History Of The People

[Neelahn]

The following is the list of character bios.

---
Callidus - Calli'dus Paradun (Page 1)
Alice Cullen - Cassa Dar (The Swamp Witch) (Page 1)
Ephmereal - Rayce "Reis" Macksius (Page 1)
Filendie - Filendie Garren (Page 1)
Neelahn - Neelahn (Page 1), Laurana Tikan (Page 1)
Raven - Methrin Raikuo Séregon (Page 1)

[Alice Cullen]

Cassa Dar

Name: Cassa Dar

Level: ??

Element: Swamp

Age: Unknown

Race: Dwarf

Birth Place: Southern Mountains of Gul’gotha

Class: Alchemist

Appearance: Cassa Dar typically appears to others as a blue eyed, highly charismatic young woman. Her hair color is forever changing but it is normally a deep green, matching the Wit’ch’s surroundings. When in this form or speaking through a vessel, her voice is low and soothing, yet stern and powerful. Although she is able to take on whichever shape she pleases, her true appearance is that of a D’warf and the sound of her voice is harsh gravel compared to the smooth tones of her preferred form. There are few that know this about, the one they call The Swamp Wit’ch.

Personality: She is highly intelligent and willing to share her knowledge with those who are worthy of her time and patience. She is always true to her word. Cassa also shows a great deal of respect for her Dwarven history. However she is very opinionated on this topic so speak on such thing with her as your own risk.

History:
In the southern mountains of Gul’gotha, Cassa Dar and her dwarven brethren lived in peace, trading their forged good to the human settlements of the northern Gul’gotha and sometimes even across the waters to the neighboring lands. That is how she remembers her people and her homeland. At this time Cassa had a loving family, a few brothers, a scolding mother and a proud father. Then everything changed.

A troupe of deep miners discovered a vein of ore leagues under the mountain. They had never seen such a stone: blacker than the darkest tunnel and impervious to any tool. Undaunted and determined to mine this vein, they used the kingdom’s strongest hammer to attack the stone. They employed the Try’sil, The Hammer of Thunder. Its magick-wrought iron was said to shatter any stone. And this claim proved true. The stone was mined and given the name ebon’ stone by its discoverers. At first, it was greatly treasured; every D’warf lord lusted to work a piece, to prove his skill at fashioning the new ore. Bowls, cups, plates, swords, even statues were carved from the material.

Then something happened. The stone began to warp and bind the D’warven people in ways they did not understand. The lands too, began to sicken and poison. Volcanoes grew, and the ground constantly shook. Gasses and ask soured the skies. Poisonous beasts, the Mul’gothra and Skal’tum, began to appear from pits deep under the mountains. From somewhere, the Dark Lord arose among their people, almost as if out the bowels of the land. Some said the Black Heart was a D’warf one who has succumbed to the stone’s black magick, while others said he came from the stone itself, released by out miners from the ebon’ stone tomb. No one knew for sure, but all knew that the corruption of their people was under way. Some tried to fight it; some fled from it. Cassa Dar’s parents sold her to the assassins, not for the silver from the sale, but to get her away from those lands. She was sent out to Alasea before the stranglehold of the Black Heart was complete. She too could see the result of the Dark Lord’s hold on her people. It was a D’warf army that came to Castle Drakk and slaughtered her teachers and friends. They came with beasts and monsters and laid siege to their keep. Along with them came the blackguard, the foulest of the ill‘guard. Where the ill’guard are bound to their ebon’ stone talismans, the blackguard were fused in the stone itself. Their very skin was impenetrable ebon‘stone. They attacked this foul creature with every weapon and magick in the castle’s arsenal, but all failed to pierce its stone skin. It was an unstoppable storm that swept over Cassa and her friends, killing all in its path. Only Cassa had an inkling of its true purpose. Only she understood the weapon held in its black fist. It had come to the Castle Drakk with the Try’sil.

The founders of Castle Drakk chose it location because the cliffs surrounding it on either side come together to make a point at the southern fang. The southern fang is one of the world locus points of the land’s deep magicks, as is the northern fang. From these two fangs, potent magicks flow out like snowmelt from the other peaks to form channels and rivers of energy through the lands. Below the cellars of Castle Drakk lies just such a river. It fed the entire region all the way to the Archipelago. Cassa Dar failed to understand what the blackguard was doing skulking through the cellars of her castle with their people’s most treasured possession in its foul fist. So she decided to follow the creature, which completely ignored her, believing that is was a member of its D’warf army. The creature delved deeper into the caves under the cellar, places the founders may not have even known about. But the blackguard moved unerringly as if it were on the scent of some prey. Finally, it came to rest in a huge cavern as large as a ballroom. Along the floor lay a thick vein of pure silver.

Even Cassa Dar could tell that this was most then precious metal that ran through this vein. The magick contained therein sang to the elemental powers in her blood. Through only crudely trained in her magicks, she knew that here laid a font of pure power. Before she could react, the blackguard stalked to this vein and smashed it with the Try’sil. The hammer tore the vein of silver and the entire world shook, the cavern swelled with magick as the channel burst. It bathed Cassa in the raw magicks, swelling her with potent energies. As the quake settled, she touched her magick. Vines and moss bent to her will, sprouting from a rock and attacking the blackguard. She knew what the creature did was an abomination to the land and had to be stopped. So She thrashed at it, but its stone skin was impervious to her magick. Vines cannot choke stone. Undeterred, the black guard raised the Try’sil again and hammered at the vein of silver. Even more violent quakes occurred. Cassa knew if the hammer stuck again, the vein would be completely severed and these lands would be forever lost. She renewed her attack. As she lashed out at the blackguard, her probing vines discovered tiny chinks in its stone skin where reverberations from the use of the Try’sil had cracked its ebon’stone armor. She sent her smallest vines and mosses through these chinks to attack the D’warf inside. She tore at him and shredded him from inside. As he fell dying, the Try’sil tumbled from his raised fingers to strike his head. The hammer split the blackguard’s stone helmet and revealed the D’warf inside. With death near, he was finally released from the Dark Lord’s enslavement. He turned to her with the eyes that recognized the horrors he had committed.

Cassa Dar knew this D’warf. It was her brother. As the waters rose, it was his dying thanks, as he chocked on her vines that finally chased her from the chamber. Sick at the heart, Cassa did not think to grab the Try’sil but simply ran. The hammer stayed down there, under roots of Castle Drakk, awaiting its next master.

Weapons: Staves, Daggers, And Light Throwing Weapons

Magic/Fusions:
>Level One
>Level Two
>Level Three
>Level Four
>Level Five
>Level Six
>Level Seven
>Level Eight
>Level Nine
>Level Ten

[Filendie]

Filendie

Level: ??

Name: Filendie Garren

Element: Ice

Age: 28

Race: Human

Birth Place: Rumor

Class: Dark Arch-Mage

Appearance: Filendie’s appearance is somewhat unsociable to most people. To them he seems the unwelcoming type of person that wouldn’t even spit on you if you were on fire. His slightly feminine face is well curved and appears to be sculpted from the finest pale clay by the finest sculptor, almost too perfect and has been mistaken for one of the Elven several times. His perfect features are framed by Jet Black Hair, which is neatly swept back away from his eyes and flows freely down to his broad shoulders. When even the barest spot of sun light catches his long mane it changes from a midnight sky to storm of slivers and greys. His slender figure makes him seem fragile and delicate but under the skin he is battle hardened and wont hesitate to defend himself or fight for what he believes in. His small frame is only very slightly toned and stands five foot eleven inches tall. His long black leather trench-coat comfortably hides a tight black tank top and a figure hugging pair of boot-cut leather trousers that rest on black leather shoes. His eyes are tainted through years of constant use in the dark arts of magic, making it appear like his eyes have absorbed the very ink from the pages he once studied from. Weather day or night his eyes remain as two all seeing black pupils, making him seem emotionless, even the rare smiles he cracks his lips into seem fake and un-meant. People who do gaze into those black holes get drawn in and are lost in the dark pools of nothingness.

Personality: He may look like the dark crusader or the wannabe bad boy, but he is a reasonable. His abilities show a different side of him as an icy tempered Dark Mage who has the eyes as dark and a midnight sky. But in truth he spends his time training and occasionally protecting places he visits if needed. He is a sharp spoken person and could cut you off in the middle of an argument with a motion of his hand and a stare from those eyes.

History: Filendie was born in the farming village of Rumor, which was located south-west of Alasea. The village was the main source of food for many places like Gelph, Tular and The Isles of Kell. The crops grew so well due to many small rivers which ran straight through the village. They were linked to the pure waters of The Moon Lake, which spilled out next to the boiling seas. While Filendie was still young his father took him on his cart to Gelph so he too could learn the family trade quickly while his mother stayed home and farmed. He would go on the cart once or twice every moon and enjoy spending time with his father. When he got older he was even allowed to cross over on the boat to the Isles of Kell to deliver goods to the stores and clients. Kell was spanned across three islands with vast towns on each one. All sorts of people resided on the islands, shady as well as friendly. When he was nineteen he was aloud to take his first load of farmed and fished goods by himself to Gelph. This carried on for a few months while he got used to his own company and the art of bartering on his own without his father to back him up. He was no way as good at selling things and often came back with less than what the cargo was worth. He gradually got better until he even surpassed his father at trading. The first time he came back with over twice the amount the cargo was he was aloud to travel to Tular. As good as he may have been, the people in Tular didn’t have the same respect for him as they did for his father. He came back without selling anything and instead tried his hand at the Isles Of Kell. At the three Isles he was doing well, selling almost everything at the first Isle, buying more in cheap bulk and selling it for more than it was worth. His parents were extremely pleased and his father only made trips to Tular and the rest of the time helped with the farming so Filendie could sell more.

One day he arrived on the last of the three Islands with more supplies than normal. It was the end of the week and he had sold goods to most of the people. but while he was delivering food to one of the libraries, his client tried to get one over on him and refused to pay. Once they found out Filendie wasn’t going to leave without payment of some sorts the man gave up but quickly realised he couldn’t afford to pay him. After much arguing and reasoning the owned of the library came out of one of the back rooms with something under his cloak and was acting rather suspicious. Filendie grew weary and stood as he reached the table with a hand resting on his daggers hilt. The man revealed a book which looked in perfect condition but he claimed it was the oldest and rarest book he had, and he was willing to give it up in payment of everything he had. At first Filendie declined, but once he uttered the first passage from the book a spark of Balefire ignited on one of the pages. Snapping the book closed he made it a deal. On his hurried journey home he couldn’t take his eyes off of the book and barely missed hitting a tree on several occasions. Once he arrived home receive a scalding from his parents, they were growing greedy due to the riches Filendie was delivering them. He tried to tell them about it but they merely took the book from him and threw it on the fire. He stormed out in a rage and stayed the night with the horses in the stable. The next day Filendie made his way back into the house and readied for his journey back to Kell, on his way out the door he noticed the book was still in tact under the burnt remains of the coals without a single blemish or burn mark. Tucking the book away he made his way out, saddled up the horses, loaded up the cart and headed back to Kell. He found that he could only practice with a weapon charged with dark power and ritualised in the wine of the mother, which he figured, was the blood of an animal charged with elemental gifts. He didn’t return home that night, instead he bought a staff and practiced the ritual to find the wine of the mother.

To his surprise a deer poked its head from around the corner of a tree almost straight away. He smiled at the beauty of the creature, but quickly realised he already had his hand on his daggers hilt. He reached out his free hand toward it and it gullibly came towards him. He sat and petted the creature for a small while, at the same time plucking up courage to do what was needed. Without hesitation he closed his eyes and cut the dear deep into its soft flesh. He held it down until it stopped convulsing and breathed a sigh of relief. Wasting no time he looked around for anyone watching and began extracting the heart. Once done he drenched his newly bought weapon until not one part of it was anything but red. He rested the heart on the crystal at the tip of the staff carefully and said the books incantation. He watched as the red seeped into the metal of the staff and the heart was sucked dry, looking at himself he had no blood remaining on his clothes. Picking up the staff he turned to run from the corpse of the dear, but before he did, something made him touch it with the end of his staff. Its pink flesh was sucked dry of blood as the flesh turned grey, the hairs singed and burned away and the whole dear burst into balefire until nothing was left. The crystal was turned from a bright white to a dark red, almost black. He hid his staff in the stump of a tree and as much as it pained him he left it to head home. From that day he practiced from the book every time he went to Kell on his own. He got stronger quickly and memorised the entire book in a few days. He learned of a power ritual and adapted it to drain the energy of the book. One day he went to his staff to find a Raven standing over it. He thought nothing of it but noticed it watched him practice. Every day afterwards it was there waiting for him until he gave it a name and it began to travel with him. One night it spoke to him in a way he could understand and had learnt from the book that he had been chosen by the bird so it became his familiar. The more time he spend with the bird he had name Setil the more he became connected with it through the mind as well as senses.

Wanting more knowledge and finding no other books he could learn from, he grew bitter and didn’t want anyone else to learn what he had. Having already draining the book he destroyed it by simply throwing it on the same fire it had been tossed on before. He abandoned his village and family in search of other books like it in order to find out more. He travelled for what it felt like an eternity and it took him years to find the next book. By this time he was powerful enough to learn and master every spell behind the covers in only a few weeks. Finding another book a few months later he settled down in Windhan next to the barrier Islands and practiced the art of dark magic further in peace. After a few more months he became bored of perfecting his skills and left the village quickly. His search for knowledge took him all the way across Alasea to Penryn, being the closest place to Blackhall where everything was dark and chaos, he figured he would find something new. Not surprisingly he found many more volumes in wreckages in which to study further but waited until he was safer, away from Blackhall.

He carried on his studies, which took him to Lands End, Port Rawl and finally Shadowbrook where he stopped and perfected his techniques. There were few other places to visit but Alesea was growing more and more over-run by more and more powerful beings. Even with his adept knowledge of the dark arts it was still hard to travel as little as a few miles out of town without help or a scout, but this was not an option as the Dark Arts quickly linked a person to the Ill’Guard and was quickly disposed of. He now spends his time working as a librarian, studying Alasea’s past whenever he can and learning about something called a Focus point and wondering if it could be of use to him.

Weapons: Staff, Dagger, Wand

Familiar: Setil a very smart Raven

Magic/Fusions:
>Trainee
>Level One
>Level Two
>Level Three
>Level Four
>Level Five
>Level Six
>Level Seven
>Level Eight
>Level Nine: Powered Up (Mod’s Only)
>Level Ten: Higher Being (Super Mod’s Only)

[Neelahn]

Neelahn

Name: Neelahn

Level: ??

Element: Nature

Age: Unknown

Race: Nyphai

Birth Place: Lok’ai’hera

Class: Bard

Appearance: Neelahn’s small form is covered mid-length with honey blonde hair. Her face, young with a buttered complexion and a rosebud for lips, belies the look of her violet eyes: A sadness and grace that could only come from the passage of many hard winters. She carries with her, the heart and spirit of the last of the Koa’kona tree, her lute. A deep dark red, almost black, and the grain of the wood seems to whirl on the surface. It is a part of her, like a soul to any human.

Personality: Neelahn was once happy in her home in Lok’ai’hera. When the blight came and twisted her people, she became timid and lonely. The last of her kind, and the only one who can save the Koa’kona trees, she has grown to be quiet but wise. She speaks rarely of her past. But her bottled emotions prove to be underestimated often. For most do not realize the power within.

History:

…“Beyond the Teeth, deep in the depths of the Western Reaches, there once stood an ancient grove of Koa’kona trees. Do you still know them –the Koa’kona, the spirit trees? Or have you forgotten them?”

“I remember the one that stood in the center of A’loa Glen.” The answer seemed to come from an unknown source. “I believe it is dead,”

A tear rolled down her cheek. She continued, a sadness edging her words. “The grove was called Lok’ai’hera, the heart of the forest. It was my home.”

“I’m sorry,” the voice said to her. “What happened to your home?”

Her shoulders wilted. “It is a long tale of a time before your people first stepped upon the land. A curse was placed upon our spirit trees by a foul race called the Elv’in.” She seemed to draw inward, away from the dusty room. “Over countless years, we sought a way to stop the death of our trees. But the Blight, the ancient curse of the Elv’in, spread. Leaves turned to dust in our fingers; branches sagged, riddled with grubs. Our mighty home dwindled down to a small handful of Koa’kona trees. Even these handful where doomed to die until a mage of your people came and preserved the last of our trees with a Chyric blessing. But as Chi’s power vanished from the land, the blight returned. Our homes once again began to die. Trees that had thrived since the land was young failed to flower. Strong limbs began to droop. And with our trees, our people began to die.”

“Your people?” The voice answered again

“My sisters and our spirits. We are tied to our trees as you are to your soul. One cannot live without the other.”

“You-“

She brushed her fine hair from her face. “I am of the Nyphai.”

“You’re a nymph?”

A tiny scowl scarred her lips. “So your people have called us.”

“But my father said you couldn’t live more that a hundred steps from your trees. How can you be here, half a world away?”

“He was wrong.” Neelahn placed a hand on her lute. “We must be near our spirit, not the tree. A master woodwright of the Western Reaches carved this lute from the dying heart of the last tree… My tree. Her spirit resides in the wood. Her music is the song of ancient trees. She calls to those who still remember the magick.”…

Weapons: Lute, Daggers, Throwing Weapons, Staves

Magic/Fusions:
>Level One
>Level Two
>Level Three
>Level Four
>Level Five
>Level Six
>Level Seven
>Level Eight
>Level Nine

[Filendie]

Rayce Macksius

Level: 1

Name: Rayce "Reis" Macksius

Element: -

Age: 16

Race: Human

Birth Place: Barrier Islands

Class: Fighter

Appearance:
Physical
Rayce stands at five feet seven, and has shoulder-length black hair. Her black hair has pink highlights. She has lilac-pink eyes, which seem almost translucent in the light. Her skin is a healthy peach, and her fingernails are usually painted black.

Clothing
Usually dressed in tube tops and mini skirts, Rayce prefers the colour black. Typical of her, as a Goth. However, if the occasion calls for it, she will put on a kimono or a robe, and even a dress.

Accesories
Rayce has a belt choker with a cross pendant.

Personality: Rayce is cool and stoic, especially so when meeting new people that she doesn't know. She also has a sharp tongue, and sarcasm is almost second nature to her. However, if you do get past that Icy Queen demeanour, she is really bubbly and cheerful.

History:
Ever since she was a little girl, Rayce had been raised in the Barrier Islands. She lived with her parents, and older brother Blake. The Barrier Islands was a beautiful place - with bright sun and warm weather, and the beach was simply lovely. However, Rayce was one of those people who could never get a tan.
When she was young, Rayce had watched Blake training by the beach, and gradually Rayce was trained by her brother. The two became an infamous duo, often seen by the beach at eight in the morning all the way to sunset.
Rayce's hard work paid off though. She was soon the toughest girl in town, and nobody dared mess with her. Blake was sent off to work in the army fighting against the Dark Forces, and Rayce dreamed to be alongside her brother once more.
Her dreams were shattered though, when news came back. Eager to hear from her brother, Rayce stood by her parents, waiting to hear what wonderful news it contained. She hoped it would be something good. Something good, however, seemed far from the truth. Her mother instantly wailed and beat her chest, while her father just stood there, paper in hand.
Rayce was shocked by her parents' reaction. She grabbed the paper, and after reading the contents, she herself cried. Blake was never coming back. Never.
She began to isolate herself from her parents, and almost never went to the beach again. She only went when she felt like going, and somehow, her behaviour alarmed her parents. Time passed quickly though, and Rayce grew into a beautiful girl.
She continued training, and her behaviour gradually went back to normal. She finally went back to the beach, and whenever she goes there, her heart is filled with a burning passion, her eyes begin to fill, and she is filled with a determination.
She will avenge her brother, and may he rest in peace...

Weapons: Combat Gloves, Dagger

[Filendie]

Callidus

Level: 10

Name: Calli´dus Paradun

Element: Earth

Age: 22

Race: Human

Birth Place: Sardon

Class: Fighter

Appearance: At first glance, anyone could tell that Calli´dus is an experienced hunter. His dark skin, tempered by the sun, has been burnt to a color matching the vast Standi Plains that he has called home for many years. His hair, as untamed as the beasts he has been raised to hunt, reaches its long, black tendrils of curls over his shoulders, draping him in their dark presence. However, not even this can hide his face, chissled out of the events of his life, leaving him with a sheer face that some people say is even cold to the touch, revealing a small piece of his soul. Creases from years of concentration tell of his talent and devotion to hunting. Clearly visible on either side of his face are his high cheek bones, which bring emphasis to his nose. His nose, made only of sheer edges, is completely symmetrical on his face besides for the small seal branded on his left nostril. The seal depicts a circle with a cross in the centre. His eyes at first glance, seem misplaced on his face, as if they belong to someone else. They sing with the sorrows of the past, and despair for the future.

Calli´dus wears a leather vest, thick and worn to fit as if it were part of his own body. His muscular features are easily seen through the vest, their outline etched into the leather from use. Tightly bound around his chest by a thin red silk cord, few got to see beneath this seemingly impassable wall of chastity, but those that did were anything but disappointed. Loosely draped over his vest lay a dark green cloth jacket, covering his sculpted arms. When he hunted, straining every muscle in his body, his arms became wild beasts themselves, attempting to push their way out from under his jacket. However, like all beasts that he hunted, their attempt was futile. His legs, as thick with hair as the plains with grass, tremble with a silent thunder as he moves, sleek and powerful, yet silent as though pushing off the air itself. This silent power flows through Calli´dus, making him a deadly hunter, and an even more deadly enemy.

Personality: Calli'dus is as hard as the rock that courses through his veins, blessing him with the strength of the land. His heart has weathered many attacks, forging it into one of stone. He has one goal in his mind, and as ants pushing against a mountain, nothing will keep him from achieving it. He prefers travelling alone, trusting and confiding in only himself. His mind is sharper than any blade forged by man, his deadliest tool in battle. The elemental magic’s that surround his heart fuel him on his quest for vengeance against the Dark Lord.

History:
The events set into motion that led to the hardening of Calli'dus's heart began at his birth. As he was born those twenty two years ago, his mother died when she held him for the first time. This was the first blood spilt on his behalf only moments after his birth.

After his mother’s death, his father had cared for him, while his godfather, Brom, a close friend of Calli’dus's father, helped watch over him. Although Brom was old, Calli’dus knew he was a skilled fighter at one time, and sometimes he was even privileged to hear stories from his godfather’s youth. Calli’dus's father was a powerful warrior, and sworn defender of the town they lived in, which was named Sardon after their founder. Being a farming town, the people there lived simple lives, most people caring about the consistency of rain than the grand happenings of the world. After Callí'dus's mother died, his father gave a parent’s vow to give his life before he would see his son come to harm.

On the night of Calli’dus’s third birthday, his father fulfilled this vow. Their town was raided by unknown creatures of foul intent, pillaging everything in their path. It was clear from one look at them that they would not stop until they had razed their farming town to the ground, although to most the reason remained a mystery. All of the guards were called to arms, and the small town futilly prepared its defence, trying to give the women and children a chance to escape to the neighboring town of Lormire, where it was believed they would be safe. However, Brom knew better than this. He knew that these demons would not stop, but would pursue the massive exodus and kill them all. As the beasts approached the town, Brom looked down into the quivering eyes of Calli´dus. He bore on his back his sword in a leather sheath, and a backpack draped over his sword that he had prepared with provisions. He placed a hand on Calli'dus's shoulder, crouching down to look into the boys eyes. ¨Everything will be fine,¨ he said to Calli'dus, sensing the fear taking hold of the boy. Deciding that that was enough of a comfort for the quaking boy, he scooped him up and began to run down the streets which were swamped with people in an attempt to put distance between them and the foul beasts that threatened the town.

As Calli'dus looked over his godfather's shoulder, not realizing the full effect of what was happening, he saw his father in the distance. As their eyes met, Calli'dus sensed the sadness swirling inside his father, and knew that he would never see his father again if they left now. As his godfather ran faster, carrying Calli'dus with him away from his father, Calli'dus lashed out, biting and scratching his godfather´s shoulder, trying desperately to escape this man that was prying him away from his father. However, the more Calli'dus resisted, the tighter Brom held him. Finally, his godfather rounded a corner around the town bakery, and Calli'dus's father faded from his life forever.

Brom took Calli'dus south, to a small house he owned outside of the town of Shadowbrook. It was a small house which had weathered many winters without repair, but it was there that they found refuge, and for the next fourteen years made their home. Brom taught Calli'dus how to hunt many animals using nothing but a knife for a weapon.

On Calli'dus's sixth birthday, Brom gifted him with his first knife. The first time he held it, the boys hand trembled with the sudden added weight, alien to this feeling. Brom told him to follow as he took up his own knife and headed out of the house, floorboards squeaking as he walked to the door. The door, made of mouldy wood, screamed on its hinges as it usually did when it was forced open. Calli'dus sat looking at his godfather, not knowing what to do, the knife still sitting awkwardly in his hand. When his godfather motioned again for him to follow, the boy bolted up and went out the door behind him, the door letting out one final squeal as it swung shut. Together, they walked the normal path they took when Calli´dus went to watch his godfather hunt, which consisted of dirt packed solid by years of walking. After an hour of walking, his godfather pointed into the distance. They had reached a small pool of water, and Calli'dus could see a baby boar drinking alone. After years of watching his godfather, the boy knew what he had to do to keep the element of surprise on this animal. He looked up into his godfather´s dark eyes questioningly, and his godfather slowly nodded to him. Calli'dus crouched among the tall grass of the plains, edging closer to the baby boar. He was only a few paces away from the animal, sweat dripping from his brow, when he carelessly stepped on a small branch; one of many that littered the ground. The animal turned its head, staring straight into his eyes. It took a few paces back, and charged straight at the boy. Being a baby, it lacked tusks, but still had enough momentum to level the small boy. Calli'dus closed his eyes, wanting more than anything to run, but his feet stayed locked in place. He heard the stamping of ground approach him quickly. Suddenly, Just as he realized the boar was about to kill him, he heard a sharp whistle in the air, a snap, and then nothing. He risked his eyes open to see the boar teetering before him, then collapsing with a sword lodged deeply into its neck. He heard the familiar crunch of dirt as his godfather approached him, stone faced.

As Brom dislodged the sword from the dead boar, he looked at the boy in front of him, the same fear on his face as the night that they had fled his home. Brom let a smile lift his lips, dispelling the fear of repercussions for the boy´s failure. That was the first and last time the boy had failed a hunt.

Brom taught Calli'dus how to make himself disappear in the grass of the plains, and to move without noise. Slowly, the small little boy that had been dragged crying from his home became a lean, muscular hunter, with a quick mind and a body as powerful as the earth that it treaded upon. At the age of ten, Brom began to teach Calli'dus various methods of fighting, passing on the knowledge gifted to Brom as a boy by his father. He chiselled away the rough edges of Calli'dus as a boy, carving him into a man. Calli'dus cherished these years, living in the excitement of the hunt, and smiling when they delivered their bounty to the Shadowbrook butcher, who was always impressed with the size and quantity of the meat they brought him. Between hunts, Brom taught Calli'dus how to fight with all different types of weapons, and with different disadvantages. When Calli'dus asked why he did this, Brom responded, "No fight is ever fair. You can hope for the best, but must always be prepared for the worst." Ever resourceful, Calli'dus was able to find ways around an increasing amount of the scenarios that Brom put him in, sharpening his mind to an edge more deadly than his blade.

The boy, now a man after weathering fourteen years of hunting and sharpening of his skills, ran home one day after delivering a generous amount of meat to the butcher in Shadowbrook. He knew the route from memory, his feet carrying him there without thought. As he ran towards the house, he stopped. Something was amiss. His godfather always was waiting outside for him when he returned from town. Now, no one was there, all he could see besides the house were the seemingly endless plains to all sides of him. He slipped around the side of the house, slowly pressing his ear against the side to try to get a better sense of the events happening inside. It reeked with a foul stench. Calli´dus backed up, his knife drawn, and ran inside, splintering the door. Ahead of him he saw his godfather crumpled on the floor, motionless. A hulking beast, scaled black as night, loomed over him. It turned around at the sight of Calli´dus, its eyes red with flame. Its jaw dripped with the blood of his godfather, seeping through razored teeth. It turned back to Brom, as if uninterested at this new person, sunk its teeth deep into Brom´s stomach, then vanished with an explosion of black flames. Calli'dus ran to his godfather, tears streaming down his face, questions swirling in his mind. His godfather stared up at him, his usual dark eyes clouded. Brom reached up a hand, touching the side of Calli´dus´s face.

Brom opened his mouth, his words coming raspy and faded. Calli´dus leaned in close to hear. "You must go... they will come back for you... They wanted to turn you... they will be back in numbers. You must go... Run!" His voice was stronger now, sunk in desperation. "Always remember, you have the heart of the rock, the land flows through you like blood." His voice grew fainter as his hand slipped from Calli'dus's face. "I.... love... you." With that last breath, Calli'dus felt Brom grow cold in his arms.

Calli´dus turned, welling threats of tears clouding his vision. He walked slowly over to the lone table in the house, the floorboards creaking one final time under his feet as they did when he was young. Brom's sword lay on the table. Without thinking, Calli'dus picked it up, noting the perfect balance of it in his hand. Strapping it to his back, he slammed open the door of the house and stood in the frame. His eyes crackled with the flames of rage, his heart drenched in the pools of unshed tears for his mentor. He took his first steps away from the house he had called home for so many years, with the hunger for vengeance seething from his lips. "I am the rock," he whispered to himself, "And when I will find the beast that did this, he will feel the wrath of the mountains themselves crumble upon him."

Weapons: In his right hand rests his sword gifted to him by his mentor. His hand holds it as if it is a natural part of his body. It always remains sharp and clean, as if mocking the amount of blood spilt from its edge. In his other hand resides another sword, this one blunt with it´s tip hooked; ideal for deflecting enemy blades in battle.

[Neelahn]

Laurana Tikan

Level: Trainee

Name: Laurana Tikan

Element: -

Age: 16

Race: Merai

Birth Place: The Great Ocean

Appearance: A small framed gentle girl Laurana, has the webbed fingers and toes of her kin. Her pale skin reflects an erie greenish tint, matching her deep green locks, which fall past her waist. Her fair hair is usually braided and inlaid with shells and coral. A reminder of her home in the sea. Her tiny frame is balanced unusually with a very full figure. Her body, betraying the eyes of others, is beyond her age. Though clothing is very uncomfortable to her, she manages to keep a few wandering eyes away with her modest garb. Usually the only uncovered part of her curious body is her face. With small pixie like features her large bright blue eyes, seem slightly out of place, yet perfectly and innocently woven into her appearance.

Personality: Laurana is an extremely positive person. Though shy at first once you get to know her, she breaks through her shell and can be immensely outgoing. She constantly aches for some pull in her life. A reason to go a specific direction. Her heart is pure, no matter the situation, and could never leave an honest soul behind. She may be young to the battle, but she was raised to hold her own and her potential is obvious. She believes in the goodness of all races, and seeks to help others until her calling is revealed.

History: Laurana's birth was not a momentous occasion. If fact the day she was brought into the cruel lands of Alasea, was the end of days for many. Dark waters had pressed upon her Merai family from the east. Instead of fleeing, from this strange darkness, they accepted it. Hoping only that defending their loved ones would be a simpler task from inside the blackness. Unfortunately, this tactic was not very wise. As Kitiara, Laurana's mother, fought her way through labor, what would have been Laurana's family prepared to battle monsters still unknown to her. The light skinned warriors mounted their loved and trusted dragons, with fear and regret. Knowing that the end was coming. The battle did not last long. Mostly because the small Merai family had no chance against this unfamiliar force, but also because they were immensely out numbered. Hundreds of clawed beasts smothered and choked out the bright loving Merai forces, literally sucking the souls out of them. Lifeless bodies sinking to the floor of the Great Ocean as Kitiara gave her final struggle alone. Laurana would have died, suffocated in the blood of her dying mother if water hadn't started flooding the room. As Kitiara fell limp off the table, her body was submerged and the newly born Laurana struggled free.

If Laurana could remember this day she would have only described it as dark and cold. Until a strange warmth touched her. She reached for it, young and unknowing of the danger that it could have been. The warm thing surrounded her and suddenly she felt as though she was flying in the water. But Laurana does not remember that day, only faintly did she later realize she was brought to shore by Jet. Her Bonded. Her Love. The deep purples of the baby dragon seemed the perfect opposite to Laurana's already growing dark green hair. Their bright blue eyes an incredible match.

Separated from all who could care for her, life for Laurana seemed hopeless. Something in the infant held on for salvation as Jet curiously tried to comfort her. Laurana never cried. Jet tried to understand, but she was hardly older than Laurana and only through instincts was able to keep herself alive. The slowly starving Laurana had only one option, and it was Jet who was able to make it possible. Jet, unwilling to leave Laurana alone, brought the Merai infant along the shore to a small group of humans. Two females washing in the water, one with a young boy splashing about. With no other option the baby dragon approach the unsuspecting group and let Laurana alone on the beach by them. With Jet's warmth no longer around her, Laurana began to sob, softly, but it was enough to make the young women come to her aid.

The next few years of Laurana's life are still too far for her to recall, yet she knows what happened. Kaylen, who took responsibility for the Merai, named Laurana after her own mother, who ironically also passed giving birth to her child. Though Laurana chose to speak little, she learned quickly. Her life seemed empty as she grew. Constantly finding herself lost along the coastline. She was always reprimanded for this, but her love for the water drew her back time and again. The older she became the more she couldn't resist the temptation of the water. Her webbed fingers and feet creating the most excellent swimmer of the tiny girl.

Another day came when Laurana's empty heart could not keep her body away from the warm sea. She dove headlong off one of the faceless cliffs. Her long green tassels twisting behind her small frame. As she landed Kaylen, came to fetch her from the waters, once again to keep her from her passion and that day, as Laurana resurfaced and protested Kaylen's commands, a strangely familiar warmth pressed up from between Laurana's legs and with this warmth came a piece of Laurana's lost heart. Without hesitation she blew a loving kiss to her 'mother', promised to one day return, flattened her small body to Jet's slick back and squeeze close to the warmth as they disappeared into the distance.

Learned Abilities: none.

Custom Character Ability: n/a

[Neelahn]

Methrin Raikuo Séregon

Level: Trainee

Name: Methrin Raikuo Séregon

Element: -

Age: 90

Race: Elven

Birth Place: Tor Amon

Appearance: Methrin is only 5 foot 10, 120lbs. However, his features make him out to be much bigger then he truly is. Slightly darker then most elves. Med-short black hair with slightly silver glisten when certain points of light shining on it. His eyes are a dark blueish-green. His body is nicely toned to show his muscles.

Personality: Very quiet and doesn't speak much, though his contradiction is that he is very helpful. Careful in anything he does to perfection. He does not mind the company of others.

History: Methrin born in Tor Amon, was the son of the elder in the city of the elves there. Tho he was thought to be a gift from the forest to them. His father quickly realized his son was destined for a different path, that of a fighter. Threw out is child hood of being groomed to be a druid the only thing that he was able to do was manipulate the static forces.

At the age of walking, Methrin, was always running, jumping, and climbing. And that’s when the trouble started. Without the villagers realizing, it, he became a trouble maker always starting fights with his fists, or a tree branch. One fateful afternoon, he didn't start this fight. A kid, Anson Carn, jumped on Methrins back and stabbed him with his carving knife. Screaming loudly as the blade sunk into his shoulder, the crowd of faces stopped to look as the smell of a burnt Flesh rose into the air. Anson's hand turned into a burnt, useless member that will never be used again. Due to these actions, Methrin was punished with a form of isolation.

The isolation was with a hermit that lived in a cave by the lake at the age of thirty. It taught Methrin many things, how to hunt, fight, brawl, and most importantly how to focus his Lightning ability. It is a production of touch and lightning. He could touch and shock or transfer the shock through something and seem not to affect himself. Fifty-Nine years passed as he learned and perfected everything the Wise man, Merlynnar, taught him. Including the mastery of his violin, which he kept for so long after his maiden died. As Methrin bowed and started to walk, something strange pulled at his senses, halting him almost instantaneously. Quickly turning to his surprise, Merlynnar disappeared with the morning fog. All that was left is his violin, and a note which read:
'Methrin, unlike you, I was not able to control the powers I was born with. I killed my beloved maiden and I fled so I wouldn't hurt again. Your father was a wise man to send you to me. I understand your pain, I really do. So please don't give up on anything you try to do, and remember, he still loves you. Your friend Merlynnar, P.S. Have my violin, a token of you setting me free.'

Stopping and picking up the case, Methrin, slowly left the cave and headed to his village that was once his home. Getting closer, more and more whispers where heard, “He’s back,” “Who's he going to hurt this time,” “Is he going bring wrath with him.” As he walked to his father’s hut to see that his father had not gotten up for the day. Rushing out screaming for the druid. 'My father, Druid, I....” Out of breath, she knew what he wanted. They hurry over as she looked over the body, “My child, I am sorry, but he is now with nature as it was meant to be.” Methrin, grasping the woman, shook her violently. “He can’t be! I just got home.” The ground sprouted roots and as he became entangled, the woman explained that people have been getting sick and dying, whilst the other five druids and her, didn’t know why. He turned to his father’s corpse and nodded, leaving his family, home, and friends at that small little village in Tor Amon, heading north along the road. A Year later Methrin stumbled across the city of Penryn.

Learned Abilities: -

Custom Character Ability: Touch Lightning - The transfer of clectricity from his body at any point to an object, another person, or to channel it through a weapon for a farther distance. Transfer is automatic upon touch.