Name: Mitra
Race: Mountain Fae
Age: 219 (a very young fae)
Gender: Female
Appearance: a bit on the tall side, thin and lithe body type but corded with muscle and enough curves to remind people that she's female. Sharp arrogant features. Her skin is a pale soft grey, almost like smoke with silver markings that stretch from her from her forehead down to her torso; her eyes are the color of storm clouds, a mixture of deep purple, blue and grey; she has very long purple black hair that she keeps braided in a coronet around her small black horns. She also has a long pointed tail that ombres from the color of her skin to black down at the point.
Personality: Wicked and mischievous. Kind of a loose cannon, arrogant and wild. She does what she wants, when she wants and doesn't care if she gets in the worst kind of trouble. Always ready with a witty remark or a knife to someones throat. Surprisingly she isn't quick to anger, rather she has a deep deep pool of simmering rage that she only taps into to fight. Loves being the center of attention and the life of any party.
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any): As a fae she has a great deal of magic in her arsenal, which she uses almost exclusively when fighting, but she does have a bladed bow-staff that she uses as well. Mountain fae are extremely talented in sealing magic as well as glamour magic (camouflage).
Background: Grew up in the mountains with her people, who value peace above all else, but she ached for more adventure. With her King's permission she was able to leave her mountains as an emissary to the human realm. She loved the constant hustle and bustle of the human realm so she decided to stay and further her knowledge. She became fast friends with the royal family and has stayed on as an adviser and guard ever since.
Other: Mitra loves animals, especially snakes. Also overly fond of sweets.
oof Lori would you mind being male? Btw- I love your character details.
Bladed bow-staff? Jealous.
I'm kind of obsessed with them right now. lol
sweet! when amber has her character up, we shall start. :)
Name: Sangrar Solta
Race: High Sangue (blood) Elf
Age: we'll just say 24-
Gender: Male
Appearance: https://pm1.narvii.com/6428/60e368cca9ea7d0baca02b1f4ded350bf22199ce_hq.jpg he's lightly muscled, but also extremely thin and tall. Wears a brown cloak so he can conceal his face if he's uncomfortable
Personality: Insecure when it comes to himself, Constantly doubts himself. Doesn't let others get injured in any way on his watch. Kind of keeps his emotions to himself. Like a self-conscious gentle giant (who can kill someone easily-)
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any): Can get any poison out of a bloodstream
Background: (keep it basic) his hometown, including his last family member (older sister) was destroyed in a war
Name: William Graeme
Race: Elemental
Age: 98 854 years
Gender: Male
Appearance: when he adopts a human appearance~ 6'3, very lean build with not much visible muscle, broad shoulders on an otherwise thinner-looking frame. Pale olive skin tone, mild sun damage, a fair few scars in various places excluding his face. He looks to be no older than 45, with strict-looking features with wide-set fiery orange eyes. He has slicked-back salt and pepper hair and a clean-shaven face.
Natural state, which he tries to keep hidden~ humanoid– same height, same build, same eyes. His skin looks like cracked stone, glowing blue through the breaks, spotted with moss.
Personality: plays the wise wizard archetype to those he'd like to keep away, using his age, power and 'wisdom' to convince them to leave him be. He's terrible at learning from his mistakes and is mainly driven by intuition. Has got a lot of regrets, a lot of pent up hate, but tries hard and succeeds to coming across as someone to envy, to fear. He has trouble understanding most people and is scared of forging relationships he knows he'll lose, more than he'd like to admit, which is why he prefers to seem untouchable and distant.
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any): has complete control over all four basic elements with a penchant towards the earth element, as well as a very good (however unpredictable) control of metal, rock and ice.
Background: (keep it basic) appeared at age 9 (doesn't remember the years before that) on his adoptive mother's doorstep. She immediately saw his eyes, understood what he was, and tried to hide him from her xenophobic village. They found him, threw him into a river and hung her. Then the classic trauma-brings-power idea– his powers kicked in as he washed up, half dead, and he realised what he could do and with his limited earth power, razed the village. He enjoyed the power, decided to train on his own.
Other: he's gown through multiple phases– power hungry, terrified of his power, playing hero, miserable in his immortality, relishing the never-ending series of stupid decisions he could make. For now, he's settled on keeping away from civilisation and going from town to town.
If this is too OP let me know, also did you have a crime in mind or have I got liberty for that?
:O oh man I love him. You have full liberty of the crime, but you don't have to tell us yet. I was just going to have our ragtag group follow orders and not ask questions until the journey begins. But remember, your wizard may or may not be actually guilty of the crime he is accused of.
Also, did I read it right that he is almost 94 thousand years old?
Also, did I read it right that he is almost 94 thousand years old?
Hehe sorry there's an extra number there
Lol I had no problem with it! I was just like "Damn that's bold as hell I love it, but wow." XD
Alrighty let me post a starter!
Oh. well would you mind if I pop that back in then? I'm a pushover, I had actually meant that.
(I think three thousand is already hella old.)
Oh. well would you mind if I pop that back in then? I'm a pushover, I had actually meant that.
Hey go for it! I love characters with years of depth and the like.
It was still early enough in the day, that the suns rays were barely peaking over the horizon, and yet the hustle and bustle at the stables suggested that at least a few men had been up through the night. They were preparing a large wooden cart, topped with an iron cage. The bars, tall enough that even a fae could stand within them, shown dully in the faint light, the magic warding runes etched into them sparking like angry flames. It was not a comforting sight, but one meant to insight fear into its doomed prisoner.
"Are the rumors true then?" A youthful stable boy asked, carelessly shucking hay into the bottom of the cart. His master stood with the horses, giving each a large apple before checking their harnesses once more. "I don't know, boy." He growled, limbs aching with the extra work. "And you best keep your mouth shut. No need to lose a tongue over this."
The boy ignored him, eyes shining with the prospect of seeing a real wizard, even if he was a prisoner. "It had to be bad, right? For the King to send him to Orgost! Right, Master?"
The Master of Horses sighed, it was no use discouraging his apprentice. "Well I–"
"It had to be bad enough to risk waking me up this damn early to escort the bastard." A voice yawned from the shadows. Both stablemen jumped, not expecting anyone else around at this hour. The boy peered into the dark archway, frowning at the figure that appeared so suddenly that his heart began to pound out a rhythm that made him feel faint.
"Lady Mitra," He gasped. "I apologize I didn't know you–"
But Fae waved her hand, tail flicking in mild annoyance. "No matter, no matter. So," She said looking around curiously, a strangely hungry gleam appearing in her eyes. "Where's my prisoner?"
A young woman silently stepped into the stable, looking around the stable with a practiced bland stare. She let her bored gaze go through the stable boy and his master without a flicker of her eyes. She stopped at the other woman who was obviously another guard. Another woman. Her shoulders loosened. Males could be difficult, it would be comforting to have another female on the crew. She drew close to the other guard. “Greetings,” she held out her hand, “Serai.”
A tall, slender man arrived in a matter of minutes. Seeing the two women, he internally groaned. It's not that he didn't like women. He just didn't know how to act around one, let alone two. But then, the same could be said for men. He approached the two other guards and nodded at them. "Hello," he spoke with a hushed voice, "my name is Sangrar."
Blinking her large, slanted eyes owlishly, Mitra quickly assessed the young woman before her. Finding nothing that quirked her gut nor her magic, she extended her hand to grasp the woman's forearm in a quick greeting. "Hello, hello. I'm Mitra."
Sensing another over her shoulder, she turned to see a man come towards the both of them. "Come to join the party?" She asked, jerking her head towards the cart with the iron cage upon it.
Serai turned and looked Sangrar up and down coldly. Deciding he was not a threat she turned to the cage. “So, a wizard?”
"Yes. I'm another guard." he avoided both of their gazes, as he wasn't comfortable, and looked straight at the cart. "So that's the prisoner, I assume?"
Mitra's gaze flicked to the empty cart. "I suppose he's going to arrive fashionably late." She shrugged, playing off her obviously tense form. Iron made her uncomfortable, and iron carved with magic suppressing runes made her skin crawl. "I hear they have him down in the pits of the dungeons. Gods only know what he did to end up down there." She muttered, squinting at the rising sun.
