The Divine Curse REBOOT (Open)

In this day and age, the world is ravaged by demons. They murder, pillage, and devour all. There is no hope for survival, and they are all but invincible in the eyes of mere mortals. However, the seven gods that watch over this world have used their power to grace certain individuals with weapons capable of destroying demons. Displaced from their previous lifestyles, these heroes must journey the land to complete their quest, if they have any hope of regaining what they have lost. The journey is long and the fighting fierce, but the Seraphim are the final hope for this dying land.

SETTING
In this RP, there are several different types of Godly blessings: weapons, guidance, and supplies. Every god or goddess chooses their heroes/heroines and bestows upon them a blessing in the form of a weapon. The weapons themselves can be handheld (no guns or explosives), or literally grow from a part of the hero/heroine’s body. Only those chosen can wield their weapon, yet they can only injure demons and other Seraphim. Many heroes/heroines decide to carry an extra, normal weapon because of this.
    In this world, Rasota, any creature conjured in the mind can exist. In fact, humans are somewhat rare. The gods and goddesses have a shapeless true form, but can choose any body they wish to inhabit. There are only a few divine beings the inhabitants of Rasota worship, as several are evil and seen as bringers of death. It is believed that they are the ones who set the demons upon the world.
    I really don’t want to draw a map, so you guys will have to survive for now. As for Rasota, I’ve split it into only a few realms for simplicity’s sake, but keep in mind that the demons have pushed most civilization inside of walls, on top of mountains, beneath the water, or in other hard-to-reach places. To cope with this, your character may have a horse, gryphon, or other type of animal transportation. Please refrain from anything too powerful, and if you really want a dragon or something, message me first. Remember that these animals need feeding, and can die. You may also opt not to have one. Some mounts will be available at the beginning of the rp in Yewfelle, and occasionally at random intervals. These are only to replace lost mounts. There may be special cases, but until those come up, a character cannot have two mounts. Message me if you want to challenge this.
    The roleplay will begin in Yewfelle, the largest walled city of the eastern Ulayan providence. It’s built on the edge of a cliff, and has two rings of walls. A third is being constructed, and meanwhile many homeless people and refugees live in the unfinished ring. Each section has a main gate, which is guarded by soldiers day and night, with watchtowers and a rotating guard on the walls. They have bells in towers that, when sounded, are the alarm for a demon attack, and any Seraph in the vicinity is to respond to it. Many cities have this sort of construction, or at least something similar, which we’ll travel to during the course of the rp.
    While most people live in the walled cities, some people do not. Oftentimes these are farmers or simply people who did not want to move, despite the danger. We will come across a few of these, and certainly a lot of demons. I have a very general idea on how I want the story to progress, but if you guys have an idea, let me know and we can act on it!

DEMONS
Demons have varying behavioral patterns, but generally large groups of lower demons are controlled by a higher demon. Demons sense the angelic power the Seraphim wield, and are attracted to it. For currently unknown reasons, when a Seraph is chosen by a god or goddess, the demons gather and rampage nearby. A well-accepted theory is that the demons are attempting to prevent the creation of another Seraph, and truly many have died before their journeys have even begun.
    Higher demons and lower demons are very different. While lower demons are most often creature-like and stupid, higher demons are occasionally humanoid and always have human intelligence (or perhaps above so. This is what sets them apart from lower demons). As mentioned earlier higher demons, though few in number, control the lower demons in coordinated groups. Occasionally, lower demons also wander in smaller groups or alone, without a higher demon to control them. Despite their class, demons can have a wide range of powers and body types, and higher demons almost always carry hand-held weapons and tools.

GODS AND GODDESSES
When choosing a god or goddess for your character, please try to choose one that matches your character’s personality, or build a character to match a certain god or goddess. You may reserve these in the comments, and it’s a first-come-first-serve basis, unless we have more than seven characters.

Each Seraph has a mark on them that distinguishes them as such. It should be somewhere related to their power, such as their sword arm, but it isn't strictly that way. Each mark should be reminiscent of the god or goddess that bestowed it, such as a wolf for Tidari or a robin for Rancara.

“Good”
Silvrata: Usually seen as a winged golden tiger. Values protection, courage, and valor.
Ghethora: Usually seen as a giant winged boar. Values stubbornness, anger, and the ferocity to protect those she loves.
Ronos: Usually seen as a golden monkey. Values intelligence, patience, and peace.
Tidari: Usually seen as a large, golden wolf. He values brutality, tightly knit family, and justice above all else.

“Bad”
Sythcolath: Usually seen as raven, his shape wispy and fleeting, like shadow. Values intimidation, secrecy, and power.
Rancara: Usually seen as a small robin with golden streaks in her feathers. Values trickery, seduction, and wisdom.
Plethantas: Usually seen as a red-crested crane adorned in golden jewelry. Values swiftness, ruthlessness, and keen instinct.


RULES

- All forum rules apply. List of forum rules found HERE: https://youtubechorus.forumotion.com/t59-role-playing-rules
- I won't say whether or not the gods and goddesses are good or bad. You will have to find that out! But even those labeled as "Bad" can choose heroes and heroines.
- Don't ask to join! But once you do, don't hit and run! Stay for the whole RP, unless something comes up and hinders you from doing so.
- You can make as many characters as you want, as long as you can keep up with them! Characters are unlimited until the point where I feel like it's getting crowded, at which point I'll close the rp. There can only be one higher demon per four Seraphim, so if you want one, wait until there are three more Seraphim and then you can make one! Middle demons take up two Seraphim, so say we have eight Seraphim, as well as a higher and middle demon. Then another higher demon can be created!
- If, for some reason, you are unable to reply, please try to post something saying where you’re going and for how long! If you don't, I will assume you don't want to RP anymore. After two weeks, I will send you a PM. If you do not reply to this RP within three days of when I see you were online last, I will boot your character. This is irreversible.
- Have fun! That's the whole point of this, right? o v o

BIO SKELETONS
Just fill this out (thoroughly) to create your character!
Seraph
Name -
Age -
Species -
Divine "Parent" -
Personal Weapons -
Mount -
Personality -
Weaknesses -
Skills -
History -
Looks - description only please!
Crush -
Other -

Demon
Name -
Age -
Intellect and Personality -
Looks  - description only please!
Powers -
Weapons -
Class  - Higher demon
History -
Other -

CHARACTER LIST
SERAPHIM
Name/Race/Gender/Godly Parent/Blessed Weapon/Controller/Page Number
- Koë of The Rushing Winds / Nomadic Elf / Female / Tidari / Teaching sword / Suzu / Page 1
- Armistice / Corrupted Fairy / Male / Ronos / Giant Claw (Hammer) / Kingtrance / Page 1
- Aaron / Werewolf / Male / Ronos / Bow and Arrows / Lati / Page 1
- Elza / Wood Elf / Female / Silvrata / Giant Sword / Lati / Page 1
- Will / Human / Male / Plethantas / Any Weapon / Lati / Page 1
- Atalia / Golden Ram Spirit / Female / Ghethora / Scalpel / Kit / Page 1
- Faron / Shapeshifter / Male / Ghethora / Wrist Blade / Suzu / Page 1

DEMONS
Name/Gender/Class/Weapon and Powers/Controller/Page Number
- Six / Male / High Demon / Knives / Suzu / Page 1
- Kier / Male / Middle Demon / Appearance Change / Kit / Page 1
-

Name -
Koë of The Rushing Winds

Age -
689

Species -
Nomadic Elf

Divine "Parent" -
Tidari. She was chosen for her quick and swift sense of justice, as well as the certain brutality she likes to employ when battling.

Personal Weapons -
 Koë is blessed with a sword that has both the ability to teach, or mindlessly destroy. It only appears in the Elf's hand when demon's are around, and has a tendency to choose the quick and easy route; which causes quite a bit of trouble for her comrades. When fighting against other kinds of enemies, Koë prefers to use her bow, as she's not too big of a fan of close combat with actually intelligent beings.

Mount -
 While normally Koë prefers to run in her travels, occasionally she will convince a passing animal to allow her to ride on them, offering them an exchange for food.

Personality -
• J u s t •
The woman's sense of justice is one of her main motivations. She strictly adheres to the laws of nature, and makes sure everybody else does the same. If she believes one of these laws has been broken, she will bring justice upon the aggressor; regardless of who they are. Koë firmly believes in the principles of equality, and desires everybody to be treated equally. Excluding demons, of course.
• R u t h l e s s •
 Koë has no boundaries when it comes to fighting, especially against demons, and would normally shove all her emotions into the back seat and fight as all out as she could. This leads to her making brash or thoughtless decisions on the battlefield, which could get herself or others hurt.
 • H o n e s t •
The nomad is honest to a fault, mainly because she believes it is not fair to lie to others. There are few times when she'll make an exception to the rule, like when somebody is in danger or she's being interrogated; however, more often than not, she will answer the question; "Does this dress make me look fat?" without hesitation.
• F e a r f u l •
Koë is constantly filled with fear, as she frets and worries about everything. To her, all things could be considered dangerous, or as an enemy. Her fear controls her, and it forces most of her decisions. It could be considered her fatal flaw.

Weaknesses -
• S t u p i d i t y •
 While Koë has the ability to do decently in a fight, she doesn't have much wits about her. She can easily outsmart demons, but when it comes to more intelligent opponents she's prone to fall straight into their traps. Especially if they're using emotional attacks.
• F r a g i l l i t y •
Koë is easily moved by her emotions, and this causes her to act on them more often than not. If somebody were to manipulate her, the best way to trick her would be by targeting her feelings. Her reliance on the way she feels causes her to be extremely fragile in some cases, and she could go off the wall at emotional trauma.
• S t r e n g t h •
While her weapons and skills are strong, physically, Koë is not. She relies on speed more than strength, so while she can land many hits; she does not strike all that hard. Normally, that's why she lets her sword take over when she is fighting demons.

Skills -
• G o o d  S h o t •
 Koë is surprisingly dangerous with a bow, and is pretty good at hitting long range targets. She will perch herself in a tree and shoot away to her hearts content, more often than not hitting her mark.
• A n i m a l  P e r s o n •
Since Koë was born a nomadic elf, she has her sects inherited power of being able to communicate with animals. She cannot completely bend them to her will, however she can coercer them into doing what she wants, most of the time.

History -
 Born to the nomadic tribe of the Running Canyons, Koë was originally just Koë, albeit the daughter of a highly respected hunter and one of the fiercest warriors in the tribe, but Koë nonetheless. She was originally raised in a model fashion, regarded as an example child for the other children in the tribe. At the young age of 78, she began training with her mother to study the ways of the bow, and with her father to study the ways of the animal. Once she reached her second century, she had done well with both; and was decided that at her next century she would be able to pick her path in the tribe and be declared a full member, receiving her tattoos and her name.

Sadly, that did not come to pass.

At the age of 276, a demon found the tribe's encampment while they were sleeping, and it managed to bring others of it's kind undetected. In a swift and ruthless attack, the demons wiped out the entire tribe, excluding Koë; who had went on a walk because she was having trouble sleeping. She returned to the camp, of which was burning and in shambles, homeless, and alone. The girl was devastated, and while she knew how to fend for herself, she had lost the will to try. Koë spent her days in grief, curled up in the ashes of the camp in, what seemed to her, endless days and nights of anger and sadness. This month of her life was spent in darkness, fear, and loathing: it attributes to most of her personality today. Eventually, the nomad got her wish, and soon she was on the brink of death.

As Koë's life slipped away from her, she started to imagine that there were wolves all around her, the sacred animal of her people touching her with their noses and pawing at her body. It wasn't in her imagination, and just before the girl passed out; she saw the form of a large silver wolf. Koë woke up several weeks later, nearly screaming as she came eye to eye with a large female wolf. The two had a talk, both of which sharing one another's experiences with the demon hoard that killed many of both of their people. Afterwards, Koë was introduced into the pack, and accepted with some reluctance. Among her centuries with the wolves, Koë learned many things. She learned about honor, justice, and most of all: leaving no mercy for her opponents. She was hailed among the wolves as a skilled hunter, especially after she managed to make herself a proper weapon.

Eventually, at the age of 488, Koë decided to leave the pack to properly explore the world. She left peacefully, and started to head her way out of the forest. However, shortly after her departure, she was ambushed by demons. She fought to the best of her ability; yet, she did not have the proper weapons to even do much harm to them. Once again, it seemed Koë was on the edge of death because of the demons. The nomad doesn't remember much after that point, except fuzzy images of a large silver wolf, and knowledge of her new full name: Koë of the Whirling Winds. She awoke to find that along with this knowledge came the dark teal snaking tattoos of her tribe, and even if she did not attend her own kinship ceremony; she was aware that somewhere, somehow, it happened, and closer inspection of the new additions revealed the mark of Tidari located on her right shoulder.

Shortly afterwards, Koë regains her senses and continues her journey, eventually finding out just how Tidari had blessed her. She was now fit with a sword capable of killing demons, and that could mostly do it for her. Centuries later, she finds herself in Ywefelle, the city she decided to take a year or two rest at.

Looks -
Koë is tall and limber, with the broad shoulders often characterised by her people and while she is not heavy set, she does have some muscle mass, so she seems a little bit thick. Her hair is a deep black, almost purple in a certain light, while her eyes are a calm electric blue. She normally wears a dark brown tunic, neatly tucked into black trousers, with calf-high black boots for footwear. While she does change clothes, she basically just has extra of the same thing.

Also a gift from her people, Koë's skin is a rich caramel color, accentuated by the dark teal lines slithering up and down her body. Her tattoos start at her feet, wrapping around both of her big toes and snaking across her legs, where they eventually break off and create unique designs across her back, stomach, and torso. As the lines get to her head, they taper off at her cheeks, leaving a perfectly symmetrical line on both sides of her face. The mark of Tidari hides on her right shoulder, and is actually encircled by the lines.
 
Other -
She hates the taste of oranges, even though she adores the color.

Name -
Six

Age -
918

Intellect and Personality -
Six is by far one of the most cunning members of the High demon order, and he manages to outsmart many of the other species. He is resourceful, psychotic, ruthless and rather arrogant, and Six likes to think of himself as the perfect demon, able to fit in well with the masses while executing plans thought out in that glorious mind of his. However, he actually has a lot of flaws. He's brash, and headstrong; only doing what he wants to do and generally disregarding the orders of the High, who he considers inferior. Six has a massive god complex, and believes all people are his toys to mess with, also, he puts his game above all else; and will never, ever, call it quits. The demon is also prone to having human emotions, and sometimes will have powerful fits of rage, or even feel attached to what he would call a pet; all in the most twisted way.

Despite all of his flaws however, Six has a way with illusions, able to easily trick the susceptible into believing whatever he wants them to, and he uses this skill a lot. Six has no reservations when it comes to slaughtering his demon brothers and sisters, and he will brutally use them to get whatever wants. He does not care for them at all, as he believes he is superior to them in every way; especially since they rarely suit his the games he is so fond of playing. As well as a brutal love to commit homicide (and by extension, what looks like to non-demons as cannibalism), Six has an unprecedented love for curse words and knives: both of which he has quite the collection of.

Looks -
Six appears to be a seemingly attractive human, he's set with honey blonde hair and a pair of "dark brown" eyes, of which are actually, more often than not, red. If one studied him close enough, they might be able to tell that his teeth at pointier and sharper than a humans, and that his eyes have a unique shape not seen in many species residing in the land. He's tall and lanky, although with lots of muscle packed under what seems to be just skin.
He normally wears a pristine white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his black trousers, with a simple black button up vest. Inside of his vest are rows of different knives, ranging from small to large, and of which are used for his various... recreational activities. Six also wears a sturdy pair of travelling boots, and has a particular fondness for the small pair of spectacle/googles he normally has tightly positioned on top of his head, held by a small brown strap.

Powers -
While Six does not have powers, per say, he is extremely able at lying, or what others would call illusions of the mouth. He possesses the ability to make people believe what he wants them to using said illusions, if their will is weak enough; and he's also quite handy with a knife if that counts for anything.

Weapons -
Six prefers only to use knives in combat, and has quite the array of them hidden away on his person. He believes they are the only weapons he needs.

Class -
Higher class. He's respectable, after all; and a lot smarter than those filthy mutts under his control.

History -
Born to one of the lowest demon sects in the hierarchy, Six only got his name because he was the sixth child of the litter as lower class demons don't have enough intelligence to actually name their offspring. Upon birth, he was automatically stripped from his parents and taken in by the High, who took him under their (sometimes literal) wings. The High nurtured him, trained him, cultivated him to be one of the most powerful High in existence. A true Cinderella story, as the demon would put it. Six excelled in his studies, (much to the surprise of others, especially considering he was born so low) and it didn't take him long to develop a bloodthirsty passion akin to The Most High. He relished in killing, controlling, destroying, even at a young age, and was regarded as one of the brightest of the new demonic generation.

Sadly, however, all glory eventually fades into ash, and Six is no exception from this rule. He was entrusted with a small unit of low, bloodthirsty demons, and while at first he carried out several successful missions; soon the group under his control began to disobey his orders. As he tried to order them to disengage from a battle, they completely ignored him, and like the savages they were; mercilessly killed by the group they were attacking. The defeat was Six's first, and he did not take it well at all. He became even more twisted than before, and the consequences of that would soon be felt by the High themselves.

Afterwards, Six returned to the High, angered to no end and demanding answers, as the laughingstock of the society. He was constantly pestered and ignored, all his new ideas for improvement being thrown away as soon as they spoke them. Eventually, Six couldn't take it anymore, and he went to see the Most High for answers. He demanded to know why nobody would listen to him anymore, especially since he was once considered as such a prize among them. The Most High only answered with a laugh and a wave of it's hand, simply and bluntly saying it was now only because the others have realised that Six no longer looked like a demon to them, and in their minds, it meant that they would not treat him as an equal.

The knowledge wasn't exactly what Six wanted to hear, and after he left he exploded with rage. Quickly making plans on how to show everybody up and prove that he was, in fact, the most powerful and demonic god damn demon there ever was. With quite the arsenal in hand, along with a well formulated plan; Six visited the Most High, and with the doors locked tight he promptly carried it out. It didn't take much to kill him, to be perfectly honest, and Six wondered why nobody before him had. After all, he wasn't a particularly special demon, nor was he all that strong or smart. In Six's opinion, he could've been just another one of the low. With the deed done quickly and efficiently, the manlike demon decided he may as well make some art out of it. He laid out the Most High like a Christmas tree, and gloriously used his body to decorate his once great hall.

A day later, the deed was found out, with every trace of Six eradicated.

Soon, the demon made a sport of killing others, becoming addicted to the feeling of slowly and carefully stealing away somebody's life. He even began to consume his victims, and eventually just turned it all into a big game. Six would take away the victims loved ones, friends, family, hell even pets, before finally driving the victim off the edge, finding new and exciting ways of killing and feasting. He's killed more than he could count, and he absolutely adores it, he relishes in it. Sometimes he would run two or more of his games at once, once running a record of five. He hates to go hungry, after all.

Six found himself in Ywenfelle just after the end of one of his games, and is currently residing there for a couple days or more to properly digest his food.


Other -
Six only wears his goggles when "working," or more specifically, eating a person. He says they keep the blood from his eyes. Also, he orchestrated the attack on Koë's tribe, and was the one who basically ruined her life, and it was actually one of his few successful missions when he was with the High.

Seraph

Name - "Armistice"

Age - 132

Species - Corrupted Fairy

Divine "Parent" - Ronos. Armistice was chosen originally due to his desire to end demon kind for the protection of his race. After his fall from grace, he sees the goal of peace through a twisted lens, dedicated to using his power to protect the creatures of the dark from anyone who he deems as a threat for the greater good.

Personal Weapons - Armistice's godly weapon takes the form of a wicked claw, sprouting from his right shoulder blade and going down the area his right arm used to reside. He may use it to rend hordes of demons, but has absolutely refused himself to summon it in that circumstance due to his compassion for the evil creatures. Therefore, in most all combat situations, he relies on a terrifyingly large warhammer, a four foot long piece of warped metal with a heavy, black head capable of crushing stone, wood, some metals, and most crucially, the skulls of his enemies. Where the madman picked up this strange tool is anyone's guess, certainly the fairies of the forests deny ownership of the cruel tool of death.

Mount - The fae folk are renowned for their friendship with the animals. Armistice was once no exception. However, he now finds himself terrifying all those he attempts to approach, rendering them unusable as a mount. Under the circumstances of his own rebirth, however, he found a method to bend the minds of animals, warping their perception until they were unable to tell the corrupted one from others of his kind. To this end he procured a proud eagle, of the giant kind that serve as protectors of the mountains that over look the place Armistice once called home. Force feeding one a toxic brew composed of his own venomous blood, Armistice now has a mount to strike fear into the hearts of all those unfortunate enough to fall beneath it's shadow. When not needed, Armistice allows the great bird to ravage near by livestock to its heart's content, and summons it with a piercing whistle.

Personality - Once, when Armistice's hair was still golden and his heart pure, there was not a braver, kinder, or more thoughtful soul to be found in the entire wood of his birth. That was a very, very long time ago. Now Armistice's bravery has turned to ruthlessness, his kindness has been warped into a unfortunate mercy for demonfolk, and his thoughtfulness has become plotting and conniving, all to dark ends. The rot that sullied his body has also taken his mind, and in his madness he finds himself constantly cycling between depression, rage, lust, and compassion. His instability may hinder his thinking, but there is still a bright man behind the idiot's mask.

After his transformation, he gained the trait that would define his life from that point forward: A deep rooted desire to protect, nurture, and cherish the dark creatures of the world, primarily demons. He is willing to die protecting them, and to seek revenge on those who would wish them harm. However, his insanity is not so much that he doesn't have long term goals. Using what wits he has, his plan is a world where demons may live in harmony with other species, whether they like it or not.

Weaknesses - As previously mentioned, Armistice is rather insane. As such, he sees openings where others see boundaries, sees up where others swear the way is down, and views the moon where others swear to see the sun. A decision that seems rational to him may seem absolutely ludicrous to others, and for good reason, as many of them are doomed to fail by simply nature of impossibility.

Unlike other members of the fairies, Armistice cannot fly due to the corruption that caused his wings to wither to the point of being nothing more than caricatures of the great span they once were. He also cannot spend long periods in the light of day or in the presence of flame, the former making him sickly and later killing him outright far easily than others.

Armistice is crippled, being as he only has one arm, his left. All weaknesses one would assume comes with this applies. There are some things that, no matter how skilled his one arm may be, he simply cannot do without someone to help him, and this is a luxury rarely afforded to him.

His species is rather waifish by nature, and Armistice is even more sickly due to the rot of his corruption. His physical endurance is very low, despite his fearsome strength. However, he does not seem to have a firm grasp of his limits, and will happily work himself near death without thinking twice about it.

Skills - Armistice has great amounts of raw power in short bursts, allowing him to swing his hammer around him in a destructive whirlwind, even with just the one hand. He is capable of lifting fat man from the ground, knocking open thick, locked doors, and throwing things for great distances. As mentioned, however, he cannot do any of these things for very long before collapsing in a fit.

Magic is not a secret to his people, but Armistice bothered to learn precious little of it. Of the few arcane arts he does know, most were taught to him to aid him as a blessed warrior of his people. He can plant small "bugs" to allow him to hear things from great distances, can use personal belongings to track their owners, and channel his spirit to see blurry images of things at a great distance.

Fighting demons alone was a dangerous task, and so the local healer made it his sworn duty to teach the man currently known as Armistice a few things about medicine. To his great surprise, Armistice proved to be as adept at healing as battle, and is capable of treating wounds and minor illnesses, given the right materials. To what end he uses this knowledge is anyone's guess.

History - From the very earliest the man could remember, one chant had always filled his ears from anyone who dared to speak to him: "You are chosen." "You are chosen, so I am honored to call you student." The stern faced arms master had said when he had given Armistice his first practice blade. "You are chosen, so please let me teach you how to preserve yourself, should the worst occur." Said the ancient healer, his concerned tone convincing Armistice to see through the lessons. "And for you, the one who is chosen, I would give everything I have, my body and soul, for the chance to call you mine as you may call me yours." said a figure best forgotten, one who promised their heart in a ring Armistice once wore on his ill fated hand.

The words made him proud. The words made him strong. The words made him cocky. The words were no armor to the fangs and claws of the dark ones, on his very first journey from his home, the day he was meant to prove he was the Chosen of Ronos. They torn at his flesh, even as he ripped into theirs. Their blood became his blood, their madness was his madness, and their twisted figures marred what was once a lovely child of the fairies. His body and mind bent, but were not broken. That would come later.

He drug himself back to his holy village, a wretched thing holding on to scraps of his former self. The man who had taught him the way of the sword was the first to pick one up against him. "Back, beast, you are no chosen of ours!" Running, more fear in him now than when the demons had attacked, he came to the healer, who offered him the ultimate treatment. "To cure you now," he said, his eyes cold and hard "I must give you death, a much more enviable fate than the lowly creature you have become." That man was the first to die, the rage of the man now called Armistice painting the hovel crimson. Finally, the one who had offered their heart simply screamed. Their eyes closed, mouth open, ears covered, the truth would never reach them. Armistice didn't give them the chance. Their blood was the second of many that night, as men, women, and even children brought up arms against him. All fell.

In the pile of ravaged bodies, Armistice sat, clawing into his scalp, trying to make sense of it all. Why had they attacked? Because you are a monster, said a tiny voice in the back of his mind. Why was he a monster? They call you a monster, so that is as you must be. So what of the other monsters, the ones he was taught to fear? Perhaps, said the voice, growing ever louder, they were just like him. Lost. In need of guidance. Finding only fear and hatred in their path. "Perhaps," said the voice, now spilling forth from his own lips, "all they want is peace. Perhaps all they need is a moments respite. And who better to give it than me?" The first of many cruel smiles spread across his lips "For I am chosen."

Thus began a path of carnage that finds it's current end in Yewfelle, as Armistice waits in the gutters of the city for a chance to teach them all the true meaning of justice.

Looks - Armistice's hair, once lovely and golden, is now a sickly shade of white, coming down to the base of his neck in a tangle of matted and unkempt hair. His ears are pointed, as his chin. His skin is unnaturally pale, and crisscrossed with the dark purple lines of his darkened veins. A dull glow of red comes from within deep sunken eye sockets, and he is unnaturally thin. He stands relatively short at 5' 2", and he has very lanky limbs, with long fingers. From underneath his shoulder blades come the dried husks that were once wings. His right arm was removed by his own hand once it was crushed beyond repair, and the cut was not neat. His brand, a spindly monkey covering his eyes, falls just below his nipple on his right side.

For clothing, armistice wears the forest green cloak of the rangers of the fae woods, tarnished and filthy from years of travel and abuse. It covers his torso and face, and is quite thick. He prefers not to wear a shirt, and so wears this in climates that allow it. He wears a worn pair of hempen pants, and well worn pair of brown leather travelling boots.

Name – Aaron Dior

Age - 20

Species - Werewolf

Divine "Parent" –
Ronos, chosen for his peace-seeking demeanor and patience. The intelligence part, however, is somewhat debatable…

Personal Weapons –
Aaron’s blessed weapon is a bow and arrows. He fires them from Sugar’s back, and prefers his distanced fighting to being in the midst of the demons like the others. He also carries a small dagger that was given to him by his older brother.

Mount –
A gryphon he found along the road to Yewfelle. Her wing had been injured, and under his care she healed properly. Afterwards, though he tried to shoo her away, she simply would keep following him. To this day they are nearly inseparable. His gryphon, Sugar, has a fondness for sweets and seems to believe she is much smaller than she actually is. She often knocks Aaron over in greeting, and can get quite rough when playing. However, she is a very righteous creature and will do anything in her power to keep Aaron safe. She can become violent when threatened, but is usually very gentle.

Personality -
Pleasurable | Self-Deprecating | Kindhearted | Weak-Willed | Cowardly | Thoughtful
Aaron is generally a kind and caring person. Her cares more for the well-being of others than himself, and while he can be shy, is also upbeat and sometimes spontaneous when you get to know him. He blames himself for his past and doesn’t trust himself around people, yet is too afraid to go anywhere else. He doesn’t usually talk about it, but he has a considerable amount of self-hate. He can be quick to run from battle, and dislikes strife. Though he tends to exhibit a weak spine, Aaron longs for justice and equality, and though he may not voice his opinions, wishes he had the courage to stand up for what he believes in. He is also incredibly patient, and rarely enforces things on others.

Weaknesses –
Aaron has basically no confidence and relies on others to survive. He can hardly hold his own in a fight, and as I mentioned earlier, pretty much hates himself. He is also horribly afraid of what he may do to other people when he goes berserk. He is easily manipulated and usually breaks easily under pressure. Aaron is also very susceptible to werewolf weaknesses, such as silver and wolfs bane. During a full moon, he loses control of himself and rampages, unless confined by heavy silver chains. Without Sugar’s support, he quickly loses confidence in himself.

Skills –
Aaron seems to have a way with calming others down. Perhaps it’s the disarming tone he uses, or his non-threatening demeanor – whatever the reason, he can defuse a potential fight before it begins. He is also a reasonable shot with his bow, and though never turns it on anything but demons (as if there’s much else he can harm), can be quite dangerous when armed and fighting from Sugar’s back. He has reasonable healing skills, though he rarely carries the right materials to administer with.

History –
Aaron lived in a quiet, out-of-the-way hunting town on the border of a forest only a few days’ ride from Yewfelle. He was never one to really take a life, but would participate in the hunt when food was scarce and his village needed him. When not hunting, he hung around with the village healer, a kindred elderly woman. From her, he learned not only healing skills, but many important life lessons.

This, however, changed on the night of a full moon, when he went on a walk through the forest, unable to sleep. A werewolf, already full from a night of gorging on forest creatures, attacked him on a deer trail and nearly ripped him apart. It left him with horrible wounds to his chest and arm, then left him to die. Fortunately, he was found quickly by an early hunter, who brought him back to the village, where he was brought back from the brink of death by the healer.

He spent the next several weeks in agony, healing slowly from his wounds. Eventually, he recovered enough to move around a bit, but again his life was thrown off course. During the next full moon, he went berserk. He rampaged through his home, killing and eating his family before being chased off by the men of the village. He never went back for fear that they would kill him on sight.

He spent another week or two moping in the forest, wishing to die, but lacking the courage to do it himself. Soon enough a pack of demons attacked, and he thought it was the end. However, a great winged beast swooped in and grabbed him, carrying him to safety before disappearing. Later that night, a searing pain burned on his chest, and there he found the mark of Ronos, a monkey wrapped in a circle and grasping the end of its tail, in the midst of the scar tissue left behind by the werewolf attack.

Not long after this, he found Sugar – ironically, she was the same beast who saved his life from the demons. Together they traveled to Yewfelle, where they currently reside. There they live a modest life, occasionally reporting to the Seraph Administration (a royal sect dedicated to housing (and controlling) the Seraphim of Yewfelle. He doesn't complain, as they give him food and a place to live). Otherwise, he spends his days training with Sugar and walking around the city, seeing all of the people living their happy lives.

Looks –
Aaron has scruffy brown hair and mild hazel eyes that border on gray. His skin is reasonably tanned, and though his arms and torso are reasonably well-built, he is otherwise of a rather normal build. He dresses in whatever he can find – currently, a dark brown travel cloak, a tan canvas shirt, and stained brown breeches held together with a faded red cord. His sturdy leather boots are the nicest things he owns, a gift from some benevolent woman in Yewfelle. He carries a set of travel pouches at his waist, where he stuffs all kind of food, herbs, and random items. His knife is kept in a sheath behind his back on the same belt as the pouches. His bow and arrows are made of a beautiful light-coloured wood, with silver adornments and blue cloth. They stand out harshly against the rest of his muted appearance.

Crush –
None so far. He thinks himself too weak to possibly be liked by many people, and let alone a girl. He tends to fall for pretty or courageous girls, but never really talks to them.

Other –
- He has a large scar spanning his chest and reaching onto his shoulder, from the werewolf. It often aches before a full moon.
- The knife he carries was given to him by his brother before he went out on his ritual coming-of-age ceremonial hunt. He never came back. Nearly a week later, he was found mauled among a field of boulders. It is believed that he was killed by demons, but no one can say for sure.
- He gets very defensive when talking about his past, and it’s the only thing he seems to be adamant about withholding. Anything else you can basically guilt-trip him into telling you.

Name – Elza Resvandel

Age –
349, but looks around 19 to early twenties.

Species – Wood Elf

Divine "Parent" –
Silvrata, chosen for her courage in battle and willingness to protect those around her.

Personal Weapons –
Elza uses a large sword (roughly eight feet long) that she summons to fight demons. It hits hard but slowly, so she requires someone faster to back her up. She carries a couple knives on her person, which she uses for skinning animals, defending herself, cleaning her nails, and just about everything else.

Mount –
Elza rides a horse from the Yewfelle stables named Stark. She hasn’t known him long, but they seem to get along well enough. He’s a strong gray charger with black socks, dark spots, and a black mane. He is terribly vain and prideful, and will strike out at anyone (even Elza) if he isn’t shown proper respect. He is also known to bite. However, Elza likes him because of his stubborn personality, and would never replace him with a more complacent horse.

Personality –
Elza is a very strong and straightforward person. She tends to be rather reckless and spirited, but has a good heart. She holds a lot of compassion for others, and enjoys wielding her newfound power in order to protect people. Her headstrong nature often leads her to charge into things without thinking, though she is a team player and will rarely do things on her own. Unless, of course, she has a personal vendetta – then there’s no stopping her. Elza has a strong sense of justice, and will hold grudges for a long period of time, unless you prove that you’re sorry for what happened. She dislikes being indebted to others, and, like Stark, has a measurably large amount of pride.

Weaknesses –
As I mentioned before, Elza is reckless and often acts without care. She isn’t very good at reading emotions, either, but tries her best. When fighting demons, her attacks are slower than most fighters, due to the size of her sword. She is deathly afraid of large bodies of water (such as the ocean) and is claustrophobic. She also seems to have a fear of birds, though it doesn’t bother her too much unless she’s knocked out of countenance. She is a horrid cook.

Skills –
Elza is good with her sword, thanks to her tough build and several years of training in Yewfelle. She is also very good at climbing trees, and can do so quickly. She has a lot of endurance, and can travel for long periods of time without needing to rest. She’s surprisingly good with her hands, and so excels at random crafts and fishing. She stomachs liquor well, and can actually hide intoxication to a fair degree.

History –
Elza, as a forest elf, spent her days with her tribe running about the forest, climbing trees and gathering various plants for the healer and for food. Growing up, Elza was very adventurous and daring, once climbing the slick rocks of a waterfall to get to a rare herb clinging to the rocks. She got hurt often, but enjoyed her life all the same.

Eventually, however, her peaceful life was changed for the worse. Demons attacked out of nowhere, breaching the sacred grounds she and her tribe had occupied and destroying the god statues that had protected them. They all fled into the trees, but giant demons toppled them and flying demons pulled them from the limbs. Elza and a few others were the only ones to escape, and they soon died of another, smaller demon attack, at which point Elza was claimed by Silvrata. Later on, she discovered her mark, a crouched golden tiger, on her left collarbone.

Again barely escaping with her life, and now completely alone, Elza made her way to Yewfelle, the only safe haven she knew. As soon as they discovered she was a Seraph, she was immediately taken in and given food and shelter. She then started training with a swordmaster, honing her skills that she could wield her sword and avoid another slaughter of those she cared about. Several years passed, and she now is a senior Seraph in the king’s guard, and she patrols the outer walls of the city each day. Sometimes called the Sword of Yewfelle, due to her very large sword, she has the power to control half of the Yewfellian soldiers.

Looks –
Elza has mouse-brown hair down to her waist, but keeps most of it bound into a tight braid down her back. Some hair hangs out over her eyes, and a few wisps escape by her ears. The braid itself is often very messy, as she is too impatient to make it look nice. Her eyes are a warm hazel with green around the edges, hinting at her forest lineage. Her skin is lightly tanned, and she wears a blue earring in one of her long ears. Elza has a strong, yet wiry build: while she has lots of core and arm strength, she is also nimble and fast (without her sword). She wears anything light and comfortable—often she can be found wrapped in several layers of fabric and leather, with sturdy leather boots and a tough harness crisscrossing her waist, onto which are strapped various pouches, bags, and a knife or two.  She wears dark canvas pants, and has a dark green scarf that she always wears, though the way she wears it can shift from around her neck to her around her waist, in her hair, or in other fashions. She has a few pieces of light armor that she wears: greaves and gauntlets, a breastplate, and a winged helmet bearing the King’s crest. She abandoned her chainmail suit that went with it as well as most of her armor, instead opting for less weight and more maneuverability.

Crush –
None so far, but open! She’s had a few lovers in the past, but nothing too intense. Forward romance puts her off, even if it’s just a passionate kiss, since she’s never really experienced “true love” before.

Other –
She’s left handed, and has a fondness for spicy food. She also very much enjoys getting drunk, though it takes her a lot of liquor to get there.

Name – William Blackthorne

Age – 21

Species –
Human (mixed blood, but he doesn’t really know his lineage. He’s stronger and faster than most humans, allowing him to survive in a world where everything outclasses him)

Divine "Parent" –
Plethantas, chosen for his ruthlessness and reliance on speed and instinct.

Personal Weapons –
Will has the ability to summon any handheld weapon capable of being created. However, these weapons cannot touch demons. He tends to stick to bladed weapons, as he is not a good shot with a bow or related weapons.

Mount –
Will rides a large black horse he stole from a farming society on his journey. The horse, Pepper, dislikes him, but recognizes his strength and brutality. He’s not so much as loyal to him but afraid of him, or rather what the boy might do if he disobeys him. Pepper himself is a stalwart and calm horse. He is very powerful and has a lot of endurance, but is very gentle and wouldn’t harm a fly, so long as it doesn’t bite him. When under threat, Pepper becomes rather panicky, as horses do, but stands his ground. He has a powerful kick.

Personality –
Will has a rather sour disposition. He doesn’t express much other than anger and other negative emotions, and can sometimes act a bit depressed. He distances himself from others, both physically and emotionally, and prefers to travel and fight alone. This is partially because of his large pride. He is usually rather emotionless and calm, unless you find and push all of the wrong buttons. To someone who knows people well, he is a rather easy book to read, though he doesn’t know it. He keeps his emotions hidden, especially anything happy, sadness, or anything else that would allow someone closer to him. He has a strong sense of justice, though aims it at his own ideals, and never stops chasing something once he has set his eyes upon it. In a fight, he doesn’t hesitate to fight dirty, and will use every advantage he has to win. He has no qualms in letting someone die, and lets nothing get in the way of his goals. However, he is cowardly at heart, and spends most of his time running from himself and trying to prove that he is stronger than he really is. He is easy to break.

Weaknesses –
Will has a crippling fear of demons, as he is defenseless against them. When he as a person has been figured out, the wall around him falls and his weak spine shows through. Because of his pride, Will fights alone, making him an easy target, especially in the face of a demon attack. He has an irrational fear of rats, and also steers clear of open or bright spaces.

Skills –
Will is very skilled with bladed weapons, particularly swords and knives. He has been training his entire life with them, and therefore is essentially a master with them. He is a good killer, and knows the best places to strike the body to cripple or disable an opponent. Paired with his lack of remorse, this makes him a very formidable opponent.

History –

Will comes from a long line of hunters, people who hunt wayward beasts and creatures and purify ghosts. When he was a young boy, he lived with his family in a large city near a mountain. The Blackthornes were the only hunter family around, and people of all backgrounds came to them for exorcisms and advice. One day, the family went together to take a small job, one that would introduce Will and his sister Ame to the life of hunting.

Will took his sister to ask around in the village, while his mother and father went into the forest nearby, searching for tracks or any signs of the source of a rash of livestock killings. Unfortunately, the villagers had seen nothing of the enemy, for the killings occurred in the cover of darkness. Their search useless, Will and Ame visited the local shrine, and the woman living there warned them of a strange malevolent presence that had been in the area.

Sudden screams and the sound of splintering wood drew Will back outside. In the middle of the village his parents, bloodied and battered, were fighting off a small group of strange creatures which Will would later know to be demons. Taking his sister and one of the horses at the order of his mother, Will charged off into the forest as his parents were rent to pieces by the demons.

They didn’t make it far. The sibling pair was knocked to the ground by an airborne demon. The hideous black creatures swarmed around them, their mouths and claws red with their parent’s blood, and then Ame was gone. Will turned, screaming after her as she was pulled into the masses of seething shapes, her screams cut short with the slash of a demon’s arm. Will drew his tiny kid sword and stabbed the creature, but his weapon seemed to do nothing at all and he was thrown backward. The beasts advanced, and Will could do nothing as they raised their claws and prepared to strike.

Then a blinding white light shot from the sky above to hover in the air above him, and a figure faced the demons. They exploded in a shower of black blood before melting back into the ground. The figure turned to him, and it was then that Will realized it was a red-headed crane, its beak and talons decorated with gold and silver. As pain seared on the side of his neck, the great bird whispered, “Welcome, Will, to a new order. The war has just begun.”

Since that horrible day, Will has traveled across Rasota, searching for wayward beings to kill while narrowly avoiding demon attacks. He currently resides in Yewfelle, where he hides in the shadows and works for the underground. He is an assassin for hire, though also completes normal hunter duties.

Looks –
Will has a shock of white hair that hangs down over his ears and to the tops of his eyes, which are a pale gray-blue. His skin is a pale tan, and his body is slender, with strong whipcord muscles coiled in his arms and back. He is very fit and can move very quickly, while using swords and daggers to deal heavy damage to his foes. However, his body is rather frail, and he heals slowly. Will dresses in all dark brown  or black clothing, and always wears a hooded cloak, with which he hides his hair. Currently, he wears a black tunic with dark trousers and plain brown boots. He wears leather armour over his arms, legs, and chest, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. His mark is a series of swirling black lines like smoke with a red tint, on  the side of his throat, where it curls behind his ear and ends just short of his hairline.

Crush –
None. He has a general strong dislike of most people, especially women.

Other –
His favourite food is a blueberry tart. He is frequented by nightmares, and added to his constant alertness and paranoia, leads to him getting little sleep.

(((LOL sorry about my horrible history, I have no idea how to write and it was 2 am haha)))

Name - Atalia X. Fales

Age - 899 years, 26 in appearance

Species - Golden Ram Spirit

Divine "Parent" - Ghethora, chosen for her unshakable will power and conviction to deliver anyone suffering from any ailment.

Personal Weapons -
    For fighting purposes, Atalia carries a pair of surgical lancets--one of which is her blessed weapon. This blessed weapon is identical to the other and is equipped with a double edged blade. Using this to deceive her opponents, Atalia swiftly and continuously swaps between the two scalpels. There is also an abundance of medical instruments and devices (reserved for therapeutic treatment) hidden and strapped across her body that will only be used if the going gets real tough.

Mount -
    An aged, elderly Cerastes, going by the name of Panna, primarily used for transportation and medical assistance. Panna is gentle, soft-spoken and quiet in nature, which sometimes proves to be a disadvantage. About the size of an average horse, she is capable of traveling at moderate speeds and thriving without water for great periods of time. Sand colored scales blanket the serpent’s body, but they are somewhat brittle and are prone to frequent shedding(inclusive to the horns that rest on her skull). Despite her ability to produce lethal doses of poisonous substances, Panna generally strays away from the battlefield due to Atalia’s orders and her lack of actual physical ability.

Personality -  
    Adamant | Edgy | Brusque | Canny | Flexible | Diligent | Impartial | Thoughtful

    Atalia is a hardboiled, strict and outwardly tactless woman that finds herself chewing someone out almost every day. These are probably sad traits she gained from her parents, but Atalia finds no shame in it unless it causes her to do actual harm. She also finds no rationality in building heartfelt relationships or treating each other with doting care and kindness, but instead giving “tough love” and pushing others to conquer their weaknesses. No matter how rude and irritable Atalia may seem, in no way is she a “bad” person. The ram spirit actually is quite thoughtful and will do everything in her power to protect and defend those in need of her service. Her deeds are sometimes plain and visible, however a lot are small and fall unnoticed due to her brazen exterior. This doesn’t faze the woman, however, as she expects no praise anyway.

     Fiercely independent and diligent in her work, Atalia has a steadfast and unyielding resolution to her “purpose” in this world which leads her to make some very irrational decisions. Due to this Atalia can get easily stressed and turns out rather moody and temperamental. In order to relieve others of this torture, she goes out to smoke in solitude despite knowing the health consequences of her actions. Otherwise, Atalia treats everyone in the same manner, not giving any more importance to a Seraph over a citizen of Yewelle. Likewise, everyone receives the brunt of her attitude.

    To those who believe that she is not using her god-given gift in a suitable manner(since she rarely fights or practices battle techniques), Atalia just dismisses them saying she’s doing what’s to the best of her ability.

Weaknesses -
    Since the ram spirit has dedicated much of her life researching and treating diseases, Atalia has not focused her efforts in actually defeating demons. She has reasonable fighting skills, however she is generally inept and inexperienced which makes her an easy target. Inclusive to this, Atalia’s regenerative and healing abilities are derived from her golden locks and because it is not typically masked, things can get very unaccomodating depending on the situation. Emotionally, due to stress or self reproach, she can become extremely vulnerable to mental distress.

Skills -
    Atalia is quite skillful in the practice of medicinal study, diagnosis of illnesses and treatments of all varieties. As the spirit of a golden ram, she retains remarkable healing abilities that seem connected to the long, streaming flow of golden hair that runs down her frontside in a braid. Otherwise, because of her past in the mountain ranges, Atalia has some mastery in footwork.

History -
    Atalia was born and raised in a mountaintop village alongside numerous mountain spirits of various shapes and forms. Her family was composed of a strict, uncompromising mother and a severely judgmental and scathing father. Atalia was oppressed and tightly restricted by her parents, however she responded obediently and remained submissive to their parental guidance. She was petrified and terrorized, but had no method to revolt or exploit them, and the villagers all bickered in hushed tones. By all means, the family was indirectly criticized by the citizens of this civilization, however absolutely nothing was done until the high authority was questioned with utmost discourteously and insolence.

    Cutthroat and borderline hysterical, Atalia’s father proved himself to be the beast that everyone had silently envisioned. His wife, did nothing more to calm the situation, but rather exasperated it. Then, savagely shoved away by what previously seemed to be her “friends”, Atalia (at the mere age of 14) and her family were forcibly relocated and isolated. Now outcasts of the village, they lived in the outskirts of the mountain range on the topmost mountain, surrounded by a wasteland and dense fog. It was then, shrouded by that curtain of darkness and loneliness, that Atalia grew painfully aware of every single sickening detail of her short, violated life history and tried to rebuild what was left of her shattered heart.

    The healing was nothing short of impossible and in the process, Atalia crumbled under her senseless efforts and her parents’ consistent instruction. She endured this life cycle much of her early life, learning to heal and fix as many objects and simple life forms as she could...all in desperation of saving herself. Overworked and overstressed, Atalia found herself unable to move even at the pitiful time of her release. Her golden hair faded in color and skin unnaturally cold, her departure into the adult world was another forceful push from her parents. The ram spirit, herself diseased, then wandered across the mountain range for days until reaching the territorial border.

    Weakened and upon entry, Atalia was shocked to a standstill as she caught sight of a mother gryphon hacking into its young, shredding the baby to pieces. Her heart then began to once again pump her blood in an agonizing rhythm. And in a flash, unable to process her actions or her thoughts, Atalia was startled to find herself before the rotting carcass and thrusting a blade of a scalpel towards the mother’s chest. Still incapable of fleeing or fighting this feeling, Atalia began to fend off the beast and sustained many injuries. With newfound courage and terrible anger, she stood weapon in hand, blurry eyed and losing consciousness, to what no longer appeared as a gryphon, but as a demon. With much disappointment, Atalia faced her end with a strange longing for more and blacked out.

    After losing consciousness, however, she woke to a serene and calm aura of the forest. The environment bustling with life and energy, the spirit blinked in confusion. Unharmed and fully healed, Atalia saw nothing of the previously bloodied clearing and somehow had some knowledge of being “chosen”. Her new mark burned on her skin. Picking herself up, Atalia then contemplated her next actions with this new calm and determined mind. Deciding on her mission, she then became intensely involved in medicine and eventually entered Yewfelle hoping to continue her service there. ((Lazy ending sorry ;3;))

Looks -
   Atalia is a tall, lean and slender woman with waist length golden hair that’s bound in a neat fishtail braid. She has a large forehead that is covered by side swept bangs and has emerald colored eyes. Her skin is soft and pale in color and is blemishless besides a mole that is located beneath her right eye. Coarse, twisted horns emerge from the back of her skull and wrap themselves around her head, curling inwards as they reach her ears. The woman is usually seen wearing a white button down collared blouse tucked into black canvas pants. Knee high boots race up her legs and are held together by crisscrossing laces. Underneath her blouse and attached to her belt are collections of harnesses and pouches that strap down her equipment. Atalia is also often seen wearing a long, white laboratory coat that reaches her mid calves.  

Crush -
    Atalia is neither fond nor trusting of relationships in general, so it’s highly unlikely that she’ll ever be able to develop a lasting romance (granted she even tries).

Other -
  ▪ After starting her mission, Atalia found out that her village had been conquered, trounced and reestablished due to authoritative failures.
   ▪ Her habit of smoking when stressed is a compulsion that teeters on the border of obsession and addiction.
   ▪  Her mark is placed above her left breast and appears as a giant winged boar posed in mid flight.
   ▪ Panna likes to sleep hidden within piles of hay .3. and she “purrs” whenever petted, which also makes her scales rattle a little.
---
((Hng my head hurts I’ll clean this up tomorrow ughh ))

Name -
Faron Hayashi

Age -
589

Species -
Immortal Shapeshifter

Divine "Parent" -
Ghethora, honourably chosen for his spurts of anger and his ferocious desire to protect all that he loves. He only lacks in stubbornness.

Personal Weapons -
When fighting non-demon opponents, Faron normally prefers to shapeshift and fight as an animal if the situation allows it; however, this is not always the case. When faced with actual hand-to-hand combat, Faron carries a simple short sword. In demon attacks, Faron was gifted with a thick 6 and a half inch long blade that could extend with a flick of his left wrist (as he is left handed). It's a useful tool, and it can alert Faron when demons are nearby.

Mount -
Faron does not require an animal to ride, as he can turn into any animal he has seen; provided they are smaller than a grizzly bear.

Personality -
＊ Fierce ＊
Faron is fierce, both in looks and in attitude. He's not one to deal with many people, and prefers the company of animals or himself above others. It seems that if he does anything, be it chopping up onions or cutting off a demons head, he manages to do in a semi-threatening way.

＊ Loyal ＊
While Faron doesn't like people, the ones he manages to decently get along with have his loyalty until they prove they are not worthy of it. This causes him to get into some problems, especially if he blindly follows somebody into a dangerous situation. It does mean, however, that he'll keep your trust til the end, and do whatever is necessary to protect the ones he loves.

＊ Angry＊
With the temperament of a raging bull, Faron is quite easy to set off. He likes to yell a lot, and frequently snaps at people. He gets pissed about the stupidest things, like the laundry being left out or the food left in the fire; silly things that are normally insignificant that one doesn't notice them. This can lead to Faron acting irrationally, especially if he gets into an argument.

＊ Jealous ＊
Faron gets jealous very easily, and normally doesn't react well to people he considered "his" to go to somebody else's side. He's also prone to become jealous of somebody's abilities and talents, often becoming more rude to them as a result.

Weaknesses -
【 Shift Limit 】
The largest form the shapeshifter can shift into is a male grizzly bear, which doesn't leave much undesired. If he exceeds this limit, he can be mortally injured. However, he can only stay in one form for so long, and eventually he has to turn to normal and rest for a little bit.

【 Slow 】
While Faron is strong, he is normally cumbersome and slow in his normal form, only because he's not that accustomed to moving around in his human form. He mostly prefers to fight as an animal, but against demons he cannot.

【 Obsessive 】
Things have a tendency to consume Faron's mind, like a person or if he put out the fire properly. He obsesses about things, and this leads him to frequently panic if things are not done "properly," also, this can lead him to become clingy with people as well.

【 Angry 】
As mentioned before, Faron gets angry easily, this can lead to many things. Including him being exploited, manipulated, and tricked into rage so that he does not think properly. One could say it's his fatal flaw.

Skills -
《 Shapeshifter 》
Faron has the ability to turn into any animal he has ever seen with his own eyes, granted they are smaller than a male grizzly bear. This ability is his preferred form, and while he cannot remain an animal for a large period of time, he manages to do so for most of his time anyways.

《 Strong 》
Faron is strong like an ox, and while he's slow, he manages to pack quite the punch in a fight. Especially if he's in animal form.

《 Smooth 》
The shapeshifter, despite his anger, managed to be rather decent when handling people; at least for a short amount of time. He can find the means to get what he wants, more or less.

《 Handy 》
Faron utilises the environment he is in to his advantage, causing him to be useful in various situations.

History -
Faron Hayashi was originally born in the forests, gifted to an admittedly odd couple. His mother was a member of the Elves, the source of his immortality, and his father was one of the wandering shapeshifters known to wander aimlessly around the land. While he was always told his parents loved one another, Faron never believe it, especially since his father skipped town as soon as he knocked his mother up. He always just smiled and nodded while his mother spoke of the man who left her to, and she quotes: "Explore more wonders of the world," whatever that was supposed to mean.

Despite his father's absence, Faron grew up as a relatively normal "elf" child, as him and his mother were the only ones who knew of his parentage at the time. He came out of his childhood decently raised and somewhat well-tempered. However, he was prone to fits of rage every once in awhile, nothing compared to the level he experiences now, and was easily and swiftly calmed down by his mother. As he rose to his "teenage" (as they would best be put) years, he started to notice things he could do that his comrades could not; for example, he could perfectly imitate the sound of a woodpecker, or howl exactly as a wolf would. The others thought of it as weird, however, really paid no mind to it. After all, maybe he had one of the "gifts" the elders were talking about?

In any case, the only thing that really started his bursts of white rage was what ensued shortly after somebody realised he wasn't a full elf. The teasing that ensued was absolutely awful, and it sparked many a fight with the others. Normally, Faron would lose. He would come home with bruises and blood all over his face, along with a couple more toxic thoughts swirling inside of his head. Eventually, he started to lash out at everything, if he bumped into a chair BAM! the chair was no more. He even lashed out at his mother, screaming at her about his father and asking why she couldn't pick a normal elf like everybody else did; of which ended with his mother giving him extra chores the next day and Faron being super pissed the rest of the week.

Shortly after his emerging anger problem, he finally found out that he could transform quite like his father could. It happened in the early morning, while he was sweeping the front porch. He saw a swallow perched on the rail, and he stopped to study it. Next, much to his surprise, he was suddenly much closer to the ground than before, and the broom he was using clattered to the floor; sending the swallow off into the distance. Did he fall? Tentatively, he tried to check out his surroundings, only to find himself looking down at his feet, his now clawed feet. With a loud squawk, Faron jumped up into the air and swiftly flew into the house, creating quite the racket. Between the loud screeching and the sound of breaking dishes, his mother soon came to find Faron flitting about the kitchen; causing quite the mess. At first, she thought him an actual bird, so her response was to whack him with a broom. After which, the shock was enough to shock him back into his normal form.

Afterwards, he and his mother managed to have a talk where Faron didn't blow up, and they discussed his fathers talents. Both of them figured it would be best to keep the shape shifting a secret, even though Faron himself wanted to explore the limits of his power more, however; he really didn't want to leave his mother by herself. Eventually, things settled down, and while Faron was going about his daily business, he was more or less left alone. The shapeshifter found that better suiting anyways, considering everybody else thought he was a freak. For the time being, he was content once again, living out his days in the woods.

Sadly, such temporary peace did not last, and Faron was once again accosted by the elves his age. Gone for a trip in the woods, he was ambushed by a group of four or five, and automatically jumped. This time, however, Faron was not going to let them beat him up and leave. He turned into a wolf, for the first time, and without thinking he attacked. He slaughtered the group, and when he finally came to his senses, the shapeshifter realised that he was now a criminal. The boy was distraught, especially since he had never felt the need to kill anybody before, and was fearful of the repercussions of his actions. Quickly, he fled, and did his best to leave the Elves behind him.

Several years later, he came across an injured boar, and did his best to help it out. After the boar was nursed back to health, it revealed itself to be Ghtheora, and Faron was gifted with his wrist blade moments before a group of demons attacked. The god disappeared, but Faron was well enough off on his own, and he managed to defeat the small group of demons with his new gift. Afterwards, he traveled for a long time, learning his limits and studying the animals he wished to turn into. Hundreds of years later, he stops in Ywenfelle to gather supplies and the like.

Looks -
Faron is the very definition of tall and lanky, even if he is very well-muscled underneath his apperant skinniness. He has very fair skin, considering that he is more often than not roaming around in animal form, fit with light brown hair and dark gold-flecked green eyes. For clothes, he prefers to wear a simple brown travellers cloak, with a forest-green shirt underneath, and black trousers neatly tucked into a pair of sturdy leather boots. His ears are slightly pointed, not the extent of most of the elves, but enough to distinguish him from others.

Crush -
Pft. If he can land one, maybe.

Other -
His mark is located on his left wrist, a boar with it's mouth open. The opening of the boar's mouth is where his blade protrudes.

Name - Kier

Age - 22 years, 14 in appearance

Intellect and Personality -
       Sweet | Friendly | Roguish | Carefree | Thievish | Crafty | Sly | Prideful | Heartless

      At first glance, Kier is a “sweet” and poor city boy by appearance, however this shadows his true stone hearted and cruel motives and impulses. As a middle class demon he reserves some human intelligence (as much as any other street child), but ultimately bows and bends to any order given by a higher class demon. To prevent this from ever occurring, the male has purposely separated from the main organization of demons in order to fulfill his own selfish desires. However, in no way has he softened, no matter how harmless he may seem and appeal towards humanity and Seraph kind. From simply thievery to terrorism, Kier plans to slowly wreck and plague Yewfelle by utilizing his own strength. He’s a grand terrorist in the making that easily befriends those around him only to break them in return.
     In this way, Kier is takes great pride in anything done by his own hands and despises being used by high demons.

Looks  -
     Kier is a devilishly cute young male with a dusty, unkempt appearance due to his environment and nature as a demon. A patch of curly chocolate colored hair rests upon his head and his skin is a warm tan accompanied by a soft array of freckles. Speckled across his upper cheeks and nose bridge, these darker flecks bring out the baby blues of Kier’s eyes. The male is lean-bodied, slightly toned and nimble, allowing him to make swift and noiseless movements. Inclusive to this, Kier makes a conscious effort to remain looking lively, warm and “normal” despite living where dust and grime clings to his skin.

     Bright eyed and daring (and baby-faced), this is just how Kier seems to appear to both non-Seraphs and Seraphs alike.  However, over the decades, Kier had cast aside and trashed his initial, original appearance to create this --his own perfect interpretation of himself.  

Powers -
     As a young impersonator, Kier can shift into any appearance he is able to conjure (though limited to only using his current shape). This meaning that he does not have the ability to grow physically stronger than the present;he can only change his looks (including the power to grow boobs lol). Kier has hidden himself within the city and has become very much entwined with the people and culture in order to continue practicing this ability, since he desires more strength.

Weapons -
    Kier, while out on his regular schedule, only carries a simple pocket knife. However, if attacked, he will pick up and use any material he finds suitable in his current condition and situation. The young demon is somewhat capable of handling his finds due to his experience with neighborhood thugs. On the other hand, with the intention of causing mayhem, the young male will cleverly hide his weaponry (homemade bombs and other firearms) only to expose and unleash it when the moment is right.

Class  - Middle demon

History -
    Kier grew up in a lower sect of demons, but was eventually bumped up to the middle class after the discovery of his somewhat advanced intellect and mimicry abilities. The demon toddler had difficulty making “comrades/friends/killing buddies” amongst his new sect. So he was bullied. Partly because of his outrageously hideous, revolting, disgusting, repulsive, nauseating, despicable, nasty, yucky, icky and grody appearance. : ) Due to this, he grew up hating himself and despising everyone else around him. Honing his newfound skills in mimicry, Kier was able to alter his original appearance and declare it as his own. To celebrate and mark this as a new beginning, he changed his name to one he’d heard in a neighboring city and deserted the middle sect.

   With growing compliments from unaware passers by, Kier grew prideful in his appearance, skills and himself in general. However, his natural demonic desire for blood and guts never faded and instead amplified as he spent more time in traveling villages and towns. And so, as time passed, Kier went through experience over experience and grew sharp in his decision making, thievery and craftsmen skills(though he’s still generally inexperienced hh).

   So then when Kier heard of the big city of Yewfelle, he gathered all of his pride and went to make his mark on the Seraph guarded metropolis. From then onwards, making decisions and living on his own in multiple red-light districts of Yewfelle has led the young demon to adjust to and learn the hoodlum life. Thus, Kier become quite an exceptional builder of small firearms and various other weaponry. So now he patiently waits and cleverly sets his explosive devices as terrorist acts of terror.
(( No effort whatsoever lol enjoy Latte.. cue breaching whale pose and scratched tablet))

Other -
▪ Kier has an outrageous sweet tooth and fancies attractive things.
▪ He’s a big flirt and can get clingy, like a little kid ;3; He’s cocky around the ladies lol
▪ He can count to 35
▪ Kier sleeps stick straight (no movement whatsoever) with his eyelids half open.

(("he can count to 35" lol omg I love him, lok anyone? xD))

Elza leaned against a white stone pillar, sheltered from the beating sun by a red stone roof overhead. A gigantic bronze bell hung in the tower alongside her, its metal surface shimmering with heat. The elf wiped her brow beneath the raised visor of her helmet; the day was a scorcher, and up on the wall watching for demons, the light reflected off of the stone and seemed to make everything so much worse.

“Aagh…” she moaned, rolling her eyes. It was nearly noon, wasn’t it? Her shift couldn’t end any sooner. Frustrated, she kicked the wall in front of her, then immediately yelped in pain as the shock reverberated through her leg. The pain just made her mood worse, and poutily Elza turned her eyes back to the white-hot sky, scanning it for enemies. So far, so good. Not a single demon in sight.

A few more boring minutes later, a chime sounded through the city. It was high and clear, much different from the deep roar of the alarm bells. Jumping to attention, Elza practically raced across the wall, nearly mowing over her replacement on his way to the post she had just abandoned. Bounding down the stairs three at a time, Elza hopped on the rail and slid down the entire last flight of stairs to arrive, breathless, at the bottom of the wall.

Now, her day was to begin. She marched off in a random direction, determined to find something useful to do, and a drink to be had, before her next shift began.

------

Aaron fell back with a grunt, his head wringing painfully on the old worn floorboards of his master’s training room. His wooden sword spun off to the side, and the wisened man in front of him banged his own practice sword into the ground, a displeased look brewing on his features.

“Young Aaron,” he said, finally moving to help him up, “your sword skills are to be ashamed of. Have you not been practicing as I told you to?”

Aaron rubbed his head, shooting his master a slightly pouty face, his bottom lip curled in pain from the fall. “I, uh… have been focusing on archery more, actually…”

His master shook his head, turning and shoving his sword into a wooden container with violent frustration. “Silly boy. You may be a Seraph with a bow, but you still must learn to fight with a real weapon. There will be times when you need to fight things other than demons, and that silly knife you carry will not save you.” He ignored the werewolf’s indignant face, walking away to his personal quarters. “You are dismissed. When you come back tomorrow, I expect you to be able to disarm me.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Aaron standing alone in the dusty training room. Grumbling angrily to himself, the werewolf stooped to pick up his practice sword, slashing it through the air as if he were hitting his instructor with it. “That old man doesn’t know what he’s talking about… Why would someone attack a Seraph, anyway? We’re the only ones protecting what’s left of this place…” He shoved the door open, stepping out into the blinding sunlight.

A sudden screech sounded to his left, and Aaron was bowled over by a giant pile of hot fur and feathers. He laughed as Sugar licked his face in greeting, wheezing slightly as her monstrous weight squeezed the breath from his lungs. “Hey hey, calm down Sugar! I missed you too!” Her tail feathers wagging like a dog’s, the gryphon finally released him, nudging the werewolf to his feet. From deep in the city, the Yewfelle Holy Shrine tolled the hour from its set of bells, marking noon. “Okay, well that’s it! Let’s go find something to eat, yeah?” he asked, ruffling Sugar’s head feathers. She twittered in agreement, then followed him as he headed into the city.

------

The alleyway was dark and covered with trash. Only the homeless and drunks could be found here, laying in the shade as they rotted in their meaningless lives. Water collected in dips and cracks in the old gray flagstones, and weeds pushed up in ragged patches.

A man pounded down the tight space, a glittering box held tightly in his hands. His face was bleak, the skin stretched tight across his features white with anxiety and dripping with sweat. He splashed through a puddle, not caring for the mud that splattered up his leg, and narrowly avoided tripping over a drunk collapsed against the side of a building.
Taking a sharp turn, the man turned down into an even darker passage, the breath ripping from his lungs. An old red sign, now hanging on by one hinge, waved defeatedly in the air some distance ahead of him. He was so close! He could make it! The man put on an extra spurt of speed, the box held tightly to his chest.

A black streak darted out from an adjoining alley in front of him, and the man fell to the ground in his efforts to stop himself short. A cloaked man, lean-bodied and strong, stood in front of him. Black cloth was pulled up around his hood, hiding most of his face, but the man caught sight of cold, compassionless eyes before he whipped his hand, sending something flashing through the air toward the cornered thief.

A dagger dug into his throat, nearly severing his head from his body. He slumped backward, the box clattering onto the stones as scarlet blood pooled around his twitching body. Will stepped forward, maneuvering carefully around the dead man to retrieve the box, turning it over in his hands before tucking it beneath his arm. Without a final look back, the young man darted back into the alley he had emerged from, the dagger he had thrown vanishing in a shimmer of light.

"Please! Please wait, don't!" The large man screamed, cradling his crushed arm like it was a tender child, his beady eyes full of tears. "I'll give you anything you want, damn it! Mercy!"

Armistice grimaced. His squealing was very irritating, and was probably going to draw somebodies attention eventually. That didn't matter, though. This was justice that needed doing. This monster bore his sin in plain site, the fearsome roaring tiger on his forehead giving him away as a murderer of the most foul sort. Worse, he BRAGGED about it to anyone who would listen. In the short amount of time Armistice had known him, the fat warrior had proven himself black-hearted and deserving of punishment. Without another word, the fairy lifted up his massive hammer, and in one clean swing shattered the skull of the swine without batting an eye.

"Disgusting..." He murmured, already beginning to aimlessly wander away from the scene of his attack. He didn't need to go very quickly, because in the secluded alleyways of this town, corpses appeared daily, and though one of the branded being murdered would surely raise some suspicion it would be some time before anyone really started investigating. Of course, a bloodstained man was another thing all together, and the fairy soon found himself a bucket in which some person was collecting rainwater for one thing or another. He washed him quickly and went back to meandering.

People were everywhere. Poor people begging for scraps of food or coins, housewives screeching local gossip, children kicking around small toys in the dirt. It made Armistice's head pound, his heart race, and his lust for blood reach a feverish peak. However, he restrained himself. For the sake of peace. Justice needed to be served, it wouldn't do for the savior to be known as a villain.

He settled down beside a man who reeked of alcohol and a woman wearing next to no clothing and stared at the street. Sometimes watching the people made his blood settle, a reminder of how many people would savor the time free of strife he was sure to bring about. How long he planned to sit in the dusty road was anyone's guess, but for a moment, he felt content.

"Art takes time, patience," Six grinned as he stared at the man kneeling in the center of the mostly emptied room, "And most of all, motivation," the demon grinned, walking straight up to the man and crouching down to look him in the eyes. "What, cat got'cha tongue?" The man just shivered and tried to avoid looking Six in the eye, fear radiating off of him like cologne. Too bad for him, that's exactly how Six liked it, and the demon just laughed, standing back up slowly and stretching. "C'mon man, aren't we like, super duper BFF's?" Laughter filled the room once more as Six took a step backwards, putting a hand to the back of his forehead in an attempt to feign emotion. "I'm absolutely hurt, you know, all this time thinking we were friends!"

"What do you want?" The man put on a brave face, trying to make his lip stop quivering and his body to stop shaking; he even started struggling a little bit. All of which did nothing but amuse Six more, because there it was, the rise, the moment Six lived for. Oh and did he live for it, the feigned bravery was always his favorite part, he almost loved hearing it more than hearing people beg. Almost.

"What... do I want?" Six let the words slip out of his mouth slowly, a dark grin slowly forming on his face as he bent down to jerk the man's chin up. He made the man face him, and his eyes flashed bright red before he spoke; making sure to be clear and methodical as he dropped his grip on the mans face, reaching down and beginning to unbutton his vest.

"I want dinner."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daylight streamed into a modest looking bedroom, peeking through the curtains and eventually disturbing the poor elf who was still asleep inside. Koë groggily opened an eye, checking around the room before doing her best to fall back asleep. She didn't have anything to do, or at least, she couldn't recall anything, and that was good enough reason to stay asleep for her. Much to the woman's dismay, however, she was already awake: no amount of trying to force herself into sleep was going to change that now.

With a loud sigh, Koë sat up out of her warm bed, stretching her arms before slowly standing to her feet. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do for her day, but she figured she may as well get ready for it anyways. The elf took her time fixing her untidy black hair, making sure she was at least semi-presentable before pulling on some new clothes and her boots. The elf figured she may as well go shopping: she happily slung her bow and quiver over her shoulders before she strutted out of the room and into the inn's hallways. Koë did her best to rush out of the inn, as always doing her best to avoid being accosted by the drunk men who frequented it.

With a hand up to shield her eyes, Koë stepped out into the busy streets, doing her best to keep her head down as she tried to navigate her way towards the market way. Unbeknownst to her, however, her sense of direction was not as it was after living in Ywenfelle for two years, and she managed to go in the exact opposite direction.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A vulture screeched and flew up into the sky in protest as Faron shooed it away, stepping carefully through the darkened alleyways of the walled city; more or less meandering about aimlessly. He was quite bored, to be honest, and while he was happy to have the downtime he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. The shapeshifter supposed he could find a map and track out where he would head next, or perhaps just stop by an inn and eat a little. To be perfectly honest, however, he really wasn't interested in doing much of anything, and as he stepped into the hot daylight of a busy street, he was rather resigned to just lean against a wall and watch.

Naturally, however, it didn't take long for the shapeshifter to get bored of waiting and watching, but he was still quite at a lost for what to do. Faron ran a rather frustrated hand through his hair, frowning as he looked around for something, anything, that could catch his interest. 'Still nothing... Man this blows!' the shapeshifter thought, scowling as he ducked back into the alley he came from. Making sure there was nobody more than a beggar or two around, the man effortlessly shifted into a hawk. He squawked contently, giving his wings a little flap or two before hastily jumping up into the sky, more than a little excited to stretch the muscles he hadn't used in quite a while.

Due to being around actual people, Faron couldn't afford being in animal form all the time, and for the past month he barely shifted into anything more interesting than a dog. He didn't really care much for the arrangement, but he believed that the break from demons was a pretty good thing, considering he could sleep safely. With squawks of joy, the man turned hawk twirled around in the sky, even dive bombing people when he could find the chance. It was quite fun, and Faron's boredom was soon long forgotten in the joy of being a bird.

((OH GOODNESS IM SORRY TOYO AND KIT, I CAN'T HELP MYSELF))

Aaron and Sugar trotted down the city streets, drawing the eyes of several passerby as they seemed to be discussing the matter of lunch quite fervently, despite an obvious language barrier. Seeming to have finally agreed on somewhere to stop and eat, the werewolf and the gryphon arrived at a modest tavern, a building frequented by many travelers and people of all walks of life. Without bothering to tie her to series of posts outside for horses and other mounts, Aaron went on inside while Sugar hung around outside, sitting and staring at the passerby with her wide amber eyes.

Walking in quietly and keeping his head lowered so as to not attract much attention to himself, the young werewolf settled in a corner table by a window, which was already propped open to bring in the stiff breeze to the otherwise stiflingly unmoving air of the tavern. A barmaid hurried over to him, listing off the day's specials in a bored voice, but Aaron cut her short and ordered a roasted chicken and water. As he turned his eyes to the side, cutting off any further conversation, she went away with a disappointed frown, leaving him alone once again.

The werewolf sighed, looking out the window. The sun was creeping steadily through the sky, burning everything beneath it to a gasping wither. As hot as it was, he was glad for the shade the tavern provided. A muted clatter nearby, and Aaron turned to see the waitress had already returned with his order, giving him a flirtatious wink which made his stomach churn. He took the food with a muttered thanks before turning back to the window. As soon as she was gone, and he thought no one was looking, he tore a leg and a wing from the (whole) roasted turkey and tossed the rest out the window.

------

Elza marched down a random street, not quite sure where she was going but not exactly caring anyway. Somehow, as she turned down random passageways without quite paying attention, she ended up in a very dark alleyway that ended in a high brick wall, possibly someone's house. Sighing in frustration, the young elf turned around to march back the way she had come, hoping to have better luck somewhere else, when a few figures stepped into the square of light in front of her.

Elza watched, nonplussed, as a trio of thugs stepped closer to her, grinning thickly and brandishing bulging muscles and knives. She sighed again, really starting to get ticked off. She pinched the bridge of her nose to stem off an oncoming headache as the muggers stepped closer, eyeing her expensive-looking clothes and, disgustingly, the body underneath them.

"Hehe... Hey, miss soldier lady! Just give us your money, and you won't get hurt... too much." One of the thugs said evilly, sliding his tongue along his knife for the extra creep factor.

Elza didn't buy it. "Pardon me, sirs, but this isn't a fight you can win," she said frankly, pulling a knife of her own and raising her fists in front of her helmeted face. The creeps seemed to be put off by her display, but it only made them more furious. They gritted their teeth, advancing more quickly now, practically running down the alley to attack her. Elza waited for them to get in range, a grin spreading across her features beneath her helmet.

------

Will, after collecting the reward for the stolen box, found himself with nothing to do. He found himself wandering aimlessly down random alleyways, just watching the people that lived in them, learning about them. He watched as a few children ran around with sticks, pretending they were fighting off demons with swords, and he turned away quickly, disappearing down another alley with a scowl.

This one was hardly any better. A prostitute hung out of a window, catcalling him as he passed by. A drunk and a rough-looking man with a club lounged in the shadows, both of whom Will passed by as well. The cacophony of voices was beginning to get to his head, and he pulled his hood farther over his face as he turned down another alley, taking a weaving, roundabout path back to his home.

Koë was surprised to find herself on the wrong path (once again) after taking a number of turns, and dejectedly decided to find a tavern to eat at, especially since the sun was starting to make her wither into dust. The elf inspected the street, trying her best to find a halfway decent place to eat. She wasn't exactly expecting a five star establishment to just pop out of nowhere, but she was hoping for at least semi-good food. The hustle and bustle of the streets didn't help either, Koë was pushed out of the way and insulted several times for standing still, but she barely even noticed it as she set her eyes on a quaint little place with its window propped open and a gryphon tearing into a turkey.

"Well, if a gryphon thinks its alright, may as well give it a shot," The woman mumbled, finally beginning to swiftly walk towards the inn. As she passed the gryphon, part of her wanted to inquire about the food, however, she figured it would draw a little bit more attention that she wanted at the time; so instead she just said a quick hello before walking in.

It took her eyes a couple minutes to adjust to the lighting change, but once she could see properly she noticed it was a rather lively place. People were clinking mugs and acting generally drunk, even considering the time of day. Koë immediately turned to take the table closest to the window, and was rather disappointed that it was already taken up by a young man. With a slight frown, the elf instead walked to the table that was second closest to the window, placing her quiver down gently next to her before sitting down with a small huff of indignation. It was true that in the shade she was less hot, but the air inside the tavern was rather stale and she couldn't resist trying to take smaller breaths.

The barmaid eventually made her way over to the table, and shiftily eyed the man at the table next to the window while she listed off the specials in a very monotone sort of voice. The elf let her finish listing everything off before ordering a shepherds pie and a mug of cider. With a huff and a nod, the barmaid was off, and Koë was back by herself. She sunk back into her seat, absent-mindedly tracing the lines on her arms as she delved into the walls of her mind, pondering how she was supposed to get back to the inn she was staying at. "Maybe I need to leave soon, city life is getting a little boring," She muttered, staring up at the ceiling and crossing her arms across her chest.

In the meantime, the barmaid couldn't have taken any longer to get her food out, and the elf felt a little insulted as she dropped the platter and mug on the table without much care for where it was going. The barmaid walked off without a word, however, and Koë just resigned to sit in silence once again, beginning to slowly eat her food and every once in a while taking a swing of the cider.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The high winds above Ywenfelle were rather refreshing from the heat that had been plaguing the area the entire day, but Faron knew he couldn't stay in the clouds forever. With a loud screech of joy, the shapeshifter pulled his wings in close to his body and began to dive back down into the town, navigating his way down in what had seemed as an empty and closed off alleyway from above. He swopped in, opening his wings quickly as he screeched above a group of thugs head, more taken aback by the fact that there was a group of thugs in the alley than angered by it.

The man swooped back up, circling them before changing forms in midair and landing, as a normal looking man, behind the group. Faron finally noticed the woman on the other side, who looked like she could take care of herself perfectly fine, caught in between a wall and the group. "Do you need any help?" He called, more or less ignoring the group of thugs.

Aaron leaned back in his seat, staring at his feet below the table. His boots were so new, he still marveled at the way the light glinted off of the smooth leather. Truly, that old woman from the day before had the most benevolent heart; she had even gladly let his gryphon stuff herself on pot pies she had made for her grandchilden, who had unfortunately been too late to arrive.

Sugar cooed happily from outside, snapping Aaron out of his thoughts. Having lost his appetite, he leaned his elbows on the windowsill as he watched her eat. The turkey was gone in less than thirty seconds, bones and all, and the gryphon popped her head up, her wide eyes drilling into the meat that was left on his plate. With a chuckle, he picked it up and discreetly passed it to her through the window. Sugar let out a muffled screech of happiness, swallowing the meat in a single gulp. Aaron reached out and rubbed his hand over her beak, and she poked her head through the window, accidentally bashing it against the shutters. The great bird jerked back with a startled flap of her wings, knocking over a passerby and exciting a small panic in the street outside.

"Ssh! Sugar, calm down! It's--hey!" Aaron whisper-yelled under his breath, trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to reach out the window and calm his stupid bird without attracting the attention of the rest of the tavern. Sugar reared back in panic, but as soon as she heard his voice, began to calm down. With a final flap of her wings she settled back on the ground, staring at Aaron mournfully.

"Yeah, you dumb," he hissed, scooting closer to the window so that he could pet her without her having to stick her head through, "It's just a window, okay? It didn't mean to bite you. Want another turkey?" Sugar twittered in response, wagging her tail feathers in excitement. Aaron turned back to the tavern, hoping that no one had noticed his gryphon, and began to search for the barmaid.

------

"Wha--whaaa?!" Elza yelled in surprise as a falcon -- no, a man, apparently -- flew out of the sky to land behind the thugs. Even the thugs turned to stare at him, their mouths agape, nearly dropping their knives in response. Ignoring the muggers entirely, he looked straight at her and spoke with a calm, confident voice. Instantly... Elza was intrigued.

"Uh... no, I got it!" The Elf replied, still staring at the man, though she had recovered enough dignity to shut her gaping mouth. "However, there seems to be the small issue of you-- oof!" Elza gasped as the third mugger, who was apparently too dumb, deaf, or both to notice the bird guy, barreled into her and knocked her to the ground. The elf hit the ground in a daze, her knife spiraling away from her and spinning across the cobblestone to clink against a faraway wall.

With a bite of shepards pie in her mouth, Koë couldn't help but watch the man and his gryphon amusedly, his affinity for the animal slightly intriguing her. It wasn't often one saw a man with a gryphon, after all, even if they did have some special talent with animals. They were hard animals to tame, and even harder to form such a strong bond with. As he began to look around the tavern, the nomad realised she was staring, and she quickly looked away, taking another large swing of her cider and resting her head on the palm of her hand.

Every once in a while, she would give a side glance to the man, pondering if she should ask him about his gryphon or not. The elf didn't want to seem weird, after all, and instead she just resigned to stretch and finish her food. Only staying seated to slowly sip her cider. It was peaceful, being able to relax and not have to do much of anything, but Koë had finally come to the conclusion that enough was enough, and she wanted to get back to traveling.

Her thoughts dissipated as her eyes were once again shifting slowly back over to the man with the gryphon, her mouth moving before her head as she noticed he was mostly out of the window. "Is that gryphon yours then?" She asked quickly, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to seem too odd. "Sorry to uh, interrupt, but I was just curious." Koë nodded slightly to herself, pleased that she didn't sound like some kind of freak.

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With well-trained reflexes, Faron immediately shifted into a black wolf, barrelling through the criminals as if the were toys before pouncing on the mugger that was stupid enough to attack. The shapeshifter used his teeth to clench onto the thug's collar, and then spun around to throw him into his buddies, toppling quite a few of them.

A loud growl ripped through the alleyway as Faron crouched defensively in front of the woman, a little angry that some idiot tried to ignore him and his natural captivation. After all, it was quite the entrance, albeit an unplanned one, but an entrance nonetheless. Also, not only did the man ignore his captivating performance, but he tried to attack the lady anyways, and that was kinda strike three for the brute.

Armistice had zoned out for a great deal of time when something caught his eye. Someone, more like. A boy. A handsome boy, cradling a small box and moving quickly like he had places to be. The fallen fairy never had anywhere to be, but sometimes moods took him and gave him the inspiration to act for good of all people. This was one of those swings. He jumped up with barely concealed excitement and stalked his way after the boy as he slunk through the streets and alleyways, trying his best to stay just a little bit behind him. This would be interesting if nothing else, and maybe it was a chance for justice to be dealt.

Will's cloak swirled about him as he walked swiftly through the maze of alleyways, the box held close to his body. His eyes darted from side to side as he watched for any clue, any sign, of danger. He found none; he was in the clear.

The young man turned down an abandoned street, this one even worse off than the ones inhabited by people. It was not unlike the one he had killed the thief in. The cobblestones were covered in a spiderweb of cracks and fissures, in places entire chunks of rock torn away to reveal patches of dirt. Glass littered the street from broken windows in the old abandoned shops on either side of him, their signs hanging listlessly in the air, if they were even still attached at all. Rats and bugs scurried among the shadows and scrawny cats lounged high up on the rooftops, watching him with hollow yellow eyes. A bony dog dug around in an old pile of trash, searching for any scrap, any morsel that was somehow left unturned.

A small carriage rattled down the street, pulled by a black prancing horse guided by a coachman cloaked in fancy clothing. The door popped open and a fat man inside beckoned him closer. Will approached cautiously, searching for hidden weapons or other traps, but it seemed safe. It wasn't as if he would have anything to worry about anyway.

The bureaucrat in the coach leaned close to him, talking in a low whisper, his eyes darting side to side as if he thought he were being followed. "You have it, yes? The... the box. Give it here, I have your reward."

Will held out his hand, empty and palm up, to accept the bulging pouch of money the fat man handed to him before passing the box to him. The man looked at him, his breath foul with rotten teeth and his face dotted with red spots and sweat. "And... the thief? What became of him?"

"He's dead," Will said frankly, no hint of emotion in his pale blue eyes. "I killed him. I left no trace, and there's no way they can track the murder to you."

The man nodded, a wide smile stretching his pudgey lips. "Good, good, thank you, Mister Blackthorne. If I ever need a... favor in the future, I'll be sure to come to you." He whistled to the coachman, slamming his door closed and rattling off along another street.

Will sighed, pushing his white hair out of his face. It was barely noon, and he had only completed one job so far... The young man slipped the bag of money into his pocket, shrugging his cloak so that it covered him completely once again. Without loitering a second longer, he turned and disappeared down another alley, seemingly completely unaware of the man following him.

((sorry for the conflicting post, but I thought this would be more interesting than walking lol))

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The thug reached down to wrap his thick fingers around Elza's throat in an attempt to keep her from struggling. With his other hand, he grabbed for her wrists. But before he could catch both of them, Elza brought one arm back and slammed it into the side of his face. He reeled from the blow, releasing her throat, and the elf readied herself for another, more devastating, hit.

Before it could connect, however, a large black wolf sunk its teeth into his shirt, yanking him back and tossing him effortlessly into the other muggers. They screamed incoherently, scattering at the sight of the huge furred devil and disappearing into the streets.

Elza breathed heavily, her body pumping with adrenaline. The bird man from before was gone, leaving only the wolf that had protected her. She eyed him carefully, mostly sure he wasn't a threat, or at least one she couldn't handle. "So, ah... Thanks? What in Silvrata's name are you?" She asked incredulously, pushing herself to her feet and retrieving her helmet, which had fallen off when she fell. She ran her fingers through her hair, impatiently pushing it out of her face as she turned to face the bristling wolf in front of her.

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Aaron's search for the barmaid brought him to turn to the table next to him, where a girl roughly his age was suddenly sitting. He noticed she was staring at him, and at that exact moment, she began to barrage him with questions. The werewolf shrunk back slightly, his face growing hot as he realized that she was, in fact, a very beautiful elf. Thankfully, the tavern was too dark for her to possibly see his blush... or so he hoped.

"Ah... Y-yeah, she's mine. I guess. Um... her name's Sugar, um..." He stuttered, his nearly-gray eyes wide. He felt adrenaline flooding his system, but wasn't quite sure why. He blinked, trying to calm his breathing, or at least look normal, when he noticed something. She looked... familiar? Had he seen her before? He licked his lips, shifting uncomfortably. "Uh, are you, by, ah... any chance... a Se-"

Aaron was cut off by a piercing screech outside. Without hesitation he leaped up from the table, snatching up his bow and arrows as he raced out of the tavern, his heart thudding in his chest with cold panic. The street was covered in a billowing dust cloud, and he could see people running about, staring at a spot not far away. Aaron heard the crashing thump of beating wings hitting things, breaking things, and he turned to see a group of men with a harness around Sugar's head, trying to wrangle the screeching gryphon into submission. Another few men stood by, dancing nervously about as they looked for an opening to throw ropes across her back.

"Stop!" He yelled, running forward and grabbing at their arms, trying to pull them off of her. "Stop, no, what are you doing?! That's my gryphon! Leave her alone!" Aaron tried to reach for Sugar, hoping to calm her down, but the burly man next to him shoved him back. He, along with the rest of the crew, wore the white and silver uniform of the city guard, their clothes now stained an ugly red from the billowing dust.

A whip cracked, shocking the street into silence. Sugar stood frozen, wings outstretched, watching a man on horseback, her chest bucking with her panic-driven breaths. Aaron spun around to stare up into the face of one of the Yewfelle guard captains. He scowled at him, lowering the whip once he had the attention of everyone.

"You," He said, pointing to Aaron, "Your gryphon is to be detained for the breaking of Yewfellian law. It is required that any beast be properly reigned and tied within city limits, yet this creature was allowed to roam free, injuring a man and damaging property." Behind him, Aaron could see a fruit stand whose cloth roof had been torn and some of the produce smashed. He remembered the person Sugar had knocked over in the street when she panicked, and he locked his eyes with the captain, his voice like steel.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should not have let her roam free like that. But you can't take her, I..." His voice broke slightly, and he covered it with a cough. "I have special allowances. I... need this gryphon." As he spoke, his voice dropped quietly, so that only the captain could hear him speak. He shifted the bow in his hand and the sun glinted off of its white wood and silver embellishments, untouched by the dirt in the air. Hopefully, he would realize...

Faron watched as the muggers disappeared before shifting back into his human form, turning back to the woman as she after him all those dastardly questions. He laughed slightly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain control of his body. "Oh, me?" his voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it very much, but his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of amusement and slight anger; mostly amusement, however. "I am Faron, a shapeshifter from the forest, although I don't believe 'what are you?' is a proper way to asking who somebody is," he huffed, almost like an impudent child as he studied the elf in front of him, repressing the memories of his childhood instantaneously. "I also happen to be one of those, what do you call em'? It starts with a S..." the man shrugged eventually, stretching his arms out to get rid of the stiffness that usually accompanied shifting so fast.

"Anyways, it's no problem, as somebody who can scare people off it's my duty to do what I can," he laughed at his own joke slightly, even if he knew doing so would make him seem kind of lame. Faron didn't really care about that kind of stuff, and he was just doing his best to seem, well, not like a monster.

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The sound of things clattering about on the streets below him were almost getting on his nerves, even if he was just finishing up a meal. With an audible growl, Six took the last bite of the poor victim's heart before beginning the quick and easy cover up process. The demon washed off his blood soaked hands, and wiped off the large mess he had made on his face before turning to inspect the gory scene he had made for himself. It was quite the sight, and Six had to feign wiping off tears to commemorate just how beautiful he regaled it to be. Another clatter from below ripped him from his admiration, and with a roll of his eyes, Six set off to work.

It didn't take too long for him to figure out what he would do with the rest of the body, and soon he found himself splattering the uneaten bits around the room, almost laughing like a child as he put his own twist on the decorations of the attic. Afterwards he quickly cleaned his knives and put them back into their proper places inside his vest, shrugging the bulky clothing item back on. Within a small amount of time, the entire attic was wiped clean of everything but the blood and the body, a nice surprise to be left for whoever lived in the house he had been using. Six wasn't quite sure if people actually lived there or if it was abandoned, but either way his deed was done, and it was time to go.

Silently, Six slipped out of the attic door, double-checking himself as he jogged down the steep stairs. With a yelp, he spun around and rushed back up the stairs, almost forgetting his precious goggles. A snap and a content sigh later, Six was once again on the move.

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Koë noticed her fellow patron's uncertainty to answer her, and she smiled slightly after hearing about his gryphon. In her opinion, she sounded like a lovely animal, albeit a little... behind. As the man tried to sputter out a question, the interruption from outside stopped him, and she could hear the all too familiar screeching of a scared animal. Wide realisation rippled through her electric blue eyes as soon as the man jumped up, and she was quick to follow after, albeit not bringing along her weapon.

The elf tried not to stumble to a stop as she witnessed the scene laying out in front of her, her mouth forming a scowl as she watched the horrible mistreatment of Sugar commence. Part of her was automatically angered at the harshness the guard were treating the gryphon, and as the harsh crack of the whip filled the air, Koë generally ignored it. With all the boldness she could muster, the woman took the opportunity to try and get closer to the gryphon, slipping past the ropes and stopping a couple feet away from the startled beast. Koë held up her hands to signal a sign of peace, and calmly began to speak to the animal.

"Your caregiver will set things right, wild one, calm yourself and do not panic, it'll be okay," the nomad did her best to convey peace and well-being into her words, trying to ease Sugar's panicky breathing, at least. It was natural for an animal to be afraid in the situation, Koë only hoped that her words would get through while the gryphon's caregiver smoothed things over.

Armistice watched quietly as the cloaked boy made his deal with a bulbous man in a fancy cart. The tiny box went to the fat man, a tiny pouch went to the stranger.

They were muttering about this and that, but it didn't really matter. Things were stale. Things always became stale when they sat still for too long. Nothing was being done here that made any sort of difference, and for a moment Armistice watched scraps of trash twirl in the wind as opposed to the dull exchange taking place.

Then the boy twirled around and the fat cart rolled away. For a time the fairy thought about following the cart man, but that was boring and he pushed the idea out of his head, and quickly continued his pursuit of the interesting man with the white hair. Similar hair to Armistice, though that likely didn't matter.

He moved fast, so Armistice moved fast, too. He began to wheeze lightly as the pace continued, not being one for long walking. Still, he followed on, though he couldn't quite remember why.

Elza stared at the man, her hazel eyes piercing into his gaze, judging him. She stood like that for a moment, her hand on her chin, trying to decide if she trusted him. Suddenly she straightened up, a cocky grin stretching itself across her face.

“Well, hey!” She laughed personably, placing her free hand on her hip, the other pinning her helmet in the crook of her elbow. “’The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ right? Well, whoever you are,” she amended with a wink, seemingly not noticing his anger, “thanks for helping me out, even though I obviously didn’t need it.” She laughed, smiling again and walking closer so that she stood a couple of feet from him. Dang he was handsome.

“But hey, what a coincidence! I’m a Seraph, too!” Elza raised her fist, the silver armour on her arms glinting in the weak sunlight filtering into the alley. “Nice to meet you, ah…?” she left off, looking at him with a question in her eyes as she waited for him to return her fist bump.

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The captain gave Aaron a sharp look, then snapped his head up to stare at the girl from the tavern, who had somehow slipped herself beneath the ropes without anyone noticing and was now coaxing Sugar to relax a bit. Aaron stared at the pair incredulously; the gryphon listened intently to the elf, cocking her head to the side and lifting her feathery ears, a look of trust on her face, even though they had only just met.

Next to him the captain cracked his whip again, causing Sugar to jerk back, but thanks to the calm words of the elf, she settled back down, her wings folded by her sides. “Elf!” the captain barked, “Step away from the gryphon! If you do not do so promptly, we will have to use force,” he said, and the men under his command stared at her. The few that had been standing around threw their ropes over Sugar’s back, quickly and expertly binding them down so that she was infinitely more manageable.

Sugar reacted by throwing her head wildly and kicking out with her back feet, bucking powerfully and nearly pulling loose of the unprepared guards. They managed to grab the ropes in time, and pulled her back into their grip.

“Now,” the captain said, turning his beady eyes back to Aaron. “Young man, you may be a Seraph, but the law is the law. I cannot make pardons for any kid I meet in the streets, or else the entire city would fall into chaos.” His voice softened slightly and he turned his horse, walking it next to his group of soldiers. “Now run along. You can file to have her released in a few days. But if this happens again, well…” He turned, pausing as he finished speaking. “I might not be so lenient.”

As he walked away, the men tried to manhandle Sugar after him. She pulled back violently, digging in her heels and screeching in protest. Aaron, his face tight and chest aching, walked up to her slowly, his feet practically dragging across the ground.

“Hey Sugar, shh… I’ll be back to pick you up, okay?” He said quietly, ignoring the guards and reaching out to stroke her side, instantly calming her down. “Just hang tight. I won’t let them hurt you.” She stared at him, her ears flat against the back of her head. She twittered sadly, as if he had beaten her, and he turned his head to stare at the ground to avoid the pained look she was giving him. As the men yanked the ropes to get her to move, he bit his lip to keep from throwing himself at them. The captain was right; he may be a Seraph, but that didn’t mean he could do whatever he wanted.

He stood by silently as the guards lead Sugar away, the gryphon putting up very little fight, her head lowered as she disappeared down the crowded streets.

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Will continued down the dark alleyways, dodging puddles and rats, keeping himself as low profile as possible. There were hardly any people living around here anymore, and as the young man wound his way deeper and deeper into the corrupted heart of Yewfelle, those scarce encounters dwindled into nothing.

Soon, all he could hear was the wind whistling through the broken windows around him. All he could smell was rotting garbage and stagnant water, and all that moved were tiny bony creatures and bugs. Nothing sentient. Finally, he was alone.

Well, not quite.

As Will turned into an old broken stone courtyard he turned suddenly, knives appearing in both of his hands. He stood in the center of the open space, glaring around the corner he had just turned. “Come out, and you may not lose your head,” he hissed quietly, his weapons glinting in the weak sunlight.

Will had known about the man following him since he had stood up from the old dusty alley. He had heard his troubled breathing as he struggled to keep up, had seen the man’s shadow when he was careless. And now he had led his pursuer here, so that no one would hear him scream.

Armistice stopped in his tracks and doubled over wheezing for a few moments while the strange boy with his strange knives told him to show himself. "Hold on just a second, I mean, really, you walk so fast!" He gasped, waving his arm in the air to signal Will to wait.

When his lungs finally ceased having their episode, he stood upright and appraised the boy. He was young, that was plain. And handsome to boot. But nothing about him immediately stood out as particularly compelling, except for the fact that he most certainly didn't have those knives before.

Armistice waved his arm again, this time in a friendly greeting. "Hello, odd fellow! By any chance, do you happen to be a Seraph? If you were, that would definitely explain why I was following you." He called out in a cheery tone. No reason to be scared or overly suspicious just yet, after all. Might as well use some manners.

Will was silent for a moment, his narrowed eyes observing the man before him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked like someone of the Fae family, but with his odd colouration, he couldn’t be sure. “…It is not a trade secret. I’m a Seraph, yes.” Will answered carefully, watching the odd man for a strange reaction.

Rogue Seraphim were not rare, though uncommon, yes. Will knew of a few others who used their heritage to get away with misdeeds, but so far, his position was… unique. No Seraph matched him in terms of power, creating a special niche for him in the underbelly of the city.

“What do you want?” Will asked, his daggers held up in front of him. Something about the man was off, and he couldn’t quite place it. But every instinct he possessed screamed at him not to trust him.