• RULES.

• MUSES

DISCLAIMER:
This is a LOW ACTIVITY blog.
Soma - he / they - 25+ - tired
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I: I will NOT RP with minors. I will not interact with you if you are under the age of 18, period.II: I do not talk about my personal life, and prefer to keep a distance between my character and me. With this said, there will rarely be ooc posts that talk about myself here. I like to write as a distraction and as a way of dealing with my mental health.III: There will be no explicit NSFW content on this blog.IV: Triggers will be tagged with ‘cw:’. Example: cw: blood / cw: deathV: My replies can take quite a while. Please be patient. I certainly did not forget about our thread. You are free to ask for updates, and I’ll try to focus the reply down for you. Regarding reply length, they…. are a mess and can vary! The one true rule is that: If I write a lot to you, do not feel pressured to match length! I trail off quite often.

VI: I prefer plotting beforehand. Not that I am against stuff done on the spur of the moment, it is just… Easier for my brain to focus on something that I know which direction is going/what I can do about it. Canon characters can only be requested by friends.VII: If a character does not have an about me page, DM me and I will definitely explain whatever you need to know about them. :)VIII: If I follow you, I want to RP with you. After a while, I might approach you through DMs and/or post a plotting call. If there is no interest, I will softblock after a month. This is so I can keep track of who actually has interest in writing with me. If you show no interest in plotting / expect me to do everything and don't contribute, I'm probably out. Sorry! My energy is incredibly limited.IX: I don’t use icons. I also don’t overly format my posts. I prefer writing over aesthetics, and I do whatever I can to save spoons.X: Please ask me before anything regarding shipping.

^{Adonia Comellis}

the husband of the fairy queen,
his kingdom has been lost to time.
perhaps he too was lost to it as well.

^{Aliah Margolus}

a man who seeks the end of all things in pursuit of true magic. it is only when you glimpse ultimate destruction that you can understand the reason for creation. self assuredness that borders on arrogance.

^DIAMONT

an empty husk, who are you really? a dragon? a man? neither?
your obsession drives you forward, and perhaps it is the only thing that is truly belongs to you.

^{VIOLETTE VIL}

paralictor of the order of the torrent, a soul defined by his scars. a survivor seeking to free other survivors. the cold icy lake that reveals the inferno bubbling within. discipline forged in blood. dutiful, merciless, a heart that refuses to fully harden despite the horrors it has seen and endured. (pf2e verse only / full profile tba)

^{HOROS APEIRON}

a small fragment of the Condition of All, this wanderer observes the world and ensures that it continues to follow the will of the Aeons. enamored with life and mankind, the fortuneteller continues to accrue knowledge about the subjects of his interest through several lifetimes.

^{LUCIEN LEROUX}

the remnants of a famous opera singer crawls deep within the recesses of his soul.
all that remains is the cold embrace of the void.

^EQUINOX

a demigod who lost his powers, result of a broken pact between him and his god.
grudge-bearer. overthinker. gentle touches and harsh words.

^{RANNULFR FARRAN}

the leader of a mercenary group intent on building a better future. even if they have cut off a tyrant’s head.
no matter what. no matter who he has to work with.

^???

(profile/info tba) an archmage of nex who believes the mana wastes are an abomination, something to be fixed no matter the cost. and the cost for the reversal of magic that has bled the land dry - coming from a spellcaster - is more magic. to wage more war.
image source: @Kharu11

^{CORNELIUS WESKER}

a man with no past and no future. a taldan earl with a penchant for manipulation, and a thirst for blood. a worshipper not only of one, but of four. the thief, the politician, the alchemist and the killer. much like his god, he takes on these forms as needed.

***
THERE ARE NO RECORDS FOR LUCIEN LEROUX ON THE OMNINET***. It is as if it had been scrubbed clean of anything that could indicate his existence, to his personhood at all. After all, there is no need for a phantom to leave traces of his apparition. This is exactly what Smith-Shimano Corpro wants: to keep one of their own hidden from the world, while hiding from Union their premiere experiment subject. After all, there are only so many opportunities to explore what the human mind cannot comprehend, and take it as their own.The ghost was not always masked, however. It had a name and a voice. It sang with it's entire soul. Leone Lacroix was one of the best at his work, his passion. He belonged under the spotlight, under the shining sun. A stark contrast to the man that stands at the edge of the precipice.
News articles will talk about the mysterious disappearance of the star, along with his personal pianist. Others will speculate that Damien Faucher was responsible for it, and took his own life after. Nothing explains the fire. There were no bodies found. More sensationalist fans argue that both still live, and that this was an overly elaborate tactic to fade away from public view.
These are all wrong. The blood that runs through his hands is very real, and nothing will make Leone - now Lucien - forget about it.It was an unfortunate accident on their much needed vacation between shows. Damien Faucher was an incredibly private man, so much that news of them being lovers only arose after their death. So their trip was made on a private ship.
It was not surprising that neither Damien nor the pilot had noticed what happened to Leone back then. For them, perhaps it was just a fragment of a moment where the machine shook abruptly during their travel.To Leone, that felt like an eternity in darkness. Oppressive. Suffocating. With it comes the voice of the Devil, an alluring lullaby. Perhaps it was through His hand that he was safely placed back inside. Or maybe he never left his seat. The blackness that wraps around him, around his throat.He tells nothing of this to his lover, and continues to live as normal. In retrospect, perhaps he should have kept a closer look on his body. Every time he sang, something seemed to coil inside of him. Crawl through his skin like a snake. Every time he sang, his voice would feel weird after. His body would feel alien to himself. But there were no visible changes.It was why they kept rehearsing, even on their days off. Enamoured with their work and each other. Leone had a habit of pushing himself, and was too stubborn to rest.Was that his fatal mistake then? When he opened his mouth one afternoon, Damien screamed. Somehow, he lost control. Of himself, of what was happening. He simply continued to sing, believing his partner would be accompanying him with melody.Leone did not hear screaming, only the thud of a body hitting the floor. And blood. Way, way too much blood. And with it, the blackness of his hand. Damien's face showed how much pain he was in, the horrors he saw.Leone Lacroix died that day, alongside that man. He ran, he ran and begged for help. He ran and hid, hid his face and his body which seemed possessed by disease. By something else entirely. The fire he set would be enough to burn the house down, he thought.Kindness never truly shows itself, he found. In his desperate search he came into contact with someone from SSC, and begged to be saved. Begged for the return to normalcy. It was so clear this man had never taken a life before.Now that this bridge had been crossed, it would be easier. Perhaps it was then who covered the incident thoroughly, alongside with recovering the remnants of Damien's body. What Lucien saw as a curse, they saw as an opportunity.The promise of restoring him to his old self. All he had to do was to agree to stay in one of their facilities, aiding their research for a cure. Desperate for positive results, Leone had accepted it without thinking twice.His face changed a bit more. So did his body. It seemed to directly relate to the experiments, and it started consuming him at an alarming rate. He dons the mask, changes his name. Finds it hideous. His reflection is half human and half aberration. There are patterns that glow faintly, swirl and change under his skin. He hides those too.Bright eyes give way to a tired look. They say it is not enough, and some researchers give Lucien a companion. He names it Christine.
She is not human, and it brings him peace. He does not feel human either. They are one and the same, and it helps combat the oppressive loneliness. The dark gazes he is victim of, the uncaring hands on his body. They realize they do not need a civilian. Not so when it is so easy to weaponize someone, to put their goal in front of them and simply let the flame burn brighter, turn it into a second sun.The right side of his body turns pitch-black. Unrecognizable, inhuman. Lucien realizes something else: he is comforted by darkness, preferring to hide in places that were pitch-black when panic and anger rises. The solitude of it all reminds him of the eternal-yet-single moment drifting. Brings him closer to something he cannot comprehend, to what seems like a second heart beating inside of him. He learns to systematically kill his emotions, preferring that than to resorting to the gentle, cold hands that embrace him in the darkness.
This comes in handy when they test him, change him. It is not easy: to manipulate so many moving parts, machinery that he has never seen before. Lucien has no choice, no other option but to learn it. They move like extra limbs, and one wrong movement means that the arms which hideously grow from your body are now ready to strangle you. He has no need for his old self, no need for songs. This is what they want from him, and what they will have. It is easier to make someone who has killed to kill again, to give a doll the promise of a better future. Simply perform your tasks adequately, and eventually they shall stitch you back together.

>>CAN YOU STILL REMEMBER WHO
YOU ARE, FLIGHTLESS BIRD?

> PILOT STATUS //

OHM C//5022-06-21T16:23:24.494Z

N█m█EeeE█: _Leon^ee La~^croix^

~>>>>>>>>>>> ERROR ~
_{> LOADING FROM KNOWN DATABASE}
> .
> ..
> ...
> .....
> .......
> LOADING COMPLETE.
> PILOT FOUND.DISPLAYING DATA.

NAME: Lucien Leroux

TITLE: The Phantom

CALLSIGN: FANTASMA

AGE: 35

HEIGHT: 180cm

MECH FRAME:
HORUS Hydra / "Iron Maiden"

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil

ASSIGNED NHP: Christine

THE KINGDOM OF RUTHIA WAS ONCE A PROSPERING AND PEACEFUL PLACE. Protected and enhanced by natural defences, it boosted little military strength. What they lacked in raw power was provided by the land, transforming the once-small town into a powerful trade hub.This power was given by the Fair Folk to a family in the village of Ruthia, the Comellis. With that they would rule, but not for themselves. For the people. The 'Royal Family' would exist to support the people, to provide them with whatever they need. The old spirits bestowed to the elves living there a big green stone, which they divided into four. It would signify their bond eternal, their responsibility to the people and to the ones who so gracefully blessed them. It was their gift, the desire to see humans thrive and grow.Ruthia is a monarchy only in name, being a Kingdom focused in the arts and culture - an attractive spot to traveling merchants and artists alike. Whatever you could think, they would provide. Resources, education. This was all thanks to a promise that ties all of the Dawn Elves to the land that they love.Adonia was born the eldest son of the royal family of Ruthia.Adonia could do anything, seemingly without effort. The magic Photios could do with studying seemingly came as easy as breathing for him. Ophelia's genius mind for economy and strategy were second nature to him. Stratagems Olysseus spent hours studying were things he could conjure out of thin air. Never once he managed to get defeat Adonia during their spars. Equally gentle and kind-hearted towards his people and his siblings, Adonia was beloved by nearly all who knew him.
His younger brother Olysseus was an exception. But who can really see the seed of dissent when peace is all you have known?Adonia could do anything, seemingly without effort. Adonia was always the smartest. The strongest. The pinnacle of perfection, a guiding light to all his people. It always seemed to come so easily to him, figuring out things that seemed impossible to others. Disarming conflict with only a few words, uniting his siblings and his people under a common cause. Effortless. Perfect. It was never effortless. The pressure weighed on Adonia, yet he managed to keep it all inside. It ate up at him, yet... how could he take the crown and lead, if he felt like nothing he did was good enough? His siblings all had areas they excelled at, yet he seemed to simply drift by. Any of them would be better than him. Olysseus' strength, Photios' courage and kindheartedness, Ophelia's wisdom... they were more fit to rule than someone who was only good at talking.Adonia kept smiling and pretending nothing was wrong. It was necessary. He needed to be perfect. The person people looked up to. The person his siblings looked up to. He is not allowed to break under the pressure, never allowed to bend. Smile, and things will be better. Keep smiling and perhaps they will never notice how you feel like you do not belong with people that are so much more competent than you.As the day of his coronation drew nearer, Adonia cast about desperately for a way to avoid the crown. He went to his younger siblings, asking them to share the duties of king with him, but they laughed him off. Frustrated, anxious, and certain that he could not carry the burden of leadership, Adonia fled into the vast forest surrounding Ruthia, intending to gather his thoughts among the trees.Instead, he met a fey creature. It was love at first sight. Adonia was overwhelmed and flustered, but he could not avert his eyes. There was a promise made between them, and exchange of gifts. Ruthia was known to have the most stunning jewelry, and the most coveted were ones made by the royal family. It seemed that for centuries they have been imbuing magic into the stones, carving them into astonishing works of art. Alongside the gifts Adonia bestowed to the fey was a necklace of sunshine-orange citrine in exchange for ageless amber (that he carved into a small necklace for his own use). An unspoken vow of trust, a display of the single thing the Dawn Elf thought himself good at.The fey creature invited Adonia to return with them to the Feywild, a plane that touched all other realms, and live with them as their partner. Adonia– responsible, dutiful Adonia, always willing to sacrifice his happiness for others, never able to pursue his own happiness– said yes. Even if his family never forgave him for abandoning his duty, Adonia knew he had to chase his own happiness.But even after choosing happiness, not all was well. The Feywild was magical, yes, and beautiful, and playful, and bursting with color and life– but it was ruled by an isolationist queen with little patience for a mortal’s presence in her plane. In response, Adonia aided his wife and her sister in staging a coup, overthrowing the previous queen and installing Aphrodite and her sister as queens of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, respectively.In the aftermath of the coup and Aphrodite’s rise to power, Adonia was in a madly romantic, affectionate, warm relationship with them. But there was always a sense of inequality between them– the queen and the consort, the archfey and the elf, the sun and the flower. Adonia tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the happiness he shared with his wife and their twelve children. But it weighed on him. That weight grew and grew, until Adonia– now over a thousand years old– fled a kingdom once more. This time, he fled the Feywild, returning to the Material Plane to see what had become of Ruthia.When he arrived, there was nothing. No kingdom. There were only long-collapsed ruins swallowed by the fey forest that had once protected his people.It was impossible. No one should have been able to pierce the protective magic that guarded Ruthia from outside aggression. Determined to discover what had happened, Adonia began to travel the mortal world, searching for any sign of his people or his kingdom. A series of dreams led him to a meeting with two other travelers, and the three were abruptly taken by the mists of Barovia, a dismal and dark demiplane ruled by the vampire lord Count Strahd von Zarovich.Adonia felt oddly responsible for the downtrodden and hopeless people of Barovia. They, like the people of Ruthia, had been abandoned by a selfish ruler who cared only for his own happiness. Perhaps he could begin to make amends by helping these strangers, he thought– only to learn that Strahd himself was to blame for Ruthia’s downfall, and that the last remnants of Adonia’s people were scattered across Barovia. Strahd had committed genocide against the people of Ruthia, killing everyone capable of bearing children in order to ensure they died out slowly. The last few Ruthians lived as “dusk elves,” the name signifying the final days of their people.It was Adonia’s departure from Ruthia that created an opening for Strahd to attack the kingdom. (It was not only that, but how could Adonia do anything but blame himself?)
Ophelia was appointed to be Queen, instead of (what one would naturally assume to be) the second eldest son. Olysseus - a man who felt no joy or connection to his people and siblings, seeing them as weak creatures - sold them out. The barrier that protected Ruthia weakened with Adonia's absence, but it was still strong enough to fend off attacks. All that it needed was for three to become two, and then all support was lost. With his parents out of the picture - and his young sister having the burden of leading the sudden power vacuum created in such a short amount of time - it was easy enough to dispose of his own stone and allow the conqueror he truly saw as a brother to ravage the land.Adonia reunited with his youngest brother Photios, laid the soul of his sister Ophelia to rest, and revenged his people against his brother Olysseus for siding with Strahd against them. The remaining dawn elves were free to return to Ruthia - now revitalized by the renewed pacts with the land - or stay. As a parting gift, Adonia connects the three lands by planting a massive tree, using the roots from his lost home. The same tree that he used to spend time with his brother, reading him books and coming up with stories about brave heroes and absurd fairytales. The same tree that he met the woman who changed his life. The same tree that now oversees a land now blessed by the sun instead of ever-present mist.After his time in Barovia, Adonia returns to the Feywild and reunites with Aphrodite. She and her sister offered to share part of their power with Adonia, recognizing his importance not only to Aphrodite herself, but to the balance of the Feywild. Adonia accepts, and this is what triggers his transformation into a powerful archfey. Now, he rules alongside his wife and his sister-in-law, acting as a neutral third party in conflicts and serving the best interests of the Feywild itself.

>> YOU SWORE TO BRING THEM
THE SUN. HONOR THEIR SACRIFICE.

NAME: Adonia Comellis

TITLE: The Lost Prince of Ruthia;
Feywild King;
The Balance of Nature (as one of the Eldest)

AGE: 2000+ (lost count by now)

HEIGHT: 230cm

RACE: Elf (Dawn Elf) / Fey

FAMILY:

CLASS: Thaumaturge (weapon/regalia implements)
Changes classes often depending on what he wants to try/what he is feeling in the moment. Heavy lean towards magic.

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Elvish, Infernal, Sylvan

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

MAN CAN NEVER CLAIM TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THE MIND AND HEART OF GODS. So what happens when a God falls in love with a human? The same cliché as always. Maybe they truly loved each other. Maybe they understood each other in a way that no one can claim to fully comprehend. But the ending is always the same: they consummate their love. Humans should not eat from the same fruit as the divine. The human dies. The immortal God does not.Solstice and Equinox are the offspring of the relationship between the God of Order and a human woman. They were left at the doorstep of a great magical library when they were but infants, their father's idea of 'child care'. And what do Gods know about it?The staff raised both of them without questions, eventually renaming the place to "Library of the Heavens", in honor of the two brothers in their collective care.Equinox cared about his brother and picked the mantle of raising him, vowing to protect Solstice from the world's evils. It was then - still a teenager, not yet an adult yet not really a child - that he had finally had contact with his own father.A pact was made: a prerequisite for magic. If a God does not favor you, then using it is simply beyond your reach. Nox would kill and commit atrocities in his name, if it meant that his brother would be safe.And so he did. For longer than he can remember. Longer than he wants to remember. "For the greater good", he convinces himself. "For my brother", he whispers as he succumbs under the weight of a million corpses. Unreasonable requests from an unreasonable man. Equinox would do all of it and more. The desire to protect his brother warps itself with the inherent desire to please a father figure. To be acknowledged.Decades pass. The once-young faces of their caretakers grow old. They die. But he still continues his work. His Father's work. Equinox has felled beings who ascended too close to Godhood simply because "Order" demanded it.
And once "Order" was done with him, he threw Equinox aside.Their bond was forever severed, and the magic that was so essential to him was taken away as if it never existed. His wings changed, as did he."Why is it that my younger brother, helpless and unable to do anything on his own continues to thrive with the power given by Our Father, and I am left with the ash of my former self?"Every time he thought about Solstice, Nox started seeing red. His hands twitched. It would be easier to strangle him in his sleep, he thought sometimes.
Every time he had these thoughts, he would leave the library for weeks, months at end. And then there would be stories of the frightening cries and claws of a ravenous beast attacking the townspeople near the Library.So many times did Cain fantasize about killing Abel. And yet he could never bring himself to do it. So he lashed out at others. He pushed people away. Solstice kept the Library running, despite the lack of visitors.His brother would never realize that Equinox turned it into a ghost town. A town filled by his rage and grief.

>> ANYWAYS WHAT IS THE NARRATIVE IF NOT THE BLOOD IT CARRIES?
WHAT ARE YOU IF NOT THE TRAUMA YOU INHERIT?

NAME: Equinox ("Nox")

TITLE: The Half Light of Dawn

AGE: 300+

HEIGHT: 183cm

RACE: Demigod / half-human.

FAMILY:

CLASS: Barbarian (Fury Instinct)

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Primordial

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil

MAGIC IS POWER. A means to achieve an end. The propulsion of technology through it, or a way to avoid it altogether. An answer from the myriad of Gods. Art. A craft to be refined. Something to be studied, something to be revered, understood. A vital part of you.To Aliah, magic is the impure expression of something incomprehensibly unique. In his mind– an incalculably brilliant mind, his family was forced to admit– Aliah saw the truth: something existed beyond existence itself, something that gave birth to the paltry thing that mortals and gods alike call magic. Aliah wanted nothing more than to lay eyes on that something.It sounded mad. It was, by any normal standard. But to Aliah, the only standard that could possibly matter was whether something served his intellectual interest in the hypothetical “magic beyond all magic.” It turned into an obsession, the primal desire to know. What truly lies beyond information gated by the Universe itself?

"To create something, then first there is the necessity to have an empty space to be filled. In simpler terms, a container must exist in order to hold something. From Nothingness comes Creation, and Creation eventually returns to Nothingness.'Nothingness' serves as said container to be filled with things essential to Creation: Life, Souls and Magic. It is at that moment - when all ceases to be - that you can finally glimpse the Truth.Applying this theory in a bigger scale - which is necessary to understand the concept of Magic, and how it comes to be - the death and rebirth of the world are fundamentally connected by the same phenomena. The death of an individual is not enough to cross this "invisible barrier", so there is viable way to test this. However, it is undeniable that magic flows through all beings. Should they all cease to exist, what would be natural response of that which regulates the balance? Magic ceases to be, and then Magic is created. At that moment when the universe sighs its last, it can be reborn again. This effect is what I would consider to be the the 'Root' of all Magic.This is what most - if not all - schools of magic take from when spells are woven. One could argue that Gods are also born or ascended through this same tapestry, thus tracing the origin of Divine spells. The only way to ascertain this theory would be to be present at said moment, which is regrettably an impossible task to simulate."

Aliah is the successor to the House Margolus, one of the oldest magic families in Absalom. His talents were apparent from a young age, rising through his studies and having his power grow exponentially. The speed of his progress was frightening to those who understood the scope of his genius.After completing his studies in his teens, Aliah became a teacher first at the secretive and wealthy College of Mysteries, then at the prestigious Arcanamirium. He was notorious for his unpleasant personality, strict teaching style, and nigh-incomprehensible personal research, but curious students quickly realized Aliah was more than willing to explain even the most complex magical concepts to them if they expressed sincere interest.When one of the four Spell Lords of Absalom–the most powerful and influential magic users in the most powerful and influential city in the world–retired, Aliah’s prodigious talent, wealth of knowledge, and excellent pedigree made him a natural choice for the role.Instead, Aliah chose not the position of Primarch - but a lesser one. Fourth Spell Lord would suit his goals more: Political leverage and access to powers that would be usually kept away from the public populace. The duty of the Fourth Spell Lord is to protect magical secrets and to keep Absalom safe by purging it of any magic - and enemies - that could potentially become threats.He performs this task with perturbing ease, keeping the most interesting trinkets to himself in his lair at the Wise Quarter. Despite his goals, he is fiercely loyal and protective of the city he lives in. While some people could feel threatened or intimidated by his presence, Aliah conceals his objectives very well.

>> "That seems a petty question from one who is so scornful of the Word and who, aloof from mere appearance, only aspires to plumb the depths of essence."

NAME: Aliah Margolus ("Scion Lord Aliah of House Margolus")

TITLE: Fourth Spell Lord of Absalom

AGE: 30

HEIGHT: 180cm

RACE: Human

FAMILY:

CLASS: Wizard (Universalist)

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Abyssal, Aklo, Amurrun, Anugobu, Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Gnomish, Goblin, Halfling, Infernal, Iruxi, Jotun, Necril, Orcish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Terran, Undercommon

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil (reads as Lawful Evil)

RANNULFR FARRAN IS A HALF DEMON CAUGHT IN THE THROES OF WAR. He had his house burnt down to the ground when he was a child, at the mere desire of the King at the time, Jörn Blackwood. At the time the military was strictly reserved to purebloods, so his entry was denied almost immediately. For him it was nothing that he had not expected, preferring to live out in the streets and taking the path of a mercenary. Joining a small group when he was still young, he quickly proved that he had the strength and the conviction to survive despite his past.
It almost looked like he cast it away the moment it happened, preferring to live as he feels like it is better. A few years after Jörns death, they took with them another mercenary: Emil Raske. You don’t really ask people about their background, so they took the man in without saying too much: he was good, perhaps way too good to be trusted.It had a foul smell to it, and Rannulfr was quick to question the newcomer. As to how they seemed so deft with a blade, but seemed to be quite lacking when it came to knowledge that only people who lived in the streets should have. He discovered, months later - by the same man - his real identity. And the plan to overthrow the current King. He was Kaleb’s older brother, Svein Blackwood. And to fulfill their plains (their, as the mercenary now had no choice but to accompany His Majesty) would take time and patience.Time to create a group of mercenaries who would act as the Resistance and act against the king, a group formed by leftovers of the one the demon belonged in after killing the previous leader and letting Svein rule over them as he pleased. He had charisma, and he could capture people’s hearts easily. By appealing to such a vulnerable crowd, the rightful king was easy to amass a huge number of followers… who were crushed mercilessly by the tyrant who reigned supreme over the lands.This appeared to please the king all the same, letting this become fuel for the fires of vengeance, for the fires of wicked justice that he pretended to bring to them.To get to where they wanted, their true goal would take time.They were willing to wait for it.

>>You don't need to worry about us, Your Majesty; we "half-breeds" are stronger than you think.
We are like ravenous dogs, and might just feast on you if you are too careless, you know?

NAME: Rannulfr Farran ("Ran")

TITLE: The Wolf

AGE: 200

HEIGHT: 187cm

RACE: Half-demon

FAMILY:

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

CLASS: Rogue (Mastermind Racket)

FACE CLAIM: Sharrkan (MAGI)

THE PURSUIT OF MAGIC, AND ALL THAT IT TAKES. Diamont is living proof of it, the madness that takes over even the most careful of men. Yannig Kerderrien is what would people call a man with a plan, and Diamont is the key to its execution.
He is also the key to its colossal failure.Diamont was content in being simply 'the progeny', 'the son of the lord'. Lacking both in name and purpose, it wandered halls filled with money and comfort. It wanted for nothing, and it need not want anything.The only thing requested of 'it' was the progression of its magic studies, something it already enjoyed doing. It got what could others would barely register as 'praise' from its father. To the child, that was everything.So it would make magic the most important thing in its life. The being that would later be called Diamont was actually the breakthrough in decades - centuries - an indefinite amount of time - of research into magic and souls.All of that is lost to time, now. The few remnants of Yannig's madness and cruelty lies on the ruins of an Academy in Taldor, and on the ruins of one of his laboratories.Diamont is not aware of any of this.Promises made and promises forgotten, a name written on the corner of an old tome. Lost within its pages, the child dreams of acquiring it. The name, one of many things that it has seen its father use and let go of.So he silently takes the name for himself. He follows the guidance of a mysterious benefactor - a woman who visits the lair at times - a teacher and a mentor.A day that was unremarkable until it was not: Diamont had managed to sneak away from the servants and his father's iron grip. Some dragons take physical treasure as their hoard, and others had different preferences.
Diamont's father collected people, things he could easily manipulate. A master of illusion is also a master of secrets, a master of manipulation deals in trades. Never fair trades, always something that would allow "Yannig" to have the upper hand.While attempting to summon rain, dormant magic rose up like a storm. Something so simple and delicate, turned into hellfire in the blink of an eye.Diamont would rather not try his luck, as even the most naïve man is aware of what happens when you destroy a dragon's treasure hoard. 'Run or he will kill you', he hears a familiar female voice inside his head.He does not remember who it belongs to. So he runs. Away from the River Kingdoms, away from the many cities his father controls. Somewhere he will not be found, a place where he hopes his magic can be honed and cherished. To find people who will come to cherish it as much as he does.

Some more info regarding his personality that I think it is necessary to include:Diamont (or 'Dia') is a man of few reactions and fewer interests. He responds positively to magic and knowledge, and his relentless pursuit of 'truth'. Possessed of a mind more scientific than what some people would call 'common sense', his approach to certain subjects can seem ruthless and brutal.Due to his upbringing, Diamont views the world as a series of transactions. People approach and interact with others in order to achieve or acquire something.While hard to approach, it is not entirely impossible. The easiest way to get his attention is to lean into his very specific and all-consuming interest in magic.Diamont has a vast amount of knowledge and takes pride on the amount of knowledge he possesses. But knowledge about the concept of a situation and navigating said situation is very different.Does a horrible job at understanding jokes. (me slapping his back) This baby boy is sooo autistic!! Good for him.He is not unfriendly, he just does not understand the concept of friends. A gift is something people give you expecting you to give something more valuable in return, and friendships are simply bonds made that will last until both parts achieve a common goal.While some of his views on the world are very tainted by the violence and ruthless approach his father has with beings he deems 'lower' than him, Diamont will not reject any opportunity to learn. Even if you want to teach him the 'correct' way to do things, he will not say no. He might disagree and disregard your teachings, but the focal point of his character is his boundless curiosity, interesting creativity and the very primal desire for learning. And above all, the truth. Always the truth.

>> YOU DO KNOW WHY YOU REMEMBER AND KNOW ALL THESE THINGS. AND YET THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE MOVES YOU FORWARD. ARE YOU TRULY SURE YOU WANT TO PEEK BEYOND THE VEIL, CHILD?

NAME: Diamont

TITLE: Thousand-shard soul.

AGE: 50,000+

HEIGHT: 160cm

RACE: Half-dragon (Blue) / Vortex dragon

FAMILY:

CLASS: Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline)

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil
- Follows the idea of 'no clear concept of right or wrong', so the most effective path to something is the correct decision. Lacking morals not by choice, but because morals are created by 'people' and a 'society' that he never really interacted directly with.

He really enjoys trinkets ^

THE DEPTHS OF THE UNIVERSE KNOW MUCH ABOUT LIFE AND DEATH. It thinks it is a necessary step to evolution, to upkeep the balance of the Universe. The Universe will die eventually - and The Condition of All knows it - but what being does not fight to preserve it and itself?
All Aeons are connected to the Monad - and the Monad is connected to all Aeons. The universe is you, and you are the universe.And so the cosmic conscience awakens, its purpose unclear. It knows what he is, and that he is here to observe. His branches touch the ground, and the Conrasu uproots himself. His core shines gently under the moon, illuminated by the brightest of the night skies. The Maintainer dreams anew, his roots expanding through the forest it was graced as a nursery.
The world dies, and it is born anew. Such is the way of things. Understanding this, the creature spends his earlier years pondering about what he wants to do. To see growth, and to see life - one must understand people, and understanding can only be truly achieved by living amongst mortal creatures.But with such a form, how can people not view him with scrutiny? Another branch freezes, and he grows once again. Not an immortal tree - these belong to the First World - but one long-lived creature that seeks purpose. With surprising skill, its limbs craft something new: a functioning human body, a construct for himself. His wooden, plantlike body inside of it. His core protected not only by his natural exoskeleton, but also by the human body it now inhabits.With a body, a name. The concept of boundaries - physical and metaphysical alike - converging into one which would be hidden and hold no significance for the thousand of years to come: Horos Apeiron.It is said that the Universe is in love with the World, that being the reason why the World continues to exist despite it all. This is partially true. Aeons are attracted to the concept of life, as it balances out the tenuous balance between it and death. Both are necessary to the balance: things will be born, grow old, die and be reborn anew.Horos has been traveling for the past four thousand years through the world of Golarion, staying at different settlements from years to decades. His presence is barely known, and he prefers to exist as a background character rather than playing any role in the involvement of people and humans.Due to his long life, he has seen cities rise and fall - and small settlements becoming the cities one might find today, a group of feeble men and women that gave birth to Empires. The greed of many and their ruin, how fierce conquest eventually loses its luster and fades away into nothingness.When approached, he keeps a polite and pleasant attitude. Throughout the years, Horos has managed to pass himself as a wandering fortuneteller, using his readings as a way to get closer and learn about people. Concealing his face so his unchanging appearance is not a target of gossip between his visits, his body is identical to an unusually tall human man at first. The horns protruding from his head can be easily thought to come from the mask he always wears.A keen eye would notice, if ever allowed a glimpse behind the multiple layers of clothes the construct wears, that his body is made of several 'joints' that allows him to move accurately. The plant body of a Conrasu and its spiritual core resides inside this human 'outer layer', providing something similar to a nervous system. Any damage that is done to the 'shell' body can be survived, as long as it does not pierce his spiritual core and the primary exoskeleton that keeps it protected.Horos is a patient man, and curious about any and all things in the Universe. His clear belief is that the destinies of each individual are theirs to trace and walk upon, and that fate is not an immutable thing. His divinations are merely a suggestion instead of a final path or decision, and he will offer a helping hand to those in need.Can usually be found traveling (and staying for longer periods of time) between the cities of Quantium and Sothis, showing preference and great interest in the consequences the archmage Nex brought to the nation that carries his name to this day.

>>YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. JUSTICE. DUTY. MERCY. THAT SORT OF THING.

NAME: Horos Apeiron

TITLE: The Enlightened

AGE: 4,000

HEIGHT: 230cm

RACE: Conrasu

FAMILY:

CLASS: Wizard (Universalist)

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Rasu, Mwangi, Utopian, Celestial, Common, Sylvan, Arboreal, Vudrani

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral

HEEEHOO. funny High Priest of Norgorber (full profile tba whenever i have a single braincell to spare)

>>PLACEHOLDER TEXT

NAME: Cornelius Wesker

TITLE: Lord Cornelius Wesker, the Faithful.

AGE: 32

HEIGHT: 189cm

RACE: None-of-your-business Fleshwarp

FAMILY:

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil

CLASS: Rogue (Mastermind Racket)

FACE CLAIM: William James Moriarty (Moriarty the Patriot)