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 Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2011 11:10 pm
200 years ago...
It was the whitest of winters. The wind stung, the snow swirled and the air forced its way into even the most protected of nests. No creature was safe from the icey deluge. It blew into burrow and bough alike, freezing all life where it quivered. Anything left standing was entombed in a sheath of snow.
Even the ancient mausoleum, crumbling with age, could not bare the sting of the wind and the bite of the cold. Its once fine pillars groaned and creeked in protest to the thrashing given by the ice and the wind and the cold. Finally, with one last roar of crashing stones, it gave itself to the wind. There, it rested, its royal heart crushed by the weight of the load.
And yet a tiny sapling - bleached white with cold - dared raise its noble crown for one grasping move towards the frozen sky.
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Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2011 11:21 pm
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Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2011 11:28 pm
Steadily, the winters grew milder and the lands became habitable once again. Birds, reptiles, beasts and all manner of creature ventured warily into the Tree's domain. In the dead of winter, when no other plant dared share its life, the Tree unfurled its white leaves and offered up the most dazzling, silvery fruit. As the fruit split and dropped its pale nuts to the earth, the creatures ventured out from their burrows, pulled by a dire need to be near the Tree.
The creatures gnawed at the nuts of the tree and birds took the silver husks way back to the safety of the forests. Those that hunted prey ate the mice and voles that sat between the Tree's exposed roots. All those who feasted upon the Winter Tree's bounty became large, and bold, and wily. They were the most noble of creatures and their pelts were drained white as stigmata of their feast.
That spring, a motley caravan of peoples came passing by and rested their steeds by the roots of the Tree. Though neither their steeds nor they were stained by the Tree, they felt rejuvenated, nourished, whole. How surprised they were by the Tree's virtues!
The news soon spread of the marvellous Winter Tree and stories of its powers became known across the lands. People came and were awed by the white creatures and the miracles they saw. Even a sanctuary was built atop the ruins of the old world, in honour of the Winter Tree and soon a thriving town was centred by its beauty.
Last came the scholars and wizards. Drawn by the power of the Tree, they craved to know how such a thing could come to pass and from where it drew its energy. In their findings they became aware that the Tree was in fact sentient, drawing life from the air, the other trees and from the earth itself. What passed from the Tree was in fact a small part of its very spirit.
Alas, that was many years ago. No longer does the Tree bear fruit through the winter. No longer do the leaves cure the ill. No longer do the plains flourish with bountiful crops. No longer do people and their animal companions feel assured of their lives through mild winters. In winter the place is icey, inhospitable and hostile, as are the creatures that once supped upon the Tree's feast. They stir at the edges of the ever-encroaching forest, sneaking out late at night and attacking when the townsfolk seem at their weakest. To the people, it would seem as though the once wily beasts had become wicked, for many a family have known the bite of their tooth and claw.
And so, on the equinox of autumn, the people have decided they can no longer let the issue lay rest. They must act. They have called a Santuary meeting to decide the fate of the Winter Tree. To take up arms against the wicked beasts in order to appease the Tree, to flee the land they have loved for generations, or to quest out the cause of the ill and pray they will survive the winter.
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Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2011 11:57 pm
 XXXThe Witch XXXAdara
XXXTwenty three
XXXSpiritual, reserved, self-reliant, open-minded, confident.
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXAzekal Noxcis XXXThe MessengerXXXShivoran "Tifty" Priest
XXXSixteen
XXXSpeedy, hardworking, spirited, agile, outspoken
XXX● ● ● ●
XXXmdu_ntr XXXThe FighterXXXKaya "KC" Creutz
XXXNineteen
XXXClumsy, loyal, positive, serious, strong
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXAlykia XXXArcher/Herbalist XXXSibina K Donnley
XXX24
XXXNaive, helpful, happy, peppy, talkative
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXDisco NightFreak XXXThe Master ThiefXXXQuinn O'Reilly
XXX34
XXXMysterious, mellow, intelligent, perverted, dedicated
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXAlykia XXXThe Shapeshifter XXXAmbrose Detuso
XXX26
XXXAwkward, friendly, honest, blunt, quiet.
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXBlood Stained Pages XXXThe Possessed XXXDamien Ackart
XXXTwenty Four
XXXRuthless, Twisted, Conflicted, Powerful, Jerk
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXJessie My Love XXXThe HunterXXXNafiah
XXXTwentry-three
XXXSweet, survival orientated, loyal, protective, determined
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXmdu_ntr XXXBadger LordXXXTaxidea Taxus
XXXTen years
XXXProtective, Wise, Strong, Hot-Headed, Curious
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXMilern XXXThe Barbarian XXXMordecai Gorzok
XXX33
XXXIlliterate, Sensible, Protective, Ponderous, Stubborn
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXMilern XXXThe SongbirdXXXRaegan Sol
XXXTwenty-One
XXXMusical, supportive, caring, devoted, determined
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXHero_duuh XXXThe BodyguardXXXKeaton Sol
XXXEighteen
XXXProud, stoic, good-natured, rambunctious, perceptive
XXX● ● ● ● ●
XXXHero_duuh
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Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 2:41 am
 mdu_ntrI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Tifty or Shivoran Priest.
I am a male who has tread this earth for sixteen years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for women.
I currently work my way through life as a Sanctuary messenger.
When my path becomes rocky I will use my short sword. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
My short sword is really only for show. Sometimes I sit in on the town's sword classes but I'm not that good. I have the speed but not the strength to hold a fight. I can hold my own for all of... ten minutes? After that the constant bashing makes my arms scream. I don't know how those soldiers do it... and with all that armour!
I find them to be...
Speedy, strong legs, excellent at public speaking, excellent navigational skills.
Alas, I am not infallible...
Lack of upper body strength, poor fighting skills, no magical abilities, refusal to learn archery.
Don't shoot the messenger
Let me tell you the story...
People call me Tifty, on account of the sound my uniform shoes make when I'm running. They can always hear me coming with a tif tif, tif tif, tif tif. Everyone who works in the Sanctuary has to wear them but Pop and me are the only ones game enough to run in them. S'part of being a messenger.
I'm a Winter Tree man, born and bred. My parents and their parents and their parents all grew up around here. Of all the places I've sent messages too, the Sanctuary of the Winter Tree has always been my favourite. As a child I loved playing in the snow, building snowmen and racing with the other local boys. No boy in the village was faster... or louder for that matter.
I never did too well in school. I could never sit still. I could read and write well but maths and those other subjects I never found any use for. I'd only need to know how to read, write and follow maps, anyhow. My Pop was a messenger before me and his Pop before him. I never wanted to be anything else.
Pop used to say if I knew how to read, the whole world was open to me. He used to take me to the Sanctuary and show me around all the maps of the world. He'd point out the places he'd been and the strange people he'd seen.
Now I too I get to run miles and miles through strange places, meet strange people and carry strange packages. The wizards have the strangest. This one time I tripped and spilled some blue tincture on me. I ran straight back to the wizard, sure he was going to have my head for destroying his important message. I don't know which was more frightening, having wizard juice on me or the thought of being shot by the wizard's strange powers. Thank heavens' all I got was a flogging... and the tincture turned out to be Tree sap.
Of all the places I've been to, here is where I want to stay. It makes me angry when people talk of leaving. We should be trying to restore the Tree, not running away! There's no war here, we've always had plenty of crops and our animals are always well fed. I don't want to leave this place. Where will we go? What if we get chased away?
Of what I have become...
I guess the first thing you need to know about me is I'm outspoken. I guess it goes with being a messenger, though messages aren't the only things I do. My Pop, and now me, get to read out anything that the people decide in meetings. We tell the news, run from town to town and deliver any package people send through the Sanctuary. We get some strange ones too, but I suppose that comes with living near the Tree.
The only things I don't like about the job is sending bad news and the uniform. It rides in all the worst places and a bugger to keep clean. In the early spring when all the ground's a-mush I have to spend hours scrubbing it. I'd rather wear my own clothes, thank you very much.
As for sending bad news, I'm always afraid that I'll be shot for it! Some nights I wake up sweating after dreams of compasses smashing and piercing my heart in front of me. My Mam says I cry out sometimes but I'll always deny it. I don't want anybody knowing I'm scared of anything so I just splash my face with icey water and go back to bed.
If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Running, hearing jokes, getting paid, listening to people, being trusted, stories, stewed apples, drinks that fizzle, the feel of different types of paper, newly printed maps, old maps and wax seals.
If you look, you will see I despise:
Arrows, standing north of a compass, archers, crossbows, silence, strong winds and the white creatures in the forest.
He doesn't mean no harm, honest!
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Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 11:45 am
 Azekal Noxcis The WitchI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Adara.
I am a Female who has tread this earth for twenty three years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for Usually nobody but occasionally women.
I currently work my way through life as an apprentice shaman. When my path becomes rocky I will use my dagger, or magic. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
My spells tend to have a versatile use to them, ranging from a simple spell that could freeze an enemy to the same idea being applied to a storm freezing whole armies in a single spirit powered blizzard. Should a rainstorm be happening, the wind will heed my call easy as will lightning and thunder, allowing me to tear apart enemies and buildings alike with ease. Fire is strangely different compared to the other elements. I usually need a source for fire, like a lantern or a torch. Unless there's trees near by when I'm commanding lightning. In which case, I can strike a tree in an attempt to start a fire that would be more responsive to my desires.
If somehow an enemy slips past the spirits assault, I’m more than prepared to make short work of them. If the spirit vines I summon, just for the occasion, aren’t enough to trap them then element imbued strike from my dagger will finish it up nicely. They’re usually surprised by the added shock, chill, or burn from such a strike.
Despite the elements at my control, there is another that I seem to have a some control over. An element that looks like a purplish type of flame yet doesn't seem to cause no physical damage. The most I can discern from my experiments is that it fatigues creatures as well as enemies, and possibly damages their spirit. I find them to be...
My healing magic is a great asset, as well as my knowledge of herbalism in addition to other survival skills. Which some people seem surprised by. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I don’t have the greatest physical stature, and I much prefer fighting at range with the spirits. I don't quite understand what etiquette is, thus ensuring my social endeavors are weird and eventful...though it tends to give the wrong image. Once the storm begins, no mortal force can halt it. Let me tell you the story...
I've lived on the outskirts of a small town for most of my life. Living quietly with my mother, we had a peaceful life for quiet a while. Hunting trips into the wild were rather common for me, as well as learning how to forage. It was a relatively peaceful time, and it was also when I gained my appreciation for nature. The few times my mother took me into town, I realized that humans were far less interesting than the wilds. They seemed so easy to figure out compared to the animals I had to study for hours or days at a time, while my mother hunted.
Shame it couldn't remain that way for me. When I was thirteen my mother deemed it was time to prove myself as a hunter, since she was getting older and the trips were becoming harder on her, and sent me into the wilds. It was suppose to be a simple hunting trip but ended up with me stumbling into a bear's den while chasing a rabbit. I got the wily little b*****d but it dawned on me, after breaking the rabbit's neck, that I was face to face with a bear. Needless to say the roar it bellowed terrified me, and I tried to run. Alas I was too slow since it got a swipe across my back. Hastily getting to my feet, I fled the cave in an attempt to get rid of the bear... yet it remained on my tail. I dared not look back, as the sound of branches breaking was indication enough and the pain that shot through my leg as it clawed my upper leg.
Despite my injuries and threat, I pressed on trying in vain to escape despite the forest being turned against me. Familiar paths led to unexpected places after several twists and bends, and soon I came to a dead end. Exhausted from numerous things, namely the wounds and sprinting in vain, I decided that if I was going to die I'd end up fighting. Unsheathing my dagger, I turned about face and awaited the beast that was barreling after me...which soon came into view. I'm not sure what overcame me at that time but instead of waiting for it to charge I turned the tables and charged. I don't know how I managed it but the sound of my dagger ripping into flesh met my ears as I realized that I plunged the weapon into the bear's head... yet something wasn't exactly right. No blood was seeping from the wound.
However, that soon became the least of my worries as the bear evaporated into a cloud of smoke that enveloped me... filling my lungs which caused me to lose consciousness. I don't know how long I was out for, but I do know that I started to have incredibly surreal and terrifying dreams after I returned from the trip.
Dreams of me being set on fire, of my skin blistering as I was consumed by an agonizingly slow inferno. Another one, I remember slowly freezing to death during a blizzard. Dreading the cold as I tried in vain to gain warmth with what little I had. Some took place in the clouds during a thunderstorm and I remember being struck repeatedly by lightning, my body losing control while I was aware. The weirdest ones always took place in a graveyard of some kind. I'd be calmly walking through them, during the night for some reason, when I'd become exhausted half way through and take a short rest in the middle of it. Shame that it never ended with me falling asleep, oh no! Right before I close my eyes in the dream, the ground begins shake and the dead begin to raise out of the graves surrounding me. This wasn't the weird part since I'm some how able to summon fire from the lantern I was carrying, making short work of the undead... but their spirits keep coming as soon as one corpse falls, an ethereal image takes it's place and resumes advancing towards me.
I was only able to hide my dreams for about a week before I started screaming and...lighting my bed on fire. I'm not really sure how that worked or why I wasn't feeling any pain, but my mother soon asked me about the hunting trip I returned from. Realizing I couldn't exactly lie to calm her nerves I told her about the bear, about how there were scars on my back... which had oddly disappeared, and of the beast evaporating into smoke which filled my lungs. This did little to calm my mother's nerves, in fact it kind of frightened her since she knew what had happened. Something called a battle initiation; where a spirit attacks a person they think is worthy and will bow to them when they retaliate. However, she didn't know about the smoke filling my lungs which was what happened at the end of my battle initiation. Worried that something was wrong with me, or that a malicious spirit was laying dormant within me, we immediately left to meet one of my mother's friends. A... druid I think she called him.
When we finally found the druid, I learned that the spirits had chosen me to be their champion. For what... the druid didn't exactly know, and I had some doubt that the man really knew what he was talking about. However my mother had faith in the man, and left me with him so I could learn how to utilize the spirits' blessing.
I've spent the last ten years doing this and am finally done with my training. My mentor gave me a simple task before I left, one that he said, had great importance and would test if I truly was a champion for the spirits. I was to find out what's causing the creatures surrounding the Winter Tree to become hostile. Of what I have become...
The time I spent with my mother taught me how to be self-sufficient, since relying on people was always a weakness, she said. If it was bad enough to be a weakness for her, who was I to argue back then and it has only served me well throughout the decade I spent with the druid...learning how to harness nature's elements through the spirits.
My time with my mentor, taught me a great deal about nature and how civilization should respect the wilds they left for the comforts of towns. How they should hunt only what they'll need and nothing more, since it'd upset the delicate balance between natural predators and their prey.
However my sudden re-introduction to society has caused me to realize that I've no real concept on the majority of civilization's trivial gestures and nuances. Like a hand shake, something that's totally unneeded. Perhaps my time spent near the Winter Tree will allow me to observe and study society better, allowing me to become better equipped in dealing with people. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
The winter despite the sudden harshness the season has exhibited lately. Accomplishing something without help, nothing like a confidence boost. If you look, you will see I despise:
Places filled with death or life, they have an adverse affect on my magic. People that think every creature of the forest is a threat. Relying on somebody for something a person can do themselves. In my chest beat's the storm's heart, which churns with godlike power.
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Posted: Thu Feb 03, 2011 9:58 pm
 Disco NightFreak Archer/HerbalistI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Sibina K. Donnely.
I am a woman who has tread this earth for 24 years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for my mother and father, who died of a disease my herbs could not cure.
I currently work my way through life as a small-town herbalist, their only source of healing. When my path becomes rocky I will use My bow. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I am best farther back in battle, as the bow would suggest, and my eyes are sharp, so occasionally, I might make a good scout, pa would take me hunting with him, so I am fairly good at being quiet. I find them to be...
Accepting of others, flexible, quick, good people skills. I can be quiet for long periods of time, on account of hunting with Pa. He said I had to be quiet otherwise I'd scare away the game. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I am too talkative, and annoy people sometimes. I am not very strong, that's why I wield a bow and not a sword. I have the eyes of an eagle. Let me tell you the story...
I've lived in a small town growing up. Pa was a hunter, ma was an herbalist. closest thing the town had to a healer.
Pa would take me on periodic hunting trips, double the meat we brought back for the families of the town. My ma taught me herbalism, mostly so I could bring her back healing herbs, but I learned a lot by her side too.
I'm not squeamish, the sight of blood has no effect on me. I've been told that because of this so-called 'scarring' when I was younger, my defense against that was to become the way am, peppy, happy, indefatigable. But I don't think that's it at all. I've always been this way!
Anyway, my ma and pa, and most of the village, died of some disease that I had no cure for. But I pushed on, I made sure that those that did survive got to larger towns, and I started wandering, healing those I came across that needed it. Trying to restore the tree now, to heal it and the land surrounding is what I want to do. It's what needs to be done. Of what I have become...
I am very outspoken, I will try to get everything out of everybody. I guess it comes from being a healer at Ma's side. Had to know what hurt in order to heal it; that meant people had to talk to you.
I don't really get sad, at least not on the outside. I keep pushing, keep slogging through. I never give in to the sadness, my journey is one of healing and I'll help no one by being melancholy. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Calm, breezy days. Animals. People. Talking. Listening. Stories. Sweet drinks. Apples, especially apple pie, even though it reminds me of ma. If you look, you will see I despise:
Rainy or too windy days, unless I need to hide my tracks and don't need to shoot. Silence. Uh... I dunno what else I don't like. I like pretty much anything! As long as it doesn't try to hurt me. The arrow is an extension of your soul.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2011 8:01 pm
 AlykiaThe FighterI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Kaya Creutz.
I am a female who has tread this earth for nineteen years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for whomever I love.
I currently work my way through life as a hired guard. When my path becomes rocky I will use my trusty sword. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
The sword I carry was made specifically for me by my Poppy. It is my preferred weapon. With that said, I can efficiently wield almost any type of weapon. I tend to stay away from the heavier ones though; after all, I like to be quick in battle. I don't have a particular fighting style. Usually, I end up using a combination of styles to create my own: subconsciously that is. I find them to be...
People find my weapon knowledge and ability surprising. This is good because it always catches people off guard. I'm good at coming up with strategies on the fly and have great general survival skills. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I know nothing of magic. In fact, it kind of freaks me out. I am also horrible at accepting certain feelings I have for others and don't know how to deal with deep feelings of love. I can be a bit clueless about how others truly feel about me as well. "Blacksmithing is a beautiful art that makes my soul sing happily." Let me tell you the story...
I was born and raised in a fairly small town where everyone knew each other. It had a nice homey feel to it. My poppy was a blacksmith and my Mum died while giving me life. I was their first and only child. Poppy was good to me. He taught me everything there is to know about weapons. In fact, I can make them myself if I wanted to. I'm not nearly as skilled as he is; but still. Life was pretty good. I had the average troubles anyone growing up would. Since I was a tomboy and were quite close with all the boys; the girls really disliked me. There was on girl friend that always stood by me though. I also had two really good guy friends. They were my best friends: that was destined to change.
One day something terrible happened. You see; we were on a mini adventure. There was this part of the forest that had some freaky rumors about it; so we decided to check it out. Unfortunately, it seemed like the tales were true and something horrible occurred. At the time, I didn't know what was going on. It all happened so fast. In the end, one of my best friends died: it was extremely upsetting. It wasn't 'til a good while later when I found out that it was probably magic that was at play; as in, someone used it to scare us but it went awry. I guess you could say that my first experience with magic was not a favorable one. I never went back there either. Of course no one confessed: to this day, I don't know who did it.
The friend that died, I was like a member of their family already. That's why I still went to visit even though it was a bit painful. His father used to be a soldier; although some say that he was really a mercenary. In any case, he was always happy to train me: it kept our minds off of other things. His training was rougher and a little different than it used to be though. You see; I used to go over and spar with my friend under supervision. Of course we still had are little brawls away from prying eyes. I liked going over there before and after my friends death: for different reasons.
One day my other best friend left without warning. Well, he did tell me but that was after he was already gone. I was a bit upset but accepted his decision. Even so, it wasn't long before I followed suit. I already felt the need to explore the world; but his departure made me want to set out even more. I felt like I needed to talk to him: I wanted to find him. Ever since then, I have been traveling and doing all kinds of odd jobs. People don't really take me seriously because I am a young woman; but I have survived all right so far. Of what I have become...
My Poppy is a cheerful, loving and optimistic person. There was never a time where he yelled at me. Sure, I got in trouble but he was fonder of a good talkin' to. It was quite annoying: I'd rather get a good beatin'. He'd always say that he'd get the urge to knock some sense into me; but mother wouldn't allow a single hair on my head to be harmed. She was against any kind of violence. That's what I was told anyway. I guess you could say that he taught me to be caring and positive.
My late best friends father was very true to his word. He would never break a promise and always stood by his friends and family no matter what. The guy was a bit different from my Poppy. He was definitely more stern and quiet. I learned to be strong and serious from him. Even though I seemed to be born a klutz; I don't have that problem when it comes time to battle. Maybe it's just because of all that training he gave me. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
A challenge, fighting, learning, swimming, climbing, helping others, experiencing new things, weapons, good ale and any kind of hearty homemade meal. If you look, you will see I despise:
Certain magic, sudden loud noises, people treating others badly, things that are thrown away just because and anything she considers unlawful. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
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Posted: Fri Feb 11, 2011 4:49 am
 AlykiaThe Master ThiefI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Quinn O'Reilly.
I am a male who has tread this earth for 34 years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for women.
I currently work my way through life as a guild master. When my path becomes rocky I will use daggers. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I wield my two custom daggers: they are important to me. Sometimes I use throwing knifes if it is needed. My fighting style consists of being sneaky and agile. It is ideal to be able to kill the enemy before they realize what happened. I also like adding special effects to my blades that help in battle: like poison. I find them to be...
I am great at my trade and am a natural leader. The guild is my baby; so once you join then you are part of the family for life. That's why no on can just join willy-nilly. I am quite smart in general and have been through enough to understand how the world really works. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I have a tendency to drink whenever I can and I like my women. In fact, there are times when I will put off what I am supposed to do in order to satisfy my sexual urges. "You think you know but you have NO idea." Let me tell you the story...
What can I say? I grew up in a big city: but not in a nice house. No, I was left to rot in the trash as a babe. I never found out who my parents were and I still don't care to know. Luckily, some nice young woman found and raised me as her own. She was part of a guild. It wasn't until later that I found out how powerful she really was. You see; she decided to step down as one of the strongest in order to focus more on my. The people there treated me like family. Everything was good back then.
Of course, things like that don't last forever. I was a teenager when it happened. The guild was attacked when I was away on a small quest: it was the first real one I was allowed to do alone. By the time I got there it was too late. Everyone was either dead or dying. That's when I truly embraced being a thief. I didn't want to join another "family" at the time; after all, I just lost a big one. In time, I did find some survivors later in my travels. The life of a thief had plenty of ups and downs; but it was definitely exciting. Walking the fine line of right and wrong gave you a thrill that one can't explain. Over the years, I met many kinds of people and traveled all over the world. It was a great experience.
Nowadays, I run a guild. Yes, I created my own family; but I took what I learned from my former guild and my travels to make it better than others. You could say my guild is a bit famous; but we will survive. I will make sure that the past doesn't repeat itself. Of what I have become...
My adoptive mother was the one that taught me much of what I know. She was a smart woman and was determined to teach me countless things. It might not seem like I am very smart based on the way I act; but nothing could be farther from the truth.
The members of my former guild taught me how everyone needs a little relaxation time. The guild in general was a laid back kind of place. At the same time, everyone would pull together to help when it was needed. Their dedication to quests and each other inspired me to be the same. Of course there were all kinds of people in the guild. One in particular was a good friend of mine. He was a bit older and a bit horn ball. I guess you could say that it rubbed off on me a bit.
After the whole guild incident, I kept to myself. Well, it wasn't like I became a big loner. I just meant that I didn't go around revealing everything there was to know about me. I didn't want to get so close to anyone ever again. Even people that I have known for ages don't know everything about me. I am always surprising people. I taught myself how to be this way and I don't particularly dislike it. In fact, it is kind of cool to be the mysterious type. The ladies seem to love it. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Brandy, women, festivals, my guild, a good laugh, getting away with things with relative ease If you look, you will see I despise:
Downers, being rushed, someone in the guild getting severely hurt, when people are too serious or overly confident "Hold your horses and come take a load off over here."
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Posted: Sun Feb 20, 2011 6:18 pm
 Jessie My Love The Possessed I greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Damien Ackart.
I am a Male who has tread this earth for Twenty Four years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for the affection that I should never seek to obtain from women..
I currently work my way through life as a Mercenary. When my path becomes rocky I will use everything it takes to kill. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I’ve been a Mercenary for years now. I could kill a person with my bare hands by snapping their neck, or I could slice their throat with a blade. I’m trained with multiple weapons because I’m used to being in situations where my weapon is whatever my hands can reach. Everything is a murder weapon to me. I feel like most people rely on a single weapon too often. But not me.
As for my powers they all come Nyx, horrid creature that he is. I can use him while he uses me, and somehow by doing that I’ve been granted the fantastical powers I always desired as a child. Nyx manipulates fears as his innate ability to possess allows him to creep into the minds of others and see their inner evils and fears. That being said, he’ll often manifest himself to my enemies, toying with people and the things they are afraid of.
Him possessing me has granted me powers of darkness (which could also be known as the power of insanity). He drives me crazy, but with the most feared element at my disposal the possibilities are endless. However, the powers I have I can only use through Nyx. His powers – typical powers of a demon – include things such as: fabrication, psychokinesis, levitation, divination, possession, seduction, ESP, telepathy, witchcraft, and curses. I can use his abilities, but only if he lets me. Without his contribution the most I can do is dabble with darkness and benefit from the affects him being inside me brings.
One of these benefits is my resistance to pain and truly being damaged. When afflicted with wounds my blood oozes a deep black that is poisonous to the touch. Wounds don’t last long as Nyx quickly binds any tears with darkness and treats wounds with curses. Each time he does this the darkness that corrupts me only grows more powerful as it becomes more and more a part of me.
I have become the darkness he has infected me with, and that darkness is the darkness I control. I find them to be...
I’m powerful and frightening. Anyone who knows of me will tell you such a fact. I know how to handle myself in a fight, and I know how to win in any given situation while successfully compromising others more than I do myself.
My strength is that I’m self-reliant. I don’t need anyone since I have enough power to make their help meaningless. Alas, I am not infallible...
I’m corrupt. I’m damaged. I’m destroyed. I’m weak. I’m broken. I’m unlovable. I’m unworthy. I’m a killer. I’m a monster.
My weakness – my weakness is that I’m me.
I may not be physically weak; however, my mental instability can lead to physical weakness. I'm in a constant battle with the demon inside me and as soon as someone throws me into a conflict with Nyx then I become instable. Without him I am not nearly as powerful as I am with him.
Not only that, but appeal to me, the me that is locked behind my monster and I'll break. Then I slowly saw their nightmares were my dreams Let me tell you the story...
A childhood is supposed to consist of loving parents – of parental figures that are always seeking to do what is right for their children, who are never reluctant to show that they care. That wasn’t my parents. That was nothing like my parents. I used to be an innocent child that looked upon the world with bright happy eyes and a stupid naïve smile. I thought that there was good in everyone. I thought the good guy always won. The stories I was taught at school, the things that society reinforced all taught me such a fact.
That wasn’t true; at least – not for me.
I grew up during my younger years not quite understanding that my family was impoverished. I didn’t understand that there was a large gap between the lifestyle I was accustomed to living and the lifestyle that those who were above me lived. To me, everything was okay. I was a child. All I wanted was affection – parents who cared. But they didn’t care. Dad was a gambler, and Dad’s gambling made Mom drawn to alcohol, and Mom’s alcohol made Dad gamble, and their addictions made me invisible.
It wasn’t until money truly became an issue that life became hard for me. I was a nuisance. I was a hindrance. I was something that needed to be taken care of but was considered undesirable – unloved. They just wanted to find a way to make me worth something, because to them I was worth nothing. And then the proposition came. Children were on the market, and I, a young boy, was up for sale. I didn’t realize what my parents were doing until I didn’t go home. But strangely enough, I’ve never missed them, which is the same way I feel about the man who bought me.
His name was Wade. Every time I think of him I hear the twang that is present when you say his voice, the way the voice stretches when spewing his name. He was gross and cruel, a bald man large in both size in attitude. I swear he never washed himself as cruel stenches could always be found all over his body. His sweaty hands, his horrid breath, the way his laughed – it all disgusted me. However, I wasn’t in his care for long as I was soon handed over to a mystic in the woods, a shaman of sorts who was looking to find answers to questions – to experiment.
I was his test subject and his subject of studies was black magic. I, an idiotic young boy enthralled by magic, was curious enough to do as the devious man wished. When he told me to drink I drank, believing that each toxic potion would somehow afflict me with some cool ability. I thought that by giving in to him I would be provided with some trait that would cause me to actually be worthy of true love and affection from someone. I thought that by being special, noticeable that I could get someone to possibly care.
The day I became special was the day he gained a pet, which was the named the mystic used for the demon he wished to possess me with. I accepted it, just as I accepted everything he did, and it’s been since that day that everything has been drastically different. At first I felt no different, as I didn’t realize what had happened until I slept. For in my dreams I was haunted, horrific images flashing through my mind as a twisted creature was displayed before me. This creature – a creature of hell, called himself Nyx and cooed to me that we were to have lots of fun together. He told me that now I would get to show the world just how special I was.
He infected me. He controlled my thoughts. He made me think things I would have never dreamed of thinking before. Everything thought became twisted, everything action I wished to make was one that would bring ill fortune to others.
Nyx controlled me.
At first he was only personified in my mind, he never appeared to anyone nor did he appear to me in any form. However, once the mystic prodded my mind and forced me to act in manners that angered the Nyx he manifested himself to the mystic in the form of his fears, compelling him to stop doing what he was doing. Giddy at what he saw, the mystic wished to further his experiments and for years I was his toy.
Then Nyx grew tired of it.
Like me Nyx didn’t like being a subject. He wished to be free. He wished to be allowed to make me do whatever he wanted without having to cater to the needs of the mystic, and it was due to that need that he made me kill. To be honest, I have no recollection of the account. I don’t remember killing the man that had captured me. I don’t remember sneaking into his room and slashing his throat in his sleep. I don’t what it felt like to kill someone for the first time. What I do remember is being covered in blood.
And liking it.
I ran. I ran as fast as I could with Nyx giggling happily in my head. He enticed me to do it again. He promised that the more I did what he desired the greater my happiness would be. He said that the hole that lingered within me was one he could fill, and in order to do that I had to do what he said. In order to do what he desired I traveled around, stealing from people when their goods seemed desirable to me, and disposing of them when putting up a fight. Nyx taught me what to do, he taught me how to fight, and he let me use him while he was using me.
I became a fighter. I learned the skill of a blade and of magic. I had the power of a demon at my disposal, and no one ever stood a chance. I liked this, and as the days went on I became more and more corrupt. I liked the power. I liked seeing the expression that distorted people’s faces when fear captured them. I liked watching life slowly drain from one’s body as the eyes flickered away. I liked death.
This desire in me, this need to kill, lasted for years and to be honest has never really gone away. But when I met her everything changed. She was a light, a beacon that symbolized everything I needed to satisfy my desires. I met her after I was cleaning up in a river, having just disposed of an unfortunate soul. She found me, and upon seeing the wounds on my body she wanted to help me. She cared about me without even knowing me. No one had done that before. She was my angel, and that infuriated Nyx.
However, I still remained drawn to her. I couldn’t sand the idea of being away from her and it was because of that that I assimilated myself into the society she belonged in. I pretended to be normal just so I could play the role of someone who could love and be loved. And work awhile – it worked.
That was until Nyx became involved. When things got serious – really serious, he made sure to infect my thoughts, to instill fantasies of death – her death. It wasn’t long before I did it. I killed her. I slayed my precious angel. No one could prove it was me, but everyone knew, everyone suspected, and it was because of that that I became an outcast in the society in which I lived with.
After that I sought an occupation that fed my desires while also keeping me away from the people that were afraid from me, and I became a mercenary. I traveled plenty, but I always ended back up in the house that we lived in together – the house that she loved me in. I wanted to run from my demon, but there was nowhere to go. No one could help me, because in order to receive help I needed to admit my sins – and that simply wasn’t worth doing. So, I sought a way to rid myself of my possession on my own, which is what led me to the tree that had been a figure in the society I had made myself a part of. I knew of the tree. I knew what she had told of the tree; however, I never believed it could help me.
Now I think it can, and I’ll do everything in my power to make things right – no matter how many people I have to sacrifice along the way.
Of what I have become...
Who I’ve become is who I am, and that poses a question that I cannot truly answer.
Who am I?
Am I the innocent seeking nothing but affection, or the guilty seeking everything that includes destruction?
Am I corrupt, or simply misled?
Am I at fault, or just oblivious?
I don’t know.
No one knows.
However, I’d like to say that this dilemma bothers me more than it does other people. Don’t get me wrong, people are always vexed by me – annoyed that they can’t understand the way I act. I’m cruel to most, snappy when it isn’t necessary, and distant when I need to be attentive. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s more that I can’t afford to care. I want to care. I want affection. However at the same time –
I want power. I want to make people suffer. I want to control others like I’ve been controlled.
I care so much and yet I care about nothing. I am torn in who I am, and it is because of this that I do not know who this person is. No one will ever know who I am. No one will ever have the chance to. If I get close to someone they will be another number on my list of people who I have hurt.
I have become an empty void, and all I seek to do is to fill it. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
True solitude, although I never am given such peace. Although, I do also like people, even if it’s hard for me to enjoy their company without allowing the suggestions of Nyx to influence my actions. If you look, you will see I despise:
People that remind me of her. I can’t stand it because Nyx can’t stand it. I want it, but I can’t take it. I despise people that stand for the good that I can’t have, and I despise people that think that I can still have it.
I hate everyone that doesn’t understand that there is no reconciliation for who I am. I have never seen a greater monster or miracle in the world than myself.
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Posted: Tue Feb 22, 2011 6:51 pm
 mdu_ntrThe HunterI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Nafiah.
I am a female who has tread this earth for twenty-three years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for men.
I currently work my way through life as a hunter. When my path becomes rocky I will use my bow or my quis aquam. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I hunt with bow, dagger and bird. My falcon, Tariq, is my closest companion. He is my eyes. When I hunt it is he who he flies high above me and searches out game. When I bathe it is he who watches for the approach of others.
My other weapon, if it could be called such, is the quis aquam. The quis aquam is the ability to absorb and turn your body to water. When I turn to water, even partially, I can absorb water and use it to shoot my quarry. I cannot create water and my body must have the same volume from when I change to water and when I turn back. I use this power in front of others only when in dire need, though I do use it to tempt and capture game when my bow is not sufficient. I find them to be...
Good listener, determined, excellent aim. Alas, I am not infalliable...
Cannot create water, cannot read, vulnerable to physical attacks. They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
Laughing amain when I feign to depart; Let me tell you the story...
I grew up as a fletcher's daughter in a place far, far away. My father would tell my sisters, brother and me stories passed down from Father to child for as far back as our village could remember. I never cared for them much. I'd pay more attention to braiding my sisters' hair than his stories. Legends weren't alive, legends didn't put food on the table. That's what Mother did.
Mother was a hunter from her youth. When she married into a fletcher's family, she took up the sport again. Her stories were far more useful. Her stories taught lessons of men surviving for years in the old forest near our town. They taught me how to survive without the relying on others. When I was old enough, I would go out each and evening with her and my brother, Tariq. We would remove our scents from our bodies then sit patiently for the deer to go to the riverbank for their evening dring, or else we would go to the edge of a farmer's field and target birds as they flew into the open. Some nights I would be given two coppers for every crow I landed.
After we had bagged our catch we would wonder down to the riverbank to wash off the mud we used to mask our scent. I would opt to stay a little longer so I could practice the quis aquam in piece. I could move about the river as the river. I could become part of it. Oh, how it felt to have water flowing through my own waters. It was a feeling I have never found an equal to.
Alas, this peaceful life was not to last.
At the tender age of eighteen I developed what appeared to much like a plague of legends. First, I would be flushed with fevers then came pallor and chills. I would have darkened smears scross my lips and the skin below my eyes would yellow. I found myself nauseous and occasionally food would meet my lips a second time. I do not know if it was due to plague or vomitting but I oft became faint and weary.
My family could not cope and my village could not cope. People became afraid of me and gave me a wide berth when I left my sickbed, fearful of the ledendary plague. My own family began acting as though I was already dead. They wne through the rituals of mourning while I stood by. I remember the day a sheet was spread over my bed and the last rites said.
And so I left. At first I made for our forest, where I slipped into the river and let it take me where it would. I remember days in a daze, looking up at the forest canopy as it took me northward until I became beached. I had blinked, coughed up any water left in my body and crawled up to the bank. I lay in a patch of light watching two birds flitter two and fro. I smiled at their joy, their liveliness. I wanted to feel like that. I wanted to feel joy in still being alive. For I was alive, I assured myself. I had not died. I would not die.
I pushed myself to my feet and headed north. At first I swayed but finally I could take my first step of my new life. I then took another, and another. Walking itself reassured me that I still lived. Soon I even had enough wits to think up a plan.
It was one of my father's legends that gave me the plan. I remember a tale of a magical, frozen tree that could heal all ailments. If I could get there, if I could push my body that far, I would live. Where would I find it? In my dazed state it took me a while to remember the tale. The strange tree grew where it snowed. That meant north. I continued until my footfalls felt the Northern Road but I was not able to make it to the Tree. It was then I feared I would die in earnest.
When I awoke, I was curled up between the roots of the Winter Tree. I opened my eyes and looked about, at first wondering where I was and how I ended up there. Nobody could help me with the latter. I had turned up during the night, presumably some travelling wizard had saved me. I have yet to thank him.
I have stayed with the Winter Tree since my arrival. The first few nights I slept beneath its branches until the guards sent me on. To get myself a new home in the town, I would sell my catches to the local butchers. When I saved up enough I bought a room at the inn. I wanted to stay near the centre of town so I could be close to the Tree. It saved me from a shortened, plague-filled* life with no hope. I owe it everything I now have. I will not stop until I see it brimming with health.
*It wasn't a plague. It was maleria (contracted from a mosquito at the river) but they wouldn't have known what maleria is in their village. Of what I have become...
I do not trust the townspeople's plans to help the Tree. They're only thinking of themselves and don't get me started on those "experts". They take and take and take but what do they give back? A tiny garden surrounded by stone! Sacrifices! Prayers! How is praying going to fix anything? That's why I need to keep an eye on them. They know this and find it uncomfortable. I only hope their town plans do better than sprinkling the ground with the ashes of slaughtered oak trees.
My first impression is always one of gentle innocence. I smile, laugh and listen when people speak. It is what I was like before my journey to the Tree. I have changed. I suppose you could say I am stronger in myself, more assured. I have learnt to survive, much more than what Mother told me. She taught me the basics but I needed to live survival to learn it, and that is what I did.
Another way my journey has changed me is my feelings towards the plagued, the loathed and the broken. I used to recoil from them, as many in my village would. They were unclean, untouchable. They were wolves in holy places, as the saying goes. Now I feel for them. I am like them. I know their pain. I find myself drawn to these people, for that is what they are. My village may have thought different but I have proved them to be wrong. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
The Winter Tree, Tariq, broken people, rivers, stillness. If you look, you will see I despise:
People who take from the Tree, rituals, grandiose speeches, crowds. Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer-
Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
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Posted: Fri Feb 25, 2011 5:28 am
 Blood Stained Pages Shape Shifter I greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Ambrose Detuso.
I am a male who has tread this earth for 26 years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for women.
I currently work my way through life as a -mostly as a farm hand. I like that work.. When my path becomes rocky I will use knives or my ability to change into any animal known to man. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I fight for others, but not for myself. So when it comes to confrontation normally I flee. I change into something that runs fast, flies fast, or is small enough to ‘disappear’. But involve someone else and I won’t hesitate to fight. If you force me to use my skills, and the secret is out, so to speak, I will use them to the best of my ability. I find them to be...
...interesting. I love the freedom that comes with being an animal, the strength, and often the instinct. I also enjoy the feeling that comes with achieving something physical that requires skill. Such as throwing knives, which is just about my only skill other than when I’m in animal forms. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I’m not much of a fighter when it comes to anything more than rudimentary weapons. A knife, a rock, hell, probably even a hammer I can deal with. A sword, a bow and arrow, anything past that really, and I’m done for.
But my biggest weakness, I would have to say, is my inability to judge a person’s character. I don’t know who’s good, who’s bad, and who has ulterior motives. I try not to trust anyone because of this, but if someone gets past the fact I’m not good at talking to people and befriends me, I can’t help but trust them. And once I trust someone, I can be easily manipulated, which I find to be hurtful and a harsh lesson I can’t seem to take in.
A minor downfall is my high pain threshold. I don’t think things through as far as possible accidents or injuries go. As long as I can achieve my objective without any obvious death threats I’ll do it. For this reason I’m covered in a number of scars. Most of them are on my hands and feet. I have never attempted to hide my scars. Most of them have been self inflicted, accidently, of course. Let me tell you the story...
...of my upbringing. Born into a middle class family, an only child. My mother died when I was four, and almost instantly after my father descended into a drunken, abusive stupor. I only have one mark on my body due to him, a ‘nick’ of a scar on my collar bone. It is pale, and raised, and obvious. It’s a symbol of my independence, because after that one mark I was gone. I never returned home, I hit the streets with a positive attitude and found work and a place to stay easily. Since then I have moved every few months, going where the work is. I’ve always been surrounded by honest, hardworking men and women, always had food in my stomach and mostly had a roof over my head. In short, I’ve had a good life. It was only when I decided to try my hand at city life I realised I couldn’t judge people. I was tricked into using my skills for... well, basically, robbery. After that incident I headed for home country again, but more often in animal form than in human form. I travelled a lot and ‘dropped’ into human form whenever I found a group of folk happy enough to work alongside me in the feilds.
In my travels as an animal though I have found that the creatures are turning bitter the closer I come to the place that holds the Winter Tree. I have decided to find out what is going on and to pitch a vote on behalf of the animals. Of what I have become...
I don’t take subtle hints from people. Honest folk are blunt folk, if they want to know something they ask without shame. I’ve found there are a fair few other folk, especially in the cities, that don’t take kindly to that approach. It’s confusing, so I tend to stay quiet unless asked a direct question. I often miss my cue to talk and this puts most people off. It also means a lot of people misjudge me as stupid. In any case, I’m friendly enough, quick to smile and never hide my feelings. I’ve kept a few secrets, but never my own. Only those belonging to other people. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Fresh food, fleeting moments, work songs, a hard day’s work, men of practical and common sense, accomplishing something, working as a team. If you look, you will see I despise:
People who won’t let others talk, people who are unfair, people who ‘betray’ me (manipulate him)... I hate how busy and choked cities are, and how people hurt and enslave animals. I should probably tell you – although I prefer fruits and vegetables, I am not vegetarian.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 9:11 pm
 Milern The BarbarianI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Mordecai Gorzok.
I am a male who has tread this earth for 33 years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for women....
I currently work my way through life as a hermit.. When my path becomes rocky I will use my mace or my axe. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
It's not that hard. It's a weapon. You swing it, stuff breaks or gets chopped in half... Especially if you chop firewood for thirty years. You end up slicing right through the trunks of redwoods eventually... I find them to be...
Raw power, Sensibility, Deep thought Alas, I am not infalliable...
Takes a long time to really think things over, Sometimes swings before he thinks, Indecisive Anyone can be a barbarian; it requires a terrible effort to remain a civilized man. - Leonard Woolf
Let me tell you the story...
The Gorzok family has always lived on the outskirts of the Wilds. Tradition and fear has kept them out of the town, where they would learn the ways of the Land in case of emergency and urgent need. How did the tradition start? There are many stories. However, one amongst them all seems the most accurate.
Long, long ago, before the Sanctuary was even built upon the ruins of old, the mages gathered around the Tree, then known as many things. The Tree of Life, the Source, the tree of rejuvenation, amongst many other names. As the mages studied, however, some figures appeared on the horizon. They were the Barbarians.
The term barbarian in this situation meant that they were uncivilized peoples, as in a tribal community. Ever since the great ruin, they had gone back to nature to try and bring back the ways of old. In some cases they were successful, in others they were not. The Barbarians were a hardy, strong people. Both the men and women had built up muscle from hard work and toil. They were skilled in what crafts they had, and must have been intimidating to the mages residing near the Tree.
The Barbarians gathered the mages and other residents and spoke unto them of the Tree and warned them of what might come. The Barbarians knew that the Tree's power would not last, and that great disaster would come. They did not know when the powers to be would cause this disaster, but they knew that it would come with time.
When the Barbarians came, the winters had come upon the Wilds. The mages, in either civility or greed, offered to house the Barbarians until the Winters passed. The Barbarians, being a tribal people, refused, but thanked the mages for their offer and did stay in the villages for a couple of days. However, one Barbarian refused to go with his brethren. He was young, and his name was Gor Zok. At the age of sixteen, Gor Zok had just completed the Rite of Age of his tribe. This meant that he was a full fledged adult. However; in reality the boy was still just a boy. The reason for his refusal? A girl named Hazel. Apparently the two had fallen in love. The Barbarians, with respect towards the young man, decided to make a deal with the mages. They would leave Gor Zok in the village, and he and his descendants would tend to the Wilds. They would keep watch and be trained in the ways of nature until the great disaster struck the land. The deal was made, and the descendants remain to this day. Hazel and Gor Zok's story continued; however, that is a tale for another time.
As a descendent of Gor Zok, Mordecai was raised as a Barbarian, learning the ways of Nature and of the world. He was never taught to read or write, or even how to do simple maths. He learned how to sustain himself and others, and how to deal with whatever nature could throw at him.
His mother died during child birth. She was a villager who had fallen in love with the Barbarian descendent. His father did not grieve; however, for he knew that she was in a better place, and was feeding the Earth. He raised his son, Mordecai, with affection, but also strictness. He had to be, in order to teach him of the realities of Nature. Mordecai led a good, stable life; however, and remained happy.
After Mordecai's father taught him all of the knowledge of the Barbarians at the age of sixteen, as was tradition, Mordecai's father left to venture the wilds, as was also tradition. Mordecai has lived alone ever since. He visits the village every month to barter for items he requires and to speak to the Caretaker. Of what I have become...
Mordecai appreciates the simple things of life. He likes to take a load off when he has earned it, and works hard in order to earn his relaxation. He is a somewhat quiet person, due to to his hermit lifestyle and his slight awkwardness. He is a loyal friend and a oxymoron in that he is a civilized barbarian. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Honey, Hard Labor, Honesty If you look, you will see I despise:
Sour Foods, Having Nothing to Do Lies The true barbarian is he who thinks everything barbarous but his own tastes and prejudices. - William Hazlit
-- AND --  MilernBadger LordI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Taxidea Taxus.
I am a male who has tread this earth for ten years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for Women.
I currently work my way through life as a badger.
When my path becomes rocky I will use my teeth, claws, and brains. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I am a tactician and a fierce fighter. I plan my attack carefully, and trust in my tough hide when I go into battle. I have strong digging claws, which come in handy. However, my most useful weapon is my jaw. I have a strong bite and a locking jaw, which allows me to bite my foe and hold on them with an iron grip. My experience gives me insight into battle and the knowledge of many things.
I find them to be...
My Toughness and my Experience. My thick fur protects me from deadly african honey bees, harsh conditions, attack from other animals, and more. My experience allows me to know when to fight and when to run. It also gives me wisdom to every day activities, battle readiness and tactics, and scavenging for necessary resources.
Alas, I am not infalliable...
I am quite hot-headed. When something makes me angry, I get angry. I'm not necessarily easily provoked, but I can go into a rage and lose control of myself.
I also don't see very well. I use my senses of smell and hearing more than my sight.
"The Mole had long wanted to make the I acquaintance of the Badger. He seemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, though rarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody about the place." - Kenneth Grahame
Let me tell you the story...
I am descended from a long line of badgers who have burrowed in the tree's network of roots for many, many generations. As the first born and strongest, I bear the responsibility of the upkeep and expansion of the Taxus burrow. Legend says that the burrow expands to lands unknown by any man. Whether or not it was true... Only a few knew.
As an animal, I don't believe in names, but rather titles. So, most just refer to me as the 'Badger Lord.' I earned this title after my father announced that he was going to journey to the Lands through the Tunnels. It is a ritual for all badger lords to join their brethren in the Lands through the Tunnels. I was two years of age when I dueled my brothers and gained the right to become the Badger Lord.
The only other points of interest in my life have been in my dealings with humans. Humans. Bah. Selfish creatures... Let's just say that I may have wounded quite a few humans who tried get too close. Usually with reason. One approached my kill after I had put it down. Another was picking at roots from the Winter Tree. Another was dangerously close to my Burrow.
Of what I have become...
I tend to be somewhat quiet and planning, but I am easily angered and lose control easily. I will protect my territory with my life and with all of my strength and intellect. For the moment I am a bit unsociable, for I have not been given by the Fates a suitable mate or clan. It's better to find out who I am by just talking to me.
If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Bugs, honey, small rodents, digging, etc
If you look, you will see I despise:
Annoying humans, flying scavengers who steal my hunt, idleness
"I sort of enjoy the fact that I'm misunderstood most of the time. That's fine." - Billie Joe Armstrong
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 6:52 pm
 Hero_duuh The SongbirdI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Raegan Sol.
I am a Female who has tread this earth for twenty-one years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for men.
I currently work my way through life as a musician. When my path becomes rocky I will use my sword and my song. Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
I am a musician because when I sing, I can weave magic into the music, usually to encourage those who need it, or to rejuvinate them. But I can also sing songs that work to keep threats away, giving them a strong sese to be anywhere other then where they are now. But I don't have full control of my powers, so I've practiced in the way of my short sword should I ever need to weild it. I find them to be...
perservering in times of hopelessness, keeping others' spirits high. Alas, I am not infalliable...
I find that I'm not the most skilled in confrontation, and I lack strength, speed, and skill to be a reliable back-up Music is the soul of a man. Music is my heart and soul, more precious than gold. Let me tell you the story...
After the death of my parents, I found, being eldest, I had to make ends meet to provide for myself and my younger brother. I tried several remedial jobs and learned quickly that I was good at nothing. I desperately began singing on street corners and the reaction of the people who listened to my music was astounding. They would stand transfixed, begging for another song and another, they'd laugh and dance at the happier, upbeat songs, and weep at the ballads. I didn't know it that day, but I was using magic to touch these people.
We moved then, to Winter Tree, because I was more likely to make good money there, and the memories in my town where too much to suffer any longer... there was nothing left there for us anymore. My brother, Keaton Sol who has surprisingly shot up to be a tall, muscle-man has protected me from any creeps who stalk me after shows. And as glamorous as this life is turning out to be, I realize that I want to do more. My chance passed me by, when the group selected left on their mission to discover the fate of the Winter Tree. But Keaton and I snuck into the night, determined to make a difference (or at least be part of an adventure) and have been following the small group, several paces behind the whole way. Of what I have become...
I have always been on the quiet side, and I'm surprisingly the kind of person who would prefer to be out of the spotlight, I've always done what I could to make sure that Keaton and I were well fed and had a warm place to lay our heads at night, and I've relentlessly made him keep up with his studies.
But most importantly, I love singing. It's this sort of magical feeling that transports me into another time and place, one with no cares and no worries. Often I sing instead of talking (which, when Keaton is in an irritable mood, annoys him). But I try to live my life in the form of a musical. If I go long without singing, I become terribly down (it's like reality is finally grabbing hold of me, and dragging my head under choppy waters). Somebody once told me that I was suffering from clinical depression, and that emotional rollercoaster I've been on is a symptom and that I should get medicine to fix it. But medicine costs money, and singing makes me blissfully euphoric, I don't need a pill to do what my vocal chords can. If you listen, you will hear that I like:
I adore the steady pulse of a drummed beat, and the strumming of a guitar's strings. If you look, you will see I despise:
thieves. My mama always told me that the worst crime one could ever commit, and the only real one there ever was, is thievery. Everything boils down to theft. If you take a man's property, if you take a man's wife... if you take a man's life, your just a thief. I've seen a couple pick-pocketers and swindlers, and I've always felt a rock in my stomach when they could get away with it. If I were tough like my brother, I'd like to think I'd bop a thief a good one, but I know my limits, and physical confrontation is well past them. Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird teach me how to sing. If I cannot fly, let me sing ---------------------------------And--------------------------------  Hero_duuh The BodyguardI greet you, fair stranger, and introduce myself as Keaton Sol.
I am a male who has tread this earth for eighteen years.
I have loved and I have lost, but I will always yearn for women.
I currently work my way through life as hired muscle. When my path becomes rocky I will use brass knuckles, a dagger, and a long rod iron I carry down my spine. . Hear me out as I explain how I use them...
If I fight someone, I want them to know who I am, and what my beef is. So I waste very little time getting down to throw some blows. I've practiced with all of my weapons, and I have mastered several ways to kill someone, most of them messy. But what I do know, is that if I had to, I could kill someone. I find them to be...
effective, reliable, quick-witted, brute strength. Alas, I am not infalliable...
often I am unfeeling or apathetic, I always jump to fighting as a solution to problems, and often can't make logical, sound decisions. "A fight is not won by one punch or kick. Either learn to endure, or hire a bodyguard
"- Bruce Lee Let me tell you the story...
When my parents died I was left alone with my older sister and had to watch her try and figure out how she could support us. It sucked, but as bad as it was for me it was probably worse for her. Then she started her whole... singing magic thing, and I knew I couldn't just be dead weight, eating up the money without giving in return. So when she was away in smokey bars singing her heart out and passing around a tip hat, I ran, and lifted weights, and learned how to box.
I got muscular, and I could throw one hell of a right hook. None of that mattered the day some creep tried to push up on my sister. I thought I was handling him before he rocked my a** so hard and had me on the ground with a knife to my neck and promise that if I even breathed he'd slit my throat. Raegan saved my butt that day, with a song that made the dude chill out and a promise to go out on a date with him. Day of the date came, and we high tailed it to Winter Tree.
That scum was why I went and got me a weapon, it was a sword that could've better passed for a butter knifde, and Raegan freaked when she first saw it. But I promised I'd learned how to handle it without stabbing myself or killing someone, and once I proved it to her, she let me keep it. I know my mama wouldn't be happy to see us now, barely scraping by off of some two-bit bar shows and whatever money I get by protecting some scuzzy rich douche who swindled the wrong person. But it's the best I can do, and I know now, if some jerk-off tries to feel up on my sister again I'll drop him faster than he'll have time to pray to the god he serves. Of what I have become...
I'm not always a nice person, but I'll do the right, honorable thing. Not always because I want to, but because I don't ever want to see my sister disappointed at me. I'll throw down to protect people that I trust and care for, s'long as I know they'd do the same. Conveniently, I don't have anybody that fits that description (other than Raegon 'course). If you listen, you will hear that I like:
Something that personifies brute force, a steak the size of my head, and a warm fire. If you look, you will see I despise:
crooked rich people, and sloppy drunks at the bar. Neither of them know how to stop when they're ahead. Blood is just red sweat.
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