Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
- Lord Tennyson
- Lord Tennyson
Fox of Spades' Character -
Name: Kalin Zavier
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
A young man of average height and an athletic build, Kalin stands at five feet and eight inches while weighing roughly 155lbs. Kalin doesn't look like much, he slouches, drags his feet on the ground and hangs his head low in submission all while smiling sheepishly, but the boy actually does have some muscle from all the training he has been through, it isn't obvious but it isn't nonexistent either.
Kalin has a childlike face coupled with soft features and wide blue orbs that resemble cloudless skies or bright blue lakes on sunny days. They are always brimming with life and always reveal just how the young man is feeling. However, the most memorable thing about Kalin's face is his smile. It's silly, a tad too big, but it always lights up his his entire being and makes him very easy to approach. The young man has sandy brown hair that swish this way and that. A tangled mess that appears as if blown by the wind. A few floppy bangs fall onto his forehead but they never obscure Kalin's vision, they do however make it appear as if he recently woke up from a deep and fitful slumber.
In terms of clothing Kalin dresses in things that allow him to move swiftly. He dislikes armor and anything that restricts movement. The boy usually traverses the land in a sleeveless jacket with a fluffy hood of the same color that was sewn on by his mother. He dislikes what the templars usually wear and refer to their regular clothing as 'stuffy' or 'uncomfortably warm.' Beneath his jacket is a sleeveless white tunic with the emblem of the templars sewn onto its front. Kalin wears thick leather boots and never goes anywhere without the bands of steel he keeps around both his wrists.
Magic:
As a child, magic always caught Kalin's attention. He loved the swirling hues, the bright blue flames that engulfed a mage's arm and the pretty lights that flitted about the night sky when a familiar was pulled out of the Neverworld and into the realm of the living. However, that changed after an incident between his family and a mage. After that Kalin began to believe that all magic was dangerous and bad.
Kalin's ability is the antithesis of magic. With a well timed jab to a magic user's pressure points Kalin could temporarily rob them of their ability to focus energy and conjure up magical feats. He is well trained in hand to hand combat and can handle weapons efficiently. The boy does not have any magical abilities but does have crystals of sorts, that are embedded into his steel wristbands. These crystals were created by mage hunters and are capable of weakening a mage's magical strength. If Kalin were to block a fireball with said wristbands the flames would disperse. Though the crystals do have their limits.
If one were to summarize Kalin's ability. It would be to cease the flow of magic.
Personality:
Calling Kalin a dreamer would be an understatement. The boy wishes on shooting stars, tosses coins into wishing wells and believes in happily ever afters. He constantly has his head stuck in the clouds and his view on things is oftentimes childlike. An example being he believes that the templars are heroes who are trying to save Alencia and put an end to the magic that nearly caused the death of the country. Because of this belief he has pledged to fight for all things good and is as loyal as a puppy to the templars. Kalin is very trusting and almost never doubts anything the templars tell him, he does their requests and strives hard for them.
The young templar isn't exactly a bright boy, his train of thoughts jump from subject to subject and he's a little bit on the slow side when it comes to analyzing things and reading between the lines. Kalin takes things a bit too literally. Tell him you've been back-stabbed and most likely Kalin will ask what weapon the attacker hit you with. He doesn't really organize the thoughts in his head and speaks without thinking twice, so you can expect the words that come out of his mouth to be anything but wise or filled with knowledge. At most they are silly and out of place.
The boy is easily impressed and can be rather adventurous. When something catches his eye he goes after it. Kalin adores sight seeing and has a thirst for exploring the vast world. He constantly focuses on the what ifs and whys and is always wondering just what's up ahead.
Kalin might not be very bright when it comes to analyzing situations or thinking things through but he can be very caring and sympathetic when he knows that someone is hurting or upset. The boy values his friends and family highly and will do his utmost best to make sure they're alright. If they're cold he will literally take off his own shirt, give it to them and fight the freezing wind for them. He will try his best to make them smile and even go as far as making a fool out of himself.
He doesn't like mages or people who rely on otherworldly magic but won't attack them simply because they have different views. However, if they insult his faction then the usually friendly Kalin will fight back and give them all he's got. In battle he shifts from a childlike dreamer into a determined fighter with something to prove. Even when he's bloody and beaten Kalin will not back down unless he's rendered incapable of fighting or if someone he trusts tells him that he's done enough. In fights where he battles to defend his faction's name he becomes a very determined opponent though whenever he hurts someone he feels a pang of resent.
To put it simply Kalin is a believer of fairy tales, a boy who speaks more than he thinks, utterly loyal to the templars and an adventurer who hungers for more and more of the world.
Biography:
Kalin was the only son of a baker mom and a templar father. His dad was usually away helping the cause whether it be through mentoring the new templars or through patrolling the area. This left the boy to his mom and as a result he was coddled and given the utmost care. Kalin was very close with his mother but he always looked up to his dad as some sort of hero, and one day he wanted to help the templars as well. He lived a happy life, helping his mom out at the bakery and training with his father whenever the man was at home. It was perfect, but it didn't last...
One day while his father was patrolling the west borders a rogue mage struck him down with a spell. It rendered Kalin's father paralyzed from the waist down, though other templars came to back him up and the rogue mage was killed. That was a good thing, but the bad thing was that his father would never walk again and would never fight another battle for the templars. Kalin was eight at that time and it hurt bad to see his father and mother so sad, however, it got better like things always did. His dad was constantly home so he'd give the boy fighting tips and Kalin would go outside to train in both hand to hand combat and weaponry. He excelled and his dad told him that one day he'd be a great addition to Kallias' men. This inspired the boy and eventually when he was old enough he joined the training programs. He excelled in fighting, but for some reason could not do hemalurgy no matter how hard he tried. As a result he could temporarily cease a magi's flow of magic but could never ever banish their familiars, due to this he wasn't accepted into the ranks of the templars at the age of 15 but continued to travel with a mentor even as a 17 year old. Kalin continued to train hard, but there had been no progress. However, the boy continued to try even harder.
One day he decided it would be best if he left home and traveled with his mentor. His mom wasn't thrilled about the idea, but his dad thought it would help his son learn hemalurgy and finally get accepted into the templar's ranks. With much convincing his mom allowed him to go. Kalin said his farewells and left to go travel with his mentor. However, the man pretty much gave up on the boy, so Kalin decided to practice and venture on his own.
He hopes to eventually make both his mentor and parents proud.
Extra:
- Kalin almost never goes anywhere without Parsley - A giant chicken he considers both his mount and family. Kalin found the chicken by the bushes of the bakery, it was a small yellow ball of feathers. He took it in and within a year it grew big enough for him to ride on. It turned out the chicken was a rare bird found deep in the forest. It had probably strayed, which is why the boy found it in the bushes. Currently, Parsley is the size of a young horse. The chicken has rather sharp talons but is usually nothing but a harmless fluffy ball of feathers.
- The boy sees Wyl as some sort of hero and someone he looks up to. Back when they were younger, Parsley wandered into some guy's territory and they thought he looked rather delicious. Kalin went to save the chicken but the children of the man didn't want to give Parsley up and stated that the chicken was theirs because it went on their property. That was where Wyl came in and after that Kalin never stopped feeling grateful. He also began following after her like a lost puppy. He sort of has a childlike crush on her, but is too darn oblivious to sort out his own feelings.
- Despite his childlike demeanor he is a good fighter when it comes down to hand to hand combat or weaponry.
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
A young man of average height and an athletic build, Kalin stands at five feet and eight inches while weighing roughly 155lbs. Kalin doesn't look like much, he slouches, drags his feet on the ground and hangs his head low in submission all while smiling sheepishly, but the boy actually does have some muscle from all the training he has been through, it isn't obvious but it isn't nonexistent either.
Kalin has a childlike face coupled with soft features and wide blue orbs that resemble cloudless skies or bright blue lakes on sunny days. They are always brimming with life and always reveal just how the young man is feeling. However, the most memorable thing about Kalin's face is his smile. It's silly, a tad too big, but it always lights up his his entire being and makes him very easy to approach. The young man has sandy brown hair that swish this way and that. A tangled mess that appears as if blown by the wind. A few floppy bangs fall onto his forehead but they never obscure Kalin's vision, they do however make it appear as if he recently woke up from a deep and fitful slumber.
In terms of clothing Kalin dresses in things that allow him to move swiftly. He dislikes armor and anything that restricts movement. The boy usually traverses the land in a sleeveless jacket with a fluffy hood of the same color that was sewn on by his mother. He dislikes what the templars usually wear and refer to their regular clothing as 'stuffy' or 'uncomfortably warm.' Beneath his jacket is a sleeveless white tunic with the emblem of the templars sewn onto its front. Kalin wears thick leather boots and never goes anywhere without the bands of steel he keeps around both his wrists.
Magic:
As a child, magic always caught Kalin's attention. He loved the swirling hues, the bright blue flames that engulfed a mage's arm and the pretty lights that flitted about the night sky when a familiar was pulled out of the Neverworld and into the realm of the living. However, that changed after an incident between his family and a mage. After that Kalin began to believe that all magic was dangerous and bad.
Kalin's ability is the antithesis of magic. With a well timed jab to a magic user's pressure points Kalin could temporarily rob them of their ability to focus energy and conjure up magical feats. He is well trained in hand to hand combat and can handle weapons efficiently. The boy does not have any magical abilities but does have crystals of sorts, that are embedded into his steel wristbands. These crystals were created by mage hunters and are capable of weakening a mage's magical strength. If Kalin were to block a fireball with said wristbands the flames would disperse. Though the crystals do have their limits.
If one were to summarize Kalin's ability. It would be to cease the flow of magic.
Personality:
Calling Kalin a dreamer would be an understatement. The boy wishes on shooting stars, tosses coins into wishing wells and believes in happily ever afters. He constantly has his head stuck in the clouds and his view on things is oftentimes childlike. An example being he believes that the templars are heroes who are trying to save Alencia and put an end to the magic that nearly caused the death of the country. Because of this belief he has pledged to fight for all things good and is as loyal as a puppy to the templars. Kalin is very trusting and almost never doubts anything the templars tell him, he does their requests and strives hard for them.
The young templar isn't exactly a bright boy, his train of thoughts jump from subject to subject and he's a little bit on the slow side when it comes to analyzing things and reading between the lines. Kalin takes things a bit too literally. Tell him you've been back-stabbed and most likely Kalin will ask what weapon the attacker hit you with. He doesn't really organize the thoughts in his head and speaks without thinking twice, so you can expect the words that come out of his mouth to be anything but wise or filled with knowledge. At most they are silly and out of place.
The boy is easily impressed and can be rather adventurous. When something catches his eye he goes after it. Kalin adores sight seeing and has a thirst for exploring the vast world. He constantly focuses on the what ifs and whys and is always wondering just what's up ahead.
Kalin might not be very bright when it comes to analyzing situations or thinking things through but he can be very caring and sympathetic when he knows that someone is hurting or upset. The boy values his friends and family highly and will do his utmost best to make sure they're alright. If they're cold he will literally take off his own shirt, give it to them and fight the freezing wind for them. He will try his best to make them smile and even go as far as making a fool out of himself.
He doesn't like mages or people who rely on otherworldly magic but won't attack them simply because they have different views. However, if they insult his faction then the usually friendly Kalin will fight back and give them all he's got. In battle he shifts from a childlike dreamer into a determined fighter with something to prove. Even when he's bloody and beaten Kalin will not back down unless he's rendered incapable of fighting or if someone he trusts tells him that he's done enough. In fights where he battles to defend his faction's name he becomes a very determined opponent though whenever he hurts someone he feels a pang of resent.
To put it simply Kalin is a believer of fairy tales, a boy who speaks more than he thinks, utterly loyal to the templars and an adventurer who hungers for more and more of the world.
Biography:
Kalin was the only son of a baker mom and a templar father. His dad was usually away helping the cause whether it be through mentoring the new templars or through patrolling the area. This left the boy to his mom and as a result he was coddled and given the utmost care. Kalin was very close with his mother but he always looked up to his dad as some sort of hero, and one day he wanted to help the templars as well. He lived a happy life, helping his mom out at the bakery and training with his father whenever the man was at home. It was perfect, but it didn't last...
One day while his father was patrolling the west borders a rogue mage struck him down with a spell. It rendered Kalin's father paralyzed from the waist down, though other templars came to back him up and the rogue mage was killed. That was a good thing, but the bad thing was that his father would never walk again and would never fight another battle for the templars. Kalin was eight at that time and it hurt bad to see his father and mother so sad, however, it got better like things always did. His dad was constantly home so he'd give the boy fighting tips and Kalin would go outside to train in both hand to hand combat and weaponry. He excelled and his dad told him that one day he'd be a great addition to Kallias' men. This inspired the boy and eventually when he was old enough he joined the training programs. He excelled in fighting, but for some reason could not do hemalurgy no matter how hard he tried. As a result he could temporarily cease a magi's flow of magic but could never ever banish their familiars, due to this he wasn't accepted into the ranks of the templars at the age of 15 but continued to travel with a mentor even as a 17 year old. Kalin continued to train hard, but there had been no progress. However, the boy continued to try even harder.
One day he decided it would be best if he left home and traveled with his mentor. His mom wasn't thrilled about the idea, but his dad thought it would help his son learn hemalurgy and finally get accepted into the templar's ranks. With much convincing his mom allowed him to go. Kalin said his farewells and left to go travel with his mentor. However, the man pretty much gave up on the boy, so Kalin decided to practice and venture on his own.
He hopes to eventually make both his mentor and parents proud.
Extra:
- Kalin almost never goes anywhere without Parsley - A giant chicken he considers both his mount and family. Kalin found the chicken by the bushes of the bakery, it was a small yellow ball of feathers. He took it in and within a year it grew big enough for him to ride on. It turned out the chicken was a rare bird found deep in the forest. It had probably strayed, which is why the boy found it in the bushes. Currently, Parsley is the size of a young horse. The chicken has rather sharp talons but is usually nothing but a harmless fluffy ball of feathers.
- The boy sees Wyl as some sort of hero and someone he looks up to. Back when they were younger, Parsley wandered into some guy's territory and they thought he looked rather delicious. Kalin went to save the chicken but the children of the man didn't want to give Parsley up and stated that the chicken was theirs because it went on their property. That was where Wyl came in and after that Kalin never stopped feeling grateful. He also began following after her like a lost puppy. He sort of has a childlike crush on her, but is too darn oblivious to sort out his own feelings.
- Despite his childlike demeanor he is a good fighter when it comes down to hand to hand combat or weaponry.
Rtron's Characters -
Name: Galen Vurlin.
Alias: The Twin paths.
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Magic:
Galen's magic is a mixture of both Beast tamers and Mage-hunters. He isn't strong enough to project an anti-magic field, but he knows the pressure points and what not. In addition to that, he can feel animals and their moods. And since his symbiosis, his strength, speed, reflexes, and senses have all been improved.
Personality:
Galen is cheerful, friendly, and generally prefers the direct route to anything else. That is, several have noted that he has an animalistic tendency occasionally. He is fiercely protective of friends, almost overly so. He doesn't hate mages and magic users in general, he simply recognizes them as in the way of true peace. Therefore, they will be eliminated. He also fights to win, not fair, and shows no mercy.
Biography:
Galen was born a Beast Tamer. From a young age, he could sense animals and their moods, as easily as breathing. He was trained in their arts, until he felt ready to make his Symbiosis. He wandered into the wilds to do so, and did not return for many a year. Most assumed him dead. When he finally returned, he had bonded with a Manticore. He refused to explain how he bonded to the Manticore, whom he refers to as Talon, and why he chose the Manticore. Talon is about the size of a large horse right now. What he did make known was that he was going to go the path of the Mage Hunter from now on. Something unheard of. Regardless, Galen did so. Climbing through the ranks and challenges until he was given a Guardian and then deemed ready for the final test.
Alone, he went to battle a spirit. It took him three months. When he returned, he was badly beaten and nearly dead, but he was triumphant. The spirit was subdued and brought before the Guardian for full banishment. He still remembers those final words. "Welcome to the Templars."
Alias: The Twin paths.
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Magic:
Galen's magic is a mixture of both Beast tamers and Mage-hunters. He isn't strong enough to project an anti-magic field, but he knows the pressure points and what not. In addition to that, he can feel animals and their moods. And since his symbiosis, his strength, speed, reflexes, and senses have all been improved.
Personality:
Galen is cheerful, friendly, and generally prefers the direct route to anything else. That is, several have noted that he has an animalistic tendency occasionally. He is fiercely protective of friends, almost overly so. He doesn't hate mages and magic users in general, he simply recognizes them as in the way of true peace. Therefore, they will be eliminated. He also fights to win, not fair, and shows no mercy.
Biography:
Galen was born a Beast Tamer. From a young age, he could sense animals and their moods, as easily as breathing. He was trained in their arts, until he felt ready to make his Symbiosis. He wandered into the wilds to do so, and did not return for many a year. Most assumed him dead. When he finally returned, he had bonded with a Manticore. He refused to explain how he bonded to the Manticore, whom he refers to as Talon, and why he chose the Manticore. Talon is about the size of a large horse right now. What he did make known was that he was going to go the path of the Mage Hunter from now on. Something unheard of. Regardless, Galen did so. Climbing through the ranks and challenges until he was given a Guardian and then deemed ready for the final test.
Alone, he went to battle a spirit. It took him three months. When he returned, he was badly beaten and nearly dead, but he was triumphant. The spirit was subdued and brought before the Guardian for full banishment. He still remembers those final words. "Welcome to the Templars."
Name: Alimar Vurlin
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Faction: Crusaders
Magic: Alimar has a Pact summon, but the rest of his talents lay within Blood magic.
Personality:
Alimar is rather blunt and rude. He also has cruel, merciless streak in him. This especially applies to Summoners, though it is extended to mages, though to a lesser degree. He is cold, calculating, and is one of the more outspoken ones who wants to wipe any and all magic off the face of the planet. He's not a nice person.
Biography:
Alimar used to be a part of the Summoners. He has only one pact summon, which is a very well kept secret, whose powers lay in creating shields to protect and illusions. That pact summon is known as Sagan. He stayed with the Summoners until he was left to die by his so called friend and allies when one of them summoned a demon they couldn't control. His suit that he is forced to wear is a lovely reminder of that. It is tweaked so that he can get his blood flowing out of his body for spells very easily, by means of small spikes.
He came to the Crusaders, begging forgiveness for not seeing the error of his ways until it was to late, and that he had seen what vile creatures all practitioners of magic were and sought to be taught in the ways of Hemalurgists. With much pleading and repenting, they allowed him in. Sagan was not summoned and hidden away so the Crusaders had no reason to turn on him. For a few years, this continued, finally, when Alimar deemed it okay, he introduced Sagan as his pet rat, Sagan using an illusion to keep his wings hidden. They got strange looks, but no one questioned him. Now, Alimar fears that they will be revealed with the tension, and he fears what will happen.
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Faction: Crusaders
Magic: Alimar has a Pact summon, but the rest of his talents lay within Blood magic.
Personality:
Alimar is rather blunt and rude. He also has cruel, merciless streak in him. This especially applies to Summoners, though it is extended to mages, though to a lesser degree. He is cold, calculating, and is one of the more outspoken ones who wants to wipe any and all magic off the face of the planet. He's not a nice person.
Biography:
Alimar used to be a part of the Summoners. He has only one pact summon, which is a very well kept secret, whose powers lay in creating shields to protect and illusions. That pact summon is known as Sagan. He stayed with the Summoners until he was left to die by his so called friend and allies when one of them summoned a demon they couldn't control. His suit that he is forced to wear is a lovely reminder of that. It is tweaked so that he can get his blood flowing out of his body for spells very easily, by means of small spikes.
He came to the Crusaders, begging forgiveness for not seeing the error of his ways until it was to late, and that he had seen what vile creatures all practitioners of magic were and sought to be taught in the ways of Hemalurgists. With much pleading and repenting, they allowed him in. Sagan was not summoned and hidden away so the Crusaders had no reason to turn on him. For a few years, this continued, finally, when Alimar deemed it okay, he introduced Sagan as his pet rat, Sagan using an illusion to keep his wings hidden. They got strange looks, but no one questioned him. Now, Alimar fears that they will be revealed with the tension, and he fears what will happen.
LuckyEsper's Characters -
Name: Wylhelmina Sinclair
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
Wylhelmina is somewhat small for her age, standing at a petite height of 161 centimeters… Or at least it was considered small, compared to the hulks and willowy figures that composed her family. Although she is the tiniest of her kin, she has inherited their well-built and enduring bone structure. Her face is heart-shaped with a strong, defiant chin jutting out from under round pink cheeks, and thick lashes frame both of her almond-shaped eyes. These delicate and feminine traits were enough to ensure quite the number of admirers, but her beauty is soured by the way her small mouth is constantly set in a firm, hard line; as if the girl was watching a battle where her side was losing badly, and every decision had the weight of a life.
Her oddly-colored hair falls in erratic tufts and cuts around her neck and waist, a result of the several times she used to shear all the “extra weight” off with anything she deemed sharp enough, but once tied back into a ponytail, her messy mop forms quite the wholesome and pretty picture. Wylhelmina’s apparel consists mostly of a small piece of armor and short, loose clothing that allows her to move freely, be it during her parkour sessions as she maneuvers around the city, or during training when she whacks at a wooden dummy.
Magic:
Even as a child, Wylhelmina has already shown special talent for hemalurgy. Although her aptitude as a beast-master is practically nonexistent, she has made it her personal mission to compensate for her lack of an animal companion—be it with a blade or her kicks. She fights with a unique style which has been tailored to accommodate her size and speed, and a lifetime of training made her skillful with a sword. As they say, primed for battle yet not nearly ready for bloodshed.
Speaking of bloodshed, Wylhelmina uses her hemalurgy for offensive purposes. She educated herself using animal blood about the harder ways of her trade, but has experience with using her own to fight—And when she does, expect explosions from small packages. In any case, she can also sideline as a tracker when need be, but don’t expect miracles.
Personality:
Right in front of you is a tapestry of the most brilliant peacock blue, infused with myriad other colors that do not fail in attracting more and more of your attention with their pomp and glamour. Now look at it from behind. The rich, lush tones have been replaced by the most subtle shades that one can ever conceive of and, coming from a blatant display of splendor, this sudden show of austerity comes out as a shock. This is most probably the best way to describe our young Lady Sinclair.
As she was one of the top recruits, Wylhelmina’s name has been used as the byword for “intelligent” or “skilled”, but more often “antisocial”. The girl’s shoulder guard emblazoned with the insignia of the House of Sinclair coupled with her strict, unsmiling face forms the epitome of the snobbish aristocrat—Matters aren’t eased by the fact that the girl refuses to converse with anyone select a small few. On that note, one of the few times the young lady actually speaks up is when one needs her opinion about the quality of an object or person, which, surprisingly, seems very important to almost everyone else; apparently if it had the Sinclair approval, it was good, although even Wylhelmina herself doubts the logic of that idea. She is both honest and brutal, easily mincing a person’s hopes and dreams once asked to criticize but in her defense, Wylhelmina always makes sure to add at least one good point to avoid completely annihilating said being’s mentality.
Unlike the impression that she forms, Wyhelmina prefers to hide in the background during any event and tries to finish things quickly to avoid being noticed. Ever since childhood, she has always been easily embarrassed but tries hard to hide it, which resulted in her current standoffish behavior. Once people got to know her though, they would find themselves face to face with a strong, thoughtful human who, although she can’t put her feelings into words, defines herself by the constant way she strives to adhere to excellence… Although that weird quirk wherein she likes rounding off numbers might be a disorder.
Biography:
People from the West rejoiced when yet another prodigy was born into the Sinclair family of overachievers. Their House was one of the oldest and most revered nobility in the Templar ranks, what with its roots dating back to the opening of the rift and the earliest crusade against magic, and most of its members held high positions in the military, making the family as affluent as it is famous. Drowning in the rich legacy of their relations, the Sinclairs are also the proud descendants of a legendary hero, Ganther vyn Sinclair, who was one of the champions that fought against the evil the rift spewed out.
Wylhelmina was the gift of Heaven to two exceptional mage-hunters, both of whom were celebrated in their times but are now resigned to a life of, comfort, stability and prominence, and like all other Sinclairs, she was reared to vanquish the curse that is magic. Following the smug satisfaction that both her parents showed when she illustrated a progressive talent for hemalurgy, the young girl was immediately pushed under a microscope (figuratively) to be poked and prodded through the path of greatness for which her House was known for.
Though the peace treaty that holds all three factions together was already in effect even before the time of her birth, the heiress of the family saga was honed for battle. Her toys were wooden swords and miniature Trojan horses, her clothing vaguely designed for a warrior about to leave for war, her tutors explaining the puzzle of war strategy and its benefits, her books containing lessons on how to wield a sword when the democratic talk failed. Nicks and bruises were a common sight during her childhood, so starkly familiar that Wylhelmina recalls spending several of her birthdays with her skin covered in splotches of black and blue, and gender was a trifling notion in her kin. Whether a man or a woman, it was made sure that once you were a Sinclair, you could fight a furious dragon and emerge in one piece, probably even dismember a few mages in the process.
Extra:
- Once upon a time, a little child went running through the city in search of her attendants, all of whom she ordered to act as mages that she would, as a Templar, hunt down. When Wylhelmina rounded the ninth corner in a maze of dingy houses and filthy streets, she happened to put herself in the middle of a battle for the life of a chicken… and probably its owner too. She trussed up the opposing side for fun (and to test out her new toy sword), but she didn’t really expect that from that day on, she’d have the friendship of Kalin Zavier and his fought-over fowl, Parsley.
- She is the only Sinclair who doesn’t think of magic-users as purely evil, but being in their presence still unnerves her.
- Wylhelmina puffs out her cheeks (like a blowfish) when she’s uncomfortable or nervous.
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
Wylhelmina is somewhat small for her age, standing at a petite height of 161 centimeters… Or at least it was considered small, compared to the hulks and willowy figures that composed her family. Although she is the tiniest of her kin, she has inherited their well-built and enduring bone structure. Her face is heart-shaped with a strong, defiant chin jutting out from under round pink cheeks, and thick lashes frame both of her almond-shaped eyes. These delicate and feminine traits were enough to ensure quite the number of admirers, but her beauty is soured by the way her small mouth is constantly set in a firm, hard line; as if the girl was watching a battle where her side was losing badly, and every decision had the weight of a life.
Her oddly-colored hair falls in erratic tufts and cuts around her neck and waist, a result of the several times she used to shear all the “extra weight” off with anything she deemed sharp enough, but once tied back into a ponytail, her messy mop forms quite the wholesome and pretty picture. Wylhelmina’s apparel consists mostly of a small piece of armor and short, loose clothing that allows her to move freely, be it during her parkour sessions as she maneuvers around the city, or during training when she whacks at a wooden dummy.
Magic:
Even as a child, Wylhelmina has already shown special talent for hemalurgy. Although her aptitude as a beast-master is practically nonexistent, she has made it her personal mission to compensate for her lack of an animal companion—be it with a blade or her kicks. She fights with a unique style which has been tailored to accommodate her size and speed, and a lifetime of training made her skillful with a sword. As they say, primed for battle yet not nearly ready for bloodshed.
Speaking of bloodshed, Wylhelmina uses her hemalurgy for offensive purposes. She educated herself using animal blood about the harder ways of her trade, but has experience with using her own to fight—And when she does, expect explosions from small packages. In any case, she can also sideline as a tracker when need be, but don’t expect miracles.
Personality:
Right in front of you is a tapestry of the most brilliant peacock blue, infused with myriad other colors that do not fail in attracting more and more of your attention with their pomp and glamour. Now look at it from behind. The rich, lush tones have been replaced by the most subtle shades that one can ever conceive of and, coming from a blatant display of splendor, this sudden show of austerity comes out as a shock. This is most probably the best way to describe our young Lady Sinclair.
As she was one of the top recruits, Wylhelmina’s name has been used as the byword for “intelligent” or “skilled”, but more often “antisocial”. The girl’s shoulder guard emblazoned with the insignia of the House of Sinclair coupled with her strict, unsmiling face forms the epitome of the snobbish aristocrat—Matters aren’t eased by the fact that the girl refuses to converse with anyone select a small few. On that note, one of the few times the young lady actually speaks up is when one needs her opinion about the quality of an object or person, which, surprisingly, seems very important to almost everyone else; apparently if it had the Sinclair approval, it was good, although even Wylhelmina herself doubts the logic of that idea. She is both honest and brutal, easily mincing a person’s hopes and dreams once asked to criticize but in her defense, Wylhelmina always makes sure to add at least one good point to avoid completely annihilating said being’s mentality.
Unlike the impression that she forms, Wyhelmina prefers to hide in the background during any event and tries to finish things quickly to avoid being noticed. Ever since childhood, she has always been easily embarrassed but tries hard to hide it, which resulted in her current standoffish behavior. Once people got to know her though, they would find themselves face to face with a strong, thoughtful human who, although she can’t put her feelings into words, defines herself by the constant way she strives to adhere to excellence… Although that weird quirk wherein she likes rounding off numbers might be a disorder.
Biography:
People from the West rejoiced when yet another prodigy was born into the Sinclair family of overachievers. Their House was one of the oldest and most revered nobility in the Templar ranks, what with its roots dating back to the opening of the rift and the earliest crusade against magic, and most of its members held high positions in the military, making the family as affluent as it is famous. Drowning in the rich legacy of their relations, the Sinclairs are also the proud descendants of a legendary hero, Ganther vyn Sinclair, who was one of the champions that fought against the evil the rift spewed out.
Wylhelmina was the gift of Heaven to two exceptional mage-hunters, both of whom were celebrated in their times but are now resigned to a life of, comfort, stability and prominence, and like all other Sinclairs, she was reared to vanquish the curse that is magic. Following the smug satisfaction that both her parents showed when she illustrated a progressive talent for hemalurgy, the young girl was immediately pushed under a microscope (figuratively) to be poked and prodded through the path of greatness for which her House was known for.
Though the peace treaty that holds all three factions together was already in effect even before the time of her birth, the heiress of the family saga was honed for battle. Her toys were wooden swords and miniature Trojan horses, her clothing vaguely designed for a warrior about to leave for war, her tutors explaining the puzzle of war strategy and its benefits, her books containing lessons on how to wield a sword when the democratic talk failed. Nicks and bruises were a common sight during her childhood, so starkly familiar that Wylhelmina recalls spending several of her birthdays with her skin covered in splotches of black and blue, and gender was a trifling notion in her kin. Whether a man or a woman, it was made sure that once you were a Sinclair, you could fight a furious dragon and emerge in one piece, probably even dismember a few mages in the process.
Extra:
- Once upon a time, a little child went running through the city in search of her attendants, all of whom she ordered to act as mages that she would, as a Templar, hunt down. When Wylhelmina rounded the ninth corner in a maze of dingy houses and filthy streets, she happened to put herself in the middle of a battle for the life of a chicken… and probably its owner too. She trussed up the opposing side for fun (and to test out her new toy sword), but she didn’t really expect that from that day on, she’d have the friendship of Kalin Zavier and his fought-over fowl, Parsley.
- She is the only Sinclair who doesn’t think of magic-users as purely evil, but being in their presence still unnerves her.
- Wylhelmina puffs out her cheeks (like a blowfish) when she’s uncomfortable or nervous.
Tytus' Character
Name: Kris Quarters
Alias: Magebane, Blueheart
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Faction: Crimson Crusaders; Templars
Magic: Kris' abilities lie within the Templars own "magics", and Beastmastery.
Kris does not have a weapon of choice: instead, he focuses on his extremely large size and the Templars' martial arts for combat. Rather than attacking an opponent's pressure points, Kris instead creates anti-magic barriers around specific parts of his bodie for offensive purposes (his knees, elbows, fists, shin, etc). This way, when he strikes an opponent, they are both harmed and stunned from his reverse anthropomorphic power, but also temporarily unable to use magic wherever he has delivered his blow. In addition to this, Kris has formed Symbiosis with a small bear cub that rides on his shoulder. It is often snoozing; the small beast has given Kris even more strength, stronger teeth, and many features of a gigantic grizzly bear in general, due to the Symbiosis.
When in danger or battle, the cub (named Whiskey) has the neat ability to transform its size into something larger and more ferocious, as needed; Kris has never been in a situation to see Whiskey's limit. The Templars, though skeptical of this, do not judge the bear, considering it just a strange thing of nature. It's definitely saved many of their soldiers' lives, anyway.
Personality: Kris is cheerful, loud and friendly, and loves drinking and sleeping. He's most likely the laziest man one could ever meet in all their years, even if coupled with someone else's. He is oft seen drinking in the local pub, or sleeping in his own bed til the sun stretches up high, which leads many to wonder how he's chased so high up in the ranks over the years. However, those who're veterans understand his power, and know that if the situation warrants it, Kris would be the first on the scene to help save the people of this faction. It is said that he was once good friends with Kallias.
He has a quick temper when it comes to certain things; such as magic, the Crusaders, his wife (who has since passed away), and his daughter. Otherwise he tries to keep his cool, and adheres to Templar tenets as strictly as possible. He would die in a heartbeat for his men and women, and for his own superiors.
Biography: Kris was born the son of a Magus and a Templar. His mother the former, his father the latter.
Their relationship was anything short of a sin to the Templars, and both Kris and his father soon learned this lesson the hard way. Mariah (his mother) proved to Jissem (his father) quite early on in their marriage that she did not love him; evident by the amount of bottles she had cracked over his head, and how she had threatened to turn his skin inside out over his bones until they burned golden. Regardless, Kris' father dealt with her rude manners and irritability, not out of a lack of backbone, but in order to ensure that Kris grew up with a family - even if a dysfunctional one.
In the end, it was shown that Mariah was more than just a cold-hearted bitch who idly taunted her betrothed's life; on one of the hottest days in Templar history, she brutally murdered Jissem, who had went to the kitchen to make a sickly Kris a warm meal. After painting his blood against the floorboards of their house, she fought her way throughout the city, killing as many Templars as she was physically able before she vanished in a puff of grey smoke, never to be heard from again.
That event impacted Kris' life in unimaginable ways. He developed a deep brooding hatred for magic and its users, joining the Mage-Hunters at a very early age. He trained and developed his strength, swiftly and efficiently rising through the ranks. He soon after was married, and gave to the world a child by the name of Cherry Quarters. After his wife had passed away, Kris retired into a life of drinking, sleeping, and looking after his daughter. He is occasionally called on by the higher-ups in times of crises, as he is well looked up to, but those missions he rarely goes on due to the importance; he doesn't like the responsibility.
Still, Kris will occasionally travel the region or instruct lesser Templars in the arts, as a means to pass time in his dull but contented life.
Alias: Magebane, Blueheart
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Faction: Crimson Crusaders; Templars
Magic: Kris' abilities lie within the Templars own "magics", and Beastmastery.
Kris does not have a weapon of choice: instead, he focuses on his extremely large size and the Templars' martial arts for combat. Rather than attacking an opponent's pressure points, Kris instead creates anti-magic barriers around specific parts of his bodie for offensive purposes (his knees, elbows, fists, shin, etc). This way, when he strikes an opponent, they are both harmed and stunned from his reverse anthropomorphic power, but also temporarily unable to use magic wherever he has delivered his blow. In addition to this, Kris has formed Symbiosis with a small bear cub that rides on his shoulder. It is often snoozing; the small beast has given Kris even more strength, stronger teeth, and many features of a gigantic grizzly bear in general, due to the Symbiosis.
When in danger or battle, the cub (named Whiskey) has the neat ability to transform its size into something larger and more ferocious, as needed; Kris has never been in a situation to see Whiskey's limit. The Templars, though skeptical of this, do not judge the bear, considering it just a strange thing of nature. It's definitely saved many of their soldiers' lives, anyway.
Personality: Kris is cheerful, loud and friendly, and loves drinking and sleeping. He's most likely the laziest man one could ever meet in all their years, even if coupled with someone else's. He is oft seen drinking in the local pub, or sleeping in his own bed til the sun stretches up high, which leads many to wonder how he's chased so high up in the ranks over the years. However, those who're veterans understand his power, and know that if the situation warrants it, Kris would be the first on the scene to help save the people of this faction. It is said that he was once good friends with Kallias.
He has a quick temper when it comes to certain things; such as magic, the Crusaders, his wife (who has since passed away), and his daughter. Otherwise he tries to keep his cool, and adheres to Templar tenets as strictly as possible. He would die in a heartbeat for his men and women, and for his own superiors.
Biography: Kris was born the son of a Magus and a Templar. His mother the former, his father the latter.
Their relationship was anything short of a sin to the Templars, and both Kris and his father soon learned this lesson the hard way. Mariah (his mother) proved to Jissem (his father) quite early on in their marriage that she did not love him; evident by the amount of bottles she had cracked over his head, and how she had threatened to turn his skin inside out over his bones until they burned golden. Regardless, Kris' father dealt with her rude manners and irritability, not out of a lack of backbone, but in order to ensure that Kris grew up with a family - even if a dysfunctional one.
In the end, it was shown that Mariah was more than just a cold-hearted bitch who idly taunted her betrothed's life; on one of the hottest days in Templar history, she brutally murdered Jissem, who had went to the kitchen to make a sickly Kris a warm meal. After painting his blood against the floorboards of their house, she fought her way throughout the city, killing as many Templars as she was physically able before she vanished in a puff of grey smoke, never to be heard from again.
That event impacted Kris' life in unimaginable ways. He developed a deep brooding hatred for magic and its users, joining the Mage-Hunters at a very early age. He trained and developed his strength, swiftly and efficiently rising through the ranks. He soon after was married, and gave to the world a child by the name of Cherry Quarters. After his wife had passed away, Kris retired into a life of drinking, sleeping, and looking after his daughter. He is occasionally called on by the higher-ups in times of crises, as he is well looked up to, but those missions he rarely goes on due to the importance; he doesn't like the responsibility.
Still, Kris will occasionally travel the region or instruct lesser Templars in the arts, as a means to pass time in his dull but contented life.
MUG's Character -
Name: Errion Yaron
Alias: The Red Tear
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
A young man with a hair as red as the blood pulsing through his veins. He stands at nearly five feet and eleven inches with a toned build that explains to his 164 lbs. The dark red hair that covers his head is his most recognizable feature. Where he gets it from is unknown to him and he usually keeps it very unkempt and messy. He washes it thoroughly but never finds the time to fix it into any kind of real look for him. This has made the role of “delinquent” gravitate towards him. Not that Errion cares about that.
The more interesting part of his body is his matching forearm tattoos. He received them at while he was still at the military academy he was at to train his hemalurgy. The tattoos were at first thought to have no importance, as the man he got them from said they were nothing more than a design. As it turns out however they were a design used by ancient hemalurgist to enhance the power of the magic itself. Once he learned this he saw the tattoos as his blessing in disguise. He wears a red hooded over coat most of the time where the sleeves stop at the elbow, which allows him to both show off the marks as well as give himself a lot of space to use his blood. The overcoat his usually open, the buttons swaying as he walks down the street. His pants and boots are both a dark brown color to help him trek through some of the more treacherous terrain.
Magic:
A shockingly talented hemalurgist for his age, Errion uses it as both an offensive and defensive weapon. He has developed a kind of hemalurgy that he calls “Blood Casing”. What he does is he uses a small knife he keeps in his belt loop to cut open some of his forearm opposite of his tattoos. The blood will then wrap around his arms or other parts of his body pending the situation and hardens to something similar to steel. He then uses it to block things such as swords and arrows. The problem with this skill is due to how much of his own blood he tends to use he can get light headed quickly. He can easily use the skill over his arms and stay clear headed, but should he have to use it to cover his torso or worse yet his entire body he can quickly lose his consciousness and require serious medical attention. Errion can also create blades that shoot from the top of his wrist or claws that extend from his fingers while using “Blood Casing”.
Personality:
Errion doesn't like it when people treat him like a child so he boasts himself much higher than he actually is. Bragging about his ability with hemalurgy and skill in hand to hand combat constantly has made many people think of him as pompous and arrogant. Due to this he doesn't have many peers that view him above contempt. With his lack of friends he has become even worse, pretending he is some kind of hero to the cause of the Templars and the world itself. His constant posing and victory speeches prior to battles has been said to even drive spirits into madness. His cheeky grin he wears constantly is as much his most recognizable symbol as his tattoos he flashes to his opponents.
The thing about that grin he wears is that it is fake. The boy in his head is plagued with guilt and when he is alone he is often crying about his past mistake. Should anyone catch him he quickly tries to hide his face with his fake grin or runs from the potential questions. The boy desperately wants to be accepted by his fellow templars but his attitude constantly pushes them away. His nickname “The Red Tear” was given to him by his old mentor prior to his death because of how the boy would become so overly emotional given the situation. Many don't know of the alias itself but those that do understand why it was given because of Errion's master explaining it.
Taking away all his child-like attitudes and his deep emotional pain, the boy actually has a very strong mind in his head. More often than not he has proclaimed himself this century's greatest philosopher. Giving people certain quotes he has read in great stories and biographies of great warriors and royals, as well as his own, people see hope in Errion where they previously wrote him off as a problem waiting to happen. Many don't give him time to hear him speak this way, but when they do they give him strong credit for his knowledge and vision of the world.
Biography:
Being raised in an orphanage in a desert towards the south, abandoned by his birth parents whom he has never met, Errion was initially a quiet boy that the caretakers tried desperately to socialize with the other children. Errion instead spent his early years reading books of ancient heroes and learning the skills of being a Templar. His attraction to this was his feelings of inadequacy. Learning he was deserted and left behind by his birth parents greatly upset him and felt he needed to prove his worth to the world around him. Eventually his attention to detail and self taught hemalurgy garnered the attention of a military academy scout and he was brought in to try and harness those skills he had begun showing.
Still keeping his love for lore and historical warriors in his heart, the young Errion spent most of his days chiseling his hemalurgy into a finely formed skill. When he wasn't doing his training exercises and combat practice he was staying up late and reading more of the stories of the greatest Templars and warrior kings, both fact and fictional. Imagining all the glory and praise these heroes received for their dutiful service he began dreaming of when his turn would come and he would be the next great figure the bards would sing of. It was also around this time that a fellow student of his marked his arms with the tattoos he now wears. The person who gave it to him saw the design in an old pictograph text and showed the design to young Errion. He red headed trouble maker thought it was a brilliant look and requested it on both his forearms as a sign of solidarity among his fellow classmates, as all of them were getting tattoos as well.
After passing his exam in order to graduate from the school at 15, as is tradition, Errion was approached by his Guardian. This man was Bergist Xaia, a seasoned and hearty old Templar that saw great promise in the young hemalurgist. Their first night together as Guardian and trainee broke somewhat from tradition as Bergist took the young man to a tavern for a hearty drink and sharing of ideals. Errion explained his lack of family, life in the orphanage and his innate addiction to old stories of heroes and great battles. Bergist laughed as he heard the boy's story and drowned his mug with a single go. The froth still fresh on his beard the man proclaimed to the entire tavern, “I want everyone here to know the name Errion Yaron! An orphan boy who, through dedication and determination, will be the greatest hero to the land! And I, his Guardian, will be sure to see it happen!” The whole tavern through up their drinks in a hearty cheer and filled the young boy with such joy he couldn't contain his toothy grin. Bergist smiled back and patted the boy on the head with his strong and grizzly hand.
The two spent the next ten months training and enjoying the company of the other. Around four months into their relationship the young boy jokingly called Bergist his grandfather, to which the old Templar demanded that be his name from then on. Not sure if it was a joke or not, Errion continued calling the old warrior “Grandpa” with a grin from then on. Some days were all smiles with the two, but others were not so much. Certain days would be lost due to Errion's loneliness and desire for a true family. Perhaps this was why Errion slipped and called the old man grandpa. He wasn't sure, but the old man was always there to support the boy and give him the space he needed to collect himself. The old Templar even at times would tell stories of his old journeys and those would always take Errion's mind off of his desire for a true family and friends. Bergist joked with the boy, calling him the “Red Tear” because of his sudden outburst of tears after a day that he seemed so cheery.
Encouraging young Errion to try and find something that he could call his own, a skill or something similar, the red haired boy began developing his “Blood Casing” ability, which impressed his Guardian very much so. Errion got the idea from watching his master put on his heavy armor and how well it defended him from many of the more dangerous things in the world. Should the boy need protection, he wanted to be able to still use his hand to hand combat. With that idea in mind, the “Blood Casing” was born. Bergist told the boy when he first saw the skill, “This will be your calling card my boy! That and you're cheeky grin you have!” Errion and his master laughed into the night with that comment.
Towards the end of their ten months, Bergist began loosing the pep in his step and seemed to be more tired than usual. Errion was concerned for his Guardian, but his worry would be short lived as Bergist decided it was time for his solo mission. Errion traveled to a small swamp town that had been attacked numerous times by a spirit and each attack was becoming more aggressive. Traveling to the swamp as fast as he could, Errion eventually arrived in the dead of night. Planning to try and taunt the spirit out of hiding he got as much information as he could about the ghost. He learned it was a tormented soul of a woman who was getting revenge on the town for apparently leaving her to die in the muck filled waters around them. The true story was that she ventured out alone one day to try and gather food and found herself stuck in a sink hole, which eventually led to her demise.
Taunting the ghost woman as best he could, the spirit howled and wailed as she appeared. Tired of the boy's jabs at her she began attacking ferociously. Dodging her attacks with his agility as best he could, the ghost eventually got a swipe on him and opened a very light wound. As the ghost laughed, seeing a victory coming her way, Errion then preceded to use “Blood Casing” skill and created claws on his hands. Quickly and aggressively the boy began slicing into the spirit of the woman who was desperately trying to escape after she realized how deadly the boy could actually be. After what seemed like an eternity the spirit of the woman eventually fizzled to almost nothing. Errion collected the spirit and began his travel back to his master to complete his mission.
Arriving back at his master's home, he was not greeted the way he expected. Instead of Bergist greeting him, he walked up to his home with many Templars surrounding the nearby areas. Each of them seemed to carry nothing but grief and worry in their eyes. Quickening his pace the boy ran to his master's room and found Bergist pale and looking lost on his bed. Letting out a worried gasp, his master turned and smiled as he recognized the blood red hair. “And here I was worried you wouldn't make it back in time.” Bergist said in a quiet voice that was filled with exhaustion. Explaining to Errion that he had been struck ill around the time he charged the boy with his mission. Since he had left the disease was spreading and beating the old fighter. Out of solidarity, another Templar banished the spirit Errion had brought with him and after the banishment ceremony, Bergist turned to his young student. He whispered, “Greatness comes from loss. You have greatness in you, because you were given nothing. You earned your place among us dear boy. Become that next great hero you were destined to be.” After that last sentence, the old Templar released his last sigh and left the world with a proud grin on his face.
Errion went to the funeral of his master with a river of tears flowing from his eyes, with no consoling from those who were around him. Even if they had tried he wouldn't have stopped. After that day he focused his desire on becoming a hero and being what his master proclaimed him to be that night in the tavern. His loneliness and loss of his only family he ever had still cause him to shed a tear if he thinks about it, but his grin is seemingly always on display. That grin, sadly, sometimes is fake and forced. Too proud to admit it though, the boy named Errion continues his journey to be a hero. The Red Tear will be known throughout the lands.
Extra:
- Errion has a serious problem talking to girls. He gets very nervous and usually finds himself mute in those situations. If its just him and the woman, his mind tends to wander and he loses his ability to make coherent speech.
- Will sometimes find himself in random heroic entrances, poses included. Sometimes even plans these things ahead of time.
Alias: The Red Tear
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Faction: Templars
Appearance:
A young man with a hair as red as the blood pulsing through his veins. He stands at nearly five feet and eleven inches with a toned build that explains to his 164 lbs. The dark red hair that covers his head is his most recognizable feature. Where he gets it from is unknown to him and he usually keeps it very unkempt and messy. He washes it thoroughly but never finds the time to fix it into any kind of real look for him. This has made the role of “delinquent” gravitate towards him. Not that Errion cares about that.
The more interesting part of his body is his matching forearm tattoos. He received them at while he was still at the military academy he was at to train his hemalurgy. The tattoos were at first thought to have no importance, as the man he got them from said they were nothing more than a design. As it turns out however they were a design used by ancient hemalurgist to enhance the power of the magic itself. Once he learned this he saw the tattoos as his blessing in disguise. He wears a red hooded over coat most of the time where the sleeves stop at the elbow, which allows him to both show off the marks as well as give himself a lot of space to use his blood. The overcoat his usually open, the buttons swaying as he walks down the street. His pants and boots are both a dark brown color to help him trek through some of the more treacherous terrain.
Magic:
A shockingly talented hemalurgist for his age, Errion uses it as both an offensive and defensive weapon. He has developed a kind of hemalurgy that he calls “Blood Casing”. What he does is he uses a small knife he keeps in his belt loop to cut open some of his forearm opposite of his tattoos. The blood will then wrap around his arms or other parts of his body pending the situation and hardens to something similar to steel. He then uses it to block things such as swords and arrows. The problem with this skill is due to how much of his own blood he tends to use he can get light headed quickly. He can easily use the skill over his arms and stay clear headed, but should he have to use it to cover his torso or worse yet his entire body he can quickly lose his consciousness and require serious medical attention. Errion can also create blades that shoot from the top of his wrist or claws that extend from his fingers while using “Blood Casing”.
Personality:
Errion doesn't like it when people treat him like a child so he boasts himself much higher than he actually is. Bragging about his ability with hemalurgy and skill in hand to hand combat constantly has made many people think of him as pompous and arrogant. Due to this he doesn't have many peers that view him above contempt. With his lack of friends he has become even worse, pretending he is some kind of hero to the cause of the Templars and the world itself. His constant posing and victory speeches prior to battles has been said to even drive spirits into madness. His cheeky grin he wears constantly is as much his most recognizable symbol as his tattoos he flashes to his opponents.
The thing about that grin he wears is that it is fake. The boy in his head is plagued with guilt and when he is alone he is often crying about his past mistake. Should anyone catch him he quickly tries to hide his face with his fake grin or runs from the potential questions. The boy desperately wants to be accepted by his fellow templars but his attitude constantly pushes them away. His nickname “The Red Tear” was given to him by his old mentor prior to his death because of how the boy would become so overly emotional given the situation. Many don't know of the alias itself but those that do understand why it was given because of Errion's master explaining it.
Taking away all his child-like attitudes and his deep emotional pain, the boy actually has a very strong mind in his head. More often than not he has proclaimed himself this century's greatest philosopher. Giving people certain quotes he has read in great stories and biographies of great warriors and royals, as well as his own, people see hope in Errion where they previously wrote him off as a problem waiting to happen. Many don't give him time to hear him speak this way, but when they do they give him strong credit for his knowledge and vision of the world.
Biography:
Being raised in an orphanage in a desert towards the south, abandoned by his birth parents whom he has never met, Errion was initially a quiet boy that the caretakers tried desperately to socialize with the other children. Errion instead spent his early years reading books of ancient heroes and learning the skills of being a Templar. His attraction to this was his feelings of inadequacy. Learning he was deserted and left behind by his birth parents greatly upset him and felt he needed to prove his worth to the world around him. Eventually his attention to detail and self taught hemalurgy garnered the attention of a military academy scout and he was brought in to try and harness those skills he had begun showing.
Still keeping his love for lore and historical warriors in his heart, the young Errion spent most of his days chiseling his hemalurgy into a finely formed skill. When he wasn't doing his training exercises and combat practice he was staying up late and reading more of the stories of the greatest Templars and warrior kings, both fact and fictional. Imagining all the glory and praise these heroes received for their dutiful service he began dreaming of when his turn would come and he would be the next great figure the bards would sing of. It was also around this time that a fellow student of his marked his arms with the tattoos he now wears. The person who gave it to him saw the design in an old pictograph text and showed the design to young Errion. He red headed trouble maker thought it was a brilliant look and requested it on both his forearms as a sign of solidarity among his fellow classmates, as all of them were getting tattoos as well.
After passing his exam in order to graduate from the school at 15, as is tradition, Errion was approached by his Guardian. This man was Bergist Xaia, a seasoned and hearty old Templar that saw great promise in the young hemalurgist. Their first night together as Guardian and trainee broke somewhat from tradition as Bergist took the young man to a tavern for a hearty drink and sharing of ideals. Errion explained his lack of family, life in the orphanage and his innate addiction to old stories of heroes and great battles. Bergist laughed as he heard the boy's story and drowned his mug with a single go. The froth still fresh on his beard the man proclaimed to the entire tavern, “I want everyone here to know the name Errion Yaron! An orphan boy who, through dedication and determination, will be the greatest hero to the land! And I, his Guardian, will be sure to see it happen!” The whole tavern through up their drinks in a hearty cheer and filled the young boy with such joy he couldn't contain his toothy grin. Bergist smiled back and patted the boy on the head with his strong and grizzly hand.
The two spent the next ten months training and enjoying the company of the other. Around four months into their relationship the young boy jokingly called Bergist his grandfather, to which the old Templar demanded that be his name from then on. Not sure if it was a joke or not, Errion continued calling the old warrior “Grandpa” with a grin from then on. Some days were all smiles with the two, but others were not so much. Certain days would be lost due to Errion's loneliness and desire for a true family. Perhaps this was why Errion slipped and called the old man grandpa. He wasn't sure, but the old man was always there to support the boy and give him the space he needed to collect himself. The old Templar even at times would tell stories of his old journeys and those would always take Errion's mind off of his desire for a true family and friends. Bergist joked with the boy, calling him the “Red Tear” because of his sudden outburst of tears after a day that he seemed so cheery.
Encouraging young Errion to try and find something that he could call his own, a skill or something similar, the red haired boy began developing his “Blood Casing” ability, which impressed his Guardian very much so. Errion got the idea from watching his master put on his heavy armor and how well it defended him from many of the more dangerous things in the world. Should the boy need protection, he wanted to be able to still use his hand to hand combat. With that idea in mind, the “Blood Casing” was born. Bergist told the boy when he first saw the skill, “This will be your calling card my boy! That and you're cheeky grin you have!” Errion and his master laughed into the night with that comment.
Towards the end of their ten months, Bergist began loosing the pep in his step and seemed to be more tired than usual. Errion was concerned for his Guardian, but his worry would be short lived as Bergist decided it was time for his solo mission. Errion traveled to a small swamp town that had been attacked numerous times by a spirit and each attack was becoming more aggressive. Traveling to the swamp as fast as he could, Errion eventually arrived in the dead of night. Planning to try and taunt the spirit out of hiding he got as much information as he could about the ghost. He learned it was a tormented soul of a woman who was getting revenge on the town for apparently leaving her to die in the muck filled waters around them. The true story was that she ventured out alone one day to try and gather food and found herself stuck in a sink hole, which eventually led to her demise.
Taunting the ghost woman as best he could, the spirit howled and wailed as she appeared. Tired of the boy's jabs at her she began attacking ferociously. Dodging her attacks with his agility as best he could, the ghost eventually got a swipe on him and opened a very light wound. As the ghost laughed, seeing a victory coming her way, Errion then preceded to use “Blood Casing” skill and created claws on his hands. Quickly and aggressively the boy began slicing into the spirit of the woman who was desperately trying to escape after she realized how deadly the boy could actually be. After what seemed like an eternity the spirit of the woman eventually fizzled to almost nothing. Errion collected the spirit and began his travel back to his master to complete his mission.
Arriving back at his master's home, he was not greeted the way he expected. Instead of Bergist greeting him, he walked up to his home with many Templars surrounding the nearby areas. Each of them seemed to carry nothing but grief and worry in their eyes. Quickening his pace the boy ran to his master's room and found Bergist pale and looking lost on his bed. Letting out a worried gasp, his master turned and smiled as he recognized the blood red hair. “And here I was worried you wouldn't make it back in time.” Bergist said in a quiet voice that was filled with exhaustion. Explaining to Errion that he had been struck ill around the time he charged the boy with his mission. Since he had left the disease was spreading and beating the old fighter. Out of solidarity, another Templar banished the spirit Errion had brought with him and after the banishment ceremony, Bergist turned to his young student. He whispered, “Greatness comes from loss. You have greatness in you, because you were given nothing. You earned your place among us dear boy. Become that next great hero you were destined to be.” After that last sentence, the old Templar released his last sigh and left the world with a proud grin on his face.
Errion went to the funeral of his master with a river of tears flowing from his eyes, with no consoling from those who were around him. Even if they had tried he wouldn't have stopped. After that day he focused his desire on becoming a hero and being what his master proclaimed him to be that night in the tavern. His loneliness and loss of his only family he ever had still cause him to shed a tear if he thinks about it, but his grin is seemingly always on display. That grin, sadly, sometimes is fake and forced. Too proud to admit it though, the boy named Errion continues his journey to be a hero. The Red Tear will be known throughout the lands.
Extra:
- Errion has a serious problem talking to girls. He gets very nervous and usually finds himself mute in those situations. If its just him and the woman, his mind tends to wander and he loses his ability to make coherent speech.
- Will sometimes find himself in random heroic entrances, poses included. Sometimes even plans these things ahead of time.
TaraNeko's Character
Name: Cana
Alias: She-Wolf
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Faction: Crimson Crusaders; Templars
Appearance: Cana is a smaller woman around 5’4 in height and weighs approximately 130lbs. Her frame is made mostly of muscle and she lacks certain feminine curves located in her torso if you know what I mean. Her hair is long, falling to her slim hips. It’s thick, almost like a wolf’s pelt and a brilliant white color despite her young age. Her hair is almost always a bit messy with pieces of it braided and weighed down with golden rings or pulled through little metal decorations into puffs. Cana’s face is has a certain wolfish look to it and her electric blue eyes are always looking around for some sort of danger. When she grins some of her teeth appear to be a bit sharper, especially her canines.
Mostly her clothing consists of oriental styles from the trading routes, they are long tunic tops with sleeves she rolls up and down depending on the temperature. The tops go over her simple black pants which lead into relatively lightweight black boots. Cana owns a cloak that is deep red and lined with the fur of a snow leopard. Normally she’ll only wear this when she is somewhere cold. She has a variety of bracelets, rings and necklaces that she wears. Most of these came from traveling traders and a few kind shop keeps who gave them to her as a gift after she helped them. The one necklace she always wears is a long loop of gold beads that have three wolf teeth on them. One of the fangs came from the alpha male she knew as a child, one from the alpha female and one from one of the lesser females who cared for her when the alpha could not. She also has a red mask decorated to look like some sort of demon that she got purely because it looked cool to her.
Magic:
Beastmastery
Cana like all beast masters was born with the ability to see and communicate with animals. She’s very skilled at this since much of her earlier life was spent more with animals than with humans. The animal she has performed Symbiosis with is a white great wolf with golden eyes named Marrok. He is big enough that Cana can easily ride on his back and often does when traveling long distances. His size is mainly from their pact even though Cana herself is smaller. When they travel into busy crowds, Marrok tends to clear a path. Her connection to him is strong as they have been connected since he was a pup.
Beyond her beast mastery, Cana is a skilled fighter and runner. Her most common weapon is knifes, throwing or fighting. She can use them just like any wolf can use their claws. Beyond that she does carry a short blade but rarely uses this blade unless she’s really in a fight. Most of her muscle is located in her legs which makes it easy for her to run in any terrain.
Personality:
To describe Cana’s personality, just look to a female alpha. She’s strong and highly independent. She holds a ferocity that comes from her time in the wild and a strong will. She has an extreme sense of loyalty and will fight to the death for those she is loyal too. While Cana can be stubborn and quick to anger, she has all the makings to be a great leader and climb high into the ranks of the Templars.
Biography:
Cana does not remember anything before seven years old except for traces of her human mother’s perfume and maybe her human father’s arms holding her to his chest. Her earliest memory is of Lupa, the alpha who licked her cheek to awaken her on the floor of a forest somewhere in the north. She recalls sitting up and staring into the eyes of the wolf while she silently caught feelings that Lupa was curious about her but also concerned. She was amongst what appeared to be the wreckage of a caravan though she was the only human there alive or dead.
Lupa carried the child away from the wreckage and into the warm den she’d dug as she was expecting a litter of pups soon. Cana was raised like any pup. They clothed her with clothing they found from unlucky adventurers who lost their lives as well as the fur of those wolves who fell. Raised amongst the wolves, Cana grew in the wild. Feasting on still breathing animals, hunting with her pack and howling long with everyone else.
The only way that Cana even retained some of her humanity was the encounters with hunters and travelers and even some beast masters. She still understood some of human speech; she still understood how some of them fought. She herself had developed knives made of bone so give her claws where she lacked them.
When she was around eleven, Cana defended a group of sleeping Templars from a mountain cat and was wounded in her struggle. The Templars, wanting to take her into a city for medical attention tried to approach the fallen girl but were quickly cut off by her pack. The group happened to have a beast master with them who communicated with the wolves, convincing them they meant Cana no harm and once she was healed they would return her to the forest.
This beast master, figuring that Cana herself was like him took her in and helped her recover. She had to be under medical care for several months and during that time the beast master would help her learn more of the human language and he taught her about the human civilization. He explained why she could talk to animals and how he did the same thing. He explained the Templars to her and even helped her learn a few fighting tricks. He also explained Symbiosis to her and Cana began to feel like maybe she did have a place in the human world and she just didn’t know it.
Just as promised when Cana was fully healed, she was returned to the forest but left with a parting gift, the gold beads of her necklace. She returned to her pack and remained with them for a month or two but then the pack was attacked one night by hunters, hunters who used magic. Both alphas were killed, most of the pack massacred and the omegas fled. Cana retaliated against these men for killing her pack, her family and it was when she was done ripping them apart that she started to cry. The tears ran red with the men’s blood and Cana curled in on herself trying to understand why this happened. She howled a long, hurt and lost howl. As she whimpered on the ground, a small pure white cub padded his way up to her. He nuzzled her hair and Cana looked over to see him sitting there, head cocked to the side. It was then she recalled the beast master who had cared for her. She performed Symbiosis with the pup and after burying the pack they left to seek out that man once more. She was taken in by the beast master, a man known as Connor, and placed in the Crusader’s schools. Quickly she was selected to join the Templars and Connor became her Guardian. She passed her initiation early on in time started her work for the Templars.
Extra:
- Cana finds the throne to be rather uncomfortable and would prefer to be riding atop Marrok.
- Cana still has a taste for meat, preferably as rare as possible, even if she can hear the protests of the animals.
- Cana is actually quite smart despite growing up in the wild; she picked up on things quickly and has a very high curiosity level.
- Cana has a bit of a soft spot for children as they remind her too much of wolf cubs and herself
Alias: She-Wolf
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Faction: Crimson Crusaders; Templars
Appearance: Cana is a smaller woman around 5’4 in height and weighs approximately 130lbs. Her frame is made mostly of muscle and she lacks certain feminine curves located in her torso if you know what I mean. Her hair is long, falling to her slim hips. It’s thick, almost like a wolf’s pelt and a brilliant white color despite her young age. Her hair is almost always a bit messy with pieces of it braided and weighed down with golden rings or pulled through little metal decorations into puffs. Cana’s face is has a certain wolfish look to it and her electric blue eyes are always looking around for some sort of danger. When she grins some of her teeth appear to be a bit sharper, especially her canines.
Mostly her clothing consists of oriental styles from the trading routes, they are long tunic tops with sleeves she rolls up and down depending on the temperature. The tops go over her simple black pants which lead into relatively lightweight black boots. Cana owns a cloak that is deep red and lined with the fur of a snow leopard. Normally she’ll only wear this when she is somewhere cold. She has a variety of bracelets, rings and necklaces that she wears. Most of these came from traveling traders and a few kind shop keeps who gave them to her as a gift after she helped them. The one necklace she always wears is a long loop of gold beads that have three wolf teeth on them. One of the fangs came from the alpha male she knew as a child, one from the alpha female and one from one of the lesser females who cared for her when the alpha could not. She also has a red mask decorated to look like some sort of demon that she got purely because it looked cool to her.
Magic:
Beastmastery
Cana like all beast masters was born with the ability to see and communicate with animals. She’s very skilled at this since much of her earlier life was spent more with animals than with humans. The animal she has performed Symbiosis with is a white great wolf with golden eyes named Marrok. He is big enough that Cana can easily ride on his back and often does when traveling long distances. His size is mainly from their pact even though Cana herself is smaller. When they travel into busy crowds, Marrok tends to clear a path. Her connection to him is strong as they have been connected since he was a pup.
Beyond her beast mastery, Cana is a skilled fighter and runner. Her most common weapon is knifes, throwing or fighting. She can use them just like any wolf can use their claws. Beyond that she does carry a short blade but rarely uses this blade unless she’s really in a fight. Most of her muscle is located in her legs which makes it easy for her to run in any terrain.
Personality:
To describe Cana’s personality, just look to a female alpha. She’s strong and highly independent. She holds a ferocity that comes from her time in the wild and a strong will. She has an extreme sense of loyalty and will fight to the death for those she is loyal too. While Cana can be stubborn and quick to anger, she has all the makings to be a great leader and climb high into the ranks of the Templars.
Biography:
Cana does not remember anything before seven years old except for traces of her human mother’s perfume and maybe her human father’s arms holding her to his chest. Her earliest memory is of Lupa, the alpha who licked her cheek to awaken her on the floor of a forest somewhere in the north. She recalls sitting up and staring into the eyes of the wolf while she silently caught feelings that Lupa was curious about her but also concerned. She was amongst what appeared to be the wreckage of a caravan though she was the only human there alive or dead.
Lupa carried the child away from the wreckage and into the warm den she’d dug as she was expecting a litter of pups soon. Cana was raised like any pup. They clothed her with clothing they found from unlucky adventurers who lost their lives as well as the fur of those wolves who fell. Raised amongst the wolves, Cana grew in the wild. Feasting on still breathing animals, hunting with her pack and howling long with everyone else.
The only way that Cana even retained some of her humanity was the encounters with hunters and travelers and even some beast masters. She still understood some of human speech; she still understood how some of them fought. She herself had developed knives made of bone so give her claws where she lacked them.
When she was around eleven, Cana defended a group of sleeping Templars from a mountain cat and was wounded in her struggle. The Templars, wanting to take her into a city for medical attention tried to approach the fallen girl but were quickly cut off by her pack. The group happened to have a beast master with them who communicated with the wolves, convincing them they meant Cana no harm and once she was healed they would return her to the forest.
This beast master, figuring that Cana herself was like him took her in and helped her recover. She had to be under medical care for several months and during that time the beast master would help her learn more of the human language and he taught her about the human civilization. He explained why she could talk to animals and how he did the same thing. He explained the Templars to her and even helped her learn a few fighting tricks. He also explained Symbiosis to her and Cana began to feel like maybe she did have a place in the human world and she just didn’t know it.
Just as promised when Cana was fully healed, she was returned to the forest but left with a parting gift, the gold beads of her necklace. She returned to her pack and remained with them for a month or two but then the pack was attacked one night by hunters, hunters who used magic. Both alphas were killed, most of the pack massacred and the omegas fled. Cana retaliated against these men for killing her pack, her family and it was when she was done ripping them apart that she started to cry. The tears ran red with the men’s blood and Cana curled in on herself trying to understand why this happened. She howled a long, hurt and lost howl. As she whimpered on the ground, a small pure white cub padded his way up to her. He nuzzled her hair and Cana looked over to see him sitting there, head cocked to the side. It was then she recalled the beast master who had cared for her. She performed Symbiosis with the pup and after burying the pack they left to seek out that man once more. She was taken in by the beast master, a man known as Connor, and placed in the Crusader’s schools. Quickly she was selected to join the Templars and Connor became her Guardian. She passed her initiation early on in time started her work for the Templars.
Extra:
- Cana finds the throne to be rather uncomfortable and would prefer to be riding atop Marrok.
- Cana still has a taste for meat, preferably as rare as possible, even if she can hear the protests of the animals.
- Cana is actually quite smart despite growing up in the wild; she picked up on things quickly and has a very high curiosity level.
- Cana has a bit of a soft spot for children as they remind her too much of wolf cubs and herself
Whiteblade's Character -
Name: Aaron Synth
Alias: The Hidden Bolt
Age: Twenty nine years of age.
Gender: Male
Faction: The Crimson Crusaders, A Mage hunting Templar to be more specific.
Appearance: Cloaked in a dark green garb, he wears a short sword at his belt, along with several knives on the inside of his cloak. He has a devilish grin to him and sports black hair and blue eyes. Under his cloak he wears a set of reinforced leather armor for a chest plate, with actual metal shin guards. He likes to travel like, and typically carries only his weapons and a few camping provisions on a sack on his back. In instances where he knows he is going to go in for a kill, he equips a heavy crossbow to his back. He's famous with that crossbow for reportedly piercing two mages at once with one bolt, but any evidence is yet to be seen. He also always carries small artifacts involved in banishment rituals on him. His favorite one to carry is his golden lined cross, but another is a small circular clay object, with the image of a magic user being driven through on a pike. He owns a bow, but unless hunting or traveling far distances rarely carries it.
Magic: Besides basic banishment rituals, Aaron uses his own wits and martial abilities
Personality: Aaron enjoys the thrill of the hunt. He loves listening to the whispers of his unaware prey, the cries of pain and fear as an arrow finds his mark. He is always looking for the next kill, but at the same time is reserved in his actions. Not wanting to lose his own life, he has been known to stalk prey for weeks. The result of this is someone who is emotionally dead to the world. He's difficult to empathize with, or talk to. He has a lack of basic social skills and takes most things literally, but his ability to track and hunt makes up for it in spades. Aaron hates being distracted from his work, and has been known to fly into fits of rage against people who make him lost his prey. Rumors circulate that he killed another Templar in a fit of rage, but it is highly unlikely.
Biography: Aaron was raised to a middle class family, with a little royal blood in it, but not enough to warrant him any high positions. As a child he proved to be very violent in a household of nine, setting himself apart from his other siblings. He was prone to beat other children when he didn't get what he want, and enjoyed watching the butcher slaughter things in the evening. He soon became a bully and was even given a small wooden sword to play with, his parents hoping it channel his violent tendencies when in reality it needed to be taken away as he nearly beat a boy to death. The most defining part of his childhood was at age twelve, when he heard a ruckus going on in his town. After gazing out the window he saw a man in plate armor dueling with a mage, spurting flames out of his hands. Joyed he grabbed his hunting boy, meant for small game. He awkwardly strung an arrow and fired it at the back of the mage, causing him to stagger and die at the hands of the Templar. A simple reach into the back of the dead man, finding an arrow, and the devilishly grin on the boy's face was all he needed to know to know that he was looking at a Future Templar.
From there he accelerated quickly in the combat arts and training, but grew bored and uninterested in the descriptions of the magics and how to banish. He wanted to kill. He pushed through his studies and learned the basic banishing arts required, but advanced extremely fast in the hunting and disabling of mages. Preferring less to use anti magic fields Aaron preferred to stick an arrow through him or cut him down with a sword, something his superiors grew frustrated at. His colleagues began to fear him slightly, as he started to become more and more morbid. Eventually he graduated, and became a full fledged Templar. He now hunts whenever he can and wherever, and has recently heard stories of mages in the swamps...
Alias: The Hidden Bolt
Age: Twenty nine years of age.
Gender: Male
Faction: The Crimson Crusaders, A Mage hunting Templar to be more specific.
Appearance: Cloaked in a dark green garb, he wears a short sword at his belt, along with several knives on the inside of his cloak. He has a devilish grin to him and sports black hair and blue eyes. Under his cloak he wears a set of reinforced leather armor for a chest plate, with actual metal shin guards. He likes to travel like, and typically carries only his weapons and a few camping provisions on a sack on his back. In instances where he knows he is going to go in for a kill, he equips a heavy crossbow to his back. He's famous with that crossbow for reportedly piercing two mages at once with one bolt, but any evidence is yet to be seen. He also always carries small artifacts involved in banishment rituals on him. His favorite one to carry is his golden lined cross, but another is a small circular clay object, with the image of a magic user being driven through on a pike. He owns a bow, but unless hunting or traveling far distances rarely carries it.
Magic: Besides basic banishment rituals, Aaron uses his own wits and martial abilities
Personality: Aaron enjoys the thrill of the hunt. He loves listening to the whispers of his unaware prey, the cries of pain and fear as an arrow finds his mark. He is always looking for the next kill, but at the same time is reserved in his actions. Not wanting to lose his own life, he has been known to stalk prey for weeks. The result of this is someone who is emotionally dead to the world. He's difficult to empathize with, or talk to. He has a lack of basic social skills and takes most things literally, but his ability to track and hunt makes up for it in spades. Aaron hates being distracted from his work, and has been known to fly into fits of rage against people who make him lost his prey. Rumors circulate that he killed another Templar in a fit of rage, but it is highly unlikely.
Biography: Aaron was raised to a middle class family, with a little royal blood in it, but not enough to warrant him any high positions. As a child he proved to be very violent in a household of nine, setting himself apart from his other siblings. He was prone to beat other children when he didn't get what he want, and enjoyed watching the butcher slaughter things in the evening. He soon became a bully and was even given a small wooden sword to play with, his parents hoping it channel his violent tendencies when in reality it needed to be taken away as he nearly beat a boy to death. The most defining part of his childhood was at age twelve, when he heard a ruckus going on in his town. After gazing out the window he saw a man in plate armor dueling with a mage, spurting flames out of his hands. Joyed he grabbed his hunting boy, meant for small game. He awkwardly strung an arrow and fired it at the back of the mage, causing him to stagger and die at the hands of the Templar. A simple reach into the back of the dead man, finding an arrow, and the devilishly grin on the boy's face was all he needed to know to know that he was looking at a Future Templar.
From there he accelerated quickly in the combat arts and training, but grew bored and uninterested in the descriptions of the magics and how to banish. He wanted to kill. He pushed through his studies and learned the basic banishing arts required, but advanced extremely fast in the hunting and disabling of mages. Preferring less to use anti magic fields Aaron preferred to stick an arrow through him or cut him down with a sword, something his superiors grew frustrated at. His colleagues began to fear him slightly, as he started to become more and more morbid. Eventually he graduated, and became a full fledged Templar. He now hunts whenever he can and wherever, and has recently heard stories of mages in the swamps...