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[Shadow Star]
Eshayra
Rune
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Species: ½ gyrfalcon anthro, ½ angel
Height: 5’3”
Appearance:
Eshayra is somewhat strange to look upon, the daughter of
a hawk anthro and an angel. Her wings are those of a gyrfalcon,
white feathers tipped with black, large for her short stature.
She has a tail as well, white feathers touched with black
peeking out from beneath a heavy wool gray cloak that covers
a too-thin body clad in neutral gray. Long white hair tipped
with black flows unfettered down her back, save for a tight,
thin braid along her face where a gyrfalcon feather flutters
with each passing breeze. Her eyes are a strange mix of
human and raptor, sharp gold-rimmed black staring out from
an almond-shaped frame. At times her gaze is as piercing
as a true falcon, but then the soul-riveting eyes turn darkly
inward, touched with a heavy shadow of melancholy and the
bitter fire of self-loathing.
Guild
& Rank: Wanderer Artisan - she specializes in painting
and dancing.
Personality:
Eshayra is an empath of incredible Talent, able to pick
up the tiniest nuances of emotion through medium shields.
Some might call it a gift; she names it a curse. She’s
had a minimal amount of empathy training, enough so she
can put up a shield but it doesn’t hold out any strong
emotion… The empathy has influenced much of her personality.
She is unable to get angry at anyone, because she can sense
the emotion they feel and can thus understand why they do
or say things that might otherwise anger her. She’s
softspoken, avoids conflict like a plague, and is one of
the nicest and kindest people one might meet, mostly due
to the empathy. She can’t go without helping someone
in need because she feels their need as if it’s her
own. She can’t be mean or speak harshly - or at least
can’t do that without being mortified for doing such
- because she can sense another’s hurt at her actions
or words. In fact, she can read everyone so well that her
own self is lost in the flood of emotion and -other- that
the only person she can’t read, the only person she
can’t tell the truth about and does not know... is
herself. She can blame no one else for occurrences but she
can blame herself. She can become angry with no one else
but herself, she can hate none but herself… So she
has an incredibly low self esteem, to the point of self-hate.
Family
Aylana Rune ~ Mother ~ Master Artisan ~ Angel ~ 47
Eshyon Ghostwing ~ Father ~ Master Mage ~ Gyrfalcon Anthro
~ 50
Aylon Stormfeather ~ Brother ~ Apprentice Mage ~ 13
Bio:
Eshayra was born in StarScape, the oldest child of Aylana
Rune and Eshyon Ghostwing. Her mother taught her the arts
and her father explained some principles of magic. Her MageTalent
showed itself all in a single night when she turned 13,
and the shock of it nearly rendered her braindead. Her father
managed to bring her out of it with the help of healers
and an empath, and the empath taught her some basic shielding
before she fled into the mountains at 14 from the incessant
barrage of emotion. She lived there for years without human
contact, rescuing a gyrfalcon chick and raising it like
her own. Various wanderers who braved the woods have caught
sight of a ghost-white bird-woman with a magnificent falcon
on her arm, and some travelers who have needed aid, whether
it be direction out of the confusing wilderness or medical
help, have received it from Eshayra.
Pet's
Name: Shyra
Species: Gyrfalcon
Description: Shyra is a bold female gyrfalcon who loves
the hunt and is extremely protective of "her"
Eshayra. She's very wary of anyone other than Eshayra.
Voleta
/ Amaia
Age: 30-something…?
Gender: Female
Species: Half-dragoon, half-angel
Loyalty:
Voleta: Loosely Unity
Amaia: Loosely Chaos
Appearance:
Voleta/Amaia is a strange mix of angel and dragoon: tall,
with the fine-boned facial structure, almost elven, of the
dragoon; long, artistic fingers; slightly tapered ears;
long hair, dark brown like fresh-turned loam; eyes the blue
of a summer sky, shifting sometimes to a troubled gray-blue,
or even to a perturbed green; pale skin, more pastel olive
than white… and of course, the wings. At first glance
they’re angel wings, soft gray like the touch of false
dawn or the approach of a storm, but a closer look reveals
the truth: her wings have the structure of a dragoon’s
draconic wings. The ribbing is entirely covered with dark
gray feathers, almost black, concealing the tight wing muscles,
but only soft pale-silvery down covers the wingsails.
But
when Amaia is in control, her Chaotic nature shows through
in long black hair tinged with red highlights and eyes the
chill gold of an assassin’s pay.
Voleta
tends to wear greens and blues, comfortable breeches and shirts
overlayed with velvet robes. She carries a staff, twisted
oak wrapping around a shifting pearly orb, and a satchel of
herbs and medicines, tools of her trade.
Amaia
tends towards reds and blacks, dresses and blouses that
allow for movement but also show off her svelte form. She
knows the power she can have over the male race--to her,
it's just one more tool to be used to gain control. She
carries a mage's staff, really the same staff Voleta carries
but the pearl-white orb has shifted to chaotic red, and
the oaken haft darkens to twisted black...
Guild:
Healer
Description
of Guild Rank/Faction:
Actually, Voleta's a Healer (using a combination of magic
and herbs)... Journeywoman. Amaia's a Chaos-mage (journeywoman).
Personality:
Voleta: Timid, very unsure of herself (and with an extremely
low opinion of herself). She doesn't handle stress or violence
too well, and is prone to frequent "blackouts"
- or that's what she thinks, anyway. She's more than a bit
of a martyr, giving more than she can to help out others,
frequently pushing herself past her magely abilities. She
refuses to touch any magic other than that necessary to
healing, and doesn't know anything about weaponry or fighting.
She's very good with animals, children, and the frightened
or mad, but tends to cringe and back away when confronted
with anger or hostility.
Amaia:
The complete opposite of Voleta. She's strong-willed, manipulative,
and without many morals. There are a few things
she will not tolerate, however... namely, rape or sexual
molestation. That is how she came into being, after all;
that was the cause for Voleta's personality split. As chaotic
and Chaotic as she might be, Amaia is still Voleta's "protector",
coming forth when Voleta can't handle the stress of a situation.
She's also the "release valve" for all of Voleta's...
darker impulses. Amaia likes control, /needs/ control, and
will stoop to very low levels to get it...
Mother:
Vraila ~ Master Healer ~ 59 ~ Angel
Father:
Birth father: Unknown. Dragoon.
Mother's Husband: Rinnlain ~ Master Bard ~ 63 ~ Angel
Half-Siblings:
Erlan ~ Journeyman Bard ~ 26 ~ Angel
Rilla ~ Apprentice Druid ~ 17 ~ Angel
Full-Siblings: Unknown
Biography:
No one knows for sure how Voleta was conceived, except for
maybe her parents... but she's never met her birth father,
and her mother's not telling. No one even knows quite how
old Voleta is. All that's known by the residents of her
home village of Cloudsreach, a small mountain town peopled
with almost exclusively angels, is that her mother came
into town with a half-dragoon child at her heels and took
up residence, setting up a healer's shop. She was viewed
with suspicion for quite a time--an angel with what appeared
to be a bastard child, with no husband, and a very closed
mouth--but as time went by the people of Cloudsreach came
to accept Vraila (she gave no last name) as a useful, if
not precisely admired, part of their town.
In
time, a visiting bard, Rinnlain, met Vraila and was entranced.
He successfully courted her, they were married, and had two
children.
Voleta,
meanwhile, was the target of much torment by the village children,
and the adults (seeing her as the product of shame and sin)
turned a blind eye. Rinnlain's entrance into her life didn't
help much; he treated her as a necessary nuisance, ignoring
her when possible. Vraila consumed all his affections; he
wanted no reminder of any previous...occurances.
No
one knows for sure what happend on the fateful night
of Voleta's 16th year. Voleta herself doesn't even remember...
but dark images still haunt her dreams. Flashes, hints of
memory quickly repressed--a day-long hike, escaping into the
wild from the smirking glances of the townsfolk; a gathering
of herbs; an evening return; harsh laughter on the town's
border; and then... cruel touches, her own screams, pain,
blood, repeated violations - and a door unlocking in her mind,
in her soul, an explosion of power...
All
she recalls in waking hours, however, are the stern glares
of the town leaders, the teary eyes of the mothers of injured
or slain or mind-torn boys, utter confusion in her consciousness,
and anger. So much anger, all directed at her, and
what did she do...?
It
was magic, she learned. Magic exploding from her and killing
and maiming and ripping minds to insanity. Her fault. Hers!
She was told never to do magic again. She was told to
leave. She was given provisions for a day or two, allowed
to gather her belongings (clothing, staff, mount)--and then
shown out of Cloudsreach.
That's
when the blackouts started. During times of stress, like when
she was attacked by bandits. Or the time that drunk started
touching her uncomfortably. Or when the Chaotic elf
showed up. Actually, that last was the longest blackout ever...
maybe he'd sent her into a coma or some sort of spelled sleep
for a number of years?
In
reality, when Voleta "blacks out", Amaia takes over.
She took over on that one night long ago, power bursting from
her and into the boys/men around her. She took over several
times after, and did again for a very long time when she met
a Chaos-mage named Korysk, an elf who taught her the ways
of magic, of Chaos, and of war.
And
of other things... things she hated him for, and when she'd
learned all she needed in order to gain control of those around
her, she attacked him. He was still too powerful for her,
but she escaped, and she'll grow more powerful than him eventually...
and then she'll have her revenge. On Korysk, on Cloudsreach,
on--everyone...
Tenral
Leafwind
Age: 256 years
Gender: Male
Species: Gnome
Height: 4'3"
Description:
Tenral is an average-sized gnome with a short, curly brown
beard and curly brown hair. His eyes are a startling green,
though usually calm. He is lean and fit, like many druids.
The gnome normally wears a dark brown jerkin and loose,
forest-green pants, as well as a silver wolf pendant. He
carries a brown leather quiver of green-fletched arrows
on his back, a standard sized bow slung across his shoulder,
and a strong, oak staff, glossy and dark in areas from long
use, in his callused hands.
Guild/
Rank: Changer druid under Tyrea
Personality:
Like many under Tyrea, Tenral is well-disciplined and quiet,
with an even temper and good judgement. He sometimes seems
aloof in his silence, causing many to stay apart from him
when he enters a populated area. Unlike many druids, however,
he stays near the capitol, by Tyrea's will, a guard for
the land creatures of the city.
Family
Mother:
Tara Windancer-Changer druid of Aeryon-806
Father: Kenol Firesight-Changer druid of Claeron-831
Siblings: None
Background:
Tenral was born in Kiridia, but felt called to Tyrea at
100 years of age. Being a gnome, he already knew the animal
languages. He rose to the Cleri rank after 70 years- Tyrea
is slow to raise rank. He began to study the tiger- a rarely
chosen animal, as its temper is volatile and difficult to
control the instincts of in First Change. 180 years passed
before the Land Goddess deemed him ready for First Change.
And when he finally did Change... the results were tragic.
The tiger instincts took over, and Tenral lost himself to
the big cat. When he came back to himself, there was blood
on his jaws and his paws, and his beloved animal companion,
the sardonic and mischievous tiger Flamestrype, lay dead.
Tenral denied the goddess Tyrea, screamed he wanted nothing
to do with her. And she granted him his wish...
Bond
Bond
Name: Korlirr
Bond Species: Kraenon
Already Bonded - Night Riders class
Bond
Descripton: A brown and white male wolf, fairly large, with
light brown eyes.
Bond
Personality: Very friendly and deliberate; loves to have fun;
dislikes being ridden.
Ability:
Turning insubstantial.
Geribec
Dokibaka
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Height: 5' 8"
Guild/Rank: Master knight, affiliation: Land.
Appearance:
Geribec is a relatively tall human, stocky but not fat-
muscle makes up most of his weight. His sandy-blonde hair
is cropped short so as not to fall into his dark brown eyes.
His darkly tanned face is square and his bushy eyebrows
heavyset, and he has a short goatee. He's a knight of land,
and thus wears green and brown, usually either metal or
leather armor and a tunic over dark brown breeches. A jagged
scar runs along his cheekbone, and a standard sword, well-balanced
and well-used, rests in a sheath at his belt. He also has
a harsh scar in his left shoulder that still often hurts,
from when Kyle Rimbrand threw a knife at him and hit him
in the shoulder with it, the sleep poison on it knocking
him out.
Personality:
Geribec is a major believer in many stereotypes and often
seems stuck in the past- he's a stickler for tradition and
somewhat of a male chauvenist. But for all that, he's an
excellent fighter, and fiercely loyal to land. He's got
a strong sense of justice - meaning he wants justice, and
wants it fast. His stereotyping dulls his sense of what's
right and what's wrong, though - he doesn't believe that
any from Chaos, any thieves, or any of the underworld can
be deserving of anything but torture, life imprisonment,
or death.
Family
Mother:
Tatiana - Master Healer - 60
Father: Gerak Dokibaka- Master Knight (retired)- Deceased
Siblings:
Kenral - Squire Knight of Fire - 24
Kenra - Journeywoman Healer - 24
Background:
Geribec was born in Cascadia Falls, where he was trained
in secret as a fighter against Chaos by his father. Once
Ryntan became king, he joined the ranks to push Chaos out
of Shadow Star. Afterwards, he served as a guard and patrolman
in Cascadia Falls, having several run-ins with the thief
leader and coming close to capturing him more than once.
Rimbrand became his special project, his main quarry, his
target. He even learned the thief's name, among other things...
At Aquatre's coronation, he was stabbed in the shoulder
by a thrown knife from Kyle, which also knocked him out
due to the sleep potion on it- as well as adding to his
already burning hatred. After Rimbrand bonded a royal, Geribec
grudgingly did his duty as a knight; when the king and thief
died, Geribec investigated it with the intense focus on
justice that is his trademark. He hasn't softened over the
years, though, nor become any less closeminded or chauvinistic.
Pet
Pet
name: Bounce - an unwanted, all-too-energetic sciuri who seems
to have attached herself to Geri. Although the knight can't
stand the "gods-damned gnawing furball," as he calls
the sciuri, Bounce won't leave him, often popping up at the
most inconvenient times and chattering or jumping on her claimed
human, which she calls "Geri" and sometimes "Gerilove".
*sweatdrop*
Pet Species: sciuri
Pet Name: Sunflare
Pet Species: fiery chestnut stallion - shire build
Kenral
Dokibaka
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Height: 5'9"
Appearance:
Tall. Sandy-blonde, brow-length hair, cut short in the back
lower half, falls into light brown eyes that are usually
cheery except when angry. Wiry body, not bulging with muscles
- he's not got the right build to ever have huge muscles-
but lean and taut. Tanned skin, whip-scarred back, scars
in various places. Usually wears the colors of fire- he
is / was a squire of fire. Carries a broadsword across his
back, black hilted with a ruby pommel, a well-used brown
leather sheath. Also a long knife.
Guild/Rank:
Ex-squire, once of the knights' guild.
Personality:
Although Kenral is Geribec's brother, he's the opposite
of the older knight in personality. Kenral has a strong
need for justice, but he also possesses mercy, and will
go to great lengths even at danger to himself to do what
he thinks is right. He's got a harsh temper and little self-control
when his emotions are inflamed - he's led by his own emotions.
He likes to joke and take a cheery view of the world, but
sometimes that's near-impossible.
Family
Mother:
Tatiana - Master Healer - 60
Father: Gerak Dokibaka- Master Knight (retired) - deceased
Siblings:
Kanra - Journeywoman Healer - 26 - Kenral's twin
Geribec - 31 - Male - Master Knight (land)
Background:
Born in Cascadia Falls, was a page at 9. Has had an obedience
problem all his life, disobeying whenever he disagrees with
an order. The punishment for disobedience in the knights'
guild is a flogging or beating by fists and / or feet. That
was what earned him his whip-scarred back. His disobedience
also kept him from rising to squire rank until 17. Although
competent, he never reached master rank because of an incident
when he was 20. A dragoon girl, Ashli, had been accused
and heavily flogged for crimes she didn't commit, then thrown
into a cell w/o a healing. Against strict orders from his
brother and other master knights, Kenral freed her and took
her to the healer's guild. This got him thrown out of the
Knights' Guild. Now... he's at a loss as to what he is,
what to do, what to do be. He's a general fighter, almost
a mercernary, a vigilante of sorts.
Kiranna
Windrunner
Age: 9
Gender: female
Species: Pterocentaur
Height: 3 ft at withers; 5 ft at head
Appearence:
Kiranna's equine body is the gangly form of a quarter horse
yearling, with a thick, full flaxen tail and a palamino's
soft, light-gold coat. Her face is often described as cherubic
- it has that innocent, adorable quality of many children
her age and younger. Kira's cream-pale hair is chin-length
and wildly untamed. The filly's clear blue eyes are large
and round, gazing at everything with a sense of wonder and
curiousity. Her flaxen-feathered wings are just barely large
enough to glide with and flutter off the ground for short
periods of time.
Personality:
"Precocious" is the best word to describe Kiranna's
personality - she has an insatiable, almost kender-like
curiousity and a love for play, but rarely recognizes the
consequences of any of her actions. She loves people of
all walks of life, and will often go up to a complete stranger
to say hello with that whole-hearted smile of hers that
is hard to scorn. This understandably creates a paranoia
of sorts in her mother, since Kira often slips off while
Tirala is occupied, and a frantic search always follows.
Kiranna has a hugely compassionate heart and a hard time
grasping negative concepts like vengeance, cruelty, and
battle. When she smiles, her whole face lights up- and she
smiles a lot.
Parents
Mother:
Tirala - Master Healer - 33
Father: Korros - Master Knight - Deceased
Siblings: None
Background:
Kiranna's father died in battle a month before her birth,
and so she never knew him. She and her mother live in a
house built for centaurs (wide, high doors; high ceilings;
box stall sorta things rather than bedrooms) in Cascadia.
While playing in the forest, Kira befriended Skitter, her
sciuri. Later, wandering the alleyways (not a place for
a filly, but she'd wandered off before Tirala noticed, like
usual), she found a wynd, Pounce. Skitter and Pounce get
on all right, but they're far from friends...
Pet
Pet names: Skitter and Pounce
Pet types: Skitter = Sciuri, Pounce = Wynd
NPC
Name:
Tirala Windrunner
Relation to persona: Mother
Location at present: Cascadia Falls
Altair
Firewing
Age: 563
Gender: Male
Species: Dragoon
Loyalty: Unity
Appearance:
Eyes the blue of a flame's heart often twinkle in this druid's
smile-lined face, one tanned from a lifetime in nature and
fiery places. His auburn hair is streaked with grey, cut
unevenly, singed here and there (ah, the problems with following
Claeryn...), generally sticking out every which way, and
braided where it's long enough. Here and there a feather
from his lingsi hangs from a braid, and the whole mess is
threaded through with beads and embroidery thread. Quite
the unusual look, over all. At least he's clean-shaven -
he can't risk facial hair, working so closely with fire
as he does. Any time he's tried growing a beard, it's gotten
singed off.
Altair
is fairly tall, a bit over six feet, and well-muscled, almost
bulky. His wings reach higher yet. It's hard to tell what
color they were originally, as they're covered in tattoos,
all reds and golds, designs of feathers and flames even on
the wingsails. And yet again there can be found the decorative
lingsi feathers and beads, hanging from his wings, apparently
secured by the process of sewing. Into the wing ribbing and
sails.
Yes.
Definitely a little odd looking, this druid.
He
customarily wears the red-orange-yellow colors of Claeryn,
trimmed in white and blue. Except... oh dear. Even here are
alterations. More designs, a different cut than normal. The
robes are belted at the waist by a beaded belt featuring an
intricate design of a fire dragon and a lingsi. The phoenix
design looks slightly faded, older than that of the lingsi,
and there seems to be space for another design as well, though
it's just bordered in flames as of yet. His feet are protected
by boots, scaly hide that looks to be from a wyvern or fire
dragon or some related fire-proof creature. Supple gloves
of the same bluefire-colored hide (and trimmed with, you guessed
it, lingsi down) rest either in his belt or on his taloned,
scaled hands.
His
robe is sleeveless, showing off still more tattoos that cover
his arms. On both, beginning where the scales on his hands
and wrists end, a brilliantly blue fire dragon tattoo curls
around his arms all the way to his shoulders. An armband of
scaly hide trimmed with apparently draconic teeth or claws
circles one bicep.
Oddly
enough, the rest of his body is lacking in tattoos, though
there are certainly enough scars for aesthetic interest (if
not always flattering in appearance, but then again, he doesn't
really seem to care too much about appearance. Especially
if his hair is any indication).
Altair's
weapons are the usual druidic bow and arrow, and a staff so
well-used and darkened with the oil of use that its origins
are indecipherable. The staff is (surprise!) carved with figures
of fire dragons, flame, and the occasional lingsi, with a
stylized phoenix near the top to represent Claeryn, and (again,
surprise) lingsi feathers and a dragon talon fluttering from
a braided string attached to the wood.
Guild/Rank:
Changer Druid of Claeryn
Personality:
The first impression most people get when they meet Altair
is that of, well, a partier. He loves to drink and can hold
his alcohol with the best of them; he likes his women, and
is handsome enough (despite his age) and charismatic enough
(perhaps because of it) that he gets laid regularly enough.
He laughs heartily and easily, an infectious guffaw that
seems nothing but sincere. The druid's always ready to hear,
tell, and retell a good joke (or some not so good ones;
he's not picky). He loves music and will sing along (tonelessly)
to any raunchy or raucous bar song, though he clams up and
calms up pretty quick when confronted with a solid rendition
of a more serious melody.
On
the surface, overall, he comes off as a good-natured, hearty
fellow who can laugh at just about anything. But there are
parts of him that aren't apparent without close association...
Altair
is a druid after all, closing in on his Second Change, and
that many years of dedication to the order doesn't come without
gaining a good deal of wisdom, life experience, and trials.
Altair is quite wise, wisdom learned the hard way, the long
way. He knows himself thoroughly, though perhaps even now
there's some self deception. He's been through Claeryn's fiery
forge many a time, and his will is tempered steel, seemingly
unbreakable.
Centuries
as a druid also doesn't come without picking up a few traits
of the god one serves (which is perhaps the reason for the
hearty nature). Altair's temper isn't as quick as most druids
of Claeryn; his anger is like hardwood rather than soft kindling,
burning slow and long and hot. It's a terrible thing to behold
when it comes out, quiet deadly-hot embers.
There's
also a deep sadness beneath the laughter and the wisdom
and the anger. Like most druids of the temperamental fire
god, Altair's emotions run deep, intense, and true. His
capacity for every emotion is cavernous, but he shares those
emotions with few to none. There's also a deep capacity
for love in that masked heart, but that's a part of himself
- or of others, or of chance? - that Altair flees from,
when he flees from nothing else.
Mother:
Lysana Firewing - Changer Druid of Claeryn - Deceased
Father: Tairyn Salamandyr - Innkeeper (retired) - 850
Siblings:
-
Rynka
Salamandyr - 687 - female - Innkeeper (StarScape Mtn, Salamandyr
Inn)
-
Traela
Rhyn - 633 - female - Master Smith
-
Keega
Shill - 700 - female - Changer Druid of Aeryon
-
Evana
Salamandyr (half-sister; half-kender) - 388 - female - Wanderer
Bard
Biography:
Altair was born near StarScape Mountain to a Changer Druid
of Claeryn and an innkeeper. His mother always said that he
was "born to fire". It certainly seemed to be true.
He came into the world thrashing and screaming, a fighter
and temperamental to the core. (Druidic life has turned that
reactive temper to the slow-burning coals it is now, but there
are still flashes of the original quick-burning rage.) Lysana
just looked at the auburn-haired child and nodded. "He
is Claeryn's," she said with eyes that saw beyond flesh,
and no one disagreed.
Altair's
father Tairyn was, of course, disappointed. He'd waited so
long for a boy child, hoping for an innkeeper, but his eldest
daughter Rynka (who had taken over most of the duties at the
Salamandyr Inn anyway) just laughed her merry laugh and punched
her father in the shoulder, and he smiled sheepishly and protested
no more. No one could deny that Altair would enter Claeryn's
service. After all, if Lysana said so...
It
only became more clear as Altair grew older. His temper was
quick and hot, he had an almost pyromaniac attraction to fire,
he thrived on tales of the gods, he stared in wide-eyed awe
during religious ceremonies. When Lysana walked in on Altair
as a toddler with his hands in the hearthfire, laughing, she
didn't panic. Just gently took his unsinged hands out of the
flames, packed his bags, and called for an old druid friend.
A
couple years later, Lysana was dead, slain in the invasion
of Chaos.
Altair's
teacher was known only as Ember. She was a wizened old elf
with a gap-toothed grin and into her /Fifth/ Change, a commendable
feat indeed! Ember taught him with incredible patience, a
constant smile (or smirk), a ready wit, and a firm hand. With
the occupation of Chaos, teacher and acolyte made their way
into the Sierac Mountains, their familiarity with nature's
ways making evasion of Chaotic forces ridiculously simple.
She taught him elemental magic, and then of healing of fire
realm creatures. She taught him discipline, and how to control
his temper. She taught him the glimmerings of wisdom.
And
then he bonded. Ember was teaching him about fire dragons,
and Claeryn had led them to a nesting dragon mother. They
stayed there for months, observing, speaking, Ember and the
dragoness teaching, the young Altair learning. The day came
when the small clutch hatched. A brilliantly blue dragonet
met his gaze, and there was no question after that. He'd bonded.
The
dragonet's name was Kyrnelle, and she grew with astonishing
speed. Ember watched the newly-bondeds with a mixture of sadness
and concern and gladness. She didn't look at all surprised
by Altair's announcement to study the fire dragon for his
First Change; she'd already been directing him to observe
the growing dragonet with care. At his announcement, the old
elf looked simply ... resigned. Regretful. But she'd smiled,
and he'd thought nothing more of it.
Years
passed. Almost a century. Kyrnelle flew, a few times; laid
a few eggs. They all hatched bondless, flew wild. Altair grew
more and more restless, there in the mountains with just Ember
and Kyrnelle. When would it be time for his First Change?
Didn't it take most only decades? Why so long, when, when
would he Change? Ember just shook her head, smiled sadly,
and said he wasn't ready yet. Said he'd know, when it was
time.
And
then... it /was/ time. Ember was agitated, upset; he'd heard
her arguing with someone, felt a fiery presence that was at
once familiar and not, both comforting and frightening, full
of power. She wasn't happy about it, but Claeryn commanded
it, and the next day she took him to the druid-circle. There
was only Ember; not enough druids in Chaos-occupied Shadow
Star for a second to be at his First Change.
He
Changed. It went badly. Altair doesn't recall, even now, what
happened; all he remembers is flight, and time's passage.
All he remembers are dragon screams, fiery rage, pain, and
then emptiness, a terrible horrible emptiness. As if he'd
been ripped in twain.
When
he came to, Altair was a dragoon again, Ember was gone, Kyrnelle
was gone from his mind and heart and thoughts (dead, he knew,
but he never again found her body), and Ryntan's father was
just being crowned.
Somehow,
he didn't kill himself. From what he's pieced together from
dark dreams and memory's flashes and postulation, his Change
had succeeded in form, he'd changed to a fire dragon, but
it had also succeeded in mind. That is to say, he'd become
fully dragon, and worse than dragon - he'd become instinctual,
primitive. Wild. And there was something with Kyrnelle, and
eventually she'd died - killed - Chaos? - he doesn't know.
And Altair'd taken refuge in the instinctive wildness of the
dragon form, and something - Claeryn? - had brought him back
to the dragoon form.
So
there he was. Once again sentient, with a heart hurting almost
too much to bear.
There
followed years of wandering. He still doesn't know how long
he wandered, lost in his mind and heart, taking solace in
anything he could find. Alcohol. Women. War. Even a few herbs
supposed to be used only for healing and shamanic purposes,
dream-journeys and spirit-traveling.
It
was his little sister, of all people, who snapped him out
of it. Evana Salamandyr, wanderer bard. Half-kender. Apparently
his father and a kender had gotten drunk - /very/ drunk; his
father was never the same after his mother's death - and the
unthinkable had happened. Well, Evana his half-kender half-sister
searched him out, announced their relation, and proceeded
to hound him to the ends of the earth. Or at least to every
shore and cave and lavapit of Shadow Star Island.
She
brought him out of it, out of his grief, out of his self-induced
stupor. Back to himself, back to laughter and merriment. Her
carefree child-like ways healed his soul (even as she annoyed
him half to death), and in time, he gained the courage to
return to active service of Claeryn. In time, he became what
he is today.
Oh,
and along the way, Evana "found" a couple lingsi
eggs. She very cheerily shared one with her half brother;
it hatched into the colorful Souzan. After that, of course,
it was easy to choose his next form to study. Altair's Second
Change will most certainly be a lingsi.
Pet
Name: Souzan
Species: Lingsi
Description:
Souzan
is brightly colored, as is common to her kind. Her brilliant
feathers are all the shades of a flame's life - blue-tinged
white; intense flame's-heart blue; the orange side of gold,
and then the yellower range of it. Her beak and talons are
black-opal dark with an obsidian sheen, akin to long-dead
coals, and her intense gaze is the orange-gold of smouldering
embers. Like all lingsii, she has a beautiful voice, a clear
melodic tune that, at worst, gets people smiling softly with
memory, and at best (which is only on rare occasions of extreme
emotion or contentment) has even the most hardened of souls
weeping.
She's
not the most talkative of beasts, which is fine by Altair,
who generally chatters enough for the both of them. She's
very naiive, rather gullible, with a raven-like love for shiny
things and an incurable weakness for honey. She also doesn't
have the best of memories.
Kyanti
Grayscale
Age: Unknown
Gender: Female
Species: Feline anthro
Loyalty: Neutral
Appearance:
Kyanti is a gray tabby anthro who looks to be about nineteen,
perhaps even younger, but there is a sense of agelessness
about her that suggests she's far, far older. Her clothing
varies, but is most often black pants with white trim tucked
into soft-soled, knee-high white leather boots, and a silken
black blouse that provides a slight contrast with the soft
gray underside of her cloak, the same gray as the lighter
stripes on her fur. The cloak is clasped at her neck by
an obsidian cat's-head pendant with opal eyes that also
holds together the three smoke-gray cords that encircle
her shoulders, drawing the cloak close about them. Vividly
green eyes that seem to hold an unceasing amusement are
just about the only color on this slim anthro.
Her
one weapon is an obsidian staff topped by a large fire opal.
Kyanti
also has a full cat form, courtesy of her goddess, Falirne.
Her cat form is a gray tabby housecat, like her anthro form,
with a white chest and stomach, white paws, and a white tail-tip,
as well as a dark gray stripe of fur down her back.
Guild/Rank:
High Priestess of Falirne
Personality:
Kyanti is a typical feline: proud, dignified, aloof, and
insanely curious about... well, everything, really. Curiosity
might kill the cat, she says, but all cats know the truth:
that satisfaction brings it back. Kyanti's /very/ proud,
with an air of superiority that would make the elitist of
wylraen proud. She's also more of an observer than a participater,
with that feline attitude of "the world exists for
my entertainment", though she'll join in on mischief
quickly enough! She /is/ a priestess of the goddess of mischief,
after all. And besides, watching others make fools of themselves
is always entertaining.
She
is susceptable to the usual effects of catnip- which has been
the cause of much mirth to observers, and the cause of much
indignity and hissing fits on Kyanti's part. Like most cats,
when she does something undignified, she just acts as if she
meant to do that all along. She also has a weakness for fish
and (though she'd never admit it) string.
Despite
her capricious, aloof, and often seemingly cold and selfish
nature, Kyanti does have her loyalties. Or one loyalty: an
intense, unwavering allegiance to the feline goddess of mischief,
Falirne.
Kyanti's
powers are all clerical, derived from the feline goddess.
They're more subtle abilities, all pertaining to mischief
or felines. She can communicate with any feline of any sort,
and discern the true nature of said feline (i.e: flamecat,
Changeling, etc). She can transform from a cat anthro to a
gray tabby housecat. With difficulty, she might be able to
transform into a different feline form, but why would she
do that when her tabby form suits her perfectly? She can teleport
short distances from shadow to shadow, and squeeze through
impossibly small spaces, and land without harm from high perches.
She can heal felines, and throw her voice, and move with utter
silence, and conceal herself in shadows.
Subtle
trickster tricks, in other words. She's also got some mundane
abilities - sleight of hand, disguises, that sort of thing.
Kyanti's
main weaknesses are her pride, her intense dislike of water,
her almost blind superiority, and of course catnip.
Mother:
Kyenn Grayscale ~ Priestess of Falirne ~ Age unknown, probably
deceased
Father:
Tommen ~ Master Bard ~ Age unknown, probably deceased
Siblings:
Philand ~ Bard ~ Male ~ Age unknown, probably deceased
Kreea Grayscale ~ Thief ~ Female ~ Age unknown, probably
deceased
Skeen Grayscale ~ Priestess of Falirne ~ Female ~ Age unknown,
probably deceased
Biography:
As a priestess of Falirne, Kyanti's story begins with her
goddess, and so must the telling of her biography.
It
isn't too well known (or told) that, of all the Unity gods,
Claeryn alone still considers the Nameless One his sister,
and is still on speaking terms with her. The two still make
mischief together, sometimes. And perhaps one of their greater
pranks was the "creation" of Falirne. A union of
Fire and Chaos to birth the lesser goddess known as Falirne.
There
are several legends among felines as to what happened. That
Claeryn and Chaos coupled to produce Falirne, or that they
worked their creation magicks to create the goddess of mischief
from chaos and flame (and a little bit of all the other realms
too, but those were the main ones), or that Claeryn burnt
Chaos and Falirne leapt on cat paws from the wound, or - well,
at any rate, all agree that Falirne came from both Claeryn
and the Nameless One.
And
she was trouble from the start. Some say this was before the
split between Chaos and the other realms; some say Falirne
/caused/ the split; some say it was after, and that Falirne
simply walked between the realms without a care in the world,
causing mischief wherever she went. Typical feline.
There
were no felines, then - or rather, they weren't felines as
they are now. Just undeveloped shells, furry creatures with
twitching tails and an overabundance of curiosity. Falirne
decided that they were perfect. Maybe it was their lithe and
flexible form, maybe it was their curiosity, maybe their intelligence,
maybe the fact that they inhabited every realm, maybe just
a whim - Falirne got those a lot. For whatever reason, she
imbued felines with her own sense of mischief and pride and
aloof dignity. A pity about that overattentiveness to motion
and the catnip problem (though some say that Tyrea created
catnip to bring Falirne down a notch), but other than that...
the felines were perfect, in Falirne's eyes.
And
of course, with some long association and much time in feline
form, Falirne also picked up those very feline attributes.
The reaction to catnip as if to a drug, the fascination with
movement. Most of the Unity gods tend to say it serves her
right.
Somewhere
in all this, Falirne's pranks got out of hand. No one knows
for sure what precisely she did that provoked the gods to
lock her away, imprisoned by the Shards of Sealing, but there
are many tales, each more extravagant than the last. That
the vampires Chaos made were Falirne's idea. That she provoked
the wars between Chaos and the Realm Unity, in the early days
of the world. That she disrupted an alliance, or provoked
a peaceful people into war, or any other number of mischievous
events. Some say it was none of these that caused the gods
to imprison Falirne, but that she stole from the gods, caused
them to blame each other until the realms themselves were
very nearly at war, and they found out only when they saw
her watching, smirking, as they argued.
All
that is known for sure, though, is that Falirne pulled one
prank too many and one prank too serious, making the gods
angry enough that they sealed her away in a separate plane
or world or even in the Void itself, and five divinely enchanted
Shards sealed the door. The Shards of Sealing, as they came
to be known, were scattered throughout Shadow Star and the
surrounding area, in the same places as the Etherium Crystals.
It
was into this mess, or rather just before it, that Kyanti
Grayscale was born. Her mother was a priestess of the trickster
goddess before Falirne's imprisonment, and her father was
a wayward tomcat anthro who came and went as he pleased. Kyanti's
mother preferred it that way; cats don't wed for life as other
races do. Kyanti was her eldest, her most precocious, and
dedicated at birth to the trickster goddess.
So
Kyanti grew, raised in service of the goddess Falirne. Her
life was relatively uneventful (except for the frequent mischief,
and the occasional capture, and the occasional imprisonment
which she always easily escaped at will, with Falirne's help
- once she felt like it, of course), but her incessant curiosity
and talent for mischief elevated her in Falirne's sight -
and ranks. Not that the priesthood was very populated anyway,
since only felines could rise very far, but the lower ranks
were populated by thieves and bards and mischief-makers of
all sorts.
At
any rate, Kyanti was the epitome of felinity. So much so,
in fact, that it was rumored that her father was actually
a true cat that her mother mated with while in the Falirne-given
truecat form. Who knows, it might even have some truth, for
Kyanti certainly found the change to truecat more simple than
most.
So
it was that Kyanti was Falirne's high priestess when the gods
decided to lock Falirne away. Maybe she even had a part in
Falirne's greatest prank, who knows. But she stood by her
goddess when the gods came to imprison the trickster goddess,
and so they locked her away as well, for many long centuries.
But
nothing can keep a cat where she doesn't want to be kept.
Or at least, that's what Kyanti says. In truth, she and Falirne
were well and truly trapped until Torin Honninscrave started
his quest for the Etherium Crystals. The first, the Phynocryst,
had been in a volcano, and the volcano erupted when it was
moved. That, in turn, jolted the Shard of Sealing out of place.
When Torin and his fellow questors retrieved the water crystal,
the Metheglin, the second Shard was knocked out of place just
enough for Kyanti to squeeze free, back into the world of
Calacia and Shadow Star.
After much difficulty, she managed to retrieve the Shards
by the Phynocryst and Metheglin (water! ugh!), and followed
Torin and the other questors as they sought out the other
two Crystals. She lost track of them for a bit, as the innocous
Shards were a bit more difficult to find than the louder and
more colorful Crystals. And at last she managed to find the
Shard by the main Etherium stone, the Krill. The Shards were
retrieved, the door unsealed.
And now Falirne, trickster goddess, is free to make mischief
once more.
Pet:
Name: Lime
Species: Wynd
Lime is a tiny marmalade-striped wynd, all orange and white,
a perpetual kitten in her personality and attitude. Her
eyes are just as green and vivid as Kyanti's. Kyanti sometimes
uses Lime to observe and report to her, though the little
wynd tends to distort details at times and gets distracted
easily - especially by string, catnip, fish, and cream.
Careo
Kelpweed
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Species: Half mer, half troll
Loyalty: Neutral
Appearance:
Careo is ... well, she's an interesting sight to behold.
Not much of a /pleasant/ sight, but certainly interesting.
She's a big woman, akin to stereotypical viking-dressed
opera singers of Earth, though it's hard to tell if her
vast girth is muscle or fat. Probably a bit of both, plus
some very heavy, very big bones, thanks to her troll heritage.
Her skin has a greenish tint, the olive-green of trolls.
Her hair is green too, but this comes from her merfolk blood,
a pale seafoam green, long thick tresses that's her pride
and joy, normally kept in a thick tight braid that reaches
past her hips. Her eyes are dark brown beneath bushy pale
green brows. Her nose is large and crooked, looking as if
it's been broken more than once, and her lips are pale red,
a strange contrast to the olive-green skin.
Careo
dressed plain and practical, in cloth that may have once been
white or brown but is generally too covered in foodstains
to determine its original color. Over it all she dons an apron
(again, of indeterminate color). She wears heavy leather boots,
"clomping boots" as Whirr calls them, also worn
and stained, and a crumpled and wrinkled black hat that has
a tendency to fall off at inconvenient times.
Guild
Rank/Faction: She's the cook for a troupe of entertainers.
Personality:
First and foremost, Careo loves to cook. She also loves
to experiment with various foods, mixtures, and spices -
most come out delicious, but there are occasional very STRANGE
and not always appetizing mixtures that she'll try out on
the troupe (she still wants to make roast snark, and has
a constant eye on Lashayla's "lumpcat", as she
calls it). Sometimes the results of her experiments are
creations only a troll or mer would enjoy (how's seaweed
and tentacle pie sound?), and sometimes, especially if the
troupe is stressed or feeling down, she'll use one of her
"secret spices" and they'll all feel much, much
better (opiates, "special brownies", and various
hallucinogens, anyone?). For a while, anyway. Careo is very,
very protective of her cookwagon. Her cookwagon is her kingdom,
and gods help anyone who steps foot in there unwanted. She's
gotten quite accurate with the enormous array of cooking
knives she owns, and she's deadly with her favored weapon:
the cast iron skillet. It's got a few dents from various
fools' heads. The half-troll is also very no-nonsense, down-to-earth,
practical, and more than a bit cynical. An odd fit for a
troupe of entertainers, but somehow it works. Of course,
her... /colorful/ language is sheer entertainment in itself.
She swears harshly and creatively enough to make the most
hardened of sailors or ogres wince.
Mother:
Seya Kelpflower ~ Mer ~ Master Healer ~ 57
Father: Curic ~ Troll ~ Master Chaotic Knight ~ 68
Siblings:
Tekke ~ Troll ~ Master Chaotic Knight ~ 35 ~ Male
Kellic ~ Troll ~ Master Chaotic Knight ~ 31 ~ Female
Rill Kelpflower ~ Mer ~ Wanderer Healer ~ 23 ~ Male
Biography:
Careo doesn't quite know how she was conceived. She used
to think she was a product of rape - why else would a mergirl
(for her mother was little more than a girl at the time)
and a troll copulate? - but from clues she's picked up,
she suspects it had something do with alcohol. A lot of
alcohol. And maybe there was some coercion involved, who
knows.
She
does know a few things. The tribe of merfolk her mother belonged
to were adamantly against her keeping the child. Seya Kelpflower
was a healer, after all; she knew the herbs that would kill
the child in her womb. But Seya had a strong love of life,
and so she refused. Understandably, the young Coreo was teased
about her appearance and parentage - the other young mer called
her "Kelpweed" rather than "Kelpflower"
- but she had a tough skin in more ways than one; she took
on the name with a sort of perverse pride. And she was half
troll, strong and quick-tempered and powerful, so she quickly
(and forcefully) taught the other children not to mess with
her.
Then
Careo's mother married a fine upstanding artisan merman when
Careo was about four years old. That, plus the urging of her
new husband and her relatives, plus pressure from the rest
of the tribe and increasing curiosity on Careo's part, finally
drove Seya to bring Careo to her father. Her father Curic,
despite being a knight and a powerful troll, was always a
pushover when it came to women. And her mother, despite being
a passifistic mer and a healer, was always a bit of a firebrand,
with an iron will and a fierce temper. Curic didn't stand
a chance when Seya showed up on Chaos Island, demanding in
no gentle terms to see Curic. For some reason, the soldiers
she made her demands to actually went and got the troll without
bothering her. Probably they were amused by Seya's bravado
and wanted to see how Curic would handle her.
Well,
it was more like Seya handled Curic. In a flurry of words,
with a steely expression that brooked no argument, and businesslike
motions, she handed Careo over to Curic and disappeared back
into the sea, leaving Curic to stare helplessly at the little
half-troll child, wondering how in the nine hells he'd gotten
himself into that predicament.
Careo
was much more suited to Chaos Isle than she was to life underwater.
Even so, she still exhibited some quirks. For one, she had
no interest in fighting, despite showing promise with various
club-like objects; battle bored her. For another, she loved
the magic of cookery. Her instructors quickly learned that
if she wasn't at fighting lessons (AGAIN), then she could
easily be found in the kitchen, experimenting with spices
and sauces. She was stubborn, too, despite the usual beatings
delivered for disobedience or insubordination. More stubborn
even than her instructors, because they eventually gave up
on her. Careo happily immersed herself in the kitchens.
But
cooking in Chaos is not very fufilling. There's not much to
cook, after all. Qarnak and jituq don't have much taste to
them, and it's hard to get herbs and spices. So, with a shrug,
she caught the next boat over to Shadow Star (a small swift
slaver boat, of course). The day after she set foot on Shadow
Star, hiking her way across the grasslands, she was confronted
by a large creamy kraenon with too much energy for his own
good (or that's Careo's opinion, anyway). He introduced himself
as Whirr and claimed he was her bond, because after all she
needed /someone/ to taste-test her food for her, and that
was that.
Not
long afterwards, Careo and Whirr met up with a traveling troupe
of entertainers, and it didn't take much for her to become
their cook. {No concept of how to make good food,} Whirr said
of the troupe, and Careo agreed. So now they make good food
for the troupe and for any visitors, and have occasional battles
with Lashayla's snark, and occasional odd experiments with
food, and generally have a great time (despite Careo's grumblings
to the contrary).
Type
of bond: Kraenon
Bond's name: Whirr
Sire/dam: Andall and Khainn
Bond's appearance: Whirr is a big kraenon. He has to be,
in order to carry his bond (though he ducks out of that
job as often as possible) and pull the cookwagon (which
he also avoids as much as possible). He's more than just
big in frame, though. He's also more a bit pudgy, and loves
his food - {Never trust a thin cook!} he'll say, by way
of excuse. His fur is a creamy color, almost white, mottled
with stains from food casualties in the cookwagon. Whirr's
eyes are a warm brown, often twinkling with amusement or
mischief.
Bond's personailty: Whirr loves food! He's bonded to a cook,
after all, and he helps out in the cookwagon as much as
possible. Someone has to taste the food, and he's got a
sensitive tongue and a keen sense for what herbs and spices
and mixes can make something taste even better. He's also
a fun-loving fellow, good natured, and is always ready with
a witticism or teasing joke. Nothing seems to get him down.
NPC1
Ilbun Irastheen Flaren
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Species: 1/4 fire elemental, 3/4 human
Guild/rank: Master knight, affliated with fire
Relation to Tyrona Starfyr: Husband
Bond: Claenal, a fire-colored male phoenix who's rather shy
and almost always unsure of himself.
Location: Usually Starfyr Ranch, near Cascadia Falls.
NPC2
Evana Salamandyr
Relation to Altair Firewing: Half-Sister
Location: Wherever the wanderlust takes her...
Species: Dragoon/kender
Guild/Rank: Wanderer Bard
Specialties: Performer, Conjurer
Description: Evana is a half-kender and a Wanderer ranked
bard. Hard to figure out how she became Wanderer rank - likely
whoever she was apprenticed to got so sick of her they just
pronounced her a Wanderer. She hasn't really chosen a specialty;
mostly she sings, plays her flute, and juggles and balances
various objects. She's got the usual cheery personality of
a kender; her dragoon side seems to affect her hardly at all,
though on occasion she can be serious. Her wings are just
barely large enough for short flights; her stature is smaller
than a dragoon yet larger than a kender.
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