❖ AND THE DREAM CALLS: Villa Mirthal Alosrin Chaemaris.
Character Name: Villa Mirthal Alosrin Chaemaris
Pronouns: Any
Age: 256
Trigger Warnings: light mention of Abusive family, religion, cults
Appearance: Covered almost head to toe, they are nearly seven feet of outlandishly sparkling white scales, with equally iridescent wings and small tail to match. Their hair is slightly silvery, almost metallic, and it falls just past slim shoulders, often down. They are dressed in true blue and sheer, shimmering pearly fabric, flowy as you please, as much of their scales exposed as is modest. Along the underside of their left wrist is a light scarification marking of the moon and stars that is never covered.
Any scales from hand to neck, and partly down chest have turned pitch, but the skin under is unchanged.
Personality:
Negative- Air-headed, naïve, mischievous
Positive- Compassionate, dutiful, sacrificing
Background: Villa grew up as one of three identical triplets in a high-standing noble house. Since birth, they three were all ushered into the church of Corellon, as was family tradition. Villa the only one who seemed to carry much aptitude for cleric work and magic, the other two siblings certainly managing, but with great difficulty. As a result, they resented Villa, who had become the doted on child.
They were sent off to be married to someone they had never met, and… accidentally managed to run away and become captive a short while in a band of thieves. They were taught the importance of doing things for oneself, living a little selfishly.
A romp through Barovia changes their perspective on how they've decided to live carefree and for only mischief, flights of fancy, and healing as a side gig.
They turn themselves back into the Order, return Home with new power and ability. Freedom became an old concept of a short dream, though they manage to pick apart solutions for deep sickness.
But they never lose their foolish, childlike wonder and curiosity for life and all it offers. Not entirely
Memento: a silver flower that has been enchanted to change to the shape of whatever flower the owner has seen once a day. Upon arrival, a peony.
Natural Abilities:
Breath weapon - Can exhale a 15ft cone of freezing cold
They have a set of large wings, and this time they fly, though not very long.
A natural resistance to cold.
Darkvision up to 60 ft.
Power History: Mostly healing spells associated with being a life cleric, and mischief spells, but not all.
Extra: Pinterest board (warning for wrist tattoo/scarification, injury)
Real Name: Bennett Vitale, but he prefers Byte. Just Byte. Whether this was a safety measure to keep his identity secret to the general public or just a fun little jab at his own abilities has yet to be disclosed. Maybe it never will be. Either way; it’s one of the few things he’s particularly insistent about.
Pronouns: He/They/It
Age: Around 23-24 ish. He doesn’t keep track of his birthday.
His birthday is January 11. He’s a Capricorn and the rest of his natal chart is...out there.
Trigger Warnings: amputation/prosthetics, animal experimentation, government surveillance
Appearance: In a sea of city lights that seem to blot out the sky, it doesn’t come as much surprise that Byte is fairly pale; almost sickly so. Any signs of life are seen in the regular bruise or red-tint coloring in his fingertips and bright green eyes, starkly contrasted by the dark circles that lay underneath no thanks to many restless nights. He cuts his own hair, usually in one go if he can help it, and as a result it often comes out looking choppy and uneven. He does keep good care of it though, and the dark purple coloring shines as brightly as ever.
As far as clothing is concerned, it’s comfort over practicality--which is something he’s frequently advised to reconsider given his skillset. Most of it is in dark blacks, silver, or browns, even down to his mechanics. The only part that isn’t is a pair of neon yellow high-tops; yes, they light up. He loves them.
His left arm is fully mechanical. Previously only a job done halfway, he figured there was no harm done in replacing it entirely. For what it’s worth, it’s high-quality metal, and a good example of his own capabilities in crafting. It sometimes glows an iridescent yellow, particularly when his magic is in use.
Personality: A walking enigma; he hates the idea of socializing, but handles it easily and without much stress at all if in the position where he has to. More ambition than you could imagine a human could have paired alongside an unwillingness to pry himself from his bed in the would-be mornings. He greets the world with an optimism he doesn’t believe in and he has more than enough confidence to override any doubt or fear that snuck its way into his system.
He wants to be more, so much more, but when faced with the hard facts of life his dreams seem to drift further and further away into the same cyberspace they were born from, the same space he can’t help sticking his fingers into to find out more.
Despite all this, though, living in Asphodel has made him wary, and he tends to keep even those he considers “close” at a safe distance, unwilling to open his heart out to anyone. What are they going to do if they reach past every wall? It’s too much of a risk, like everything else. It just isn’t worth it. He’ll be fine; this is...not fine, but fine enough.
> cool. okay. we can keep going then. don’t worry; im not up to any tricks
…
> yet :]
AN ERROR HAS OCCURRED.
> shit
TROUBLESHOOT?
> hold on. i can fix this.
…
> or maybe not. :\
> listen. i just really, really, need your help.
Times have changed. There are stories of things that may have once been seen, but now are lucky to be heard, passed on from one generation to the next.
Here’s what’s commonplace: technology, and lots of it. Magic, brought back from the dead by some wannabe hero lost to time. Advertisements. So many fucking ads. There’s no blocker in existence that hasn’t already been shot down or coded over or...whatever, the point is, they’re everywhere. The ads. The all-seeing eyes. They’re inescapable.
Here’s what isn’t: trees, the sun, most plant-life in general. Getting a bouquet for Valentine’s Day is basically the same as being proposed to, nowadays. Also the wedding should be the day of or the day after, considering access to said flora shouldn’t even be possible. There hasn’t been a floristry open in years. So They probably know about it, and that lovebot’s days are numbered.
There are gardens. Conservations, really, that’s what They call them, but gardens sound much nicer. Sneaking to the edges of the city, you might be able to catch a glimpse of one. It’s not a wise idea though. You’ll probably get caught. Maybe you’ll be lucky, let off with just a warning and a slap on the wrist.
…
Probably not though.
Asphodel’s great, really, if you can ignore the lingering feeling of eyes boring into the back of your likely-jacked head. Byte’s learned to do this by never going outside. Easy. He’s rigged a good few security measures into his own personal devices, and tossed out a handful of hosts to take the blow for him if someone tried to dig a little deeper. He’s grateful for the fact he has more than enough magic to spare that this isn’t a strain at all, and it just becomes part of a daily routine.
...Oh, right, the magic. Byte has a lot of it. It’s both a boon and a bane.
He’s a technomancer, if you want to be specific, but he prefers the term tech warlock, or wizard, or something that seems just a little more fantastical. It suits his dreams more. The idea of moving past technology and magic altogether to become something stronger, someone more powerful that even the big guys up top couldn’t stop him if they tried to.
The lights of passing trains speed by, lighting up a darkened room. The decker curses to himself as he raises from his chair and pulls the curtains closed. Maybe another day, then. He’ll try a little harder.
…
The faint glow brings back a memory, fluorescent whites and reds speeding by. It makes him dizzy, and his grip on the curtains tightens. What he remembers doesn’t make sense; he’s never been outside of Asphodel, there never were fields of green or ice-coated mountaintops--not here, never here. There hadn’t been life like that in centuries. Maybe it was a dream he had, some time ago. That’s a little more reasonable.
God, he’s exhausted.
Memento: His companion, Gig! It was a normal rabbit, at one point; then time took its toll and...he made some adjustments. Now it’s more metal than blood, and functions just about as well. To keep its cognitive function, he implanted an AI that connects directly to his magic; so he can understand it perfectly. The AI allows Gig to understand others, too, but without the same magic connection, most of what is returned comes out in the form of angry thumps. If nothing else, he’s a good traveling partner!
The antennae attached is just for show, and has no effect on Gig’s functionality.
Natural Abilities: Byte’s family line is known to have a decent grasp on technomancy, and Byte isn’t any different in this regard. It’s a natural gift, and he took to it quickly.
CYBERNETICS. He made his enhancements himself! His left arm is fully mechanical. Extra measures were taken to ensure it could handle small to moderate amounts of water, including a period of trial and error after submerging it when it was unattached to test its resistance. It’s a pain to replace, so he often spends time making adjustments and keeping it in working order. In addition to this, he tried an experiment on himself: applying internal cybernetics to his eyes. The goal was to make it so he could simultaneously work more and sleep less, to cut out the middle man, and although it only half-way worked, he thankfully didn’t lose his vision. It appears as twin piercings above each brow, and in a line under his eye. The addition allows him to map out his present surroundings and pinpoint any “obscurities,” though this is limited to a small vicinity and has to recalculate whenever he enters into a new area, as well as seeing more clearly in low-light. On Aergia 003, he was able to access databases through it as well and manipulate the data discovered hands-free. He still needs sleep though, that sucks.
CYBERKINESIS. The ability to manipulate technology. A majority of his own abilities are hands-off, such as reconstructing broken models without ever touching the pieces. If given the time to study something new, he could probably bring it back to working order. Includes the basic function of digital/data magic and its properties.( NOTE: Requires already existing resources to work properly. )
SPELLCASTING. A basic skill for every mancer! Byte’s abilities are limited to small blasts of electricity, considering he hasn’t put much work into strengthening them. As a result, he’s also prone to shocking himself. And he has. Many times.
ELECTROKINESIS. It’s rather weak due to a lack of practice and proper use, but it’s possible to be honed. Minor applications include an electric aura--the ability to surround himself with an electric charge, leading to a nasty shock (though often this is a subconscious defense), and electric infusion. The latter allows him to imbue objects or people with electricity, though he only used it to give a few faulty electronics a “jump start.”
ENERGY RESISTANCE. While he still takes moderate damage to large bursts of energy, he’s able to withstand it a little better than someone who isn’t tied so closely to it.
Power History:
TECHNOMAGICAL CONSTRUCTS. On Aergia 003, he could create multiple constructs at at time; usually small robots to complete day-to-day tasks he didn’t feel like doing. However, if he put in the work, he’s just as capable of creating weaponry, drones, devices, or other stronger crafts.
IMAGINATIVE TECHNOMAGIC. While limited to small constructs, he could create any technomagical device by simply imagining it. It could’ve been stronger, but he likes having materials to experiment with, so it wasn’t as honed as it could’ve been.
HACKING. As straightforward as it sounds, given the world he’s from is almost strictly-cyber, this was an important skill to develop. And he was good at it. Mostly stole information, rather than changed it, but it hasn’t stopped him from the latter.
Extra:
Bastard-adjacent.
Technically speaking, he doesn’t have a job; he’s never really needed one. He gets paid for the odd job here or there, but he’s never taken something on as a career.
He’s from Asphodel, a city on Aergia 003, which is a planet in the Eucleia galaxy. The city itself is a mess of skyscrapers, advertisements, and hardware, and most people tend to favor going place-to-place either by foot or speed-train. The city is oxygenated by gardens in the outskirts, kept under watch by an assortment of carefully-chosen government workers. Civilians such as Byte aren’t allowed access to them, and it’s the only place surrounding the city that has the slightest implication of sunlight. As a result, he hasn’t really seen most plant-life. Or the sun. Or anything that isn’t a city seemingly stuck in a permanent state of “night”.
Technomagic is common in Asphodel, as it's how most people function from day-to-day. Byte just has a slightly better grasp of it than most. He will brag about this.
This stronger understanding is also why he goes by Byte, he’d prefer to stay under the radar. He isn’t big on those in power, and he doesn’t want to work for or potentially be hunted by them. He regularly deletes files he finds on his existence if he uncovers them. The worst thing is being known.
On a lighter note. Those Sour Patch-themed videos Markiplier did? Very big Byte energy.
Age: he looks mid-twenties… but who really knows with the fey
Trigger Warnings: brief and non-explicit nsfw mention in background, weird third eye business (eye horror)
Appearance:
i_want_this_twink_obliterated.png; drawn by me, colorised by vani!
Personality:
fey are known for being tricksters, to put it kindly, and in that respect idlewild fits the bill perfectly. nothing delights him more than being a pest to the people around him–again, putting it kindly. pestliness is all well and good, but what he really finds the greatest joy in is just absolutely ruining someone’s day, month, year, life–you get the idea. with no morals to speak of and certainly no respect for the people around him, there is absolutely nothing to keep this man from wreaking havoc.
this also means that he’s great fun to be around, if you get on his good side! he does have some vague understanding of the covenant of friendship, and while he won’t stop playing pranks on his ‘friends’ that’s all they’ll be; pranks, not determined efforts to make their lives hell. he’s also honest, by virtue of being fey, and he’ll uphold any formal pact to the best of his ability. he’s not a savage.
Background:
for a long time (a long, long time), idlewild was a happy, productive, and most importantly obedient member of the dawnlight court. he served under voy everett, close but not too close to the throne, and he did whatever was asked of him with a smile on his face and his hands laced nicely behind his back. and then voy quincey came along, and the dawnlight and dusklight courts were allied when they were supposed to be eternal enemies (or at the very least unfriendly neighbours).
idlewild decided very quickly that he wouldn’t stand for it. the only issue, of course, is that once you join a fey prince’s court, you’re stuck there until they release you from service. or, maybe, until you do something absolutely heinous and break the oath yourself. for all his faults and love of drama, idlewild didn’t particularly feel like blackening his name for the rest of time–he had plans, after all–so instead he resolved to make everett despise him.
and it wasn’t exactly an easy thing at the start. sure, idlewild kept his distance in the court, but also they’d slept together once or twice, and everett was a little bit fond. once idlewild started making a proper nuisance of himself, though, hanging garlands of four-leafed clovers over everett’s throne and even going as far as to bring iron into the court, it didn’t take long for everett to cast him out.
this may or may not have been where idlewild’s love of causing mischief came from.
from there… the rest of the story is still in progress. there’s a glade ringed by thorns and thick brambles, sitting on the edge of midnight, and it’s here that idlewild set up his very own court, styling himself voyetinuya idlewild. if the other courts weren’t going to stick to how things are supposed to be, the conflict muted by some frankly embarrassing princely PDA, then idlewild would take matters into his own hands.
Memento:
a crown wrought from silver and thorns; he’s nothing if not devoted to the aesthetic.
Natural Abilities:
fey longevity; he’s presumably not immortal, but if he ages, he does it real slow.
third eye; functional, in that it can see. moves independently of the other eyes, in a disgusting swiveling motion. exists only to freak people out.
third and fourth arms; usually used to make inappropriate hand gestures.
Power History:
many kinds of fey magic and trickery–though he specialised in glamours and other illusions, as a lot of fey do. it’s technically not lying, guys!
Extra:
the food of the human world tastes like ash and dust to him, so he’s going to spend his time here licking dewdrops off leaves and pretending that counts as sustenance.
anything that can stop a fey in folklore works on him. i will not tell you what those things are.
Age: 5 Years (Sylvari are born adults, though, with the entire knowledge of their people packed into them. So he is physically and mentally 25)
Trigger Warnings: Discussion of War
Appearance: Of the Sylvari race from the world of Tyria, Woarryn is physically a plant. His skin is more bark-like than some, his hair is made of vibrant pink leaves and petals drawn back into a thin braid at the back and when it becomes dark he glows in certain places with a pink bioluminescent hue. His eyes are a similar pink color to the glow he emits.
Waorryn is very short of stature, standing at 4’10’’ with as ‘lithe’ of a build as you can consider a tree. He is also very lightweight.
[ LINK ] - [ BIOLUMINESCENCE EXAMPLE ]
Personality:
+ Kind, Intelligent, Quick Thinker, Leader, Patient, Never-Give-Up Attitude, Team Player
- Stubborn, Impulsive, Impatient, Reckless, Trusts a bit to easily
Background: (Possible Spoiler warnings for the GW2 MMO)
Waorryn awoke from The Dream of Dreams in uncertain times… the threat of the great undead dragon Zhaitan threatened the land of Tyria. In a whirlwind he found himself walking the path of a soldier, joining the Pact Army as one of many Commanders - agents that held a position just beneath the Marshal who lead large portions of the giant Army.
After the fall of Zhaitan the land of Tyria had a few moments of peace… until Moredremoth surfaced from it’s slumber deep beneath the surface of the world. He took up arms again and suffered great losses.
Once Moredremoth had been taken care of Waorryn took up the mantle of Pact Marshal, instead of being on the forefront of battle and the defense of his world from the ancient dragons he was bogged down with the paperwork. Logistics, like confirming operations and negotiating deals with the powers of Tyria for resources and soldiers.
But time continued turning and the next threat reared its head. He stepped down and returned to his roll as a Commander of the Pact and once more headed into battle. After a hard fought, desperate fight, in the time of relaxing after, he finds himself slipping into an unfamiliar dream…
Memento: A Sylvan Hound named Kyoon. Kyoon is his battle companion, friend, and service animal. Like Waorryn, Kyoon is also living foliage, and is made up of vines and soft ferns.
[ KYOON ] - [ STREEECH ]
Natural Abilities:
Natural Armor - Being made up of bark and plant matter, Waorryn is a bit harder to damage. That isn’t to say he can’t still be cut or harmed, just that it’s a bit more difficult to do.
Power History:
The Dream of Dreams - Through a connection the Sylvari call ‘The Dream’ they are all connected, able to receive an empathetic connection with other Sylvari and even Sylvan Hounds. In Nelru, Waorryn no longer has this more physical and emotional connection with Kyoon. It’s okay, they still work perfectly together.
Extra: Waorryn has a chronic pain disorder that worsened badly after exposure to the jungle dragon, Mordremoth. It’s symptoms and effects on him are the same as Fibromyalgia in humans. Kyoon is his service dog that is able to aid him should he need it.
Personality: Marshall is someone who greatly prefers to keep to himself. He doesn’t mind the presence of others; he’ll visit the most bustling cities and revel in the sights as long as he’s doing so alone. He is a man of few words and focuses more on getting any job done over any pleasantries. Despite how some people may view him as cold for his aloofness and workaholic nature, he is not unkind. He greatly enjoys exploring the unknown.
Having been put in the role of hunter since he was a young child, he’s well aware of how he differs from the average person, and even suffers from a lower self-esteem because of it. He is used to isolation and constant moving, scouting the same area for the past 13 years to ensure that the kingdom is free from any potential dangers. Thus, he performs well when he is assigned specific tasks and when under stress.
POSITIVE TRAITS:
Resilient, keen, clever, adaptable, diligent
NEGATIVE TRAITS
Distant, unclear, self-deprecating, occasionally blunt (not on purpose)
Background:
In a faraway kingdom, there is no such thing as rising into the occasion. You are born with an assigned role by the clergy, and you are expected to fulfill that role in the kingdom until you pass. You are expected to be happy in that position, and if you aren’t, then you’re expected to keep your misery to yourself. No one doubts the system; after all, they have no bad memories or history of the system hurting people.
All memories of the past are stored in one crystal room underneath the castle’s floors. Everyone who is officially born inside of the kingdom’s walls is brought to this room and their memories are united. Their memories as a whole aren’t shared, but their history is– No one remembers something differently than the other.
Marshall’s father was assigned the role of ensuring the safety of the border by driving out any monsters and also travelling to other kingdoms to keep track of trade and information, someone who lives primarily outside of the kingdom. Born outside of the kingdom walls, his memories are untampered with. He (secretly) disagreed with the tampering of people, but he was extremely reliable and well-trusted by the clergy and nobility. They don’t think twice of him choosing to have a child outside of the kingdom as well, protecting Marshall from being subjected to a collective memory.
Since he was born, it was assumed he would take his father’s role when he died. His father’s helped him since he was young, but unfortunately passed before he could even reach adulthood. Isolated and overwhelmed, Marshall was given his father’s responsibilities during adolescence. He adapted to his new duties well, however, and was quickly as trusted as his father was.
Memento:
Serva Nos - A bolt-action rifle that heavily resembles a flintlock in aesthetics, but works differently. Can be strapped onto his back and also taken apart to be modified into what he needs, which he does frequently.
Age: 14ish? 15ish? She’s not totally sure. A younger teen.
Trigger Warnings: N/A
Appearance:
Credit: https://picrew.me/image_maker/16952 and https://picrew.me/image_maker/73327
Not pictured: Her Wizard Marks on her hands, which look almost like half-formed gloves. They cover her fingers and just barely reach the tops of her palms, but don’t go down any further than that. She is also never seen without her goggles.
Background: Orphaned at a young age, with no idea who her parents were or if she had any family that might want her or be looking for her. She eventually wandered into the desert, either out of curiosity or maybe because of … Fate, perhaps? She calls it Fate.
She got taken in by her new family, there, though. They found her wandering and brought her into their group, taught her everything she knows. To Paisley, they’re heroes, the coolest people ever to possibly walk the earth. Paisley was born that day, because that was when she actually had a family, a name, and a place to go back to.
She was a bit of a chaotic entity for this group, though, always doing whatever she wanted and trying to be cool, to live up to the cool image she saw them with, but she always had a safe place with safe people to sleep at night, and that’s what was important, right?
Memento: Snooch the Tegu. It’s a rite of passage when you enter a room that you must Smooch the Snooch.
Natural Abilities: Very, very minor control over gravity, but she never seems to realize that she’s doing it. Mostly this comes in when she’s lifting heavy objects or falling from great heights due to her obsession with parkour. These powers come from her small wizard marks on her hands.
Trigger Warnings: implied child abuse (will not be discussed in detail)
Appearance:
( sketch: crow @fourspiceblend on twitter )
Ella has short red hair, usually a bit messy and untamed. (Even if she tries to comb it, it doesn’t like to listen.) She has sharp emerald green eyes that rarely smile but always smirk. She’s smallish, about 5’4” with a petite build. Despite her slender appearance, she has wiry taut muscle from frequent strenuous physical activity.
Her resting face is a flat affect, interested at best and annoyed at worst. She has a smirk like she knows how the world will end (for all you know, she does) and scars on her back in the vague shape of angel wings.
Personality:
Positive:
Clever: Highly intelligent, even if she doesn’t always act it; she’s always planning ahead, but she’s also very capable at thinking on her feet.
Adaptable: Flexible in many ways, they tend to always change their strategies and sometimes even their behavior based on the situation.
Driven: Once she’s set her mind to something, it’s rare for her to give up — and if you tell her to, she never will.
Curious: Interested in pursuits of knowledge — be it actual studies or just learning about others.
Negative:
Secretive: She doesn’t like anyone knowing much of anything about her, to the extent that she’ll lie through her teeth about even the most mundane details of her life.
Bitter: Harbors a lot of resentment for figures in her past and forces out of her control; she has a sense that the world owes her something. They’re still learning how to cope with all that they’ve been through.
Distrusting: Frankly, you’ll be lucky to ever know her real name. They don’t trust lightly, and that often extends to relying on others.
Cynical: As far as she’s concerned, nothing is as good as it seems. There’s always a catch, a lie, a flaw. Because of this, she tends to look out for herself before anyone else — no one else is going to do it for her, at least not for the right reasons.
Background:
Ella was born to an unloving home, an environment that was neglectful at best and hostile at worst. At only age sixteen, they ran away from a deeply unpleasant childhood, leaving her entire life behind. She did what she had to survive, stealing and living on the streets for most of her late teens. Eventually she was able to steal a laptop, and from there, she learned to use her computer skills to earn a living on the dark web. As a criminal hacker, she learned a lot about all manner of horrible things — including things she had thought to be myths all her life. Demon deals were dangerous, but she was smart enough to use them effectively, getting information through infernal means when she couldn’t follow a digital trail. Information brokering and blackmail paid well enough when the hacking jobs were slow, and eventually she built a reputation — one that was both very good and very bad. She lived her life on the run, a faceless nameless denizen of every major American city.
She never knew safety or stability, but that doesn’t mean she thrived in chaos. As much as she might have denied it, things eventually got too bad, too much for her to handle. Nothing could help her, so she got desperate. She got sloppy. She made a deal, the one she had promised herself she would avoid — her soul for protection. No one would be able to find her, to hurt her, and all it would cost is a soul she was convinced was already damned. They would even politely wait until she died to collect it.
She would grow to regret this, but she could never figure a way out of it… until now.
Memento: A flashdrive. It houses her “insurance” – incriminating evidence on everyone she’s ever worked for or with, just in case they decided to try to turn her in.
Natural Abilities:
N/A. Basic standard human, unless you count a high metabolism and pain tolerance.
Power History:
Illusion: Part of her pact; unless she willed it otherwise, others would never perceive her quite as she truly was. She could look and sound like a different person entirely, a slightly off version of herself, or even become imperceptible entirely.
Untraceable: Part of her pact; it was literally impossible to track her. Footprints would disappear, digital or otherwise. Anyone trying to follow her would find themselves turned around or lose her in a crowd, or even wind up following the wrong person.
Limited magic: As she’s not a natural-born witch, her powers were extremely limited and really only come from outside sources – summoning circles, runes, magical items/charms, etc..
Extra:
Toyhouse
You can ask me for her Pinterest but it’s full of triggers and in the process of being reworked, so I’m not posting it here just in case!
Standing at six foot even, Sunborne’s armor is rail thin, almost overtaken by the red and gold cloak he wears over his shoulders. His armor is not shining nor splendid, a steel stained slightly green and worn over the years, covered in buffs and dents. All sharp edges and points, as within the hood, below the six-eyed helm above, is nothing. An uneasy emptiness fills Sunborne, yet he moves as if this empty suit of armor is, in fact, housing something.
Personality:
Strong-willed. It seems his knight training has been put to good use, as Sunborne’s drive is what’s gotten him so far, despite everything.
Caring. Almost to a self-destructive point, putting others before himself. Servicing is his top priority.
Loyal. Brothers in arms until the end.
Enigmatic. His situation is… difficult to explain, but such a part of him that it’s hard to be truthful about himself and his feelings.
Unstable. Like someone who’s unsure of who they are and what their purpose is, Sunborne loses himself sometimes.
Fanatical. Coping through the Light and religion can wrap you up, blind you.
Rash. If he sees an opportunity to help or do something, he takes it, consequences be damned. Unless it hurts someone other than himself.
Pessimistic. There’s a steep, treacherous hole that Sunborne has dug himself, so far that the light barely reaches him.
Background:
Sunborne was someone else once. He had a name- Kreielen- that no longer belongs to him. But he’s sure of his history.
It started in the golden vale of Silvermoon, and after the undead and Lich King himself broke the city in half, many of its citizens found a motivation for a higher purpose. Kreielen was himself amongst them and found like-minded comrades in the Blood Knights. That fanatical desperation blinded him to the hurt they caused in their forceful siphoning of an ancient being of Light named M’uru- all he wanted was to help. To change things.
It was only when the Sunwell was regained and he learned of what the Light truly meant that he could sleep well at night again. But that anger, that determination to fix- it drove him further, further. North.
They were bringing the fight to the Lich King’s door. And the Argent Crusade, an order of holy warriors, were on the frontlines. Kreielen was drawn to their Light, and was set on a single-minded fury, until…
He met someone. Someone who stopped him, gave him something else to look at instead of the horizon. Dark-haired, well-built, attractive, human… Light above, he was a human, but he fell in love anyway. He grounded Kreielen like no one ever had before.
So when he lost him, it was too much to bear.
Death wasn’t what took him away, perhaps that would’ve been easier to deal with, Light curse him for his selfishness. No, it started as a classic tale of loss. A strike team encountering a foe much more powerful than anyone had expected. Getting beaten down, but not killed- captured. The Lich King’s forces were trying an experimental technique, one to revolutionize the way they created undead soldiers. Sapping souls and binding them to armor, making them immortal.
And Kreielen was the first in line to be tested.
Maybe death would’ve been easier. Kinder to him than the pain, like feeling himself get ripped apart, inch by inch. Like a rope pulled taut, tight, and then snapping under the pressure as darkness filled his vision.
Not death. No, something went wrong. Or right. He never had the chance to ask
But after a moment, he could feel the cold, hear the wind as it ravaged the frozen landscape around him. He could smell burning and decay as he pushed himself up to his knees, finding himself in a corpse pit, a technique used by the Crusade to quickly dispose of undead.
Delirious, confused, he stumbled toward whatever looked familiar. By the kindness of circumstance he found himself looking over the Crusade’s grounds, quickly making his way to where his tent was, where he could find his husband. And by the benevolence of the Light, he did. The man was wounded, bandaged, but alive and recovering, settled in his cot.
And Kreielen lay next to him.
There’s not much to be said about it. Nothing that can encompass the feeling of seeing yourself and seeing the person you love huddled together. Of seeing them walk around the Crusade grounds, joking and flirting, while you have to watch. Friends treating you like a stranger. Having to carve a new identity out of this empty shell of a body, even if every part of you wants to scream your name, your real name.
But it wouldn’t be worth it. No, he was happy. Well. Kreielen was happy.
Sunborne… well. He wasn’t the real one. It didn’t matter.
Memento: A large, dark greatsword, hilt bound in red cloth with a yellow gem set in the hilt. Seems unnaturally large and complicated in design, as weapons from Azeroth tend to be. [image]
Natural Abilities:
Doesn’t need to drink or eat, due to the fact that he can’t drink or eat.
Doesn’t need to breathe, but is way too heavy to swim properly and can suffer water damage if not properly taken care of.
Sleep isn’t biologically necessary but Sun’s found out that he does need to “shut down” sometimes, otherwise he’ll suffer the mental effects of a lack of sleep. (Hallucinations, forgetfulness, etc)
Knight training, including weapons mastery and mounted combat.
Power History:
The Light. Both a religion and a well of power found on Azeroth, used to augment weapon attacks into ferocious smites, protect your allies, and heal wounds. Effective against demons and the undead when used offensively, which was Sun’s expertise.
Extra: He has a playlist and a pinterest board!
❖ Nelrunari Section ❖
Ward: Hallowtide
Player Tag: Here
❖ OOC Section ❖
Name/Alias: Ash
Contact: @crimsonrite on Twitter, Zero#2420 on Discord
