Rise of the Eclipse, DnD/Pathfinder RP (PM to join)

Name: Amira Nejem
Gender: Female
Race: Kitsune
Age: 24

Appearance:
Hybrid/True Form
Human form
Fox form

Height: 5'4"
Weight: 105 lbs
Build: Lithe but short
Skin color: light brown
Fur color: Tan
Hair color: When human black. When fox, golden tan
Hair style: Long, upper-back length, typically tied into a ponytail
Facial Hair: N/A (unless you count fox fur)
Jewelry: Two gold earrings in her right ear and one in her left

Class: Bolt Ace

Attributes:
--Str: 8
--Dex: 18
--Con: 10
--Int: 14
--Wis: 18
--Cha: 10

Equipment: She has general camping equipment, Desert leather armor (much smaller cloak), a Masterwork repeating crossbow named "Haris", a 'lower grade' masterwork kukri, bag of holding, a spyglass, Ring of featherfall and ring of protection, weaponcrafting tools, a journal, a couple of cure potions, a powerfully-enchanted lockbox with special documents inside, crossbow maintenance equipment. Also has bolts of alchemists fire, drow poison, acid flasks, a special entanglement type, silver, and cold iron.

Companion: Saren

Languages: Common, Sylvan, Celestial, and Elven

Personality: Amira isn't the sort to speak carelessly, she specializes in careful planning and can be a bit difficult to pry answers out of because she's so cautious. Her words may not always be inspiring or pleasant, but they are pointed and well-considered, and she tends to dislike those who act rashly. She's also paranoid about people listening to her outside of those intended, which may be part of the reason she chooses her words so carefully. That said, she's not without joys and deeply loves such things as music and stories, not to mention just enjoying others' company. She's very protective of the common people and even of guards, but when nobles and such people come around her mentality is 'let them burn,' unless she is very specifically showed that they are worthy of her attention. She holds no grudges towards mercenaries who try to hurt her, but if someone's greatest contribution to the world is pain, then death is their best reward--she will not take someone hostage if they don't deserve to live unless given a good reason. She also particularly likes engineering feats of all kinds and admires fine works whether they be architectural or actual moving gears.

History:
Amira was born in the city of Daria, capital of the Respian Empire, a primarily-desert nation far to the west of where our story takes place, the city itself being a grand port with a navy said to be unrivaled in the world (though that's likely exaggerated). While kitsune aren't well-known due to their talent at hiding amongst other races, the emperor was well-aware of her from the moment of her birth; after all she was the daughter of his favorite engineer. She grew up in a workshop for weapons of war, crossbows and magnificent siege engines were constructed right under her room and the parts were assembled to be put on display on the city walls or over the harbor. Her father, Bkari, was their architect, the man who constructed Respian's machines of war, ranging from simple ballistas to grand catapults to flame spewing weapons mounted on capital ships. He even had plans for a massive magical siege engine intended to light boats on fire should they ever approach the harbor. Her mother was in the picture, but she was somewhat pushed to the sidelines, acting like a typical wife and mostly taking care of Amira and, later, her brothers. Early on she took a liking to her father's work, enjoying helping him build things, starting with crossbows and working her way up. As she grew up, she was aware of the sort of things that happened in the city, traitors being executed and spies on every corner, but she simply thought that was how the world worked, and simply learned to guard herself accordingly. It wasn't until she was thirteen and she joined her father on a trip where he was to help assemble a great wall-buster ballista that she saw the results of her father's work. The city was razed and pillaged, for the whole night she heard people screaming as the soldiers tore the city apart. When she confronted her father about what they'd done, he simply said that he had no choice, that it was either that or have the emperor kill him, his wife, Amira, and damn near all of their friends. She kept quiet after that, but it continued to stew in her for some time.

Not long afterwards she met a foreign boy, a human fellow by the name of Markus. He was a friendly sort and the two hit it off pretty quickly. Apparently he'd served in a militia back home, but his people lost the fight and he fled, eventually finding his way to Daria. She was able to get him a job working on the siege engines and before long the two kindled a young romance; even showing him what she was didn't seem to disturb him. However, after a few years of this (and even a night or two together), he came up to her room with horror in his eyes. Apparently, he'd found out that not only had his people retaken his home, but Respian was going to conquer it. In her foolishness, she told her father and asked for his help... instead her father turned in her love and she got watch as he was executed. For the next year she stewed on a plan, gathering up materials, making herself a top-grade crossbow (a prototype of a new design her father and her had come up with), training intensively with it, and (most importantly) finding a very special magic box. One evening while her father was out on a job, she found a female captain and murdered her, took her back to her room, gathered up her father's plans, and then lit the workshop ablaze. In the confusion, she disappeared, faking her death and fleeing into the desert. She was never heard from in the kingdom again.

Afterwards she looked into various job opportunities, but unfortunately due to the nation she came from she wasn't trusted, believed to be someone looking to find weaknesses in the cities. However, she'd foreseen this issue and had already prepared for a solution: she sold herself as an adventurer. Fortunately, while she might not have been experienced in this regard, she knew how to work a crossbow and was a keen shot, and with the support of other people she began to refine these talents. She grew to love the feeling of earning a living by actually saving people from dangers using her knowledge rather than destroying cities with them. There wasn't a party she grew attached to, people came and people went, some died and others retired, others still just went on to other things. Still, she made a living and then some, and over time she began to be trusted by those in certain circles, though she was careful to never reveal her nature as a kitsune to those outside her party in case someone knew of her father. However, if she had to pick one event that was the pride of her career, it was (ironically) one where she wasn't doing what she did best. No, when the Respians came to conquer one particular city, she leaked copies of the schematics for their siege engines to them, and when the weapons were brought to fire, they simply obliterated themselves. However, she's done impressive things, even joining in the felling of an adult blue dragon (though she was far from alone). Strangely, while she uses a fair portion of her cash on adventuring gear, she also uses some to fund siege engines for cities in danger of her home people, something which has (so far), kept the empire at bay. Lately though she's been moving more inland, mostly because she needs work and with the Respians on the recoil she's been running dry. Recently she was hired to investigate some disappearances; chump change for her really, but the mention of demons intrigued her and she wasn't about to say 'no' to the money.

--Bio--

Name: Sirælic Kraig
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf, (Human-Grey Elf)
Age: 34


Appearance: The Ashen Magi

Height: 5'11"
Weight: 156lbs
Build: Average for an Elf, Lean for a Human.
Skin color: Ashen Grey
Hair color: Silvered White
Hair style: Cut short down the sides and braided back along the top.
Facial Hair: A thick, short beard adorns his 
Jewelry: A necklace with the small sword of the Family Crest symbolized upon a ring which the necklace is strung around.

Class: Bladebound Magus

Attributes:
--Str: 10
--Dex: 14
--Con: 8
--Int: 16
--Wis: 10
--Cha: 16

Known Languages: 
Common, Elvish, Tengu (Basics)

Spells:
Black Tentacles - Instant - Short Range- Light Fatigue. Summons several shadow tentacles from the ground to grapple whomever Siraelic commands them to.
Dimensional Door/Blink - Instant - 10m Range - Medium Fatigue. Opens a rift in the dimension, allowing Siraelic to jump from point A to point B.
Blood Money - Instant - Medium Fatigue/Harms User. Offers Siraelic's blood to cast spells, rather than his energy.
Teleport Blade - Instant - 1000m Range - Medium Fatigue. Summons Kraigsworn if it is not in his hand by teleporting the blade to him.
Dimensional Blade - Instant - Heavy Fatigue. Causes Kraigsworn to rip dimensional rifts into the enemy's armour, allowing him to strike flesh rather than armour.


Equipment:
--Armour: A light cloth desert-hauberk with light leather-chainmail undercoating, light cloth wrapped around the waist and some extra leather plating with multiple leather belts across his waist.
--Weaponry: "Kraigsworn" Family Sword, Black Blade
--Other: A lantern, assorted utility items within the multiple pouches of his belts and a small potion satchel that holds two potions of minor restoration.


Personality:
 Sirælic is a somewhat quiet person, to the common passerby that is. He never really has grown attached to talking openly, as the normal commoner usually mistakes him for a drow, which usually ends up with Sirælic on the pointy end of a pitchfork. If one does get to know the Half-Elf, you open yourself to a realm of bad jokes about his pointy ears, optimism and general wanderlust, which is odd through the very poor conditions he has gone through in life, though that has only been recently and it hasn't stopped the Half-Elf from bubbling about artefacts found in caverns that no one really cares about. Sirælic also is somewhat merciful, depending on the situation, he usually doesn't kill unless completely needed to, which unlike his blade, he will not kill very readily and certainly not for sport.

Blade's Personality: The more open, even more talkative blade is a very good partner for the Half-Elf, though the Blade certainly does like to backtalk and critique the Half-Elf upon matter that seem somewhat trivial at the time, the pair make a great team as Blade and Bladewielder. Though, one of the biggest differences between the characters is the fact that the blade sees little remorse in killing, actually consoling the Half-Elf if not belittling him upon the fact that the man is merciful to some whom the blade believes must die by the justice of itself.


History: 
Sirælic was born to a Human Father and an Elven mother, almost the cliche of Fae tales where a Human Warrior beds an Elven Bowmistress, though it wasn't exactly that extremely cliche. It was more, Human farmer saves Elf from bandits by almost pure luck and they fall in love, slightly to mushy for Sirælic's tastes when his mother told him stories of his father. Speaking of, his father lived only to see Sirælic born and grow for six moons before he passed of an illness that sadly was running rampant in the countryside. Past that little tidbit, Sirælic spent his childhood in the deserts of his little "Fort Town", which nestled outside a small fort named "Fort Celetatheir", after an old general who had led the nation to victory some ages ago. It was created under the notion to protect supply trains and caravans crossing the desert from the Sand Raiders who preyed upon the Merchant's fat purses. It held a large variety of peoples though, despite being a military fort it had many peoples of the Empire, travellers from all around and races of foreign origin. Sirælic had grown up somewhat accepted despite his birth race, being Half Grey-Elf, he almost looked like a bastardized Drow, which many elders looked surprised to see, though no one ever really paid any harsh punishment or bigotry to the childish Sirælic. He enjoyed life, despite the fact that the sun beat down upon them almost every hour of every day and the wind whipped up razor-sharp grains of sand that would even kill those who were unprepared.

Later, as he continued bursting through childhood, he continued to work for his mother as to continue what his father did, farm what meagre living they could out of the sandy landscape by setting small zones to be creating into "cropland". Which was honestly just wooden platforms with walls and dirt inside that grew rudimentary plants that were edible, such as potatoes. This life was hard of course, but they lived normally in the shadow of the fort, protected and secure from any raiders and bandits by the military forces, though bigotry soon became apparent as Sirælic grew older. His old friends still stuck with him, but becoming more and more elegant in features and with lighter white hair, many believed him an Evil Drow, a Dark Elf, not the Grey Elf blood he was, this town was no longer his childhood friendly neighborhood, many of the adults started to treat him as they would any other strange Drow rather than the somewhat leniency they previously showed him, this created Sirælic to become quiet and cold to many strangers who were of Human, Orc or really anything NOT of Elven blood or intelligent enough to understand he wasn't a Drow nor evil. 

As he finally began to grow into adulthood, the town soon became somewhat hostile, he began to realize why his mother almost never left the small farming plot on the outskirts of the Fort Town, Sirælic needed to leave, he needed to venture out less face the wrath of the racist aspects of the society they lived in. His mother too realized this, almost encouraging him, she presented him with the "Family Sword" passed down from the Kraig's generations, though it was nothing more than a slab of steel at the time, none of the family ever really used it, it was almost nothing more than a mount upon the fireplace, yet this was the fateful encounter that spurred Sirælic to become the adventurer he was today, the day he was bound to his Blade. Kraigsworn.

It didn't happen all at once, overtime as he travelled to various areas of the land around him, the Blade seemed to grow as if it was an actual extension of Sirælic. Becoming lighter to the heft and almost swinging as if he was slicing the air with a claw upon his fingertips rather than slicing it with a sword. It wouldn't be another five years before his adventuring and poor, economically dumped life would change as his Blade first spoke to him. "Boo!" It, was probably the most douchebaggy thing to do in the entirety of the Sword's lifespan. Scaring, the living shit, out of your bounded swordsman. It took a good amount of time for Sirælic to actually figure out that he was being spoken to in his head, even longer to figure out how to communicate back to a supposed to be inanimate object...it was certainly an odd sensation to say the least, having a sword speak to you in your head, for almost the entirety of the first year the two spent together first being able to communicate, Sirælic pondered if he was in fact going insane, to which the blade replied with a multitude of answers ranging from, "You know, you really could be insane, what if I'm in fact your subconscious self trying to tell you that you are a lunatic." or "I truly am honoured to be thought of as the voice in the back of your head that you really don't want to hear." Despite the rough beginnings the duo soon became somewhat really good partners, quipping at each other's faults and joking around, even though many who would witness this little conversation between a sword and a man, would truly call the Half-Elf insane.

Learning about his binding to the Sword began his journey's purpose. Sending him to various parts of the continent to learn magic, learn how to use his blade as an extension of himself and how the blade itself is alive with his own heart and can be used as an extension of his magical prowess, using the blade as a magical element as well as a bladed weapon. Though it took several years to learn the basics, the Half-Elf, alongside Kraigsworn's persistent critiquing, learned how to properly wield the blade, to which the Half-Elf now began to take on oddjobs of adventure and danger, learning more of Magic and the Arcane Arts alongside how to fight masterfully with the blade of his. 

Now, he simply roams the know world, adventuring alongside his trusty blade to learn more so about its true potential and how the blade and its partner can unlock that said potential with the combined Arcane and Martial power of the both of them. The pursuit of Arcane Knowledge though, isn't the only thing the Blade desires from his partner, as its true intentions still remain a mystery to Sirælic.

Name: Roderick Dragomir Erhard Reiter

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Age: 34



Appearance: i.imgur.com/DaKsh1h.jpg



Height: 6'1"

Weight: 168 lbs

Build: Athletic, Fairly Muscular

Skin color: Fair Skinned

Hair color: Salt-and-Pepper

Hair style: Fairly Short

Facial Hair: Mustache and Beard

Jewelry: None



Class: Cavalier



Attributes:

--Str: 16

--Dex: 12

--Con: 12

--Int: 10

--Wis: 14

--Cha: 10


Equipment: Gambeson, Plate Armor, Wooden Wing Frames, Hollow Lance, Longsword, Saber, Horseman's Pick, Dagger; most of the weapons are kept on his horse, as is a variety of adventuring gear (rations, bedroll, flint and steel, etc.)


Personality:
Roderick has been seeking glory and redemption for his past failures for some time now, which has caused him to take a great deal of stock in honor, duty and chivalry. Roderick considers the defense of the weak and helpless to be of utmost importance and the duty of anyone capable; anyone who harms him or an innocent is his enemy and he will stop at nothing to deliver them from this world. He holds people to a high standard, but judges himself even more harshly than he judges others and his actions in the past have caused him to lose many friends, so--while he is usually friendly--he is slow to actually consider someone anything more than an acquaintance. 


History: Roderick was born in the northern mountains to a minor noble family. The family was small, insignificant and fairly poor for a noble house. At a young age, he became page to a more well-off noble knight, eventually becoming a squire. He was rather good at ground combat, whether it be with mace or with sword and shield, but what Roderick really excelled at was riding. He would spend as much time as possible in the saddle and practicing mounted combat with various weapons.

When Roderick was eventually knighted, he began entering tournaments, participating in the jousting and melee events. He fared well in the melees and won most jousts he entered, quickly gaining his family a significant amount of gold and prestige. He started to spend more time with the higher-ranking, landed nobles; going to feasts, participating in hunting trips. Eventually, a well-known lord asked Roderick to aid in the hunt for a small band of Ogres that had been terrorizing caravans on the trade routes. After a very successful skirmish, he was asked to join the lord's personal guard.

Roderick later became a member of the military in the northern mountains and had a small group of men serving under him in an elite cavalry unit. A few years ago, a group of Orcs had been raiding and pillaging the nearby villages. They were taking the food, slaughtering the men, kidnapping the women, burning down the houses. In his pursuit of the marauders, Roderick was blinded by his desire for justice and led his men directly into the Orc camp, which ended up being much larger than originally believed. All of Roderick's men were killed, bringing disgrace upon him and his family. He was cast out and sought to redeem himself by helping the weak, performing legendary feats and making a name for himself out in the rest of the world. When he was known as a brave, honorable, legendary man, he would return home.