DesertQuest

[Zacharia]

This is an AU Adventure of WotW, called DesertQuest! I’d like to have about three-five people to join here to start things, but the cut-off would probably be ten people. You’re limited to three characters, but if you stick around, you can make a fourth. The characters you make must be different people from the ones you normally use. This is an alternate reality, and even then, it takes place three hundred years after WotW.

The backstory goes as such:

The timeline goes as normal until the end of the Scouring. However, the Ending Winter ravaged /all/ of Elibe thoroughly, until the Dragons and Heroes sealed their power away. The world as they knew it did not go back to how it once was, in fact, it got worse. The sun beat down mercilessly day in and day out, and the ground became cracked and dry. Rain was rare, clouds only appeared in the coldest of days, even the northern regions dried out. Life fell to pieces, and hundreds of thousands died, only adding to the deaths from the Scouring. But, the humans, animals, and plants, went on as we knew it, and adapted. They found oases popping up, as well as underground rivers, and quickly built civilizations around these areas.

A greedy, callous Druid named Hargus, sparked a war between the apparitions he could create and a dashing group of heroes, led by the hero Kenshin. Hargus was finally killed by a traitor to the cause, apparently a child apparition named “Lumino”, and thus ended the battle. Kenshin and co. founded the City of Heroes in the country of Sacae, a place open for any man, woman, or child, as long as they were noble of heart.

It’s been over three hundred years since the Bandit War, and trouble is brewing yet again. Otherworldly creatures have been rising from the sands, as well as a terrible plague, that affects all, even the sands themselves. Not to mention the newly revealed Followers of Hargus, a centuries-old legion of fanatics who wish to follow in the evil man’s footsteps. They have stolen the Divine Weapons, for a secret purpose, but it’s no secret they are preparing to march and conquer the nation.The leaders of Elibe have banded together and are rousing an army, but between the plague, the beasts, and Hargus’ followers, it’ll take a miracle.(Or more PCs.)

Locations:

There are some minor differences between DesertQuest!Elibe, and regular Elibe, so I’ll be summarizing what you’ll find if you were to travel to the available Locations.

Sacae: These folk reside in the flatter regions of Elibe. They’re known for famous Swordsmen and Bowmen the world over. They’re also responsible for the breeds of horses used to travel the land. Trained to go on little water and little mobility, it’s rare to see any other breed roaming around. Be warned, ‘Doom Wolves’ travel these regions, and when you alert one in a pack, you alert them all.

Illia: They’re the number one supplier for all animals that can fly, and it seems gargoyles have also taken a liking to the place the pegasi and wyverns call home. Skirmishes between the three break out everyday, but still the monsters come in greater numbers, threatening to drive both species to extinction. Mercenaries are doing everything they can to stave off the hellish beings, but it’s simply not enough.

Bern: As militant as they were in the other universe, Bern has taken a stand against the beasts that roam the lands. Their king is a wise and noble man, particularly interested in politics and what makes the world tick, but he is downright deadly with a blade in his hand. Guards surround the country, and no one gets through without everyone knowing about it. This guarding schedule has grown very strict lately, with all the Demon Eyes and Skeletons about.

Lycian Isles: Where the wealthiest reside. The Islands are very rich in minerals, which are either very rare or very valuable. The capital of Lycia is Ostia in this Realm, and the other major regions have become scattered cities. Once every year, a fleet of ships travel off across the globe, packed with food and crewmen, looking for a new homeland. They are yet to be successful, and always come home with empty stomachs and low morale. Many who walk into the deeper mine shafts never come out again, thanks to the ravenous Gorgons who hole up in them.

Etruria: Any mage is welcome in this council-controlled country. Be they Shaman, Mage, or Acolyte, you’ll find the best of the best here, as well as the finest Magic School in Elibe. The Archsage has made his country neutral in the oncoming war, and might just need a bit of persuasion to lend his magic. Skeletons are the most common monster you’ll find here, along with Zombies.

Nabata: Hailed as the trade center of Elibe, with a rather festive feel to it all year-round. Many come here once a year for the annual Black Market, which has just about any possible thing you could buy. So, naturally, Bandits flock here like bees to honey. It wasn’t such a problem at first, but then the Cyclopes started to arrive, terrible brutes and fiendishly strong. Rumours have passed around that there’s a Zombie Dragon that stalks the middle of Nabata at night, so many stick to the indoors.

Forgotten Isle: Ruins turned civilization, humans have only just rediscovered this place. In the center of it all, a “gate” of sorts stands in wreckage, covered in ancient hieroglyphs. The only place in Elibe where the grass grows green and the sun’s warmth feels like your troubles could just simply melt away. Small game resides here, so hunting is the main export. Only the bravest of beasts would fly here, and the plague hasn’t reached the civilians. All in all, a peaceful place.

Available classes:

Physical:

Myrmidon-Swords
Thief-Swords
Mercenary-Swords
Fighter-Axes
Sailor-Axes
Brigand-Axes
Soldier-Lances
Wyvern Rider-Lances
Pegasus Rider-Lances
Archer-Bows
Hunter-Bows
Horseman-(Pick from Swords, Axes, Lances, Bows)
Manakete-Dragonstones (Wind, Thunder, Fire, Ice Elemental)


Magical:

Mages-(Pick from Wind, Thunder, Fire, Ice)
Acolytes-Light
Shaman-Dark
Priest/Cleric-Staves
Troubadour-Staves

Promotions:

Physical:

Swordmaster-Swords (Myrmidons)
Assassin-Swords (Thieves, Myrmidons)
Rogue-Swords (Thieves, Myrmidons)
Yeoman-Swords, Bows (Mercenaries, Myrmidons)
Hero-Swords, Axes (Mercenaries, Fighters, Sailors)
Warrior-Axes, Bow (Fighters, Sailors)
Berserker-Axes (Sailors, Fighters, Brigands)
Bandit-Axes, Lances (Brigands)
Dracoknight-Lances, (Pick Swords or Axes) (Wyvern Riders, Pegasus Riders)
Falcoknight-Lances, (Pick Swords, Axes, or Staves) (Pegasus Riders)
Halberdiers-Lances (Soldier)
Sniper-Bows (Archers, Hunters)
Ranger-(Pick one, plus your primary weapon; Swords, Axes, Lances, or Bows)(Horseman, Hunter, Soldier, Mercenary)
Dragon-Dragonstones (Manakete)

Magical:

Sage-All types of Anima Magic, Staves (Mage, Priest/Cleric)
Bishop-Light Magic, Staves (Acolyte, Priest/Cleric, Troubadour)
Druid-Dark Magic, Staves (Shaman)
Mageknight-Primary Magic type, Staves (Mage, Acolyte, Shaman, Priest/Cleric, Troubadour)

You promote with a Master Seal, by the way!

Enemy Only Classes:

Zombie-Claw
Spider-Claw
Skeleton-(Sword, Lance, Bow, or Axe)
Mauthe Doog “Doom Wolves”-Fang, Claw
Gargoyle-Lances
Cyclops-Axes
Gorgon-Dark Magic
Demon Eye-Dark Magic
Zombie Dragon-Breath
Phantom/Spirit-Axes, Swords, Dark or Anima
[Giant] Scorpion-Stinger
Rabid Wyvern-Fang, Tail


Creating a Character:
To create a character, you use this format, but you aren't limited to just these things. It's the bare minimum:

Player:
Name:
Class:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Age:

Appearance:

Clothes:

Born in:

Story:

Inventory:

Plus...
Stats:
Strength
Magic
Skill
Speed
Defense
Resistance
Constitution (Unless you’re making a bulky character, I wouldn’t spend too many points here)

Spread a maximum of thirty five points across these options. These don’t affect much, but they do give a general understanding of how strong your character is in certain aspects.
One last thing. Starting items for characters go as follows:

Sword users: Iron or Slim Sword + Vulnerary
Axe users: Iron Axe or Hatchet + Vulnerary
Lance users: Iron or Slim Lance + Vulnerary
Bow users: Iron or Short Bow + Vulnerary
Anima users: Fire or Wind or Thunder or Ice tome + Vulnerary
Light users: Lightning + Vulnerary
Dark users: Flux + Vulnerary
Staff users: Heal + Elixir

(Everyone also starts off with five hundred gold and a waterskin, unless specified otherwise.)

Character Roster: PM me your finished character(s), and I’ll put it under the Spoiler, to save space.

SPOILER: Click to show

Click here for spoiler
Name: Reid Quinn
Player: Kenshin
Class: Shaman
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Green
Age: 32
Appearance:

Reid doesn't need glasses, his vision is perfect but he feels they make him appear smarter. Often wears a red coat when it's chilly.
Born in: Illia
Story:
Reid was born into the higher middle class as the eldest son with a sister three years younger than him. His family had the money to send him to school which was a good thing for his parents, he had always questioned how everything works and many other things. His tutors had saw how intelligent the boy was at such a young age and knew he would quickly surpass their teaching abilities so they suggested to his parents to far better teachers. They had scrounged up the extra gold they needed to hire the new teachers but it was worth it, Reid had excelled once again in his studies. When he was nine he had began to wonder how the body works and what it looked on the inside, as the phrase goes "curiousity killed the cat" Reid found the nearest animal he knew he could over power and killed his younger sister's kitten and opened it up. What he saw intrigued him, so many organs packed into a small body was oh the wonders how they worked exactly. His parents quickly learned of his sadistic acts, he had received the ass whooping of his life in spite of his claims he did it in the name of science.

In his early twenties he left home in order to further his studies, his mind was still growing and limiting himself to the scholars at home was hindering his intelligent mind. It was at this time he discovered a tome of elder magic. These words in a language he has never seen drew him in, he spent much time trying to decode the book. There were days he got almost no sleep trying to cross reference the book with outs, he had skipped meals left and right while he lost track of time while reading. He even went to other scholars who almost ran when they saw the text, the fact the book had seemed taboo drove him deeper into studies. By a stroke of luck he had found somebody to say at least one thing about the book, it contained dark magic. From there Reid packed his belongings and went in search for somebody talented in the arts of dark magic.

Finding a druid well known to the locals he approached him asking for instruction in the arts of dark magic. The man cocked one eye wide open as he tilted his head, such a strange request, at any rate he had agreed to the task. Taking his pointer finger and middle finger he whacked Reid upside the head 'One more thing. Do not call it dark magic, it is elder magic'. Reid had spent the next ten years studying under the druid in hopes of uncovering why it was so taboo. At the start of his studies his teacher had seemed a little bit out there but after 10 years it was getting more difficult to get a complete sentence that made sense from him and Reid wasn't any closer to learning out why the magic was so taboo, he had his ideas but it required further research. Fairly confident in his ability to read the foreign text and even his casting he set out in search of more answers.


Stats:
Strength-2
Magic-7
Skill-4
Speed-5
Defense-6
Resistance-7
Constitution-4
--

Name: Camille Saracen
Player: Zacharia
Class: Soldier
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Green
Age: 18
Appearance: 5’9 and a fair build. Hair kept back in a ponytail, with a cynical expression almost always on her face. Dark-skinned, which is normal for most people living in Elibe. A muscular build, able to wield a lance with ease from many years of participating in military activities.

Clothes: The armor she wears is a tinted blue, and made of a light and airy material but hardened like steel; the standard for Soldiers of Nabata. She also wears an old hand-me-down cloak that is a dusty and faded white, to reflect heat better during the day time. Light and tight-fitting pants so that she can move faster, and brown boots made for trekking across slippery surfaces.

Stats:
Strength-8
Magic-0
Skill-6
Speed-5
Defense-5
Resistance-5
Constitution-5

Inventory:
Iron Lance (45/45)
Vulnerary (3/3)Waterskin

Born in: Nabata


Story: Camille was born and raised in Bozrah, Nabata’s famous Market City. Located near the border of the land, there were always a lot of travelers on the road, and if there were travelers, that meant there were bandits. Camille’s mother and father ran the local guard, so naturally Camille grew up wanting to help out and be all awesome and stuff like her parents. She had an older brother named Kirel, who wanted to grow up as a healer, not as a warrior. She also had an enigmatic Uncle Garrett who essentially lived with them. Her father and mother did not know how old he was, but they treated him like family, so the kids did the same.

Kirel left at the age of five, to be apprenticed to Camille’s aunt. Kirel had shown great magical ability, and since their aunt was a trained Staff user with no apprentice, the boy had begged and pleaded his way into going with his aunt. He had left when Camille was two, so she remembered little about him. The way Camille saw it, Garrett was more of a brother because she knew him better. She didn't think about it then, but at the pace his face aged, eventually he would be. The man was a mystery apart from just about anything Camille pestered him about as a child.

Camille had been trained to fight with a lance now, at a tender age of seven. Her father and mother teach her the basics of both of their move sets, and she excelled quickly, despite being terrible against the older kids. By the time she had mastered the basics, she started moving on to short swords and bows (She didn’t have a magic bone in her and could hardly lift an axe).

At this point, age fourteen, she could adequately use Lances, Swords, and Bows. She could kick the other trainees’ butts with a spear, and even some of the men and women on watch duty already. There wasn’t much going on in Bozrah until the Black Market came to town every year, but this year would be different. A sandstorm, larger than anyone had seen and would ever see again, had caught the town unawares and trashed the place.

Camille awoke in her room that fateful day, wondering why the world around her seemed so muffled. And dim. Then she noticed the sand blocking her windows. She ran out into the hall and pulled the front door inwards. The town was nearly buried. She roused her uncle and rushed outside in the daylight. A few were lying out there in some grotesque position the storm threw them into, mouths and noses filled with sand. A few had suffocated from their houses being filled with the stuff, and one unlucky fellow had died from his roof caving in.

After rescuing the trapped survivors, Camille and the others started on clearing off all the sand. The process took nearly two months, and when the Black Market arrived in Bozrah, they were sorely disappointed to find that all they had to show for crossing half a country was a bunch of dusty people and some half hearted haggling.

This event had happened nearly four years ago, and now Camille was eighteen. The sandstorm might have been a warning of what was yet to come. Camille was a part of the guard watch now, but nothing could prepare her for a rotting hand clawing its way out of the ground. She stabbed it repeatedly until it went back under, and ran off to tell her leader.

The plague had spread, and so had the monsters and beasts. Kirel, now twenty-one had been called back to the town to help out in the infirmaries, being an extraordinary healer. Camille’s mother had been taken by the plague, and there was little anyone could do but keep the life in her like everyone else, for there was no known cure about the plague.

Camille was commanded by her father to stay and protect Bozrah, but she slipped out in the middle of the night.
She almost convinced her brother to go with her, too. But Kirel protested against it and made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Uncle Garret accompanied her instead, after being caught by him in the middle of the night. So Camille left the city of Bozrah behind, determined to find a treatment for the plague.
--


Name: Vandertz Angra
Class: Wyvern Rider
Hair Color: Light blue
Eye Color: Blue
Age: 20

Appearance: His hair is a bit long compared to most of the other wyvern riders he met, his skin is tan and his body have some scars, mostly on the arms and on his face, he likes to call them "memories of combat", as most of them were caused by weapons during his assaults or when he was defending his home from attacks of bandits.

Clothes: Medium-weight spiked armor, giving him a less friendly or generic armor, on other words, not the classic polished armor from the guard. On the left side of his shoulder plate, there is blood red ragged mantle, covering a good part of his arm, it was the only part left from it after the fights he had and now is used like a luck charm. The skull-like helmet that he had been using was a gift from a friend of his father, who happens to be a berserker, but he planned to replace it, so he gave him the old one. It was mostly to hide the scars of his face and hide his identity during the assaults, but he began to like it and turned into part of his style.

Born in: Illia

Story:
Born in Illia, Vandertz was from a family of wyvern riders, not like it was something rare on Illia, they were not that rich, but they also were not poor, most of them were almost flying merchants to get money faster. During those days where everything seemed to be calm, he used to be a prankster young, he never took anything or anyone seriously, until a group of brigands attacked the village he lived in burning houses, stealing things and leaving many people almost dead or really wounded.

Since that day, he decided to begin to train and asked a friend of his father to teach him how to fight properly, even if the experienced soldier was a berserker, he managed to teach the young man how to fight with a spear properly, besides forcing him to test his limits to gain more resistance, get strong enough to defend his place from any possible attack. For his surprise, his family had been watching his progress and allowed him to learn how to be a wyvern rider even if he was really young yet. The first thing he did was give a name to the blue snake-line wyvern, "Orihalcon", it was the name of some rare blue mineral he heard about, he was not sure if it existed, but he liked how the it sounded like. Curiously, the wyvern shared some of the qualities of the soldier, both could be noisy and annoying, so they ended up being the perfect pair for destruction or just to ruin someone's day.

It was quite a challenge to him get used to the flying combat style, especially because his berserker friend really would not be able to help him on that part and most of the wyvern riders were too busy doing their own things, just with some luck he could train with others, those who had patience for him and his pranks, even in the middle of the training.

When he was eighteen, the brigands returned, this time he was ready to fight, and a bunch of other villagers got into the fight as well, this time they forced them to run away, at least for now. A year after the attack, they returned with more brigands, the fight took two days, and Vandertz earned most of his scars on this fight for the luck of him and the others, the group of wyvern riders that left weeks ago returned on the second day, so they managed to reach victory again. And for managing to help in combat, he proved to be worth receiving the title of a wyvern rider and began to guard the town with the others to stop the brigands from attacking again, time to time there were some trying to get inside after all.

But just because he got older it never meant he would stop being stubborn or being a problem to the others, when he heard about the location of one of the brigands hideout, he began to rob them, and depending of the situation he even robbed some royal guards who had been taking money from their village with absurd taxes, and obviously he ended up getting the title of bandit, rogue, but most of them could not identify him as he was hiding his face with a damaged skull looking helmet, and during their visits his wyvern was hidden somewhere else, but even so the title was carried by him on other places.

Sadly, he needed to leave his city, it was his option for the safety of the rest, he knew the royal guards would come back and demand them to confess who had been doing that or they would take the city down, or they would find out anyway and kill him, both of the options were not of his interest. And now the wyvern rider turned into a wanderer looking for a new objective in his life, something that would be crazy and exciting, he never got tired of risking himself.


Stats:
Strength 8
Magic 0
Skill 7
Speed 7
Defense 5
Resistance 2
Constitution 6

Inventory:
Slim Lance
Vulnerary
--

Name: Ichabod Blackwood
Player: Selibas
Class: Archer
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Green
Age: 29

Appearance: As a young man Ichabod got his nose broken enough times the the bridge is permanently crooked. He has a lion claw mark on his shoulder. He is very fond of his beard, and keeps it trimmed when he has the luxury. He has somewhat sloppy hair. He has a friendly smile. Very tall and muscular. Basically: encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS6Ly1EeBNzwWItdahqcAAwKf6P8dtplqeFTE43B6E4bcE1FD-6cQ with a bow.

Clothes: Ichabod wears a heavy green cloak with hood while traveling. He wears surprisingly protective leather armor in battle. He has a very decent set of clothes for when neither of those events are keeping him occupied. At all times, it is odd to see him without his brown wide brimmed hat. He really likes his hat.

Born in: Etruria

Story: Born to a family that followed the druids, Ichabod was never quite the same as most he met. His father had an odd idea of finding liquid water underground, so he and his parents moved around while he was young. He never truly cared that they went without money he was simply always on guard to deal with the hate.

After his mother grew fed up with the nomad life, his family set up shop in a town by an oasis in Northern Bern. He became apprentice to the town blacksmith. One day at a festival he discovered he had a natural skill in archery, and began practicing as often as he could. With the two activities together, his shoulders and back swelled up to the size of a bull.

When he turned seventeen he asked Anita, a girl in the village to marry him. She said yes, but Ichabod’s father (who didn’t want his son marrying a gentile) said he couldn’t marry her until he proved himself a man. Ichabod was desperate to marry her and told his father he’d do as he asked. His father thought, and gave him a task he thought his son would refuse. He had to go into the mountain with nothing but his bow and arrows and a knife to bring back the pelt of a predator. There were all manner of dangerous beast in the Bern mountain a few miles from the town and it would take a mad man to go there alone. Ichabod was just mad enough.

On his first night, he saw nothing. He slept out of any harms reach in a small cave. It was not until his third day that he encountered the lion. He had climbed tremendously high on the mountain, and had even started to see the beginning of snow, which he’d never seen before. He thought it was moist sand. He looked down and saw it, a Lion, slowly mocking his ascent. He strung his bow and knocked an arrow, and shot as true as he could manage. It sailed about four feet over the animal’s head. It did result in the beast charging at our hero. Two arrows through it’s chest wasn’t enough to keep it from leaping at him. As he fumbled for his knife wouldn’t you know it, the man used to sand slipped in the snow, and flailed at the furious cat as it went to fall on him. With his only wound being a massive scar on his left shoulder, the man returned with a pelt.

His wife died of a shaking sickness a year later, and he was left to raise their daughter Isa by himself. He doted on her hand and foot, until when she was seven and a scorpion stung her in said foot. The young man took to drink, and women. The town stopped trusting him with their needed work, and he was forced to leave. The first three years he worked as a traveling smith, repairing horse shoes and barrel wheels, but never staying too long in one place, not unlike looking for liquid fire underground with his father.

The last two years he’s used his other skill to keep food on his ever changing table. A lot of people need an archer to protect a caravan in the night or hunt down a few marauders. Not as sporty as the lions, but he survived.

Stats:
Strength: 7
Magic: 0
Skill: 7
Speed: 5
Defense: 6
Resistance: 0
Constitution: 5


Name: Garret Saracen
Player: Elias
Class: Manakete (Ice)
Hair Color: Dark Blue
Eye Color: Grey
Age: A lot
Long since he abandoned all desire to count the years he's been around, especially since he's not even sure which one he was born in.

Appearance: Unlike his tan fellows and ladies, he remains fair skinned throughout all time. Maybe it's his dragon blood, or maybe he just doesn't tan well. He definitely gets sunburn enough though. Still, he doesn't stand out too much or anything. Sharp eyes and youthful of face, probably in his twenties or so going from simple appearances. Maybe he just has a baby face and he's actually in his thirties, or maybe dragons just stop looking older after a while, who knows? He certainly doesn't, dragons are weird. He grows scratchy facial hair, just like any other young man, but he takes care to shave it. Unless he doesn't want to, then he'll walk around with a beard for however long it tickles his fancy. He once had a beard for over a hundred years, but nowadays he's walking around fresh faced.

His build isn't particular imposing, or particular unassuming. Standing at about six feet or so and with a healthy body that resembles more of that of a farmer then that of a warrior. Don't let it fool you though, because he could probably punch holes in most warriors.

Clothes: He doesn't adhere to a strict wardrobe but rather wears things haphazardly. Over his long life he's accumulated quite the wardrobe. Blues, greens, reds, yellows and yes even pinks. Tunics, shirts that look like burlap sacks and shirts that simply don't really fit, a suit of armor even if he doesn't really need it, a fully tailored set of dress clothes, a long robe that makes him look like some kind of magical dude, cloaks, boots, you name it he's probably worn it. He's not exactly super paranoid about how people think he looks when he puts together outfits, which sometimes results in clashing colors and hard to look at ensembles. Though he's developed some small sense of style over the countless years, so more often then not he doesn't really look out of place. Since he doesn't need to wear armor, it's not really not necessary to wear the same thing all the time. Sometimes dressed like a peasant, and sometimes like a king. Though, for simplicity's sake, he commonly wears an earthy looking set consisting of a dark green tunic, dark brown pants and light brown boots.

One thing he always carries, no matter his outfit, is a pendant. Tied about his neck, a stone hangs. A beautiful icy blue stone with the image of a flame frozen within. Cool to the touch, even in this infernal heat.

Born in: Nabata

Story: Garrett is simultaneously the best and worst kept secret of the Saracen house.

Eternal steward to the Saracen's, not a house that is particularly rich or particularly noble or even particularly important. Regardless, for reasons no one is quite sure, Garrett has served them for what seems like an eternity. Even in the most ancient records, mentions of him are made, accepted as a simple fact of life. An unchangeable constant. Just as the sun will always rise in the morning, Garrett has always been with the Saracens. He is a dragon, but has spent hundreds of years without transforming, far long enough that people have long since forgotten just why he was so timeless. There's only on person who knows just who he really is, and this is himself. Don't plan on him ever telling you however, asking is an easy way to make sure you never know.

Urban legends have sprouted about him. Ranging from rumors like he sold his soul to a demon to that each Garrett is actually a different man but with a painfully strong family resemblance. However, many of these urban legends are just that. Legends. No one knows of his story, and few outside the family even realize anything is odd about his existence. Bozrah was full of stories like this, and the traveling merchants never pay it the slightest of mind. After all, who would believe such a foolish story like the captain of the guard had an immortal nanny?

Camille and Kirel were no different. To them he wasn't just someone who took care of them while their parents were off on their duties, but a member of the family. 'Uncle' Garrett, as they affectionately referred to him as. Kirel went off to pursue a desire to become a healer when he was but a child, but even as they said farewell Garrett knew that he would see him again. But he never imagined it would be under such dire circumstances.

Camille wanted nothing more then to be like her parents, as soon as she could walk she wanted to learn how to use a lance. She trained every day, but always seemed to have problems. She was merely seven, and no matter how she tried she couldn't overcome the older children. It wasn't until her parents both trained her in their respective styles, that she began to quickly overcome them. In a short seven years she was already capable with three weapons, and could overcome just about any other with sheer skill. It was little wonder, with formal training from two separate experienced warriors, she was able to learn and grow much faster then the others who had to teach themselves. She was capable enough to even knock about some of the rookies of the watch with little effort, a fighter by nature.

She was much alike her father, he was also a fighter by nature. Garrett had watched as he grew as a warrior, just as he had Camille. It brought a smile, it was a trait they shared. It was a trait the whole family shared. He's watched this entire family for countless generations, and even if they weren't always warriors, they were always exceptional. When they had a desire, they pursued it with all their heart. In a way, Kirel was the same. Even though he left as a child to learn magic, he did so with a fire. When they finally met once more years later, he had become great. Exceptional, just as Camille was.

If only such tragedy could have been avoided. It all started four years ago. That sandstorm was merely a warning of the things to come. Such a great storm was not natural, it's deathly winds could sheer flesh off the bone. Sand devoured the land, crushing the homes of many and taking the lives of many more. Stories speak, that within the great storm, a dragon could be seen in the sky. Such stories were just hallucinations however, how could one see through such a deathly storm? However, one could say it was odd. Such a destructive storm, and yet the house of Saracen was mostly untouched.

It took months for the sand to be removed, and to this day they still find pockets of it hiding around every corner.

If it would be only such a storm, perhaps Bozrah could return to how it once was. For as many lives the storm took, the plague that followed in the years to come took twice as many. It started not long ago, and no one knew exactly from where. Camille told stories of how she found a rotting hand erupting from the earth that threatened to drag her down with it. Even as she stabbed and stabbed, it did not yield until it took far more punishment then the body should be able to withstand. Kirel returned home, only to helplessly try to stave off the sickness that robbed his mother of life.

Camille was determined to leave and find a cure to this sickness, and Garrett left with her. He couldn't fight, and how helpful he would be to the soldier was to be wondered, but he was determined to help anyway he could. For he too was a Saracen, and when Saracens have a desire, they pursue it with all their heart.

Stats:
Strength 9
Magic 0
Skill 4
Speed 2
Defense 10
Resistance 7
Constitution 3

Inventory:
Dragonstone 50/50
Waterskin
Vulnerary 3/3
--

Player: Tuatara 'Tut'
Name: Cathal
Class: Mercenary
Hair Color: Sandy brown
Eye Color: bright green
Age: 24
Appearance: Cathal has a worn, reserved look about him. People can tell he’s seen things just by looking at him. His eyes have a far

off look in them but seem to pierce people when he looks at them. He has any number of scars across his entire body from the many scuffles he’s found himself in. He’s 6 feet of raw muscle. His hair’s a bit messy, and he looks like a barbarian to most.

Clothes: Cathal wears a worn vest of Mauthe Doog hide. His pants are a faded red with frayed ends; they’re tucked over his old leather boots.

Born in:Bern
Story: Cathal came from a family of merchants. But that is all he has in common with his family. At a young age, Cathal was taken by bandits. He was on his first merchant caravan with his father, and the sun was setting. It happened just as they were making camp. Only a day from the Nabatan cities and the Black Market. Cathal remembers little of the details, but he does remember his father running the moment the bandits appeared; he didn't look back once as Cathal screamed for him. Needless to say, Cathal thinks little of his family and has not plans to search out for them.

The first years as a bandit were hard on Cathal. He was never given any slack for being a kid and was expected to make the same haul as the others, once he was old enough to wield a sword. Eventually the leader of his crew fell ill and his place was taken by another. Leafan was his name, and he changed things. Under his charge, the group became more ‘honorable’. Blatant killing while raiding merchants was forbidden unless unavoidable.

Cathal quickly rose through the ranks under Leafan’s guidance, and eventually thought of him as a father. It was around this time that word of a zombie dragon lurking the Nabatan lands began to spread. Many bandits left to seek glory, but rarely returned. Cathal longed to test his mettle against it, but he knew it a foolish dream.

A few months passed, and the day came when Leafan was slain in battle. Cathal thought to take his mentor’s place, and yet it was not so. Many of the older bandits had been waiting years to bring back the more traditional way of doing things, and they seized it. And the first thing they did was do get rid of all the ‘do-gooders’. Cathal was one of the few to escape, and he found himself leaving the only life he knew to wander Elibe.

Inventory:
Iron Sword (46/46)
Vulnerary (3/3)
Waterskin

Stats
Strength- 10
Magic- 0
Skill- 4
Speed- 6
Defense- 8
Resistance-1
Constitution-6
--


Player: Valerie
Name: Pierre Felteau
Class: Shaman
Hair Colour: Blonde
Eye Colour: Blue eyes
Age: 23
Appearance: Pierre’s dirty blonde hair is typically messy, for the shaman can’t be bothered to keep it in check at times. It goes down to the back of his neck in length and his bangs can be a bother. His complexion is fair due to constantly wearing robes and hoods, keeping the hot desert sun off of him. His eyes are a piercing blue which he despises, considering them plain and boring. His build is more on the weaker/thinner side, though he is noted to have a fairly attractive face, and he stands at around 5”10

For apparel Pierre typically wears a black hooded cloak over a dark purple long-sleeved shirt, his slacks matching the cloak with dark brown boots. None of his clothing is particularly extravagant or expensive yet suits his needs all the same.

Born In: Etruria

Story: Pierre was born to two average-class mages in Etruria. They raised him with the belief that magic can be used to save the people of Elibe in the dark times, regardless of the type of magic used. Pierre as such focused on his studies and looked through various books, texts, and tomes to learn all he could about magic through Elibe. His parents oversaw his studies, teaching him what they knew while increasing their own skills. However he never got the chance to spend much time with children or other people, leaving him with his mere average social skills.

Eventually, however, it wasn’t enough to study in the relative safety of their Etrurian home. His parents began to pack their things,dead set on helping all that they could. Pierre, by now a teenager, took his skills and knowledge and ventured out of Etruria with them. They spent much time near the Nabata desert, taking out bandits and trying to hinder the Black Market that drew them to the country. Pierre occasionally joined his parents in battle but was mostly kept at their current base, either a tent camp or an inn if they were near a town, to study and practice magic in a safer environment.

Unfortunately, when Pierre turned about 20, his parents never returned from a mission into the desert. Pierre waited two days before venturing out into the Nabata himself. He spent several days in the sands, rationing the water and food he’d packed, but found no trace of his parents. Instead he was met with several independent bandits he dispatched on his own, using his magic. Though depressed and confused as to the situation of his parents, Pierre decided to do what he believed his parents wanted: grow stronger through aiding others, until he became powerful enough to make a true change.

Pierre is a kind but serious fellow, dedicated to defending those who need it and delving deeper into the study of dark/elder magic. Despite this he has issues connecting with people and prefers to leave as soon as he’s no longer needed, burying himself in a tome or searching for the next problem. He also does not feel a true drive to protect or save people, merely following the will of his absent parents. Pierre has noted that he cannot be too hasty or greedy when it comes to mastering dark magic, knowing he could lose his soul to the void,but refuses to take his time regardless.

Though preferring to work alone, hearing that Elibe’s armies may band together to deal with the state of the continent,Pierre has taken an interest…

Stats:
Strength- 0
Magic- 9
Skill- 6
Speed- 7
Defense- 3
Resistance- 5
Constitution- 5
--



Player: Elias
Name: Arsha
Class: Bandit
Hair Color: Dirty, filthy blond
Eye Color: Dusty dark brown
Age: 20

Appearance: A woman in gender only. She stands as tall as most men, with a hard face and a mannish body. Strong corded muscles cover her frame, and dirt covers her face. Her hair cut short, to the neck to avoid it getting in the way, looking as though as it has never been properly washed. Clinging together in what looks like lumps of dirt, diluting the already diluted brown and blond color. She's not a pretty girl, and doesn't have a particularly flattering silhouette. Still, even if it's not immediately obvious, she still has the feminine form that nature has granted to her. Despite all the fighting she has done against it, she's still not quite as strong as the men in her clan. Hard dark brown eyes that are reminiscent of a dog's, tired looking with hard lines surrounding the sockets that hold them. Her bronze skin pelted and decorated colorfly with a myriad of scars and burns across her entire form. From her chest, to her legs, to her arms, and even her back. The scars prove that she's stared death in the face and laughed.

Clothes: Her clothing, if it could be called that, is about what you'd expect. Torn, ripped all over, looking more like rags then actual protection. A torn cloth shirt that covers her skin from the elements, but offers next to nothing in terms of defense. Though she has worn armor, she doesn't have any of her own. If she can steal some, sure, but she isn't exactly used to wearing it and ambles about awkwardly with it. She wears, well, basically the same thing all the time. She doesn't have much in way of a wardrobe, or one at all really. An assortment of ripped up sacks and shirts stolen from the ones she's robbed. Shirts that get torn with her rough lifestyle, and from long periods of neglect.

Born in: The wilds

Story: She was born a bandit, and will likely die one. Her mother was no one of importance, in fact she never even knew her. Just some concubine who her father had his way with after a victory. She was born a disgrace, a woman. If it wasn't for her stubborn father, she would likely have been dashed against the rocks. These bandits have no need for woman. Still, her father was a stubborn man. He believed that even a daughter of his would be twice as tough as any of the men of the rest of the clan. She she was raised alongside her brothers, with no care taken for her gender. She was naturally weaker than the other children, so instead her father only pushed her farther and harder. Forcing her to grow strong, or die.

She received a hunting dog at a young age, her father knowing that she needed the help far more than any of his sons. It was a just a puppy at the time, but grew into a beast of a dog. Large and fiercely loyal, strong like a wolf with sharp teeth that could tear out the throat of a man. Looking like one of the beasts that prowl the desert.

She belonged to a clan of bandits that grew up in the desert and wilds, a group of men who razed villages and killed and plundered and looted unassuming caravans. They were hunted by officials, but they always managed to outmaneuver them. She was used to long days without water or food, running through the blistering sands, her feet permanently callused.

She wielded the axe just as fiercely as any man, and made up for her lack of physical strength with her maneuverability and ferocity. She endured pains that would send other screaming and yelping in pain, and it is frankly a miracle she is still alive. Still, none of the clan respected her. They would never respect her, even if she cut out their tongues and fed them to goats. It was simple, she was a woman. She was considered weaker to them, and they were set in their ways. Still, she was useful in her own way, her and her beast. She fought with the clan, killed with the clan, and that was all she knew.

With the life of a bandit though, safety is rare, and living to old age rare. Her father, an aged man in his forties succumbed to a vile wound that grew festered and infected. He was the only reason she was allowed to stay as an equal, and as soon as he was gone so was she. First they tried to kill her, but they failed. Her beast fiercely tearing into those who tried to take her down, and her crude axe killing the others as they watched in terror. Then they tried to capture her, they failed that as well. She could not overpower them, but she was one woman, and she could outrun them. Whereas they were a group, and moved slower as a result, and eventually she escaped them all.

Now she is on her own, with only her dog for company. Unable to read, write, and dressed in rags. Nothing to her name but a crude iron axe, and no home to return to that didn't want her dead.

Inventory:
Iron Axe (crudely put together and looking as though it will fall apart at any time)

Plus...
Stats:
Strength 9
Magic 0
Skill 4
Speed 10
Defense 5
Resistance 1
Constitution 6