Re: Arc 4 (East): The Savage Upheaval
Username: Emrys
Name:Moth
Age:Somewhere between 15 and 100 years old
Race:Pixie
Abilities/Special Training: No training but can heal minor wounds and revive those who have recently died at the cost of her own life force. Also has the ability to produce painful jolts of electricity and control plants and wildlife to a very limited extent.
Weapon(s): None save for her own ability to produce a jolt of electricity.
Personality: As far as fairies go, Moth is an oddity. Always fluttering here and there, wanting to go beyond the borders of the grove, always curious of what lies beyond. Although she has a love of nature and growing things, her mind does not dwell on it as her comrades do and this has earned her the ire of others many times. Fiesty, energetic, and argumentive yet she is loyal to those she cares for. Cannot abide for cruelty.
History Living in a great Fairy's grove for her entire life, Moth has seen little of the outside world but spent her time caring and tending to the wildlife of the grove and learning from the Great Fairy. After some years, the Great Fairy left, leaving only a few manifests to care for their brethren and the grove.
Other:Moth emits light, as most fairies do, as a pale blue color.
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Username: Dark Mewtwo
Name: Legato
Age: His age has been lost with time
Race: Poe
Abilities/Special Training: Not of this world: as with all spectres he can move in and out of solid objects and and turn invisible. Magical Musical Master: Legato has trained under one of the greatest musical minds and he also traveled the world learning most all of the Magic Songs. He is also quite proficient with Shadow Magic. Quite Cultured: Legato knows the culture of most everyone in Hyrule. Due to the time he spent traveling the world and living among the different races of Hyrule.
Weapons: His voice and mind are his strongest weapons, but his more tangible weapons include: a cursed Violin, a soul trapping Poe lantern on the end of a Stalfos staff, and a sharpened conducting baton.
Personality: Morbid Humor: Legato is a vile and cruel being that finds death humorous. Puppet master: Legato uses many people that he deems weak as mere tools and spins webs of lies to catch many in his trap. Respects Power: the only thing Legato will respect is one with true power. Uneasy loyalty: once Legato chooses to follow someone he will be mostly loyal. With the exception of Dethl whom Legato follows with unwavering loyalty.
History: Much of Legato's past life was lost, what is known is that he was once a Hylian composer. He was also the understudy of a great magical composer named Zeron. They were good friends, but when Legato began to travel the world they began to drift apart. He learned the songs of all the people of Hyrule, and became a musical master. Zeron became envious of Legato; which grew into a hatred.
One day when Legato was traveling a strange man in a backpack met him on the road. They began to talk; once on the subject of music the man told Legato that he too had a song, and he played it for Legato. It was the most beautiful song Legato had ever heard, and with that song as it's root he began to compose a magical song to give life. But then Zeron finally snapped he could not allow Legato to finish his song and forever be out shined by it. So he killed Legato just before he finished his work. Zeron covered up his murder, and thought he was done with Legato.
But the flood of emotions from his death and his unfinished work was enough to bring him back as a Poe. Although his spirit was reversed in the jaws of death, and he rose back as a spirit of death and malace. He finished his song, but instead of life it gave death. He then tracked down Zeron, and played his song of Death. Zeron tried to play the unfinished Song of Life, but the Song of Death was too strong, and he perished. Legato with his vengeance complete, began to wonder the world.
The Stalfos took an intrest in Legato and his song, that could cure the plague of life. So they offered him a place in the grand Stalfoe Empire of death. Legato sensing their power accepted. He began to travel around Hyrule playing his Song for any who would hear it. He began to rise in the ranks of the Stalfos, till he was a direct adviser of Dethl. He became an Arbiter of Death a rank above most Scythe Lords.
Eventually the Sheikah learned of him, and tracked him down. After finding him and his Stalfos allies, a grade battle began. The Sheikah seemed doomed to die in a tide of death. Till a group of Sheikah mages made it their mission to deprive these Stalfos of their leader. So in the chaos, using all their magic, and some even having to give their life for the spell. They trapped Legato in a lanturn with a powerful warding spell. Without Legato the Stalfos quickly lost the battle.
After the battle the Sheikah brought the Lantern back to the Shadow Temple, and cast it deep into the abyss. For many an age his spirit sat collecting dust till one day a Sheikah experiment named Onirix broke free and began running about in the shadow temple. In Onirix's powerful fury he shattered the ward on the lantern, and loosed Legato upon the world once more.
Themes:
Fighting the Dark Poe:
Speaking with Darkness:
Waiting in the Dark:
Other: Legato has minor telepathy and telekinesis. Legato can use some Dethl style magic. Such as nightmares, fear and madness, but these have little to no effect on those that are expecting them or have a resistant mind.
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User: Avatar of the Ice Wolf
Name: Kiril Artaro
Race: Horonian (Winter Caste)
Age: 47
Personality: Brash and arrogant, especially toward those he considers inferior to himself. Toward those who are considered his peers, he will be appear friendly, but his only reason for being so is to suck up as much information as possible. Kiril is highly intelligent and will often use brilliant-yet-unorthodox methods to achieve his goals. Behind every action is an ulterior motive that none, even his closest allies, can discern. To him, life is a game and needs to be kept interesting.
Abilities: High intelligence, master of subterfuge and other clandestine acts, great speech-craft, fast runner, little-to-no actual combat prowess.
Weapons: Various poisons and volatile flasks along with a lone multi-purpose dagger.
History: Kiril Artaro was born a Winter Caste in the city of Seshei. Even among others of his caste, he displayed great affinity for intellectual pursuits and eventually succeeded his father as headmaster of the city’s most prestigious academy. Though both philosophical and applied knowledge came easy to him, he was not content with his lot in life. Ironically, it was precisely for the previously outlined reason. Everything was too easy and the caste system meant that he would be lecturing each new generation of half-wits the same material. He had long since stopped receiving any useful information from his circle of friends, and thus found himself at a standstill.
Bored beyond what he considered tolerable for living, Kiril decided to put his intelligence toward something practical – something that occurred in real-time with consequences greater than a slap on the wrist for getting wrong. He became a spy working in the services of the rebellion. After some careful “career building” he quickly ascended to the top of the black ops hierarchy, causing great damage for the Horon loyalists.
The war, however, as with all things, was not to last. At its conclusion, Kiril was called to use his knowledge of law to draft a just peace that would satisfy both sides and put his other administrative skills to work managing the economy of the fledgling kingdom. It would appear he was doomed for more boredom, only this time it wasn’t due to his caste, but due to his competence and reputation – again, an ironic occurrence.
Kiril’s fortune changed when he heard of a new threat looming in Labrynna. There he saw a chance of escaping his administrative duties and once again become embroiled in a life-or-death game of deceit and treachery. He easily convinced his liege to grant him this task, and thus made his way alone into the south as a “diplomatic envoy.” In truth, he had other plans before even coming close to Lynna City, not the least of which building a new network of contacts within the ranks of the Labrynnan forces themselves. With this in mind, he set his sights on a small frontier outpost just beyond Horonian territory. This would prove… interesting.
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Username: PhilAO
Name:Quid
Age:50
Race:Yucca Scrub
Abilities/Special Training: Excellent shot. Good survivalist with understanding of both arid and forested terrain. Very observant (partially as a result of paranoia)
Weapon(s): Always has several deku seeds.
Personality:Quid is as temperamental as any Deku, and quick to leap on any perceived slight. He is also very curious, and eager to soak in new experiences. This is coupled with a very paranoid personality, as he think most people's goal is to try and get him somehow.
History:Quid grew in relatively secluded patch of savannah on the Eastern edge of the Deku territories. Like most Deku, he had no idea who's seed he originated from, and it doesn't really concern him. Due to the lack of Deku central government and the fact that he was born outside the influence of any local Chiefs, he wandered around for the first few years of his life, hiding from predators, finding what food he could, and waiting to grow large enough to defend himself. He learned how to fight in this time against wolfos and worst, and developed into the crack shot he is now. Around 15, he had matured enough to stake out some territory, driving predators and large herbivores from it. This territory was on the loosely defined eastern edge of the Deku territories, so he did not come into contact with his first other Deku Scrub for another dozen years after that. He had been slowly but surely expanding his holdings until he bumped into two other Deku's whose names he never bothered to learn, another Yucca he never really got along with, and a Forest Scrub he was friends with for a while.The Yucca eventually disappeared, probably finally outmaneuvered by some predators, while after an argument Quid drove the older Forest Scrub away. This left him the master of his domain, but very lonely. He was unable to absorb all of his two rivals territory after they were gone, just because of physical restraints, so he gained little and has yet to interact with any other sentient being. He is young though by Deku standards, and has become very bored over the last 5 years or so. He is beginning to contemplate whether it would be worth it for him to abandon his territory, and strike out into the world on his own...
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Username: Emrys
Name: Professor Charles Grey
Age: 58
Race:
Abilities/Special Training: Mathematics, Chemistry, Alchemy, and Physics
Weapon(s): His brain, rupees, and a gentleman's straight sword. Later perhaps a few of his projects
Personality: Charles is very distant and professional in his dealings with other people and not known to be a good conversationalist. Also his massive ego and wealth does not endear him to his peers.
History: Charles come from a line of prominent Labrynnan scientist, inventors, and scholars. When Lachryma was introduced his great grandfather was one of the few skeptics of its origins, however, he was shunned by the scientific community after that. Deciding to look for better prospects, he ended up opening a school in Hyrule Castle Town. These days it is one of the foremost places of learning in the kingdom. Charles is the current headmaster and subsequently his rupee bag is quite heavy and full. His treatise on Alchemy and the Nature of Chemicals launched him into the spot of the top scientist in the Kingdom, but three years prior he left the school in the capable hands of his brother to complete a few of his projects in the Samasa Desert.
Theme:
Other: He is only considered Ordonan because his father had married an Ordonan girl living in Lon Lon at the time.
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User: Niveksirrah
Name: Xantear (Zan'tear)
Age: Unknown to even him
Race: Twili
Abilities/Special Training: Trickster mage, high mastery of Sol, Clever mind and a fast tongue as well as the ability to transform between Imp and normal form at will.
Weapons: carries a few charms to be used with his Magic but nothing else.
Personality: Clever and mad, fun yet strange. He is the Cheshire cat, the Riddler, the lone soul that cries in the night then rages against the world and laughs as it burns. He is the trickster.
History: Growing up in the realm of twilight he often found himself limited. Not by magic, for at this he excelled. But due to this he was known around by most of the other people of importance. Not royalty of course but the other great mages, warriors and so on. This often left him board at the gathering he had to attend to and even on the streets he would draw too much attention to play any of the small jokes that he did as a child. It was not until he found something in a history book where some criminals were not killed, but rather transformed into small creatures, or "imps" as they were called. This got his attention. He knew about imps but had no idea they were twili, you could see imps from time to time after all but few new where they came from. He delved deep into the book and others, until one day he found the spell. The spell to turn him into an Imp, and how to reverse it. Now as it turns out an imp cannot turn themselves back into a twili, something to keep the criminals from doing that no doubt, But with the right enchantment an item could be made that could serve this very purpose. He found an old medallion passed down through his family for ages, though no one ever wore it, it was a simple thing, three silver triangles arranged in a large triangle. After some time he managed to enchant the item and then went on to cast the spell. It worked! he turned into a small imp! As it turns out in this form he could still use some of his magic, though not of any of the higher arts. On the other hand these imps did have a strange skill with their hair. It could take the shape much like a hand, and was quite strong. The best thing was in this form no one looked twice at him, imps were shunned so people went out of the way to not notice him. And so he had much fun with this.
Years later, after the twili had once again entered the realm of light, he found himself traveling along. He did this from time to time, travel the world of light to see its wonders. He also liked to play pranks of the children of light. That is until one day he picked the wrong target. He played a rather rude joke on a cranky and more than slightly crazy old man in robes and his house that walked on chicken legs. The mage, for that was what the man was, did not take kindly to Xantear's joke and cast a powerful spell on him, flining him through time and space. Xantear had no idea how long it had been, it felt like years, but also only seconds. One way or another though her found himself almost two hundred years in the future. He found out that the twili were no more, once again sealed away, Majora was running around and the whole world seemed to be going to hell.
What a fun place he found himself in.
After messing around with an odd conglomeration of folks he discovered in Audorn, committing a genocide, and coming face-to-face with a godlike being who made him face his inner demons, Xantear made an effort to contact his kin. The new Twili princess, Xivia, directed him to Labrynna where he was to await further instructions. However, it may turn out that "waiting" and "instructions" are not words he has fully accepted into his vocabulary.
Player: Niveksirrah
Name: Rintaro Umeda
Age: Looks around 21
Race: Horonian Sohei
Abilities/Special Training: Advanced Sohei combat training, Basic Nature empathy, Leadership and command.
Weapons: Two very different Fariy Blades.
Personality: His mind is sharp, causing him to feel like those around him are slow and dull at times, he leads his men well and is both respected and liked by those under his command. Though he does have a streak of playing pranks on his friends and peers to liven up his day.
History: Few outside the Mystics now about Rintaro's Parents or where he came from, What most people do know is that he was born a strong child as was adopted by one of the elder Sohei. Life for Rintaro was not easy inside the Umeda family, most of his life he was treated like an outsider, Though his 'father' tried his best he never truly loved Rintaro. Despite the cold upbringing Rintaro grew into a strong child, much stronger than anyone would have guessed. He was often ganged up on by other children, even so he never let it get to him. No matter what life through at him there was always something keeping him going, something that pushed him on despite the problems he faced. When he became a young man he found that he had amazing skill at swordplay, His strength and speed was far greater than what his slim body would have others think of him. When he had finished his basic training, his sword melding with his soul, he was given something that few others ever see, a second blade. Similar to his own yet very different. He was worried at first, most people can only use one blade, and the blade from another Sohei never felt right in anyone elses hands. But this one did work for him, it almost felt like a part of himself that he had forgotten a long time ago. For the first time in a long time he felt true joy by just holding that blade, and he had no idea why.
As he grew older he noticed other things about himself, things that set him apart. A few times in his life he had blacked out, only to awaken later covered in blood. This time scared Rintaro like few things ever had. He found that this time was only brought on after he feels great rage, as such he always tries to put up a happy front, more for those around him than himself. In the last few years he has earned a name for himself, as well as a small following of warriors under his command. The recent troubles through the land has him worried though, as such he has gathered most of his men back to the villages around the Umeda land to defend them from any who seeks to do them harm while he seeks out answers.
Other: Is ambidextrous but uses his left hand most of the time though his "good" hand is his right. Has a thinner type of armor he wears under his cloths, though in war time to has a set of full armor.
User: niveksirrah
Name: Victor Lane
Age: 23
Race:Labrynnan
Abilities/Special Training: Expert scout and skirmisher, good at pathfinding/tracking. Good show with his crossbow, good with his short blade, staff and arm as weapons. Is a walking mana battery. Basic tank driving.
Weapons: Crossbow, Self powered magic Staff, short sword, hookshot. Mech arm.
Personality: A fairly friendly person, but has an ego problem that comes and goes with his inventions. Can be very nice, but also grating at times, mostly due to spending most of his time either in his workshop or more recently out scouting ahead of the Labrynnan army. Due to his somewhat reclusive nature, he has not been as taken in with Varens propaganda and questions what his people are doing. Is inquisitive by nature.
History: Victor Page is a second generation Labrynnan refugee. Having been born in the western end of Horon, the same as his parents. From an early age Victor has shown several interesting abilities, the first being interested in nature, spending much of his time either wandering the woods or listening to the natives talk about nature and how to listen to it. He never quite understood what they meant about the maku but understood many of the other lessons. Once he was a bit older he discovered his love for inventing, not surprising for his people. However, he quickly learned something, he was not very good at it. He had come up with many wonderful ideas, yet they either did not work, had no real use or flat out blew up in his face. Only two things he made have ever worked right, His mechanical arm and his Staff.
The first, his arm, was something he had been working on for a long time, part of a project to build a new type of mech. Smaller and faster. For years he struggled but he never got even the arm to work as he couldn’t power it with anything but the huge steam engines that needed the large suits to carry them. But one day he got it working with the help of a friend he had made, Neria of the winter caste. She had been everything he was not, calm and respectful, not to mention brilliant beyond belief. It was her knowledge that got the arm work and her help that got it attached. It was with her skills, and knowledge of magic that he learned about the massive reserve of magic inside of him. Though no matter what she taught him he could never cast even the simplest of spells. He was able to ‘flow’ his magic into things, however, powering them. It’s how he powers his arm. He attached the arm to himself after a practically bad day that left his arm broken and burned, with no other option he had Neria attach the prototype arm to his body.
After years of work they made his staff, its powers centered around Victor's unique ability. By flowing magic into the staff he can cause many different effects, making the end glow, leaving globs of light, discharging energy in wide bursts or tight beams and many other effects.
Life had been going great, until however, he found that Neria had been betrothed to another. He was confused and upset, many emotions swirling through his mind. It was no wonder that when he learned about his peoples home being restored he didn’t hesitate to return. One of the first things he did was join into the newly remade military. Of course, due to his peoples distrust of magic and the fact that they tend to look down on those who use and relay on it, he kept the source of his arm and staff a secret, claiming that they were new breakthroughs that he alone had made.
At first he had joined the tank division, but was quickly removed after several incidents. He was then transferred into the pathfinder division, something that he did very well. All the years he had spent learning about paths, plants and tracking combined with his new military training and knowledge of Horon made him perfect for deep scouting missions. These missions took him far into Horon territory, finding places for campsites, ambushes, supplies that could be gathered and other important information. It was on one such mission that he now found himself.
Other: Carries random bit’s of junk, scrap and other odds and ends that he tinkers with. Always seem to have some invention that might help but 9/10 times it does not work.
Arm/staff has several functions and is made out of Grown Horon steel, making it quite resilient.
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User: gaiachild
Name: Ember
Age: Many tens of seasons
Race: Kokiri
Abilities: Has knowledge about everything needed to survive in the wilderness, a good rider (on wolfos), and while still small by Hylian standards, taller and more muscular than the average Kokiri, her mature body allowing for a great acrobatic ability.
Weapons: Spear, bow, dagger.
Personality: After years of living in the now and serving her tribe, she has gone off to discover herself, ever curious.
History: With her original home destroyed in a Lizalfos attack during the early days of the endless winter, a severed connection to the deku tree causing her body to mature to an unusual extend, Ember was a part of a small tribe that, after been driven out by the Kokiri due to a misunderstanding, went on a long and dangerous journey through Lizalfos territory and most of the Ordonian plains. Recently, the tribe was forced to abandon their latest home and returned to the Kokiri forest, where they were welcomed. While the rest of her tribe has joined the internal struggles of the Kokiri, Ember has found herself not fitting in and left again, heading east to find what she is looking for.
History: (In case link is broken, the history can be found in post #902 on page 46).
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Username: Athreon
Name: Torgo
Age: 400+ years (Appears 14)
Race: Kokiri
Abilities/special training: Has been an expert archer for most of his 400 years, and one would be hard pressed to find his equal. Due to participating in many wars against the Lizalfos, Wolfos, and more recently against the Gohma, he has become proficient with camouflage and has much experience with guerrilla warfare. Can use his twin hunting knives to good effect in an ambush, but can't hold out in an extended hand to hand fight against a skilled opponent. Due to fighting Wolfos on many occasions, he has become known for his tracking skills as well. Enjoys playing his violin.
Weapons: a Kokiri Emerald archer's bow and twin hunting knives.
Personality: Prone to mood swings, usually between the cheerfulness of a child and the solemnity of an ancient soldier.
History: Torgo has been a soldier as long as he can remember. Shortly after he was created, the area of the forest he lived in was attacked by a group of Lizalfos. The attack was repelled, and the young Kokiri discovered he could fight. He approached the Great Deku tree about becoming a dedicated defender of the forest, and was granted his wish. Over the coming decades, Torgo became a prestigious archer and commander of men. It was not long before he was offered adulthood in the form of a Korok. Much to the Great tree’s surprise, Torgo requested that he remain a child. After questioning the Kokiri, the Great Deku tree discovered that Torgo had a desire to see more than the forest, and it would be easier for other races to relate to him if he remained in his child-like form. His wishes granted, Torgo became an important link to the outside world for the Deku tree in times of need. However, Torgo did not get to spend as much time travelling as he wished, only accumulating four years worth of time abroad in his four centuries of life.
During the Gohma invasion, Torgo took the initiative in the war, leading very successful ambushes and strategic strikes against the spiders. This war, however, cost him more than any had before. He had seen many Kokiri die on numerous occasions, but death by Lizalfos or Wolfos was usually quick, nothing like the suffering brought about by Gohma poison. It was at this time that Torgo had learned something he had never truly experienced before, how to hate. The Ancient Kokiri began to fight for more than just the defense of his home, he wanted to kill them. After the tide was turned and the Gohma invasion was fought off, Torgo tried to return to a normal life, as he had countless times before. But instead he found himself waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, jumping at every shadow. He couldn’t feel safe anywhere, always expecting a Gohma to jump out and attack, even though he knew they no longer attacked that part of the forest. So he decided to occupy himself in a new way, as a mentor. He would help newly created Kokiri learn what they could expect in these dark times, and how to see hope through it. He became particularly fond of one child. He taught her and talked with her and became somewhat of a father figure, despite some difficulties she faced. Then one day, she disappeared.
For two months Torgo has been searching for the young girl, to no avail. But one does not live four centuries and give up after so short a time.
Username: Athreon
Name: Mariel
Age: 20 (Appears and acts about 10)
Race: Kokiri
Ailities\special training: An extremely adept thief. If she gets caught, it is usually when she is impaired in some way or when she wants them to catch her. Comparable, if not equal to, a Sheika. Also is a decent shot with a slingshot.
Weapons: A slingshot and a shortsword.
Personality: Despite her thieving habits, she is actually a kind-hearted person. This is often covered by a cocky and self assured act when she is comfortable with a situation. However, should she be in danger, she often breaks down, as she is still a child. She desires to be a good person, but her talents are often directed in the wrong direction, though she may try to justify it to herself.
History: Her life in the forest before leaving is unknown to all but a few.
Other: Is excellent at playing her flute, and carries it wherever she goes.
Theme:
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Username:SilverLich
Name: Valan Danar
Age: 28
Race: Horonian
Abilities/Special Training: A proficient swordsman, his skills depend on which personality is in control during a fight. His 'summer' personality is wild and unpredictable, just as likely to kill his foes slowly as he would quickly, and in ways that even he would rather not know. 'Winter' is the exact opposite, professional and preferring to end things quickly in ways that leave as little a mess as possible. Basic training as a commander
Weapon(s):Mother's ancestral Shichishito
Personality: After finally being accepted into the caste he longed to be a part of for so long, Valan has mellowed out a bit compared to how he was during the rebellion. While he still has some leftover resentment for the hegemony, most of it in Summer and Winter, he is as loyal as they come, especially to Rintaro. He fears what the the third personality created from the combination of Summer and Winter is capable of, as the only thing he can really describe it as is chaos, chaos that craves the power that gives it form.
History: Being born a child of summer with hair the color of winter was something that made a young Valan a pariah to almost every everyone save the mystics of Horon. Everyone wondered weather he would remain a son of summer or be taken as a son of winter, though none, not even his parents, dared voice an opinion, leaving his fate in the hands of the mystics. The mystics eventually decided to allow him to remain as a part of the Hora Sōhei, having no idea what to do with a child born of one season, but with signs that it's opposite favored him, but as he grew, a feeling of doubt came over him that the mystics had been reluctant to even allow him to be a part of either caste. When he was 8, whilst returning home from training, he over heard the group of mystics that had decided his fate conversing.
Many of them agreed that they had made a mistake, and should have taken the boy in to become a mystic, that nature must have intended for him to become one of them if it had blessed him as it had. Some voiced their doubts that it was a good idea to take him from his path now, but they came to an agreement that they could not let an opportunity such as him go to waste, those touched by nature like him were rare. The mystics came to him the next day, and told him that his training as a warrior of the summer caste had come to an end and he would begin his training to become a mystic, leaving only half of his training complete, and memories and skills he never wanted to forget. Thus was born Summer, a warrior unbound by the mind of a tactician who was everything he had been led to believe was a warrior, youth that refused to allow his training to go to waste and did not want to forget the only thing he ever knew. As the Mystics trained him, they taught him to forget the ways of the warrior, to embrace the path of the mystic, but he felt no connection, and while he was taught the necessary skills to be one of those who were attuned to nature, Summer tried to make him remember what he originally was, any while he wanted desperately to go back to what he once was, he knew the mystics would not allow it.
Winter came early to him in the form of his second personality, his training to become attuned to the nature countering his repressed memories of a sole season, bringing about it's opposite, and he secretly continued his studies of the Hora Sōhei, but not even this would last, two of the mystics who had decided his fate twice now attempting to put a stop to him, only to be slain. He returned to his home soon after in the dead of night, and stole his father's armor and the blade that had been passed down along his mothers line, and vowed that he would see the Hegemony changed, or burn it to ashes.
After the savage upheaval: the end of the rebellion saw the return of Valan to the fold that was the hegemony that he sought to burn not too long ago. With the desire to see the mystics killed gone from his mind, he has begun his training in earnest to take his place among the sohei of horon and redeem himself for the actions he had done during the rebellion. Despite this, Summer and Winter still remain within his mind, strong as ever, and although he has managed to quell their own desire to see the hegemony burn, they have made it clear to him and anyone who wishes to see them gone that they will be staying part of their host as seperate aspects of his being.
Despite this, they have yet to 'combine' into the third unnamed personality that revealed itself in the confrontation with the dark fairy in the capitol and almost did in the presence of the corrupted sohei Gero. The two are intrigued by the existance of this third form, and are eager to see what exactly it is and why it seems to bring only the two of them together. As it doesn't manifest itself without the presence of something of a powerful chaotic or dark nature, they have spent what little time they can find to control his body without him knowing trying to find the dark fairy that started it all or osmething similar to the corrupted sohei that lead the rebellion.
Other: Has gotten better control over Summer and Winter, now able to call on their aid more easily than usual without losing total control, but still manages to be overpowered by them on occasion. When the two do take control, they prefer to use the side of the blade more suited to their style while Valan uses the whole thing, Summer prefers the more jagged, serrated side, while Winter prefer the more refined, sharpened side.
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User Name: Zectorman
Name: Manfred Voran
Age : 34
Race: Labrynnan
Abilities/Training: Trained Blacksmith, journeyman engineer. Handy with a firearm (taught by father, trained in Labrynnan military) Sword skills learned while living in the Darknut empire’s Gerudo desert. Trained Labryannan Pilot
Weapons: Gerudo Shamshir , old Labrynnan pistol. Refurbished Mech.
Personality: Inquisitive, bright, though unsure of himself. The only times where he is completely focused on the present is when he is in a fight or working on his gear. He is kind hearted but war has shaken him.
History: Manfred was born in the Darknut Empire, in the gerudo desert where various Labrynnan refugee’s had settled after the mass migration centuries ago. Tan and lean like a native of the desert he is still very much labrynnan. Taught by his father, who worked as a blacksmith for the gerudo and the empire as a whole, he learned how to fix and build things. Later in his childhood his father taught him the secret crafting techniques of his people; learning of machines and their wonders. His blood screamed in excitement, something that should have been alien to him was somehow all too familiar. Him and his father were very popular amongst the Gerudo for coming up with clever simple machines to create new wells and fix ancient structures. Never showing their true abilities thought.
Learning sword play growing up with Gerudo girls and learning to shoot with his dad in a hidden area of the desert, Manfred became a very well rounded adult. He was living a simple life, ready to inherit his father’s shop and live comfortably in the sun. Normal by any circumstance, but it was the call of Ambi that changed that. Honor and the thrill of returning to his famed homeland took him and his family back to Labrynna. Taking residence in a home once belonging to his family (or what his father believed to be their old family home) Manfred quickly learned he was to be drafted into the Labrynnan military; to take back the land stolen, to take back their heritage. It sounded logical to him, and he wanted to feel like he would make a difference.
In the mass boot camps, various labrynnan descendants learned the ways of Labrynnan warfare once again. The shadowed eyes of the Royal guard of Queen Ambi would watch the recruits and teach them the skills of killing. He never really liked his trainer, he first figured it was the yelling and screaming of a military instructor, common in any military, but he came to realize later that something was off about those closest to the Queen. The Queen herself was seen rarely, making vague speeches and introducing her mysterious advisor, Veran. But all the questions were drummed out of his mind by the military drill. He was one of the best in his training class and with having some knowledge of engineering he was entered into the Mech program. He was permitted to pilot one of bronze giants, the hammer of the Labrynnan military, mechs. IT was an honor for him as a Machinist and as a Labryannan. Time was then spent tinkering and repairing one of the ancient mechs, it was his mech though his responsibility. He would not have it any other way. But the silver days of training and working on his beloved machine eventually came to an end, and so began the grand campaign and all the blood shed that came along with it. Being a mech pilot meant you went were the fighting was thickest…And only a few battles in and Manfred has already become sick to his stomach. It began with driving Horonians out, then subjugating race after race. This was not the glory he thought he would bring, this was conquest. Manfred now sits on the front lines, contemplating whether his people were doing what was right. Time not spent fighting was spent thinking about what he had done or driving out the thoughts by working on his beloved machine.
Other gear: Various tools for maintenance, including spanners and a clockwork screwdriver.
Theme:
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Username: Brihentin13
Name: Onirix
Race: Mixed race Sheikah/Ordonian
Abilities/Special Training: Decent survival skills, intimate knowledge of the Lost Woods, high tolerance to pain, extreme skill at magic, undisciplined melee skills
Weapons: Steel hand axe(dubious quality, looted), Sheikah dagger(great quality but short reach, used more as an everyday knife than a weapon, looted), his own magic skills, and a walking stick carved of fine wood that can be used as a surprisingly effective bludgeon in extreme circumstances
Personality: Years of torture, isolation, and the soul merge have made Onirix somewhat insane and unpredictable. Though typically “good” in his intentions, he takes a little too much joy in combat. Prone to fits of violent rage, he displays a certain a sadistic glee in destroying his enemies, often taunting them and hacking their bodies to shreds with his somewhat blunt axe long after he has already killed them with his magic. Insanity aside, simple isolation has led to a distinct lack of social skills. Having only been around his torturers, wild animals, and the occasional bandit, Onirix is distrustful of strangers, and even if he did trust a person, he likely would lack be quite akward around them, having never had a real conversation. Despite not liking people, Onirix tends to look out for the little guy, their oppression reminding him of his own years of torture. As such, he is blatantly disrespectful of any form of authority, meaning that his forays into civilization may be unpleasant until he can control his anger. He must fight his hardest to simply hold back the urge to “liberate” the lower classes from their overlords. That is *NOT* to say that he is what we could call a “Marxist”. Quite the contrary, Onirix loves participating in free trade, whenever he doesn‘t accidentally scare away the merchants. He simply despises the oppressive nature of feudal society or any caste system and would happily depose any remotely tyrannical group, given the opportunity.
History:
Those who defy the Cadre pay a horrible price. Such was the tale of a Sheikah Master known simply as “Rix”. This assassin was tasked with the murder of several targets in the Ordona Province. However, one of his targets turned out to be a beautiful young woman whom Rix fell in love with. Together, the couple wed and fled Rix’s old comrades. The Cadre was less than pleased, for not only had Rix forsaken his duty, he was breaking centuries of strict Shiekah mating tradition by eloping with this outsider.
After several years on the run, the Cadre finally caught up to the outlaws. Rix and his wife were slain, but the assassins now had to decide the fate of their five year old son, who bore the signature red eyes of the Sheikah, but the rounded ears on an Ordonian. The child was taken back to the Shadow Temple, where he became the Sheikah’s most ambitious experiment in recorded history. With the help of a few particularly pragmatic members of the Wizzrobe, the child was repeatedly exposed to and infused with myriad magical energies, particularly the dark energies of the Shadow Temple. The intention of this painful process was to create a vessel for summoning the Fierce Diety into the mortal plane. While unpredictable at best, the Sheikah hoped that Onigami would immediately seek out his old enemy, Majora, and destroy it and its followers on a tide of blood. Then, if the Deity proved unreasonable, he could be killed in his weakened state after such a battle.
Years of cruel experimentation later, the child, now a young man, was deemed fit to finally be the vessel needed for the ritual. Having never been released from his cell and experiments, this young man had a lifetime’s worth of long black hair and a great bushy beard that would put many an old hermit to shame. Deep in the bowels of the Shadow Temple, the vessel was chained, flat on his back, between four pillars, in a basin designed to hold sacrificed blood. Arranged around him were four sacrificial altars with canals to direct the blood down into the basin. Behind each basin stood a statue, each representing one of the four giants of Termina. The young man, who had not spoken in years, calmly stared at the ceiling, prepared for another day’s torture at the hands of his captors. His memories of his family faint, the vessel, who had forgotten his own name, lived only to irritate his torturers by refusing to show pain. This day, however, would not be like the others.
Four other prisoners, alleged followers of Majora who the Cadre had requisitioned from the Inquisition, were led into the chamber and secured upon the altars. Four Shiekah stood at the ready by said altars, ritual daggers in hand. Four Wizzrobe entered the chamber and took position next to the four pillars above the sacrificial basin. Several high-ranking Shiekah stood on a balcony high-above, hoping to bear witness to what would undoubtedly be the greatest accomplishment of their order. The balcony was protected by the strongest magical ward that the Wizzrobes could create, just in case this very dangerous ritual went wrong. Agahnmin himself stepped forward to speak to the vessel one last time.
“Any last words, worm?”
The taunt was met with the vessel’s typical silence. He did not even turn to face Agahnmin, continuing his cold stare at the ceiling.
“Hmph. In all of these years, I could never tell if you were resisting us or if we had truly broken you. For what it’s worth, I’ll miss you, half-breed. Playing tiddly-winks with your mind and body has been quite amusing.” The Sheikah master turned away and returned to the observation balcony. This normally cold and distant head of the Cadre seemed to be rather talkative this day. In a downright jovial tone he began a speech, “My sincerest thanks to all of those who have made this project possible. You are a credit to your respective orders. Today, our years of hard work will bear fruit. The Deity will be brought forth into our realm and will finally remove every trace of the goddess mocker from our land. May this disgusting half-breed’s body give rise to a better future. You may begin the ritual.”
The Wizzrobes began an indecipherable chant in ancient Hylian and each sacrifice had a dagger plunged deep into their hearts. Their blood down into the basin, where it appeared to burn the vessel wherever it touched his skin. The vessel held firm in his silence, refusing to even flinch, until he was completely submerged in blood. At this point, the pool of blood began to glow, and the muffled screams of the vessel could be heard through the water. The glowing water appeared to boil, disintegrating the part of the chains that it touched. Several back-up Wizzrobes began frantically spraying frost magic into the pool, hoping to prevent it from sinking through the very foundation of the temple. However, their intervention was far too little, far too late.
The vessel burst forth from the pool, splashing lava-hot water upon the closest Wizzrobes, instantly burning away their eyes and any other flesh and clothing that it touched. Those lucky enough to be behind the barrier or just not get splashed were shocked at what stood before them. The ritual appeared to be successful, for the vessel’s hair had turned white and his eyes were purely white, just as the legends described the Deity. Strangely enough, the boiling blood has burned away his clothes, but not one inch of his hair or skin. Before anyone had a chance to even utter a word to this new god, the disaster that many had feared struck. The monster struck out in a blind rage, releasing a blast of pure shadow in all directions. Those outside the barrier were annihilated at a molecular level, and the barrier itself shattered. The dumbfounded survivors behind the barrier were knocked back by sheer concussive force, and could do nothing but watch as the beast charged straight through wall after wall on his way out of the temple. Agahnim quickly jumped to his feet and attempted to mobilize a pursuit, but unfortunately, the monster had plowed right through Bongo Bongo’s cage. The Sheikah were forced to put their hunt on hold while they subdued Bongo Bongo.
After the rage subsided, the vessel found himself deep in the Lost Woods, with several dead highwaymen, deku scrubs, and a Sheikah around him. Cold, confused, and naked, the host looted some clothes, food and weapons before running off into the night. After some time, he calmed down and did his best to put his thoughts together. He was a Sheikah/Ordonian half-breed. The Cadre killed his parents and experimented on him for years. Then the Cadre did.. something to him before he experienced a pain unlike anything he had before. He became angry and then felt extraordinary power coursing through his veins, so he lashed out on his captors and now he was…here. In the woods. Lost. Alone. Still, the situation wasn’t all bad. He was free for the first time in years, and this seemingly infinite forest seemed as good a place as any to hide from the Sheikah. What bothered him, however, was this new urge, not just to be free, but to destroy a darkness to the south. Could this darkness be the “Majora” that his captors often spoke of?
“Yes! Majora! I will crush him and drink the blood of his followers!” rang out a voice in the darkness. Surprised, the man drew his recently looted hand axe and yelled out.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!”
“Relax dear boy, there is no one out there. The voice is within. I am spirit of wrath in service to the Fierce Deity. I am called an “Oni” by some. You may call me whatever you wish. I am he who released you from the bonds of those idiot Shiekah. I have protected you from their pursuit and from anyone else foolish enough to cross us.”
“I’m not sure I like having someone inside my head…”
The voice laughed maniacally.
“Well then, it’s a good thing that I’m not in your head. I’m in your soul now, and I’m afraid you won’t be getting rid of me.”
“What?”
“Yes child, the Sheikah and their little bird friends attempted to bring my master into the mortal plane so that he could do their bidding and fight Majora. However, we spirits are much more difficult to control than that. The Deity simply did not wish to be summoned. He has better things to do than meddle in mortal affairs. The idea of Sheikah commanding a god amused him greatly however, so he decided to reward their hard work with a little prank. He sent me, one his many servants, to take this new host, kill several Sheikah, and then to do my best at guiding my host.”
“So I’m possessed now? I escape Sheikah captivity just to be your slave?” The man roared in rage as several trees around him simply split in two. The Deity laughed again.
“Oh, that’s great boy! Use your anger! Ours is the fury! But, no, you are not my slave, at least not in a psychical sense. You see, by neglecting to remove your soul from this body, they have jammed our very essences together. Soon, we will both cease to be in many respects. We will merge. As the host soul, you will likely retain most of your free will, but I will always be there, in your subconscious. We will be one mind, together, forever. I look forward to bonding with you, my little soul friend. It will be so nice to kill again.”
“But wait I..”
“There’s no use fighting it boy. It can’t be stopped. If I had the choice, I would discard you here and get back to the fighting, but alas, we are stuck together until this body dies. And who knows, with me in here, we might just be immortal! Now stop whining and get some rest. We grow weary of our exertions. And for Din’s sake, forgot using that pitiful axe in melee. You know we lack the muscle mass or training to be truly effective. We should use our magic. Remember the Sheikah experiments? Yes, you fool, our blood is practically a blue potion at this point. As we merge further, my memories will help you to wield that power. Hopefully you can learn a thing or two about my martial strength as well, you weakling.”
Three years have passed since that fateful conversation. The wrath spirit has gone silent, becoming increasingly part of the vessel’s consciousness, just as he predicted. Now imbued with many of the Deity’s memories and desires, the vessel has taken on the hybrid name “Onirix” as tribute to both his past and his new personality. His magic skills have grown, and such power kept him alive long enough to learn basic wilderness skills as well. Unfortunately, with no real way to learn, his melee skills still consist of wild, undisciplined chops with his axe. Regardless, the hybrid feels that he is now ready to take on Majora’s followers and any Sheikah dumb enough to resume their hunt for him. Driven by the former wrath spirit’s lust for battle, hatred of Majora, and the former vessel’s eventual goal of punishing the Cadre, he now ventures beyond the Lost Woods, hoping to gain information as to the current state of the land…
Other:
The Name: “Onirix” is a hybrid name, taking the familiar “Oni” from Japanese, meaning demon, and “Rix” from old Gallic,(I’m talking Gaul, not Ireland) meaning king. It is similar to the Latin “Rex”. As such, placed together, the name roughly translates to “Demon King”. Obviously, Onirix tends more towards the Asian meaning of demon, being something powerful and difficult to understand, though not necessarily “evil”, although it should be noted that his sadistic nature does occasionally lend itself to the more common Western perception of demon. In the end, Onirix is a “good guy“, an antihero of sorts. His methods are just extreme, ala Marvel’s “Punisher” character, with, perhaps, a wee bit of “Deadpool”.
Pretty Damn Tough: Onirix’s years of torture have given him perspective on the true meaning of pain. As such, his pain tolerance is quite high. This is good in the short term, but he may not even realize the severity of some wounds until he literally passes out or even dies. This ability has another use because of the trait below.
Power Equals Pain: Onirix’s otherwise limitless power is severely handicapped by his own mortal flesh. The usage of any spell draws upon the magical strength infused into his bloodstream. As such, using his powers causes pain. While he can shrug off the pain of lesser spells, like a little lightning bolt here or there, using his power for extended periods or using particularly powerful spells takes a severe toll on his body. His iron will allows him to fight through a lot of pain for a time, but eventually he will simply collapse from the exertion.
Alcohol Fail: Much to his dismay, Onirix’s magical blood appears to utterly cancel out the effects of alcohol. This is unfortunate because he would love more than anything to escape his troubles in drinking. As it stands, liquor is just flavored water to him.
Akward: Onirix has been living alone in the woods for three years trying to reconcile with the merging of his souls and trying to make sense of the spirit’s memories and the vessel’s torture. The man isn’t so good with people.
Liberator: Onirix is rather likely to jump into any rebellion he finds that sounds remotely just. He has an unreasonable hatred of authority and is very dangerous because of this.
Blind, Horrifying Rage: Should Onirix become too involved in battle or too wounded, there is a chance, however remote, of him losing all control of his faculties. The remnants of the wrath spirit in his subconscious will take control and kill indiscriminately until his mortal body is in pieces or he snaps out of it. Onirix is eternally vigilant of losing himself to…well…himself.
Lonely: Alone since his parent’s death, Onirix yearns for companionship. Though mistrustful at first, he is likely to be fiercely loyal to anyone who manages to befriend him.
Friend to the Animals!: Other than some large game that he viewed as adorable food, (survival of the fittest and all) Onirix has been remarkably kind to the denizens of the Lost Woods, often nursing wounded animals back to health and even playing with them. This is his soft spot, the last kind part of his soul. Onirix understands animals and can bond with them quite easily, much more easily than he can with people. His normally cold demeanor instantly melts away upon the sight of anything furry.
Shadow Fist: Frankly, Onirix sucks at melee combat and tries to keep his distance until an opponent is subdued, although he does have one trick up his sleeve for an emergency, the Shadow Fist. This incredibly powerful technique is so painful that he typically blacks out upon the fist’s impact, but it does the job on nearly anything. Drawing his fist back, he focuses all of his hatred into a single, crushing blow infused with the darkest magic of the Shadow plane(Think Super Smash Bros. Ganondorf, just more dramatic and far more costly). He draws upon so much power that he doesn’t even need to hit the target with his hands, for the cascade of energy will likely annihilate anything within forty feet. This power is an absolute *last* resort for Onirix, as he will pass out and likely be out of commission for a week or more, depending on how much force he was able to unleash. Repeated use of the Shadow Fist will likely lead to his death. The strain is simply too much for a mortal to take.
Almost Normal Looking: The faint memories of the Deity’s servant and the vessel’s limited knowledge of the Ordonian and Sheikah races have caused a realization in Onirix, that is, that he will stick out like a sore thumb upon leaving the forest. He has cut his messy hair to a practical length, though it is still a bit long for high society. He has also, through great effort and blood loss, trimmed his wild beard into a neat goatee. While his hair(and facial and body hair) is still white, his eyes have returned to Sheikah red. To throw off any assassins still looking for an Ordanian/Sheikah hybrid, he wears an ancient pair of darkened Labrynnan goggles that he looted from a random bandit. All in all, he now looks like an unremarkable Ordonian vagabond, though his white hair and goatee are a bit weird.
Themes:
Ambient:Quoth the Raven
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fXmSvHJNQU
Battle:Havoc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YT-j3CSkmQ
