...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Caius</span>: He is... a walking symbol of everything... I believe in, and definitely not in a good way... He lied to me, to trick me into signing... his petition. Lying, to get to a seat of... power. I wonder what other... villainous tricks will he ... try to pull off. Time will obviously... tell... But for now... let's just hope he won't get that seat in the council...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Conradian</span>: He saved me from having to share a room... with random people... that I don't know... yeah, he's... more than just okay in my eyes... He's a good guy. I still can't believe I was given a house... so soon after my arrival... I'm so lucky it just can't get any better.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #BF0000;" class="mycode_color">Ezri a</span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">ka "Captain"</span>: ... She completely ignored ... the fact I gave her son the boat... not to mention she beat up Nicole... and she kicked her out of the inn... *Sigh*<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Rook aka "Sir"</span>: I haven't hear from Rook... for a long time... he's probably making yet another child with Ezri... and I'm not sure if that's the <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">smartest</span> thing to do since they... already have two...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Bishop</span>: Well... at least the little boy was happy, and I did get a thank you from him... Now the kid has a toy... to occupy himself with, so he won't be... making as much trouble hopefully... I've heard he's quite energetic.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Luna aka "The Wolf-Dog"</span>: So... William decided to give her to me, to take care of... I mean, I never had a dog before, so I'm really happy he did... I just... I just hope I will be a good enough caretaker for the Wolf. And by the inventor's quill is she hard to train...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Margretha aka "Ma'am"</span>: She's been pushing... the council democracy forward... by encouraging a few people... I don't really agree with her ideas, but she's nice enough for me to like her... and she's an elder... all elders deserve respect.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">Will</span><span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">iam</span>: William is one... of the few people around here who... actually understands my kind of thinking... hands-on practical type of thinking... and he gave Luna. He said he would... come to the Reading Corner, and read my book too...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF80FF;" class="mycode_color">S</span><span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">ahra</span>: I haven't... seen her in a long time... and, and now that... I feel things to Nicole... I'm quite happy to just... be a friend to Sahra... Nothing more... I just hope she doesn't... f-feel anything about me... because that would be just... awkward...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Nicole</span>: I... I... I Love her... I really do... and she loves me back... Every moment I'm with her, is filled with warmth, comfort... and pumpkin biscuits. With her, everything is perfect...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93DB70;" class="mycode_color">"Mit</span><span style="color: #FFFF00;" class="mycode_color">ts"</span>: She's... alright I guess, not much ... to say about her, apart from... the fact that she doesn't... seem... aggressive. She's still... a little too loud though...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Spy (Confirmed)</span>: He sure likes to babble... and some of the stuff he says makes me chuckle... he reminds me of a lecturer I had in the monastery. Always off topic...</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme Song';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme Song';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Theme Song</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Overall Theme</span>: <br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/ccZuKOTb6ug" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When Working</span>: <br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/R4CMbLrrIQQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When with Nicole</span>:<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/hitU2jGC41o" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">When Afraid</span>:<br />
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/JdFHhQsNAwg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe></div></div></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[The Absent-Minded Librarian, Daniel.]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=126</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 01 Apr 2013 17:37:04 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=58">Good_Old_Epsilon</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=126</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="font-size: 50pt;" class="mycode_size">[center]<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name</span>: Daniel "Danny" Vancroft<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age</span>: 20 (Birthday on the 13th)<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race</span>: Mesalian<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender</span>: Male<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Religion</span>: Neutral, undecided.[/center]</span><br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Description';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Description';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Description</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Daniel stood between 5"5 and 5"6, making him a rather short man for his age, with dark blonde hair and a fair complexion. His eyes were that of a sea mist, blue clouded with a thin layer of grey. His build was that of a scholar, so not very strong, however he did have a healthy amount of fat to balance it out. His hand-eye co-ordination was also something to behold, once he was focused on something.<br />
<br />
In terms of clothing, he always seemed to be wearing a set of similarly dark teal colored vestiges, or robes that have trousers instead of a skirt. The edges and various parts of his robes had golden finishes, which were made from finely made material and dye. The robe itself was made of simple cotton, rather than silk as most people tend to presume, making it slightly sturdier and more durable. He often wore a hood when traveling, or when he simply preferred to keep out of sight. Finally, he had a set of finely made leather shoes, made of deer, and crafted by a professional shoemaker.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Backstory</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Daniels parents were always a mystery to him, he never knew their names, nor who they were. You see, he never really had the chance to learn their names, as he was given up to the Whitehall Monastery at a very young age. One morning, he was simply left on the great steps of the majestic building, crying in what appeared to be a woven basket. The many monks who enjoyed peace and quiet when studying, almost immediately noticed his presence as his small, but shrill screams echoed across the front halls of the Monastery.<br />
<br />
It was then, that Master Donatello, the Grand Inventor of the Monastery came down the steps to see the cause of the commotion. Everyone stared from their windows and from all around, as he picked up the distressed baby. It is then, that little Daniel slowly stopped crying, and looked up at the man who had the most calming smile painted on his face. As Master Donatello held the little boy, he examined the woven basket for any clues or items that might explain his arrival here. There was nothing, no letter from a distressed mother, no family heirloom of any kind... not even a toy left for the boy to play with. Nothing, it's as if the boy had no past.<br />
<br />
It was then that Master Donatello, knew what he must do, as he took the child inside with him. He would raise him to be an educated man, give him a future that his parents obviously could not. He also gave him a name, Daniel Vancroft, as tribute to one of the greatest inventors and thinkers within the monastery. The boy has a destiny, and that of greatness, he thought.<br />
<br />
As Daniel grew, Master Donatello became as much of a father to him as his teacher and mentor. It was him who taught him the principles of philosophy and the secrets of Mesalian History. They would spend hours together, alone in his lab, examining artifacts and thinking of different ways to see the world. However, one of the more astonishing studies they carried out were on various wooden models which they crafted together. Early designs of machinery, wooden cogs and switches, all in the name of making the life of Mesalian easier. One of Daniels first creations, was a small wooden scale that used a simple system of string pulleys to determine which item he placed on the arms was heavier.<br />
<br />
Master Donatello was a patient teacher, as he understood Daniel like no-one else could. He would not get mad or angry at him whenever Daniel would stop listening to him to day-dream, as he knew that there was nothing he could do to change that. Daniels concentration was always a fickle thing, ever since he was a child, he would only listen to about half of what is being said to him at a time. This often made other lecturers and scholars rather annoyed, as they liked to brag about their inventions for hours to Daniel during their many lectures. Instead of listening to them, he preferred to slip into his own little world of creation and dream. Because of that, he was often accused of not paying attention to the more important lectures at the monastery and slipping in his studies. However, this was not because he actually was falling behind, he simply preferred a different medium of learning: books.<br />
<br />
Many of the monks often saw Daniel sitting somewhere in the quiet corner of the library, with small stacks of books he has read sitting beside him. They were his best friends, they never complained, or needed anything from him. They would never send him away. He was also quite popular amongst the Librarian circle, often helping out with book keeping, organizing the library catalog and tending of the gardens outside. The librarians praised him for his good work and even gave him his very own key to the library as a reward for his efforts.<br />
<br />
Apart from studying, Daniel was given a few responsibilities to carry out around the monastery. Cleaning the Mausoleum, Tending the Food Farms and Cooking twice a week. Of the three responsibilities, he loved tending the food farms and cooking the most, as he felt that nothing was more rewarding than cooking from your own produce. He also enjoyed the fact that he was able to go outside once in a while, and to daydream out under the open blue sky. Ever since then, his cooking gradually improved, as many of the Scholars praised his meals and often asked for seconds. He too liked his own cooking, as he would nip at ingredients before adding them into the pan. This combined with not much exercise and constant study, resulted in a small, healthy belly to grow on his stomach.<br />
<br />
His peaceful life however, came to an end, as Master Donatello passed away due to his advanced age. Surrounded by his students and Daniel, it was a death worthy of a Grand Inventor. Daniel wept quietly as he saw his father, his teacher, his mentor and friend, slip into death and to the world beyond. He mourned his passing for a few months, as he locked himself in his room, to simply watch the world from outside his window. He loved panoramic views, especially those of mountains in the distance, as he would often stare at them for hours. This has proven to be his only escape from his sorrow, anything else reminded him of his deceased Father.<br />
<br />
Too depressed to carry on his studies, he was quickly expelled from the monastery, now that he no longer had the backing of the Grand Inventor himself. Many of the lecturers and students rejoiced his exile, calling it unfair that he was given lee-way from the draconian rules of entry that many students had to tackle. He did not care much for their words, as he found their spite and arrogance unnecessary. Whatever reasons, he was escorted outside of his room and outside of the monastery walls, out into the big world outside.<br />
<br />
Leaving his only home at the age of 19, he spent an entire year drifting from town to town in search of something to do. His rather academic set of skills made him a very poor worker, not to mention his general lack of strength and agility. Eventually he was allowed to work at a wheat farm, in return for a stack of hay to sleep on and a single meal a day. The work was tiresome, and the accommodation was measly compared to his comfortable life in the monastery. He was more than experienced in tending a farm, but not when he had to do it on a farm the size of ten barns put together. Not to mention he also had to feed the various animals in the barns every day, which didn't always go as according to plan.<br />
<br />
He knew he couldn't live his life like this, his Master wouldn't want him to. He would want him to be out there, exploring, inventing and making a place for himself. Fortunately, one evening when eating his meal with the farmers, he overheard them talking about something called 'The Forbidden Lands'. He instantly became quite fascinated by the subject, as he listened carefully when they described a free land, where a Mesalian could start anew. A land of unknown, a land to explore. The rest of the conversation however, never reached his ears, thanks to his poor concentration. Otherwise he would have known how dangerous the Forbidden Lands actually were.<br />
<br />
His hopes were to leave the farm the next day, give the farmers a warm goodbye and maybe even get some food for the travel. During that very evening however, barely moments after their supper, he was forced to run for his life. Like a thunder from the sky, or an avalanche from the mountains, soldiers and all sorts of other 'barbarians' stormed the farm by force. Screams of women and loud protest of horses almost rang in the air as the attackers were determined to pillage the peaceful farm for supplies and more. Like a bucket filled with ice-cold water, the world reminded Daniel of the on-going Civil War that ravaged the local lands. There was nothing he could do, he didn't know how to fight, and certainly could not defend the poor woman who was slowly taken away by those filthy barbarians. All he heard were brief but loud screams from beyond the wall of his locked room. He felt afraid. He felt terrified for his life. He knew they would eventually come after him too.<br />
<br />
So he ran, as he took the nearest open window he was standing by, jumped out, and then ran, ran as fast as he could. All he heard behind him as he ran, were the war cries, let out by men who believed in a new world order. -Their- new order, whatever it was. They never bothered chasing him, they had what they wanted, they captured and took hold of the farm.<br />
<br />
As Daniel walked down the road, with the farm a small mile behind him, he had no other choice but to start his journey to these so called Forbidden Lands. Not exactly the start of an adventure he wished for, and certainly not with all of the killing and chaos, but there was nothing he could do back there. There was nothing he could do, he repeatedly re-assured himself. He was not a fighter, but an inventor and a scholar; his tool was the ruler and chisel, never a sword. Somehow though, that did not make him feel any better.<br />
<br />
Eventually he arrived to the nearest port town, and using the few last remnants of coin he still had in his pockets, he bought a place on a trading ship cruising for the Forbidden Lands. The ship was filled with all sorts of shady characters, including various "degrees" of Xitians and Lucins. All of them hoped to start anew, away from the Civil War of the middle-lands, just like him. He never really had a problem with other races, but he simply did not trust them enough either. Nights on the ship were not cozy, as he felt almost squashed with so many people around him. This is where the next chapter in my life would begin, he thought, let's hope it won't be as turbulent as the last one. The ship sailed, drifting slowly over the deep waters, forwards into the world of unknown.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Skills</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #40BF00;" class="mycode_color">What he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">can</span> do:</span><br />
- Intermediate Woodwork (Taught by his Mentor, lots of experimentation.)<br />
- Novice Cooking (Had to work in the Kitchens for quite some time.)<br />
- Novice Farming/Gardening (Had to work on the food farms.)<br />
- Basic Organizational Skills (Helping out in the Library.)<br />
- Can Read, Write and Count (Started reading at a young age and was    taught by his Mentor)<br />
- Knowledge - History (Taught by his Mentor and various books.)<br />
- Knowledge - Philosophy (Taught by his Mentor and various books.)<br />
<br />
Please do remember that he devoted all his time in the Monastery, towards studying. That, minus a few years where he was a normal child, he would have a good twelve years worth of of education.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">What he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">can't</span> do:</span><br />
- Fight, in any way. He is not battle-trained.<br />
- Build a house, lacks Stonemasonry and so forth.<br />
- Use Alchemy, or be a Physician.<br />
- Create Runes.<br />
- Hunt for meat, can't be a hunter.<br />
- Work with metal, can't be a Blacksmith.<br />
- Mine, not even surface mining.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Absent-minded</span> and has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Concentration</span>. He finds it hard to concentrate on someone talking to him for long, and often ends up day-dreaming about whatever thought manages to distract him at the time. This also makes him rather slow to react.<br />
 <br />
He has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Social Skills</span>, and doesn't actively seek people. This is due to the amount of time he has spent studying alone or with only one person at a time. He doesn't always understand the consequences of his gestures. He also wasn't a very social person when he was a child, preferring to play alone.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pedantic</span> and <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Stubborn</span>, especially about his own work. This is mostly because of his poor concentration. If people were to start manipulating what he was doing mid-way, he would lose concentration and become frustrated. He is not used to working with other people, so what he does, he sees as the only correct solution.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Naive</span>, due to his lack of concentration and his inability to analyze peoples actions properly. He often goes with what people say, because he can't think of what their hidden agendas might be. Unless it's obvious, he won't realize someone is trying to fool him.<br />
<br />
He can be <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Kind</span> and <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Polite</span> most of the time. This comes from his inoffensive and peaceful nature. He doesn't like conflict and doesn't like being put under stress, so he is nice to people but not to the point of extreme. He can also be quite Kind sometimes without realizing it, once again thanks to his lack of concentration.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Cowardly</span> and avoids all combat at all costs, this comes from the fact he lived in a Monastery most of his life, surrounded by walls and people to keep him safe. This means he will be more likely to scream and run away from battle, than actually fight the enemy.<br />
<br />
He is highly <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Independent</span>, <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Introverted</span> and prefers to work alone. Once again this is credited to studying on his own in the Monastery, surrounded by stacks of books. He can organize himself well enough to achieve results, but ordering other people would be rather impossible for him.<br />
<br />
He is a <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Slow Learner when taught by a teacher</span>, as his mentor was the only person who was able to get to him and teach him. However, he does have a knack for learning on his own. Given the materials and the time, he is more than likely to learn the subject at least partially.<br />
<br />
He shows <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hidden Potential</span> when truly focused, given enough time and left alone. It is during these times that he can truly focus his concentration and make things work. It is also during those times that he is most creative. It does not happen often however but is something to behold nonetheless.<br />
<br />
If he is ever <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pushed too much, he becomes Agitated and Angry</span>, finding it hard to concentrate 'with other people breathing down his shoulder'. It is best to leave him alone during those times, to allow him to simmer down and regain his control.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Interests</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Sight-seeing, likes panoramic views.<br />
- Peace and Quiet.<br />
- Books, he loves reading those.<br />
- Tending his Garden, making food from his own produce.<br />
- Collecting artifacts of the past.<br />
- History<br />
- Philosophy</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Fears</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Crowds</span> and finds it unnerving to be around one, not to a point of phobia. He simply prefers to be in places that more quiet and devoid of people, to help him concentrate.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Failing</span>, or making something that's imperfect when he finally focuses on it. This causes him to become somewhat a perfectionist, constantly polishing his creation in fear of it being imperfect. He is also afraid of failing his Master, who trained him to be the best he can be. [center]((Thanks for giving me the idea for this one 'Chelle :3))[/center]<br />
<br />
He is very afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Combat</span>, as he runs away at the nearest opportunity. He finds blood, fighting and getting hurt absolutely terrifying as a concept, let alone an experience. A Murderer trying to kill him would have him running for the hills screaming. He is unlikely to try and defend anyone, even if it is the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
He doesn't quite understand <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Relationships</span>, and he is somewhat afraid of them due to inexperience. Once he realizes someone is making an advance, he begins to stutter and stumble on his own words.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Long Term Objectives</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Find a home, a house to live in.<br />
- Start a garden of his own, make some good food.<br />
- Get hold of some interesting books.<br />
- Explore the land, uncover its secrets, recover artifacts (if any).<br />
- Invent and/or create something worth his Master.<br />
- Continue to improve his knowledge and skills.</div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="font-size: 50pt;" class="mycode_size">[center]<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name</span>: Daniel "Danny" Vancroft<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Age</span>: 20 (Birthday on the 13th)<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race</span>: Mesalian<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Gender</span>: Male<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Religion</span>: Neutral, undecided.[/center]</span><br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Description';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Description';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Description</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Daniel stood between 5"5 and 5"6, making him a rather short man for his age, with dark blonde hair and a fair complexion. His eyes were that of a sea mist, blue clouded with a thin layer of grey. His build was that of a scholar, so not very strong, however he did have a healthy amount of fat to balance it out. His hand-eye co-ordination was also something to behold, once he was focused on something.<br />
<br />
In terms of clothing, he always seemed to be wearing a set of similarly dark teal colored vestiges, or robes that have trousers instead of a skirt. The edges and various parts of his robes had golden finishes, which were made from finely made material and dye. The robe itself was made of simple cotton, rather than silk as most people tend to presume, making it slightly sturdier and more durable. He often wore a hood when traveling, or when he simply preferred to keep out of sight. Finally, he had a set of finely made leather shoes, made of deer, and crafted by a professional shoemaker.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Backstory</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Daniels parents were always a mystery to him, he never knew their names, nor who they were. You see, he never really had the chance to learn their names, as he was given up to the Whitehall Monastery at a very young age. One morning, he was simply left on the great steps of the majestic building, crying in what appeared to be a woven basket. The many monks who enjoyed peace and quiet when studying, almost immediately noticed his presence as his small, but shrill screams echoed across the front halls of the Monastery.<br />
<br />
It was then, that Master Donatello, the Grand Inventor of the Monastery came down the steps to see the cause of the commotion. Everyone stared from their windows and from all around, as he picked up the distressed baby. It is then, that little Daniel slowly stopped crying, and looked up at the man who had the most calming smile painted on his face. As Master Donatello held the little boy, he examined the woven basket for any clues or items that might explain his arrival here. There was nothing, no letter from a distressed mother, no family heirloom of any kind... not even a toy left for the boy to play with. Nothing, it's as if the boy had no past.<br />
<br />
It was then that Master Donatello, knew what he must do, as he took the child inside with him. He would raise him to be an educated man, give him a future that his parents obviously could not. He also gave him a name, Daniel Vancroft, as tribute to one of the greatest inventors and thinkers within the monastery. The boy has a destiny, and that of greatness, he thought.<br />
<br />
As Daniel grew, Master Donatello became as much of a father to him as his teacher and mentor. It was him who taught him the principles of philosophy and the secrets of Mesalian History. They would spend hours together, alone in his lab, examining artifacts and thinking of different ways to see the world. However, one of the more astonishing studies they carried out were on various wooden models which they crafted together. Early designs of machinery, wooden cogs and switches, all in the name of making the life of Mesalian easier. One of Daniels first creations, was a small wooden scale that used a simple system of string pulleys to determine which item he placed on the arms was heavier.<br />
<br />
Master Donatello was a patient teacher, as he understood Daniel like no-one else could. He would not get mad or angry at him whenever Daniel would stop listening to him to day-dream, as he knew that there was nothing he could do to change that. Daniels concentration was always a fickle thing, ever since he was a child, he would only listen to about half of what is being said to him at a time. This often made other lecturers and scholars rather annoyed, as they liked to brag about their inventions for hours to Daniel during their many lectures. Instead of listening to them, he preferred to slip into his own little world of creation and dream. Because of that, he was often accused of not paying attention to the more important lectures at the monastery and slipping in his studies. However, this was not because he actually was falling behind, he simply preferred a different medium of learning: books.<br />
<br />
Many of the monks often saw Daniel sitting somewhere in the quiet corner of the library, with small stacks of books he has read sitting beside him. They were his best friends, they never complained, or needed anything from him. They would never send him away. He was also quite popular amongst the Librarian circle, often helping out with book keeping, organizing the library catalog and tending of the gardens outside. The librarians praised him for his good work and even gave him his very own key to the library as a reward for his efforts.<br />
<br />
Apart from studying, Daniel was given a few responsibilities to carry out around the monastery. Cleaning the Mausoleum, Tending the Food Farms and Cooking twice a week. Of the three responsibilities, he loved tending the food farms and cooking the most, as he felt that nothing was more rewarding than cooking from your own produce. He also enjoyed the fact that he was able to go outside once in a while, and to daydream out under the open blue sky. Ever since then, his cooking gradually improved, as many of the Scholars praised his meals and often asked for seconds. He too liked his own cooking, as he would nip at ingredients before adding them into the pan. This combined with not much exercise and constant study, resulted in a small, healthy belly to grow on his stomach.<br />
<br />
His peaceful life however, came to an end, as Master Donatello passed away due to his advanced age. Surrounded by his students and Daniel, it was a death worthy of a Grand Inventor. Daniel wept quietly as he saw his father, his teacher, his mentor and friend, slip into death and to the world beyond. He mourned his passing for a few months, as he locked himself in his room, to simply watch the world from outside his window. He loved panoramic views, especially those of mountains in the distance, as he would often stare at them for hours. This has proven to be his only escape from his sorrow, anything else reminded him of his deceased Father.<br />
<br />
Too depressed to carry on his studies, he was quickly expelled from the monastery, now that he no longer had the backing of the Grand Inventor himself. Many of the lecturers and students rejoiced his exile, calling it unfair that he was given lee-way from the draconian rules of entry that many students had to tackle. He did not care much for their words, as he found their spite and arrogance unnecessary. Whatever reasons, he was escorted outside of his room and outside of the monastery walls, out into the big world outside.<br />
<br />
Leaving his only home at the age of 19, he spent an entire year drifting from town to town in search of something to do. His rather academic set of skills made him a very poor worker, not to mention his general lack of strength and agility. Eventually he was allowed to work at a wheat farm, in return for a stack of hay to sleep on and a single meal a day. The work was tiresome, and the accommodation was measly compared to his comfortable life in the monastery. He was more than experienced in tending a farm, but not when he had to do it on a farm the size of ten barns put together. Not to mention he also had to feed the various animals in the barns every day, which didn't always go as according to plan.<br />
<br />
He knew he couldn't live his life like this, his Master wouldn't want him to. He would want him to be out there, exploring, inventing and making a place for himself. Fortunately, one evening when eating his meal with the farmers, he overheard them talking about something called 'The Forbidden Lands'. He instantly became quite fascinated by the subject, as he listened carefully when they described a free land, where a Mesalian could start anew. A land of unknown, a land to explore. The rest of the conversation however, never reached his ears, thanks to his poor concentration. Otherwise he would have known how dangerous the Forbidden Lands actually were.<br />
<br />
His hopes were to leave the farm the next day, give the farmers a warm goodbye and maybe even get some food for the travel. During that very evening however, barely moments after their supper, he was forced to run for his life. Like a thunder from the sky, or an avalanche from the mountains, soldiers and all sorts of other 'barbarians' stormed the farm by force. Screams of women and loud protest of horses almost rang in the air as the attackers were determined to pillage the peaceful farm for supplies and more. Like a bucket filled with ice-cold water, the world reminded Daniel of the on-going Civil War that ravaged the local lands. There was nothing he could do, he didn't know how to fight, and certainly could not defend the poor woman who was slowly taken away by those filthy barbarians. All he heard were brief but loud screams from beyond the wall of his locked room. He felt afraid. He felt terrified for his life. He knew they would eventually come after him too.<br />
<br />
So he ran, as he took the nearest open window he was standing by, jumped out, and then ran, ran as fast as he could. All he heard behind him as he ran, were the war cries, let out by men who believed in a new world order. -Their- new order, whatever it was. They never bothered chasing him, they had what they wanted, they captured and took hold of the farm.<br />
<br />
As Daniel walked down the road, with the farm a small mile behind him, he had no other choice but to start his journey to these so called Forbidden Lands. Not exactly the start of an adventure he wished for, and certainly not with all of the killing and chaos, but there was nothing he could do back there. There was nothing he could do, he repeatedly re-assured himself. He was not a fighter, but an inventor and a scholar; his tool was the ruler and chisel, never a sword. Somehow though, that did not make him feel any better.<br />
<br />
Eventually he arrived to the nearest port town, and using the few last remnants of coin he still had in his pockets, he bought a place on a trading ship cruising for the Forbidden Lands. The ship was filled with all sorts of shady characters, including various "degrees" of Xitians and Lucins. All of them hoped to start anew, away from the Civil War of the middle-lands, just like him. He never really had a problem with other races, but he simply did not trust them enough either. Nights on the ship were not cozy, as he felt almost squashed with so many people around him. This is where the next chapter in my life would begin, he thought, let's hope it won't be as turbulent as the last one. The ship sailed, drifting slowly over the deep waters, forwards into the world of unknown.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Skills';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Skills</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #40BF00;" class="mycode_color">What he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">can</span> do:</span><br />
- Intermediate Woodwork (Taught by his Mentor, lots of experimentation.)<br />
- Novice Cooking (Had to work in the Kitchens for quite some time.)<br />
- Novice Farming/Gardening (Had to work on the food farms.)<br />
- Basic Organizational Skills (Helping out in the Library.)<br />
- Can Read, Write and Count (Started reading at a young age and was    taught by his Mentor)<br />
- Knowledge - History (Taught by his Mentor and various books.)<br />
- Knowledge - Philosophy (Taught by his Mentor and various books.)<br />
<br />
Please do remember that he devoted all his time in the Monastery, towards studying. That, minus a few years where he was a normal child, he would have a good twelve years worth of of education.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #800000;" class="mycode_color">What he <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">can't</span> do:</span><br />
- Fight, in any way. He is not battle-trained.<br />
- Build a house, lacks Stonemasonry and so forth.<br />
- Use Alchemy, or be a Physician.<br />
- Create Runes.<br />
- Hunt for meat, can't be a hunter.<br />
- Work with metal, can't be a Blacksmith.<br />
- Mine, not even surface mining.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Absent-minded</span> and has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Concentration</span>. He finds it hard to concentrate on someone talking to him for long, and often ends up day-dreaming about whatever thought manages to distract him at the time. This also makes him rather slow to react.<br />
 <br />
He has <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Poor Social Skills</span>, and doesn't actively seek people. This is due to the amount of time he has spent studying alone or with only one person at a time. He doesn't always understand the consequences of his gestures. He also wasn't a very social person when he was a child, preferring to play alone.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pedantic</span> and <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Stubborn</span>, especially about his own work. This is mostly because of his poor concentration. If people were to start manipulating what he was doing mid-way, he would lose concentration and become frustrated. He is not used to working with other people, so what he does, he sees as the only correct solution.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Naive</span>, due to his lack of concentration and his inability to analyze peoples actions properly. He often goes with what people say, because he can't think of what their hidden agendas might be. Unless it's obvious, he won't realize someone is trying to fool him.<br />
<br />
He can be <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Kind</span> and <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Polite</span> most of the time. This comes from his inoffensive and peaceful nature. He doesn't like conflict and doesn't like being put under stress, so he is nice to people but not to the point of extreme. He can also be quite Kind sometimes without realizing it, once again thanks to his lack of concentration.<br />
<br />
He is <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Cowardly</span> and avoids all combat at all costs, this comes from the fact he lived in a Monastery most of his life, surrounded by walls and people to keep him safe. This means he will be more likely to scream and run away from battle, than actually fight the enemy.<br />
<br />
He is highly <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Independent</span>, <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Introverted</span> and prefers to work alone. Once again this is credited to studying on his own in the Monastery, surrounded by stacks of books. He can organize himself well enough to achieve results, but ordering other people would be rather impossible for him.<br />
<br />
He is a <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Slow Learner when taught by a teacher</span>, as his mentor was the only person who was able to get to him and teach him. However, he does have a knack for learning on his own. Given the materials and the time, he is more than likely to learn the subject at least partially.<br />
<br />
He shows <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hidden Potential</span> when truly focused, given enough time and left alone. It is during these times that he can truly focus his concentration and make things work. It is also during those times that he is most creative. It does not happen often however but is something to behold nonetheless.<br />
<br />
If he is ever <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Pushed too much, he becomes Agitated and Angry</span>, finding it hard to concentrate 'with other people breathing down his shoulder'. It is best to leave him alone during those times, to allow him to simmer down and regain his control.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Interests';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Interests</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Sight-seeing, likes panoramic views.<br />
- Peace and Quiet.<br />
- Books, he loves reading those.<br />
- Tending his Garden, making food from his own produce.<br />
- Collecting artifacts of the past.<br />
- History<br />
- Philosophy</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Fears';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Fears</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Crowds</span> and finds it unnerving to be around one, not to a point of phobia. He simply prefers to be in places that more quiet and devoid of people, to help him concentrate.<br />
<br />
He is somewhat afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Failing</span>, or making something that's imperfect when he finally focuses on it. This causes him to become somewhat a perfectionist, constantly polishing his creation in fear of it being imperfect. He is also afraid of failing his Master, who trained him to be the best he can be. [center]((Thanks for giving me the idea for this one 'Chelle :3))[/center]<br />
<br />
He is very afraid of <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Combat</span>, as he runs away at the nearest opportunity. He finds blood, fighting and getting hurt absolutely terrifying as a concept, let alone an experience. A Murderer trying to kill him would have him running for the hills screaming. He is unlikely to try and defend anyone, even if it is the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
He doesn't quite understand <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Relationships</span>, and he is somewhat afraid of them due to inexperience. Once he realizes someone is making an advance, he begins to stutter and stumble on his own words.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Long Term Objectives';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Long Term Objectives</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">- Find a home, a house to live in.<br />
- Start a garden of his own, make some good food.<br />
- Get hold of some interesting books.<br />
- Explore the land, uncover its secrets, recover artifacts (if any).<br />
- Invent and/or create something worth his Master.<br />
- Continue to improve his knowledge and skills.</div></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Mordecai Al'Rakkand, A man with honor.]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=29</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 20 Feb 2013 17:15:34 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=32">3llusive</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=29</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Character Name:</span> Mordecai "Fireheart" Al'Rakkand<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Character Age:</span> 56 years old<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Height:</span> 6 foot 4 inches<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race:</span> Mesalian<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Alignment:</span> Lawful Good<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance</span> <br />
<br />
Mordecai is a tall and well built man, aging as he is, he shows almost no signs of frailty, save that his wounds slow him down much, much more than they would when he was a younger man, and both take longer to mend, and are more serious threats to his life. His hair is a short cut dark mass with growing streaks of silvery gray, a frost like shadow of a greying beard spanning the lower half of his face. The lines of his face are almost indefinitely hardened into a scowl with the certainty of carved stone. His eyes are a steely blue grey that could challenge the stare of a bird of prey. His face bears many small scars, but one in particular  lays diagonally over his left eye, from his cheekbone to his inner eyebrow, a marred pink angry line from a battle long since past.<br />
<br />
He normally dons a simple tunic with his sleeves rolled up all the way to bare his bicepts, with a sleeveless leather vest with brass buttons, tattered from the elements, leading down to his leather trousers, tucked firmly inside his high-topped boots. Around his neck is wrapped a sand colored scarf he commonly wears in journey's into the desert; the feeling of getting gritty sand in your mouth is never a pleasant one.<br />
<br />
Around his waist is a sword belt, with two swords upon his left hip. Both are of a peculiar style - they're sleek, slightly curved, one edged swords that are of very high workmanship. One is standard length, the other is a companion sword of only half length. As he says to anyone who bothers to ask; One sword for duty, one sword for honor.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Theme song:</span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqoN1ua-ROw" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqoN1ua-ROw</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Background';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Background';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Background</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Abell tried comforting Mordecai when Lynn died, but even his father's words seemed to hold no weight to the boy's heart. It was the spring, then. The falling cherry blossoms and the ravaged, but still beautiful countryside of the Middle Realm was invisible to him. A hand gripped his mind with icy fingers of grief, squeezing so tight he might have died from heartache. Might have, had she died any other way. With that cold hand came a fire - a passion that came with the death of his love a day before his twentieth year, a passion that blossomed into hatred and was nurtured by his bull-headed stubbornness. A hatred for the men of Dusk, and the horrors they forced upon his people, but more than anything he hated them for killing Lynn. The Xitians were what took her away - the Xitians took the only thing he had to live for away, but by the same hand, they gave him nothing else left to lose.<br />
<br />
He had been lonely as a child, growing up on his family's farm, days travel from the nearest town. He'd never known his mother, which always seemed to be a touchy subject with Abell. He spent his time playing in the woods as a child, and as he grew into an adolescent, he spent his days hunting squirrel and tracking deer. He and his father were effected by the slavery the same as anyone else, but fortunately it seemed that the Xitians were more focused on keeping chains on those in cities or other large focal points of the population, and he and his father only saw patrols every month that would seldom bother them except for collecting "their share" from their harvests. Abell learned early that he couldn't refuse them. He'd tried the first time, and had earned himself a scar about an inch long over his left eye. After that, he'd paid their demands readily enough. They took seven tenths of their crop, no matter if it was a good year for the harvest or a bad, making most winters harsh, cold and uncertain, but they scraped through. Abell hated the Xitians, but he didn't talk much of it with Mordecai. He didn't have to. It was an unspoken certainty that the men who bullied them were certainly evil people, and since the beginning their farm was a stop on the rebellion's underground railroad. Mordecai remembered nights where they'd take in handfuls of people who were evading punishment, so many of them that their small dining room didn't have enough chairs, and they had a meager meal with everyone sitting or standing anywhere they could find room, and the travelers would sleep on the floor and leave the next night. They always left at night, he remembered.<br />
<br />
When he was old enough, Abell finally told him that he wasn't truly his father. At least, not by blood. Abell was his father in a way, and that Mordecai never doubted. A woman had come along the railroad during the winter. She was sick, almost collapsing at his door. She came with him, at the time just a babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and more blankets than the woman dared use for herself. Abell tried to nurse her back to health - keeping her in bed, warm and trying to get her to eat, but she had a severe fever some days and broke into cold sweats others, delirious from her condition. He never even got her name, he recounted sadly. But from her, came Mordecai, and Abell raised him as if he were his own son.<br />
<br />
It saddened Mordecai, but Abell said that he had his mother's eyes, and she probably couldn't be prouder were she here to see him. Even so, it put distance between him and Abell, not much, but he never quite felt the same after that, and Abell took notice. He was quieter, kept to himself, and perhaps wasn't as happy anymore. But it didn't last for long.<br />
<br />
Two years later, a girl around his age came down the road, seeking shelter. That was a bitter sweet memory, the first time he'd met Lynn. She'd escaped from one of the cities to the north, bearing news of the terrible oppression of the Xitians. She said they'd set up 'camps' now for the rebels they captured, with high walls, disease and execution, back breaking labor and starvation. She didn't know where she was going; she didn't have anywhere to go. According to her the railroad had been broken, the rebellion had gone silent.. Abell suspected as much. He hadn't seen any more rebels since Mordecai was nine.<br />
<br />
She stayed there, for awhile. At first she said it was just until she could figure out where to run next, but it never happened. She stayed with them, and Mordecai was head over heels for her. That was the sad thing in it all. She was a branded rebel, the Xitians were never far, and yet he loved her. She seemed to make him happier than Abell could remember him ever being. When the Lucins came back, years later, the Xitians redoubled their efforts to keep the Mesalians under control, and the monthly patrol came much, much early than expected. Mordecai didn't have time to hide with her in the woods this time. They ran her down on horseback on the road while Abell could only hold him back and watch.<br />
<br />
After they buried her, he knew Mordecai wouldn't stay - the cold forge of revenge bid him to join the gathering armies even as they gained momentum in the fight to save their people. He knew what he planned - and yet he couldn't stop him. He gave him an old sword that was likely passed down in the al'Rakkand family tree for generations. It was light and sleek, curved with only one edge - nothing like the barbarian like crude implements Mordecai dimmly remembered the rebels keeping when he was a child, and resistance was still in motion. It was a wonder that it was never confiscated - and as he took this sword, he heard his father's words that sounded too odd from an old farmer. Remember Mordecai; Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather. It's easier to give in than it is to hold to that duty. Easier to give up in hopelessness sometimes, and easier to trick yourself into fighting to the death in others. Don't ever mistake the two. And no matter how comically stoic those words from his father, a man who must have known nothing of war sounded he remembered them mirthlessly, and they saw him through more than one battle and close call with fate.<br />
<br />
As he set off that day with the warm rays of the fading sun at his back, after helping to dig the grave of the only woman he'd ever loved, Mordecai thought his heart to be iron. That the Xitians and their cursed flames would bend - no, break upon him like hot steel to an anvil. He was right in some ways, wrong in most. He might have been iron, but he was a horseshoe at best. Hard, sure, but horseshoes won no battles. To survive the war, he would have to be a sword.<br />
<br />
After three days walking and riding, he finally reached one of the camps. A banner flew high over it, a red lion's head over a rippling white background. A Mesalian symbol of defiance - a sign that not another step of homeland would they give until staining the very earth red with their blood. Retreat was never an option - and if possible, even more so now. Lucins were among them - their strange powers and ways beyond his understanding, a poor farmboy from the south-western plains. There didn't seem to be much of an organization about them - but there was a leader. Rorand Redmane - a hero of the war that the men around him rallied upon as much as the banner they marched with. With an unbreakable will, and a pride like a lion, and hair as red as apples the man drew his name and legacy. He took one look at Mordecai - wearing his father's sword truly as if a country bumpkin had stepped out from underneath a rock with the idea of being a soldier - and told him to go home. Indignation flamed crimson in his face, as he demanded the right to defend his homeland, his people, and his family, the same as any other soldier. And at first they laughed. But Rorand was curious. What could possibly make a backwards countryman so insistent that he should fight - and possibly die in battle?<br />
<br />
There was no laughter about losing someone dear. They had all undergone similar stories - and lest they forget, they were not soldiers since the day they crawled from their mother's wombs. They let him try - they gave him the chance to be accepted among them, even if doubtfully. They did not have to wait long for him to prove himself. Not two weeks since he arrived in camp, he marched into battle along side them, unflinching and as dedicated as the best man among him. Perhaps even a touch more reckless. After that first battle there were no more doubts. He sat around the fire with the most seasoned of warriors, wounds and all, and shared in their quiet pride and loud revelry. He came to know that they were one of many divisions of a hastily formed military - the 3rd Main Battle Division. "The Lion's Pride", as it came to be known to the other soldiers for their banner that flew high and proud even as they stormed into the fray. The longer he stayed - the more he realized how lucky he was to come into the company of the revered division. He could have met up with a support division, put there to help the wounded, or a rear guard. But fate, or destiny perhaps, would have it be that he came to be a part of them. He survived the first battle, but the second, he fought. The losses were always grave, the wounded always high, but the Mesalian people were stubborn and determined, Mordecai no exception. Even as the front lines fell to the Xitian fire, from men who were not men, but invaders foreign and hated, every man who could continue the charge did, wounded or not with the fervor of a freed and furious people.<br />
<br />
As the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks stretched into months, Mordecai was no longer a grieving backwards farmboy. Perhaps though, he was a grieving, scarred veteran. But he was no longer a boy, he was a man by all accounts, and to his fellow soldiers he became a man of steel, who hated the Xitian more than most - perhaps anyone knew. He was held in almost as high esteem as the head of the division itself. He was given, or perhaps earned, the highest honorary position that was available to anyone in the Mesalian ranks: Banner-man. The position was considered the heart of the division - the steel in their backbones, for as long as that banner hung high, the Meselians would push forward. Through blood and turmoil, death harrying at all sides, they would kill and be killed to see that banner fly higher - and the one trusted with the responsibility of rallying them into that horrible fray was the banner-man.<br />
<br />
He accepted that honor, and rode into many a battle with the cry "Rally to the Lion's Pride! Once more! One more into the fray!". And as he rode with that banner upon his back, he did fight with the fierceness fitting of a Lion. But it was not the end for him - over the years even as he gathered more scars hard won from battle, he rose higher still, to becoming Redmane's Field Commander, head of the lines that crashed into the Xitian ranks beside the Lucin by day, and by night at his side, trusted with strategizing and planning. He was a hero to his fellow soldiers - they would speak of him in awed tones, almost as ferverently as they did of Redmane himself. The tales they spun of him named him "Mordecai Fireheart", more of a legend than a man. The soldiers would follow him to hell and back - they would ride into Dusk outnumbered one-hundred to one loyally at his call, and at the end of the war, most of the division expected to do just that. They were almost drunk with pride and courage - They were the Lion's Pride, the company of heroes that struck terror into the heart of the Xitian ranks, they were the head of the spear that was the Mesalian people's righteous fury. They were warriors, down to the greenest recruit, who would fight for Mesalian honor with grim determination to their last breath, to the last man before they would give in.<br />
<br />
As the war drew to a close, the fierce pride that was characteristic of the Mesalian forces was the staple of the Mesalian people. It became known to the Xitians, to the Lucin, to the world, that Mesalians were a people that would never again be conquered - would never again kneel to anyone. That should the Xitians ever make their way back, their armies would be waiting at the portal - the villagers, man or woman, would march with hammers, hoes and scythes, lay down their lives to defend their families, their freedom, and their people. And at the head of the column, that Lion's Head banner would wave - ever waiting for another challenger to test Mesalian steel.<br />
<br />
And the people did rejoice and mourn, as the Dusk portal was crumbled. The price had been high - the revenge bittersweet to the extreme, but they had won. Already the Mesalian people thought of the next war - the wrath of the Xitians when they found a way back to their lands. Colonies were stretched out among the Forbidden lands, and hope lay with them for the day the Xitians returned, that they would be a sanctuary that, if all else failed, would live to avenge their beautiful people another day.<br />
<br />
After their final victory, to the dismay of Mordecai the unity that had come to the Mesalian people dissolved before his eyes - they went back to life as they had known it, splitting into nomadic tribes, and so too did their glorious armies, and his beloved division. He grew cynical, and almost bitter that the people who had fought so hard to rid the chains that bound them broke apart just as they had before. He thought that the people had learned something - that they had learned the strength of unity, that together they could be the stone that no one could move, that by breaking apart they forfeited all the progress they had made.<br />
<br />
Even Rorand Redmane, for all the good that the bastard was, was content to go back to a hero's welcome, and abandon the way of the sword for a soft life of living in luxury in adulation and fame. Mordecai was not content with such a life. Clinging to the ways of war - the only thing he knew after all these long years, he and his most loyal men of the Division, the same men that would have rode onto Dusk with him instead made camp outside the ruined Xitian gate with the Lucins, who did not forget the heroism they shared together in the war and welcomed them with open arms. The banner of The Lion's Pride still flew high - and each day Mordecai ran a harsher line. Training did not stop. From sunrise to midday drills were ran, and with the dying sun they made camp behind sharpened stakes pointed inwards in a circle around the gate. Over the years, the last division of the Mesalian army faded away. Men, as loyal as they were, were homesick and left to be with their families once more, and with each man that left, The Field Commander's mood darkened. When the civil wars swept his beloved homeland, he grieved, for the Lion of the Middle was no more. Her people would suffer, and die at the hands of these battles he could sit and do nothing. A commander of one.<br />
<br />
Eventually, he began to let go of the past. His only friends left - the Lucins he still made camp with pitied him. They called him "The Dedicated One". A sad name, for a hero who's time had long passed like ash passing through his fingers. Over the years, he came to terms with what had happened, and sought purpose in life once again, a purpose he thought to find in the Forbidden Lands, where he did not have bittersweet memories of a time long past. He'd grown into a stranger then. A stranger to his people, and almost to himself. The fires of passion that carried him on their wings were gone, leaving behind a quiet, solitary man who didn't take pleasure in his war stories. He was bitter about the war now, for it struck too close to the days in which every friend he'd ever known abandoned him. They'd moved on with their lives, he hadn't. But yet, there wasn't much more to him than what the war made him, in a way, making him despise who he was.<br />
<br />
In the Forbidden Lands, he was sure, none would remember the name Mordecai Fireheart. His name would fade from history in the same way Redmane's would. Only he had the decency to live off something other than his name alone in the present.<br />
<br />
Even as bitter as he is, he remembers the price he and his men paid in blood, and tries to live for every man who died by his side in the war, and lights candles beside the old banner he and they fought beneath, giving a quiet prayer each night in hopes that they were somewhere better than this world now.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Characteristics:</span><br />
<br />
Honest - Mordecai sees no point in lieing about anything when it would serve no point. He is honest in that he speaks the truth, but also honest in that he would carry a secret to the grave if he gave his word upon it. It can be a fault at some times or another - he doesn't even bother lieing when it would offend someone else to speak the truth as he saw it.<br />
<br />
Stubborn - Once his mind is set on something you may as well try to move mountains to change it.<br />
<br />
Headstrong - Mordecai would go alone into battle against a thousand Duskspawn if he had to, and he'd do it still wearing that scowl of his when he is dealt his mortal wound. Even as he ages he refuses to acknowledge that he is no longer a young man, and cannot fight as well as he used to, but he would never let that stop him from trying.<br />
<br />
Cynical - Mordecai is one to see the world through bleak shades of grey. If anyone was a stronger pessimist then they'd be suicidal. He's careful not to let it show, most of the time. All men are entitled to share their sorrows; but sulking has it's limits if one is truly a man and not a whiny excuse for one.<br />
<br />
Honorable - One of the most important things to Mordecai, is honor. He sees it as the only true measure of a man's worth, and despises cowards and those who would prey upon others weaker than themselves. In addition, Mordecai refuses to use lethal measures against Lucins and Mesalians unless they pose a threat to other's lives. As a matter of fact, he rarely resorts to drawing his sword to settle disputes. Against Xiatins however, even his honor may make an exception for, as grim as that idea may be.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills</span><br />
<br />
Blade Master - Few can truly claim the title Blade Master. Mordecai is one of those few, and facing him in single combat is very inadvisable should he choose to draw his sword.<br />
<br />
Leadership - Mordecai is an excellent leader, and in the war he loved the men who served under his command. He made an explicit rule for himself that he would never ask one under his command to do something he would not, and to lead by example for all who wished to follow.<br />
<br />
Tactician - Mordecai has spent many a night leaning over a battle map, racking his brain on how to work him and his men out of a desperate situation, and has more often than not turned a battle with a cunning wit and a sharp eye for strategy.<br />
<br />
Skinning (Learning) - Mordecai, due to lack of work around the outpost, is restless, and eager to find something useful to do to pass the time. Merc has been teaching him how to skin and prepare animals for the group. He currently only knows the basics - but there isn't much to skinning. With more practice he'll get better.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name - Allegiance, Relation - Summary</span></span><br />
<br />
Rook - Duty-bound, friendly - Mordecai has come to like Rook. He sees him as a capable leader and an honorable man.<br />
<br />
Daniella - No allegiance, Acquaintance - The girl was easy enough to talk to, and she had managed to make him laugh, but she held foolish ideas about the Xitians that he could not agree with. The Xitians held no honor in his eyes; slave masters and cowardly vultures were never honorable. She tried to dispute him about it, and angered herself in doing so. He is not sure of where he stands with her, so it is simply easier to remain neutral.<br />
<br />
Mittendri - Honor-bound, friendly - Mordecai has become trusting and friendly to Mitty. He still owes her for his set of swords, perhaps more than he had before, and is bound by honor to his commitment, but he doesn't necessarily mind.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colette Morteen - Honor-bound, love - Mordecai has come to realize deep feelings and affection for Cole, and strives to bring out the same in her for him, and through it all Cole doesn't seem to mind.<br />
<br />
Merc - No allegiance, Acquaintance - Mordecai only knows the man named Merc as a man who teaches him how to skin and prepare animals. Merc seems to have some sort of animosity towards him, but Mordecai tries not to let himself be drawn into disputes of any kind, as a part of maintaining his honor.<br />
<br />
Dusken - No allegiance, acquaintance -  A strange, cheery girl who seems to be permanently upbeat.<br />
<br />
Dawn - Unknown, Unknown - Mordecai is slightly irritated at Dawn's wanderings from tutor to  tutor in the sword, for she'd given him the impression that she wished to be his student in his Odyanka ken-ryu style. Instead, he has witnessed her asking some upstart for schooling.<br />
<br />
None the less - he would not draw himself into it. If she wished to dishonor him by seeking a new teacher, then she could have at it, but he would not chase after her.<br />
<br />
Joel - Student, acquaintance - Joel wishes to be taught the use of the sword. Mordecai is more than happy to fulfill that wish, so long as he can be taught.<br />
<br />
Zarkaylia - Duty-bound, friendly - Zarkaylia fought in the war, same as him, and seems to share some of the same ideals and experiences with him. She's easy to talk to, and seems to be a good leader.<br />
<br />
Conradian - Duty-bound, acquaintance - Conradian, much like Zarkaylia, fought in the war, same as Mordecai. He hasn't gotten much of a chance to talk with Con, however. So although bound by duty to follow his and Zark's leadership, he would not go so far as to call their relationship 'friendship'.<br />
<br />
Xemnes - No allegiance, estranged - Mordecai does not believe in holding onto past judgements - new information requires reevaluation of how a person or a situation is judged, but right now, his current view of Xemnes is that he is a coward, and one who wishes to intimidate others lesser than he. <br />
<br />
Darren - No allegiance, cautious - Darren is an obstinate man-child who is honorless, and irritating. But, as usual, Mordecai refuses to draw himself into disputes, but would more than gladly pounce at the opportunity to reduce him into a shriveling worm, begging upon the ground for mercy, should he cause violence within the camp, as Master Rook seemed to imply he would.</div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Character Name:</span> Mordecai "Fireheart" Al'Rakkand<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Character Age:</span> 56 years old<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Height:</span> 6 foot 4 inches<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Race:</span> Mesalian<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Alignment:</span> Lawful Good<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Appearance</span> <br />
<br />
Mordecai is a tall and well built man, aging as he is, he shows almost no signs of frailty, save that his wounds slow him down much, much more than they would when he was a younger man, and both take longer to mend, and are more serious threats to his life. His hair is a short cut dark mass with growing streaks of silvery gray, a frost like shadow of a greying beard spanning the lower half of his face. The lines of his face are almost indefinitely hardened into a scowl with the certainty of carved stone. His eyes are a steely blue grey that could challenge the stare of a bird of prey. His face bears many small scars, but one in particular  lays diagonally over his left eye, from his cheekbone to his inner eyebrow, a marred pink angry line from a battle long since past.<br />
<br />
He normally dons a simple tunic with his sleeves rolled up all the way to bare his bicepts, with a sleeveless leather vest with brass buttons, tattered from the elements, leading down to his leather trousers, tucked firmly inside his high-topped boots. Around his neck is wrapped a sand colored scarf he commonly wears in journey's into the desert; the feeling of getting gritty sand in your mouth is never a pleasant one.<br />
<br />
Around his waist is a sword belt, with two swords upon his left hip. Both are of a peculiar style - they're sleek, slightly curved, one edged swords that are of very high workmanship. One is standard length, the other is a companion sword of only half length. As he says to anyone who bothers to ask; One sword for duty, one sword for honor.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Theme song:</span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqoN1ua-ROw" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="mycode_url">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqoN1ua-ROw</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Background';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Background';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Background</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Abell tried comforting Mordecai when Lynn died, but even his father's words seemed to hold no weight to the boy's heart. It was the spring, then. The falling cherry blossoms and the ravaged, but still beautiful countryside of the Middle Realm was invisible to him. A hand gripped his mind with icy fingers of grief, squeezing so tight he might have died from heartache. Might have, had she died any other way. With that cold hand came a fire - a passion that came with the death of his love a day before his twentieth year, a passion that blossomed into hatred and was nurtured by his bull-headed stubbornness. A hatred for the men of Dusk, and the horrors they forced upon his people, but more than anything he hated them for killing Lynn. The Xitians were what took her away - the Xitians took the only thing he had to live for away, but by the same hand, they gave him nothing else left to lose.<br />
<br />
He had been lonely as a child, growing up on his family's farm, days travel from the nearest town. He'd never known his mother, which always seemed to be a touchy subject with Abell. He spent his time playing in the woods as a child, and as he grew into an adolescent, he spent his days hunting squirrel and tracking deer. He and his father were effected by the slavery the same as anyone else, but fortunately it seemed that the Xitians were more focused on keeping chains on those in cities or other large focal points of the population, and he and his father only saw patrols every month that would seldom bother them except for collecting "their share" from their harvests. Abell learned early that he couldn't refuse them. He'd tried the first time, and had earned himself a scar about an inch long over his left eye. After that, he'd paid their demands readily enough. They took seven tenths of their crop, no matter if it was a good year for the harvest or a bad, making most winters harsh, cold and uncertain, but they scraped through. Abell hated the Xitians, but he didn't talk much of it with Mordecai. He didn't have to. It was an unspoken certainty that the men who bullied them were certainly evil people, and since the beginning their farm was a stop on the rebellion's underground railroad. Mordecai remembered nights where they'd take in handfuls of people who were evading punishment, so many of them that their small dining room didn't have enough chairs, and they had a meager meal with everyone sitting or standing anywhere they could find room, and the travelers would sleep on the floor and leave the next night. They always left at night, he remembered.<br />
<br />
When he was old enough, Abell finally told him that he wasn't truly his father. At least, not by blood. Abell was his father in a way, and that Mordecai never doubted. A woman had come along the railroad during the winter. She was sick, almost collapsing at his door. She came with him, at the time just a babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and more blankets than the woman dared use for herself. Abell tried to nurse her back to health - keeping her in bed, warm and trying to get her to eat, but she had a severe fever some days and broke into cold sweats others, delirious from her condition. He never even got her name, he recounted sadly. But from her, came Mordecai, and Abell raised him as if he were his own son.<br />
<br />
It saddened Mordecai, but Abell said that he had his mother's eyes, and she probably couldn't be prouder were she here to see him. Even so, it put distance between him and Abell, not much, but he never quite felt the same after that, and Abell took notice. He was quieter, kept to himself, and perhaps wasn't as happy anymore. But it didn't last for long.<br />
<br />
Two years later, a girl around his age came down the road, seeking shelter. That was a bitter sweet memory, the first time he'd met Lynn. She'd escaped from one of the cities to the north, bearing news of the terrible oppression of the Xitians. She said they'd set up 'camps' now for the rebels they captured, with high walls, disease and execution, back breaking labor and starvation. She didn't know where she was going; she didn't have anywhere to go. According to her the railroad had been broken, the rebellion had gone silent.. Abell suspected as much. He hadn't seen any more rebels since Mordecai was nine.<br />
<br />
She stayed there, for awhile. At first she said it was just until she could figure out where to run next, but it never happened. She stayed with them, and Mordecai was head over heels for her. That was the sad thing in it all. She was a branded rebel, the Xitians were never far, and yet he loved her. She seemed to make him happier than Abell could remember him ever being. When the Lucins came back, years later, the Xitians redoubled their efforts to keep the Mesalians under control, and the monthly patrol came much, much early than expected. Mordecai didn't have time to hide with her in the woods this time. They ran her down on horseback on the road while Abell could only hold him back and watch.<br />
<br />
After they buried her, he knew Mordecai wouldn't stay - the cold forge of revenge bid him to join the gathering armies even as they gained momentum in the fight to save their people. He knew what he planned - and yet he couldn't stop him. He gave him an old sword that was likely passed down in the al'Rakkand family tree for generations. It was light and sleek, curved with only one edge - nothing like the barbarian like crude implements Mordecai dimmly remembered the rebels keeping when he was a child, and resistance was still in motion. It was a wonder that it was never confiscated - and as he took this sword, he heard his father's words that sounded too odd from an old farmer. Remember Mordecai; Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather. It's easier to give in than it is to hold to that duty. Easier to give up in hopelessness sometimes, and easier to trick yourself into fighting to the death in others. Don't ever mistake the two. And no matter how comically stoic those words from his father, a man who must have known nothing of war sounded he remembered them mirthlessly, and they saw him through more than one battle and close call with fate.<br />
<br />
As he set off that day with the warm rays of the fading sun at his back, after helping to dig the grave of the only woman he'd ever loved, Mordecai thought his heart to be iron. That the Xitians and their cursed flames would bend - no, break upon him like hot steel to an anvil. He was right in some ways, wrong in most. He might have been iron, but he was a horseshoe at best. Hard, sure, but horseshoes won no battles. To survive the war, he would have to be a sword.<br />
<br />
After three days walking and riding, he finally reached one of the camps. A banner flew high over it, a red lion's head over a rippling white background. A Mesalian symbol of defiance - a sign that not another step of homeland would they give until staining the very earth red with their blood. Retreat was never an option - and if possible, even more so now. Lucins were among them - their strange powers and ways beyond his understanding, a poor farmboy from the south-western plains. There didn't seem to be much of an organization about them - but there was a leader. Rorand Redmane - a hero of the war that the men around him rallied upon as much as the banner they marched with. With an unbreakable will, and a pride like a lion, and hair as red as apples the man drew his name and legacy. He took one look at Mordecai - wearing his father's sword truly as if a country bumpkin had stepped out from underneath a rock with the idea of being a soldier - and told him to go home. Indignation flamed crimson in his face, as he demanded the right to defend his homeland, his people, and his family, the same as any other soldier. And at first they laughed. But Rorand was curious. What could possibly make a backwards countryman so insistent that he should fight - and possibly die in battle?<br />
<br />
There was no laughter about losing someone dear. They had all undergone similar stories - and lest they forget, they were not soldiers since the day they crawled from their mother's wombs. They let him try - they gave him the chance to be accepted among them, even if doubtfully. They did not have to wait long for him to prove himself. Not two weeks since he arrived in camp, he marched into battle along side them, unflinching and as dedicated as the best man among him. Perhaps even a touch more reckless. After that first battle there were no more doubts. He sat around the fire with the most seasoned of warriors, wounds and all, and shared in their quiet pride and loud revelry. He came to know that they were one of many divisions of a hastily formed military - the 3rd Main Battle Division. "The Lion's Pride", as it came to be known to the other soldiers for their banner that flew high and proud even as they stormed into the fray. The longer he stayed - the more he realized how lucky he was to come into the company of the revered division. He could have met up with a support division, put there to help the wounded, or a rear guard. But fate, or destiny perhaps, would have it be that he came to be a part of them. He survived the first battle, but the second, he fought. The losses were always grave, the wounded always high, but the Mesalian people were stubborn and determined, Mordecai no exception. Even as the front lines fell to the Xitian fire, from men who were not men, but invaders foreign and hated, every man who could continue the charge did, wounded or not with the fervor of a freed and furious people.<br />
<br />
As the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks stretched into months, Mordecai was no longer a grieving backwards farmboy. Perhaps though, he was a grieving, scarred veteran. But he was no longer a boy, he was a man by all accounts, and to his fellow soldiers he became a man of steel, who hated the Xitian more than most - perhaps anyone knew. He was held in almost as high esteem as the head of the division itself. He was given, or perhaps earned, the highest honorary position that was available to anyone in the Mesalian ranks: Banner-man. The position was considered the heart of the division - the steel in their backbones, for as long as that banner hung high, the Meselians would push forward. Through blood and turmoil, death harrying at all sides, they would kill and be killed to see that banner fly higher - and the one trusted with the responsibility of rallying them into that horrible fray was the banner-man.<br />
<br />
He accepted that honor, and rode into many a battle with the cry "Rally to the Lion's Pride! Once more! One more into the fray!". And as he rode with that banner upon his back, he did fight with the fierceness fitting of a Lion. But it was not the end for him - over the years even as he gathered more scars hard won from battle, he rose higher still, to becoming Redmane's Field Commander, head of the lines that crashed into the Xitian ranks beside the Lucin by day, and by night at his side, trusted with strategizing and planning. He was a hero to his fellow soldiers - they would speak of him in awed tones, almost as ferverently as they did of Redmane himself. The tales they spun of him named him "Mordecai Fireheart", more of a legend than a man. The soldiers would follow him to hell and back - they would ride into Dusk outnumbered one-hundred to one loyally at his call, and at the end of the war, most of the division expected to do just that. They were almost drunk with pride and courage - They were the Lion's Pride, the company of heroes that struck terror into the heart of the Xitian ranks, they were the head of the spear that was the Mesalian people's righteous fury. They were warriors, down to the greenest recruit, who would fight for Mesalian honor with grim determination to their last breath, to the last man before they would give in.<br />
<br />
As the war drew to a close, the fierce pride that was characteristic of the Mesalian forces was the staple of the Mesalian people. It became known to the Xitians, to the Lucin, to the world, that Mesalians were a people that would never again be conquered - would never again kneel to anyone. That should the Xitians ever make their way back, their armies would be waiting at the portal - the villagers, man or woman, would march with hammers, hoes and scythes, lay down their lives to defend their families, their freedom, and their people. And at the head of the column, that Lion's Head banner would wave - ever waiting for another challenger to test Mesalian steel.<br />
<br />
And the people did rejoice and mourn, as the Dusk portal was crumbled. The price had been high - the revenge bittersweet to the extreme, but they had won. Already the Mesalian people thought of the next war - the wrath of the Xitians when they found a way back to their lands. Colonies were stretched out among the Forbidden lands, and hope lay with them for the day the Xitians returned, that they would be a sanctuary that, if all else failed, would live to avenge their beautiful people another day.<br />
<br />
After their final victory, to the dismay of Mordecai the unity that had come to the Mesalian people dissolved before his eyes - they went back to life as they had known it, splitting into nomadic tribes, and so too did their glorious armies, and his beloved division. He grew cynical, and almost bitter that the people who had fought so hard to rid the chains that bound them broke apart just as they had before. He thought that the people had learned something - that they had learned the strength of unity, that together they could be the stone that no one could move, that by breaking apart they forfeited all the progress they had made.<br />
<br />
Even Rorand Redmane, for all the good that the bastard was, was content to go back to a hero's welcome, and abandon the way of the sword for a soft life of living in luxury in adulation and fame. Mordecai was not content with such a life. Clinging to the ways of war - the only thing he knew after all these long years, he and his most loyal men of the Division, the same men that would have rode onto Dusk with him instead made camp outside the ruined Xitian gate with the Lucins, who did not forget the heroism they shared together in the war and welcomed them with open arms. The banner of The Lion's Pride still flew high - and each day Mordecai ran a harsher line. Training did not stop. From sunrise to midday drills were ran, and with the dying sun they made camp behind sharpened stakes pointed inwards in a circle around the gate. Over the years, the last division of the Mesalian army faded away. Men, as loyal as they were, were homesick and left to be with their families once more, and with each man that left, The Field Commander's mood darkened. When the civil wars swept his beloved homeland, he grieved, for the Lion of the Middle was no more. Her people would suffer, and die at the hands of these battles he could sit and do nothing. A commander of one.<br />
<br />
Eventually, he began to let go of the past. His only friends left - the Lucins he still made camp with pitied him. They called him "The Dedicated One". A sad name, for a hero who's time had long passed like ash passing through his fingers. Over the years, he came to terms with what had happened, and sought purpose in life once again, a purpose he thought to find in the Forbidden Lands, where he did not have bittersweet memories of a time long past. He'd grown into a stranger then. A stranger to his people, and almost to himself. The fires of passion that carried him on their wings were gone, leaving behind a quiet, solitary man who didn't take pleasure in his war stories. He was bitter about the war now, for it struck too close to the days in which every friend he'd ever known abandoned him. They'd moved on with their lives, he hadn't. But yet, there wasn't much more to him than what the war made him, in a way, making him despise who he was.<br />
<br />
In the Forbidden Lands, he was sure, none would remember the name Mordecai Fireheart. His name would fade from history in the same way Redmane's would. Only he had the decency to live off something other than his name alone in the present.<br />
<br />
Even as bitter as he is, he remembers the price he and his men paid in blood, and tries to live for every man who died by his side in the war, and lights candles beside the old banner he and they fought beneath, giving a quiet prayer each night in hopes that they were somewhere better than this world now.</div></div>
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Characteristics:</span><br />
<br />
Honest - Mordecai sees no point in lieing about anything when it would serve no point. He is honest in that he speaks the truth, but also honest in that he would carry a secret to the grave if he gave his word upon it. It can be a fault at some times or another - he doesn't even bother lieing when it would offend someone else to speak the truth as he saw it.<br />
<br />
Stubborn - Once his mind is set on something you may as well try to move mountains to change it.<br />
<br />
Headstrong - Mordecai would go alone into battle against a thousand Duskspawn if he had to, and he'd do it still wearing that scowl of his when he is dealt his mortal wound. Even as he ages he refuses to acknowledge that he is no longer a young man, and cannot fight as well as he used to, but he would never let that stop him from trying.<br />
<br />
Cynical - Mordecai is one to see the world through bleak shades of grey. If anyone was a stronger pessimist then they'd be suicidal. He's careful not to let it show, most of the time. All men are entitled to share their sorrows; but sulking has it's limits if one is truly a man and not a whiny excuse for one.<br />
<br />
Honorable - One of the most important things to Mordecai, is honor. He sees it as the only true measure of a man's worth, and despises cowards and those who would prey upon others weaker than themselves. In addition, Mordecai refuses to use lethal measures against Lucins and Mesalians unless they pose a threat to other's lives. As a matter of fact, he rarely resorts to drawing his sword to settle disputes. Against Xiatins however, even his honor may make an exception for, as grim as that idea may be.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Skills</span><br />
<br />
Blade Master - Few can truly claim the title Blade Master. Mordecai is one of those few, and facing him in single combat is very inadvisable should he choose to draw his sword.<br />
<br />
Leadership - Mordecai is an excellent leader, and in the war he loved the men who served under his command. He made an explicit rule for himself that he would never ask one under his command to do something he would not, and to lead by example for all who wished to follow.<br />
<br />
Tactician - Mordecai has spent many a night leaning over a battle map, racking his brain on how to work him and his men out of a desperate situation, and has more often than not turned a battle with a cunning wit and a sharp eye for strategy.<br />
<br />
Skinning (Learning) - Mordecai, due to lack of work around the outpost, is restless, and eager to find something useful to do to pass the time. Merc has been teaching him how to skin and prepare animals for the group. He currently only knows the basics - but there isn't much to skinning. With more practice he'll get better.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Name - Allegiance, Relation - Summary</span></span><br />
<br />
Rook - Duty-bound, friendly - Mordecai has come to like Rook. He sees him as a capable leader and an honorable man.<br />
<br />
Daniella - No allegiance, Acquaintance - The girl was easy enough to talk to, and she had managed to make him laugh, but she held foolish ideas about the Xitians that he could not agree with. The Xitians held no honor in his eyes; slave masters and cowardly vultures were never honorable. She tried to dispute him about it, and angered herself in doing so. He is not sure of where he stands with her, so it is simply easier to remain neutral.<br />
<br />
Mittendri - Honor-bound, friendly - Mordecai has become trusting and friendly to Mitty. He still owes her for his set of swords, perhaps more than he had before, and is bound by honor to his commitment, but he doesn't necessarily mind.<br />
<br />
Dr. Colette Morteen - Honor-bound, love - Mordecai has come to realize deep feelings and affection for Cole, and strives to bring out the same in her for him, and through it all Cole doesn't seem to mind.<br />
<br />
Merc - No allegiance, Acquaintance - Mordecai only knows the man named Merc as a man who teaches him how to skin and prepare animals. Merc seems to have some sort of animosity towards him, but Mordecai tries not to let himself be drawn into disputes of any kind, as a part of maintaining his honor.<br />
<br />
Dusken - No allegiance, acquaintance -  A strange, cheery girl who seems to be permanently upbeat.<br />
<br />
Dawn - Unknown, Unknown - Mordecai is slightly irritated at Dawn's wanderings from tutor to  tutor in the sword, for she'd given him the impression that she wished to be his student in his Odyanka ken-ryu style. Instead, he has witnessed her asking some upstart for schooling.<br />
<br />
None the less - he would not draw himself into it. If she wished to dishonor him by seeking a new teacher, then she could have at it, but he would not chase after her.<br />
<br />
Joel - Student, acquaintance - Joel wishes to be taught the use of the sword. Mordecai is more than happy to fulfill that wish, so long as he can be taught.<br />
<br />
Zarkaylia - Duty-bound, friendly - Zarkaylia fought in the war, same as him, and seems to share some of the same ideals and experiences with him. She's easy to talk to, and seems to be a good leader.<br />
<br />
Conradian - Duty-bound, acquaintance - Conradian, much like Zarkaylia, fought in the war, same as Mordecai. He hasn't gotten much of a chance to talk with Con, however. So although bound by duty to follow his and Zark's leadership, he would not go so far as to call their relationship 'friendship'.<br />
<br />
Xemnes - No allegiance, estranged - Mordecai does not believe in holding onto past judgements - new information requires reevaluation of how a person or a situation is judged, but right now, his current view of Xemnes is that he is a coward, and one who wishes to intimidate others lesser than he. <br />
<br />
Darren - No allegiance, cautious - Darren is an obstinate man-child who is honorless, and irritating. But, as usual, Mordecai refuses to draw himself into disputes, but would more than gladly pounce at the opportunity to reduce him into a shriveling worm, begging upon the ground for mercy, should he cause violence within the camp, as Master Rook seemed to imply he would.</div></div>]]></content:encoded>
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		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[The Musings of Conradian Larson]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=22</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 19 Feb 2013 20:29:23 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=13">Conradian</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=22</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="color: #004000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Conradian Owyn Larson</span></span></span><br />
<br />
[center]<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="color: #454545;" class="mycode_color">An old war veteran born and raised in the upper streets of Chrysaor. He later became a guard captain, before abandoning his duty after seeing the corruption he served. He left for the Forbidden Lands, and settled in Nympha. He became a guard and later the mayor of Nympha, studying architecture over his years there. He left for Auria in search of his lost love and settled in. He served as Mayor of Auria, and following its destruction now leads a lost people in search of a new home.</span></span>[/center]<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img834/636/conrad1.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: conrad1.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Age:</span><br />
56<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Birthday:</span><br />
15th of every month (IRL)<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Race:</span><br />
Mesalian<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Gender:</span><br />
Male<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Homeland:</span><br />
Mainland<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hometown:</span><br />
Chrysaor<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Appearance:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Height:</span><br />
5'11"<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hair:</span><br />
Straight but messily unkempt silver-blonde hair that hangs mid length for a male. He has a fringe that sweeps to the right side of his face.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Facial Hair:</span><br />
He has a small goatee, that now has silvered like the rest of his hair.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Facial Features:</span><br />
A thick-set jawline and a slightly pronounced brow that have always given an appearance of seriousness that Conrad belays with his kindness.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Eyes:</span><br />
Sharp feral blue eyes, so sharply blue that he has on occasion been mistaken for a Lucin. His eyes are full of wisdom, world-weariness and compassion.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Body:</span><br />
He has a muscular build shaped from years of active service, now maintained by daily training, and regular endeavours with manual labour. His forearms bear three horizontal scars upon each, identical to the similarly positioned scar on the other arm. Another sharp scar adorns the right side of his face. Upon his chest a large burnt scar cuts through his left pectoral. Plates of metal sit inside the confines of the burn, fused to his skin.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Clothes:</span><br />
Wears a plain short-sleeved black tunic tucked into plain brown trousers. The trousers are held up by a simple black leather belt with a small golden buckle. He wears dark brown leather boots (similar to modern-day military boots). He wears a long dark grey overcoat now trimmed in golden thread, with brass buttons. He also wears black leather gloves.<br />
<br />
From his hip hangs the sheath of his famed blade. The blade is a broadsword of ornate steel, but the cutting edge on either side is cut and polished diamond that seems to grow into a blade from within the steel body. The sheath is thick and made of tough leather with an ornate steel cap, the bottom half of the sheath for the most length lies open, allowing the light to dance with the diamond surface of the cutting edge.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Comments:</span><br />
Conrad is a well-built man who's now feeling older than he is. He keeps in shape, and has rugged, chiselled features. He has  a scruffy goatee and could be considered fairly handsome, not that he'd ever consider using it for personal gain.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Behaviour';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Behaviour';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Behaviour</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Conrad is a man of action, and so walks with purpose. He stands such that he shows strength, and usually crosses his arms when annoyed or frustrated. Should he be angered, feel threatened, or feel that swift action may be needed his hand will often find itself subconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword. Despite his powerful presence, his emotions are plain to see, and he usually displays openness to any. He often uses a fairly limited amount of body language, the most common being his nods which he uses in greeting, agreement, and anything else where he feels nodding is appropiate. Conrad will usually chuckle to show when he is not being serious, and will smile to reassure.<br />
<br />
Conrad's fight style, Gods forbid he use them, are fast and heavy, a most dangerous combination. He will throw in heavy swipes, darting in close behind them to follow up with a jab or elbow to the body. He can incapacitate fast, and his broadsword saves him from attacks at that range that other swords would struggle to cope with.<br />
<br />
Conrad is able to operate in secrecy, and should he find need of it will not hesitate to lie, though he acts in this way only for the good of all he aims to protect. He heads the highly secret organisation known as the Ordo Umbra after recently being handed the broken remains by his friend and blood-brother Erasmus Khaine.</div></div>
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality Traits';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality Traits';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality Traits</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Good traits:</span><br />
 - Decisive, able to make the tough decisions<br />
 - Patient, will listen to over people's issues<br />
 - Kind, shows great compassion for all who preside within his town<br />
 - Helpful, always willing to give a helping hand<br />
 - Workaholic, being builder, architect and mayor keeps Conradian busy, and luckily he enjoys it that way<br />
 - Intelligent, good knowledge of the world, especially urban knowledge and architecture<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Neutral traits:</span><br />
 - Fostering a renewed sense of belief in the Old Gods.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Bad Traits:</span><br />
 - Stubborn, tends to develop his own view and then won't be easily dissuaded<br />
 - Fiery, can quickly turn to anger under provocation<br />
 - Dark, he is willing to do whatever it takes to reach certain goals</div></div>
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Long-Term Character Objectives:</span><br />
 - Set up a coordinated guild for construction efforts in Ravenna.<br />
 - Pass leadership on to someone worthy of the burden.<br />
 - Rebuild the Ordo Umbra.<br />
 - Stay in people's good books as best as possible.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Short-Term Character Objectives:</span><br />
 - Get the whole group in one place for the winter.<br />
 - Learn more about these suspicious Xitians if possible, but try not to anger them.<br />
 - Clear the town centre of spiders completely.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Character Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Character Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Character Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #d113ee;" class="mycode_color">Family/Brethren</span><br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Good Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #6cdd23;" class="mycode_color">Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #239edd;" class="mycode_color">Liked</span><br />
<span style="color: #bebebe;" class="mycode_color">Indifferent</span><br />
<span style="color: #ddd123;" class="mycode_color">Suspicious</span><br />
<span style="color: #dd9323;" class="mycode_color">Dislike</span><br />
<span style="color: #dd2423;" class="mycode_color">Hate</span><br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Dead/Gone</span><br />
[rule]<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #d113ee;" class="mycode_color">Ezri Connors</span>: Ez... She is still beautiful and feisty, despite having borne a child. I respect her greatly, and I could not imagine life without her. I'm sure it'd be far too boring anyway.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Thomas Darl</span>: I hope our training can continue, though Thomas seems far less trusting after what happened between myself and his mother. I've really got stuck in the doldrums there.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia Darl</span>: I can't lie to myself. I have grown close to Zarkaylia, and that is worrying, for she is married to a man I'm sure would murder me. I must repress my feelings for her.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Darren Darkfellow</span>: You've disappeared once more, with your sister in tow. Knowing the way our fates are aligned we'll likely meet again someday... I just hope you'll have finally grown up by then.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Dr. Morteen</span>: She killed Daniella, she tried to kill more with her 'experiments'. I'm glad she's gone, and that makes me feel horrible.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme and Voice';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme and Voice';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Theme and Voice</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Themes:</span><br />
A theme for his usual self. His very presence can usher in a sense of greatness brought on by decades of fighting for what is right:<br />
<br />
[youtube]RPYMHWeY9L4[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
A theme very much for his more epic moments, and for times of action:<br />
<br />
[youtube]gUWPg53ILek[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Voice:</span><br />
Finding a voice for Conrad has always been hard. He's a character so heavily based on my being, and my fantasies, that I've always just imagined a more matured and gruff form of my voice. Nevertheless I've tried to find a voice which I think suits him, and this is it:<br />
<br />
[youtube]3XK_U7rOIkM[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
Peter Cullen's usual voice is what I'm talking about, as opposed to his awesome Optimus voice. Just imagine it with a slight British slant on it, and you've got Conrad</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Backstory</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Still not added.</div></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="color: #004000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Conradian Owyn Larson</span></span></span><br />
<br />
[center]<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="color: #454545;" class="mycode_color">An old war veteran born and raised in the upper streets of Chrysaor. He later became a guard captain, before abandoning his duty after seeing the corruption he served. He left for the Forbidden Lands, and settled in Nympha. He became a guard and later the mayor of Nympha, studying architecture over his years there. He left for Auria in search of his lost love and settled in. He served as Mayor of Auria, and following its destruction now leads a lost people in search of a new home.</span></span>[/center]<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://imageshack.us/a/img834/636/conrad1.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: conrad1.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Age:</span><br />
56<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Birthday:</span><br />
15th of every month (IRL)<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Race:</span><br />
Mesalian<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Gender:</span><br />
Male<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Homeland:</span><br />
Mainland<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hometown:</span><br />
Chrysaor<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Appearance:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Height:</span><br />
5'11"<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Hair:</span><br />
Straight but messily unkempt silver-blonde hair that hangs mid length for a male. He has a fringe that sweeps to the right side of his face.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Facial Hair:</span><br />
He has a small goatee, that now has silvered like the rest of his hair.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Facial Features:</span><br />
A thick-set jawline and a slightly pronounced brow that have always given an appearance of seriousness that Conrad belays with his kindness.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Eyes:</span><br />
Sharp feral blue eyes, so sharply blue that he has on occasion been mistaken for a Lucin. His eyes are full of wisdom, world-weariness and compassion.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Body:</span><br />
He has a muscular build shaped from years of active service, now maintained by daily training, and regular endeavours with manual labour. His forearms bear three horizontal scars upon each, identical to the similarly positioned scar on the other arm. Another sharp scar adorns the right side of his face. Upon his chest a large burnt scar cuts through his left pectoral. Plates of metal sit inside the confines of the burn, fused to his skin.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Clothes:</span><br />
Wears a plain short-sleeved black tunic tucked into plain brown trousers. The trousers are held up by a simple black leather belt with a small golden buckle. He wears dark brown leather boots (similar to modern-day military boots). He wears a long dark grey overcoat now trimmed in golden thread, with brass buttons. He also wears black leather gloves.<br />
<br />
From his hip hangs the sheath of his famed blade. The blade is a broadsword of ornate steel, but the cutting edge on either side is cut and polished diamond that seems to grow into a blade from within the steel body. The sheath is thick and made of tough leather with an ornate steel cap, the bottom half of the sheath for the most length lies open, allowing the light to dance with the diamond surface of the cutting edge.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Comments:</span><br />
Conrad is a well-built man who's now feeling older than he is. He keeps in shape, and has rugged, chiselled features. He has  a scruffy goatee and could be considered fairly handsome, not that he'd ever consider using it for personal gain.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Behaviour';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Behaviour';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Behaviour</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Conrad is a man of action, and so walks with purpose. He stands such that he shows strength, and usually crosses his arms when annoyed or frustrated. Should he be angered, feel threatened, or feel that swift action may be needed his hand will often find itself subconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword. Despite his powerful presence, his emotions are plain to see, and he usually displays openness to any. He often uses a fairly limited amount of body language, the most common being his nods which he uses in greeting, agreement, and anything else where he feels nodding is appropiate. Conrad will usually chuckle to show when he is not being serious, and will smile to reassure.<br />
<br />
Conrad's fight style, Gods forbid he use them, are fast and heavy, a most dangerous combination. He will throw in heavy swipes, darting in close behind them to follow up with a jab or elbow to the body. He can incapacitate fast, and his broadsword saves him from attacks at that range that other swords would struggle to cope with.<br />
<br />
Conrad is able to operate in secrecy, and should he find need of it will not hesitate to lie, though he acts in this way only for the good of all he aims to protect. He heads the highly secret organisation known as the Ordo Umbra after recently being handed the broken remains by his friend and blood-brother Erasmus Khaine.</div></div>
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality Traits';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Personality Traits';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Personality Traits</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Good traits:</span><br />
 - Decisive, able to make the tough decisions<br />
 - Patient, will listen to over people's issues<br />
 - Kind, shows great compassion for all who preside within his town<br />
 - Helpful, always willing to give a helping hand<br />
 - Workaholic, being builder, architect and mayor keeps Conradian busy, and luckily he enjoys it that way<br />
 - Intelligent, good knowledge of the world, especially urban knowledge and architecture<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Neutral traits:</span><br />
 - Fostering a renewed sense of belief in the Old Gods.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Bad Traits:</span><br />
 - Stubborn, tends to develop his own view and then won't be easily dissuaded<br />
 - Fiery, can quickly turn to anger under provocation<br />
 - Dark, he is willing to do whatever it takes to reach certain goals</div></div>
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Long-Term Character Objectives:</span><br />
 - Set up a coordinated guild for construction efforts in Ravenna.<br />
 - Pass leadership on to someone worthy of the burden.<br />
 - Rebuild the Ordo Umbra.<br />
 - Stay in people's good books as best as possible.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Short-Term Character Objectives:</span><br />
 - Get the whole group in one place for the winter.<br />
 - Learn more about these suspicious Xitians if possible, but try not to anger them.<br />
 - Clear the town centre of spiders completely.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Character Relations';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Character Relations';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Character Relations</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="color: #d113ee;" class="mycode_color">Family/Brethren</span><br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Good Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #6cdd23;" class="mycode_color">Friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #239edd;" class="mycode_color">Liked</span><br />
<span style="color: #bebebe;" class="mycode_color">Indifferent</span><br />
<span style="color: #ddd123;" class="mycode_color">Suspicious</span><br />
<span style="color: #dd9323;" class="mycode_color">Dislike</span><br />
<span style="color: #dd2423;" class="mycode_color">Hate</span><br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Dead/Gone</span><br />
[rule]<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #d113ee;" class="mycode_color">Ezri Connors</span>: Ez... She is still beautiful and feisty, despite having borne a child. I respect her greatly, and I could not imagine life without her. I'm sure it'd be far too boring anyway.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Thomas Darl</span>: I hope our training can continue, though Thomas seems far less trusting after what happened between myself and his mother. I've really got stuck in the doldrums there.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00BF40;" class="mycode_color">Zarkaylia Darl</span>: I can't lie to myself. I have grown close to Zarkaylia, and that is worrying, for she is married to a man I'm sure would murder me. I must repress my feelings for her.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Darren Darkfellow</span>: You've disappeared once more, with your sister in tow. Knowing the way our fates are aligned we'll likely meet again someday... I just hope you'll have finally grown up by then.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: line-through;" class="mycode_s">Dr. Morteen</span>: She killed Daniella, she tried to kill more with her 'experiments'. I'm glad she's gone, and that makes me feel horrible.</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme and Voice';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Theme and Voice';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Theme and Voice</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Themes:</span><br />
A theme for his usual self. His very presence can usher in a sense of greatness brought on by decades of fighting for what is right:<br />
<br />
[youtube]RPYMHWeY9L4[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
A theme very much for his more epic moments, and for times of action:<br />
<br />
[youtube]gUWPg53ILek[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Voice:</span><br />
Finding a voice for Conrad has always been hard. He's a character so heavily based on my being, and my fantasies, that I've always just imagined a more matured and gruff form of my voice. Nevertheless I've tried to find a voice which I think suits him, and this is it:<br />
<br />
[youtube]3XK_U7rOIkM[/youtube]<br />
<br />
<br />
Peter Cullen's usual voice is what I'm talking about, as opposed to his awesome Optimus voice. Just imagine it with a slight British slant on it, and you've got Conrad</div></div>
<div class="spoiler_wrap"><div class="spoiler_header"><a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="javascript:if(parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display=='block'){parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='none';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[+]&quot; alt=&quot;[+]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse_collapsed.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}else {parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].style.display='block';this.innerHTML='&lt;img title=&quot;[-]&quot; alt=&quot;[-]&quot; src=&quot;/images/collapse.png&quot; class=&quot;expandspoiler&quot; /&gt;Backstory';}"><img title="[+]" alt="[+]" src="/images/collapse_collapsed.png" class="expandspoiler" />Backstory</a></div><div class="spoiler_body" style="display: none;">Still not added.</div></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Daniella Calin - Forest Child]]></title>
			<link>https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=11</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 19 Feb 2013 17:32:24 +0000</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://www.mesalia.net/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=15">Demotheus</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mesalia.net/forum/showthread.php?tid=11</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
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