Elyn's RP Palace

Character profiles for all my Aion and GW2 characters and side-characters~

[elyns-rp-palace]

@pyra-mugetsu here’s the stuff u lil shit

Doramu Hakim had a set schedule in his organized life. Every morning, Monday through Friday, he got up at 5 am. At 5:30 (though sometimes 5:32), he was out the door and driving to the office building he rented as his clinic. Years ago, before he had adopted Elyn, he would sit in the building from 6 am to 7 am, relaxing with a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper, and watching the morning traffic. But the eight-year-old had slowed him down in the mornings and had broken his love of the small office - and now that she was making her way through her pharmaceutical degree and living in her own apartment, he’d been at a loss for what to do with that hour of time.

He’d tried stopping at the Starbucks across the street from the office, but the chairs were uncomfortable and the coffee always tasted burnt. The smaller shop a few blocks down from his home didn’t open until 6:30, too late in the day for his schedule. But he’d stumbled across a little cafe one weekend while he’d been searching for a fundraiser for St. Jude’s - one that opened at 5:30 on weekdays and 6 on weekends - so he stopped there for a week to test the waters. Monday morning came bright and early, and he was one of the first inside, greeting the bleary barista with a brief nod and an order for a small latte.

The barista’s smile startled him. It was warm, and genuine, and it reached his eyes - Doramu hadn’t meant to stare, but he did, for a moment, before he grabbed his cup and sat down.

Of course he wasn’t hiding behind his newspaper.

And when he came back the next day, it was only because he liked how quiet the store was and how comfortable the chairs were - not because he was wanting to see if the previous day had just been a fluke and certainly not to see that barista again. If a five dollar bill made its way into the tip jar, he’d just been too tired to distinguish between that and a one dollar bill. That was all.

Yep.

So when he finally ventured at a bit of small talk other than a polite greeting and his order, two weeks and three days after his first visit, it was completely understandable that it was an awkwardly-sputtered “Your hair is an agreeable color, Himmell.” That was a perfectly normal thing to say to your barista after barely getting to know them over the previous weeks. Obviously.

Just like it was normal to wonder, during his small snatches of free time during his office hours, how Himmell managed to smile with his eyes like that, especially so early, so regularly. (And how best to give the man some nicer work shirts and pants, because it was clear a barista’s wages weren’t quite enough to fund both a living space and the kind of quality clothing he should have.)

Every now and then, there were days where Himmell looked far more tired than normal - and then there were days when the smile didn’t reach his eyes - and it was getting more and more difficult with each passing week to hold his tongue and keep his concern to worried glances when those days occurred. Doramu found himself lingering, sitting closer to the bar to listen in on his conversations with other customers, watching with no small amount of protectiveness in case that one regular with the blonde hair decided to push his flirtations a bit too aggressively. Soon enough he was pushing his morning quiet time further into the day - from 7 to 7:30, 7:30 to 7:45, a few times actually late to open the office because he was so distracted watching Himmell during the first true rush of the morning.

But he thought he was hiding it rather well, this preoccupation with the barista at the little cafe far away from his house and his workplace. That delusion, at least, was shattered about four months in.

“- are you listening? Oh god. Okay, dad, I know this is the first time you’ve had a crush this big, but you’re acting like a teenager, not a 38-year-old grownup you are.” Doramu blinked across the stack of books between himself and Elyn. “Excuse me?”

“It’s that barista at the coffee shop, isn’t it? He’s cute, but you look like a creep staring at him all the time.” He cleared his throat, glancing around the room. “I do not know what you’re talking about, Elyn. - Who are the flowers from?”

“- ah. Remember when my car broke down mid-October on my way to school and I had to call a tow truck?” “How could I forgot?” “Yeah, ah... the mechanic who worked on it took a liking to me, I guess.” A liking that was returned, if the blush was anything to judge by - “Make sure he does not distract you from your studies overmuch.”

“He’s a creep.”

“Of course he is.”

“...do you know German?” “No, I am afraid that was not something I learned in medical school.” “Oh.” “Hm.” “...so, what’s the barista’s name and when are you two going out on your first date?” “Himmell, and nothing of the sort will be happening.” “Oh, come on, you need to ask!” “He will say no, Elyn.” “Have you tried?” “No.” “You won’t know until you try. Oh, ask him if he wants to come with you the next time you do that read-a-thon with the city elementary school kids. He looks like he likes kids and stuff.” “- well then. You were having a problem with which two compounds?” He chose to ignore his daughter’s eye-roll as they launched back into her homework.

[elyns-rp-palace]

My characters and tea

Elyn: Spends ten minutes making it, loose-leaf, spends 1/4 of income on rare teas, uses process of making it as stress relief. Alternately: Douses in cream and sugar when too stressed for stress relief.

Doramu: Drinks it out of habit, as a slightly comforting ritual, especially when stressed, but doesn’t take overmuch pleasure in it.

Morgaan: Guzzles it hot and black during long guard duty shifts.

Beckaline: Always has it on hand for guests but always uses teabags. Only leaves her teabags in for a minute, just to change the color of the water, before sipping.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Zemar Othomos

Zemar Othomos is little-known. He appeared seemingly out of nowhere one day, dressed in a fine suit, at Kaleb Beckhest’s side. His face, his body, his hair, all pass for unremarkable in Sanctum, as does his polite (if distant) manner. In fact, he often remains silent, trailing his Master Beckhest obediently and watching the world around him.

In fact, he’s so normal that, unless it weren’t for his overly formal clothes, he would blend in without any note whatsoever in Sanctum - or anywhere else his Master sent him.

Except, of course, for his eyes.

Eyes which seem nearly black, even in the brightest of lights.

It’s a bit off-putting, that. Best not to make eye contact in the future.

[elyns-rp-palace]

H’saan Steelfist

Whether or not this H’saan is the infamous Steelfist you’ve heard of or not is up to your discretion - but he certainly does seem as if he’d fit the role. Steelfist is a renowned trader, a purveyor of rare goods, a master of taking advantage of opportune moments -

Okay, yes, he’s a pirate.

And don’t let the robes full you - H’saan is solid muscle underneath, from years of climbing rigging and fighting off Balaur, Shulack, and Daevic hoardes threatening his livelihood. If he likes to garden in what spare time he can muster, well, who’s to criticize that? Everyone needs a hobby, and H’saan Steelfist likes tending rosebushes. And that little tidbit does nothing to ease his steely glower and ominous silence at anything remotely resembling ‘fun’.

Word is that he has friends higher up, and that’s how he’s able to walk through Sanctum unharmed. There’s also rumors that he went missing for a few months, about two years ago - his deckhands simply nod to the brown-skinned, damnably attractive Asmodian woman who’d wandered into his life a few weeks before. Who wouldn’t want to take some time off the high seas to go plundering different waters?

But H’saan had returned, with a drastically different outlook than before. Driven, his crew would whisper, grimacing at the increased work load. A few loose lips spoke of an organization of some sort, something bad, worse than even the pirates were willing to deal with -

- but loose lips do not live long, and dead men tell no tales.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Kaleb Beckhest

Kaleb has had a long time to consider the benefits and risks of living a wealthy lifestyle. His father General Obsidian Beckhest, once a high-ranking general, was brought low by a rag-tag group of misfits prying into his private life, stripped of his title, of his wealth, and sullying the family name.

His father’s wrath was explosive, and only dug his own grave deeper. Kaleb had watched, silently, as he’d killed one of his human servants, then calmly informed Sanctum of the atrocious deed that had happened before he could intervene; coupled with his recently-revealed history of abuse, the (now former) General had been thrown into prison.

Kaleb, of course, had disowned him the day before.

Heir to nothing, short on funds, and name sullied nearly beyond repair, Kaleb was forced to work for his meals, for his clothes, for his life. He never forgave his father for what he’d done - but Kaleb had means, other means, separate means, which he’d established long ago, once he’d realized that his father’s instability would likely bring down.

And he used those connections ruthlessly, dragging himself to his former status. It was an ascent comparable to the renowned Lady Namadril Beckaline... comparable indeed, and no surprise.

He’s recently acquired a new manservant, Zemar, the first he’s been able to afford since the disaster that befell the Beckhest family name two years ago. Though where they make their money is uncertain, the growing influence Kaleb has over the political sphere is unmistakable - an influence Kaleb is careful to keep the stench of corruption away from.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Azeleah Shadowfang

She’s hot, and she knows it.

Daaaamn, does she know it.

Aion saw fit to grant Azeleah with a body that turned the head of every straight man (and lesbian) in the area, and she is very careful about her choice of clothing to compliment it. And her gorgeous brown eyes. And her smooth, flawless brown skin. And her grey-black hair that she keeps up in an elegant up-do.

Of course, she also has back fur, claws, and a red glow to her eyes whenever she gets angry, but you can’t have everything now, can you?

A lady never gives her age, so Azeleah doesn’t, though she occasionally alludes to the fact that she’s much older than she acts. As to the pistols she normally carries wherever she goes? Fired very, very rarely, and then, only the rightmost one. She’s quick and well-muscled, enough so that one might guess she was something else long before she became a gunslinger - then again, one might guess just about anything with her.

As for men - they’re interesting playthings, welcome distractions. She won’t lie; she often seeks out her favorites for a quick lay, something rough enough to drown out whatever demons she runs from. Normally she shuns female companionship (other than the odd quick lay from the fairer sex), but lately she’s been chasing after one Aleil Hakim, going so far as to follow the woman from Asmodae to Elysea in a sign of friendship.

And then there’s her strange list of contacts in Elysea, men who don’t seem inclined to take advantage of the “services” she offers - men who she meets with secretly. High-ranked men.

Azeleah’s damn hot, and she knows it. But just like any proper woman, there’s far more to her than meets the eye, and it’s any man’s doom to think otherwise.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Eileen Smithson

Eileen, a human with a small talent for sorcery, managed to do something nearly unheard of for humans in Elysea - she acquired a high-ranking and high-paying job with a noble and politician, Beckaline Namadril.

And this is what makes Eileen stand out, because she’s the last person one would expect to see beside the formidable inheritor to the Namadril family name; blonde, shy and soft-spoken, she seems better suited to a job that keeps her out of the way of the abrasive personalities she usually has to deal with as she tends to Becka’s offices.

Normally humans are shunted from day-to-day Daevic life, and such was Eileen’s experience up until she was hired about five years ago by Kaleb Beckhest’s father, Obsidian. The man was looking for maids, and he’d skipped by Eileen’s older, human sisters in the interview, but settled on the small, unassuming girl by their side.

Her time with the Beckhest household left their mark on the young woman. She would undoubtedly still be there if it weren’t for a small group of politicians putting intensive focus on the household - and on Lord Obsidian himself. Only the household itself knew the names of some of those who had played a part in ripping the abusive, power-hungry man away from his status in Sanctum, destroying his son’s assets and taking the jobs of a number of the staff at hand.

Since her hiring with the Lady Beckaline, Eileen has been on the slow road to recovery. She’s learned to face down the nastier sorts of Sanctum elite, and dutifully plays her part, serving tea, taking appointments, keeping Lady Beckaline’s schedule in order, and running errands. She misses her family, of course, but her life now is so much better than what it had been before, and Beckaline is a gentle and kind mistress.

In fact, she’s been encouraged to pursue her fancy for interior decorating and drawing, both of which she does to relax in her spare time. A few other daevas have taken note of Beckaline’s office and requested Eileen’s services in redoing studios, homes, and offices...

...don’t tell anyone, but sometimes she refuses just because she can. It’s a bit exciting being able to tell a daeva no, isn’t it? And Lady Beckaline always backs her up.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Morgaan Aelius

That’s Captain Morgaan Aelius to you - while she’s on duty, at least. While she’s easygoing, Morgaan’s a stickler for regulations. Usually. Less so when she’s out patrolling alone with her squad, of course, but she and her men know to behave once they return to Heiron Fortress.

As the only known relative of the late Elyndora Valarius, she’s only recently managed to shake the last shreds of her sister’s traitorous activities from her own reputation. She’s loyal to Sanctum, loyal to the bone, though she’s declined joining the battles out in the Abyss and Balauria; there are enough daevas swamping those jobs. Let the young’uns take the bait and the passing glory. Morgaan will happily continue her scrub work in Heiron with her people.

Her weapons are a bit odd for an Assassin - most choose to use dual daggers, but she prefers the weight and strength behind twin swords. Instead of skin-tight leather, she keeps her armor professional; it restricts her movement a bit, of course, but especially with her nighttime habits, every shred of respect she can garner is good.

From her scarred and pierced face to her calloused hands and well-muscled limbs, Morgaan is the very picture of a fighter. The picture is only furthered by her heavy, northern Verteron accent, never truly lost despite the fact that it’s been twenty years since she last lived in the region.

Off-duty, though, the woman is another story entirely. Strong ale, revealing clothes, and wrapping boys around her fingers are her vices of choice, and she indulges whenever she gets the chance. Quite a few men - well away from her squad and Heiron, of course - have left her rooms the next morning exhausted, sore, limping, but very, very satisfied - and she wouldn’t have it any other way, not really.

After all, who’s to say what a woman can and can’t do to unwind after a long day at work? And there’s nothing wrong with restraints and paddles for her victims - ah, her boy toys, rather. Not if it’s consensual. She makes sure it is, of course, well before decisions are clouded by alcohol.

What are her goals, though? And what does she want from life? A few of her squad have asked her that - and never gotten a straight answer. Captain ‘Aan, it seems, is perfectly content living in the here-and-now.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Beckaline Namadril

Daughter and only child of one of the few noble houses in Elysea, Beckaline can most often be found either working in the Preceptor’s Hall in Sanctum or in her own private office in Oriel. She’s made a name for herself independently of her father’s reputation - ever since she Ascended, nearly ten years ago, she’s worked to strike her own formidable path in the world.

Some still gossip about her Ascension and how she was nearly disowned later that very day for choosing the path of Chanter instead of the more well-groomed Cleric. Rumor has it that she chose to defy her father’s wishes in order to help protect her human butler, Artyom; but they remain nothing more than that - rumors.

And the gossip about her personal life doesn’t hold a candle to her reputation in the legal and political realms. Cool and calculating under fire, her blue eyes and neatly-groomed, raven-black hair add to the impression of a woman who doesn’t give any ground unless it will further her own purposes. What drives her is hard to say, as she doesn’t seem interested in money - in fact, she’ll often take and defend cases from clients who can’t afford even the cheapest Sanctum lawyer.

Likewise, she often trades favors for allies and friends in the political arena, dodging out of potential messes and covering her tracks skillfully. She works under Silenco of Ironwing Legion, as well, taking care of paperwork and perhaps more underhanded deals.

What makes her a truly dangerous opponent, though, is what no one has actually been able to peg her down on - on more than one occasion, her rivals or others who threaten her position and slow climb to power have suddenly fallen, be it to unscrupulous secrets suddenly brought out into the light - legal actions taken against them - or, in one memorable case, removed of title, land, and the vast majority of their savings in one fell swoop.

While she may be delicate-looking, Beckaline Namadril is a force to her own, and downright dangerous to her enemies.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Doramu Hakim

Ever need a doctor? Yeah, most of us do. Do your best not to come to Doramu unless you really need it, though. Admittedly, he softened up a bit once he started courting the priest Himmell Brightwind - but since Doramu returned from his year-long disappearance on what he will only describe as “business”? He’s just as crotchety as ever.

He is, however, a professional, and damn good at what he does. He’s one of the few remaining pre-Cataclysmic daeva, and while he shows no flair for the more religious side of the Cleric class, his calm demeanor under pressure, hands-on approach, and desire to work for the impoverished, desperate, and perhaps strangest of all, mortal members of Elysean society means he’s often called on to help in times of crisis.

A wanderer most of his life, Doramu guards his secrets much more carefully than he does his own health. He’d taken on a few apprentices, but until his adoptive (and recently deceased) niece Elyndora, most thought he would remain a hermit for the rest of his life. 

He treats healing as an art, and takes pride in his skill. He’s studied with the wandering nomads of the Eltnen desert and the mountain villages of Heiron; he’s learned local herblore from Verteron towns and field medicine from the standing armies of Sanctum; he practiced with the Reian for the short time daevas stood with them.

But his grey eyes are sharp, squirreling away observations about those around him silently. His nose? Broken more than a few times before his Ascension and never fixed. His face and back bear the marks of the explosive shattering of the Tower of Eternity - and his smile? His smile is even more rare than his kind words.

What secrets does the small room behind the bookshelf in his clinic contain? - And more importantly, why does he feel confident in being an utter ass to most people, yet show incredible patience with others? Few know the answers to the latter, and only one person knew the answers to the former - unfortunately, she has returned to the Aether, along with far too many Doramu once knew and loved.

Some stories were never meant to be told.

[elyns-rp-palace]

Aleil Hakim

Aleil is a recently Ascended gladiator. Why she chose gladiator, none of her peers really understands - she can barely keep up with lightweight plate armor and two swords; it’s doubtful she’ll be able to handle the signature poleaxe any time soon.

Her trainers, while frustrated with her fumbling attempts at attack and defense, admire her tenacity and work ethic. Aliel only occasionally takes days off, and she puts her heart and soul into training. Frankly, she needs to be forced to take rests after receiving a beating from her peers.

Boreas, in particular, sees her as a definite hopeful; after all, skill can be learned. Quick wits, dedication, and perseverance? Not so much. And Aleil plainly has those qualities in spades.

When she’s not training, she’s usually spending time with her very-distantly-removed relative, Doramu Hakim, working with Beckaline Namadril and her secretary Eileen, helping the priest Himmell Brightwind and his nephew Himmel Swiftshadow, or getting to know her tentative boyfriend and widower Jagick Valarius.

The crowd of people she spends time with draws a few suspicious glances - she looks different enough from the deceased Elyndora Valarius, however, that most who knew of the incident that happened a year ago assume she’s simply filling the hole Elyn left in her loved ones’ lives with someone who looks vaguely similar to the Spiritmaster.

Aleil is either in comfortable (if showy) clothing or ornate, light plate armor, given to her by her relative Doramu. Her glasses are a constant addition to her features, hair neatly groomed when it isn’t under a helmet, and twin swords kept on her back. She usually keeps her head down and eyes averted as if she’s shy - but her bright green eyes are quick, belying an intelligence she is only partially able to mask.

But please, for the love of Aion, don’t comment on the fact that she only uses one sword at a time right now. She’s liable to stab herself in the foot trying to use two, at the rate her training is going.