Young Writers Society

The slave trade is alive and well. Creatures of all sizes, colors and girths are shipped like freight across spans of ocean that dwarf even the most massive tundras for no other reason than for the control of their soon-to-be masters and the wealth of those that would transport them. Ironically, the only place all creatures are equal is in the hold of a slaver's ship. Goblins and orcs stand shoulder to shoulder with elves and dwarves, all thoughts of the enmity and hatred between their species forgotten. Such petty bigotry pales in comparison to the thought of living the life of a slave, for they know their lives are effectively over, and that any sense of contentment they once held is gone forever.

Yes, Mr. Brent, the slave trade lives on--and will forever, I suspect. The efforts of good men are valiant indeed, for outlawing the transport and keeping of slaves is commonplace in the more 'sophisticated' of cities, and even the City of Splendors itself, Waterdeep, has put forth a bounty on Slave Ships, promising a great fortune to any who would bring them to justice! But the price per slave far outweighs the bounty, and many ships will merely turn a blind eye for a cut of the profits. So long as man has the capacity to view his fellows as less than he, as something less than human--so to speak--slavery will exist and thrive. And as long as the slave trade thrives, so too shall we!

--Captain Devlan Raynor, of the Slave Ship Aggressor

The Premise: Slaves aboard a slave ship on its way to a newly inhabited region must work together to escape or face slavery at the hands of cruel masters.

The Setting: The high seas of a fantasy realm where elves and goblins are commonplace, and magic is both respected and feared by all.

The Plot: It's a secret! But rest assured the basic plot *is* in place, and it will be molded and stretched around the individual characters in the story.

The Characters: Slaves, one and all. Every race and class imaginable. No *reasonable* character will be rejected (and even the unreasonable ones will be reasoned with). All characters and races are to be PMed to me for approval and editing. I highly recommend you talk to me via IM or PM with your character ideas, for some special abilities might land you with certain restrictions you might not enjoy (take, for instance, a siren's song--slavers wouldn't enjoy being seduced by it, so they would most likely slice open her vocal cords so she couldn't speak anymore, let alone sing. That would be bad.)
NOTE: When you make a character, please make TWO profiles for them. The first is a complete profile--everything included, like personal history, any secrets they might have, childhood experiences, etc. The whole nine yards. The second is a public profile. The complete profile is a "master" profile. Only myself (the storybook leader) and you (the writer) will see it. The second is the profile you will post for everyone to see, once it has been approved--appearance, personality--stuff other characters can see by looking and interacting. If you need help making any part of the profile, LET ME KNOW.

Rules: These are important.

1)No team-killing: If an active character is going to die, make sure it is thoroughly discussed between both parties involved.

NOTE: If you don't hold up your end of the posting agreement (see below), you'll be killed off.

2)On Writing Style: This is a Storybook RPG, so players may write in any style they please. First person, third person omniscient, it's all dependent on your personal preference.

3)On God-Moding: (Thank you Grif)

God Moding is vague. Here are the rules for it.

-- Other authors may control another author's character as long as it keeps the character IN CHARACTER. For extra help, communicate with the author of the character being god-moded first.

-- Authors have every right to determine what is in or out of character for their character. As such, any action they feel is wrong for the character can be vetoed within a few days of the post.

-- This isn't a turn-based RPG, it is a real-time RPG. That means that you aren't obligated to stop and wait for the author to reply to your character. This way, we don't wait three days for a response.

4) Out of character discussion is to be carried out in the Discussion Thread for this Storybook, titled "Uprising Discussion"

VERY IMPORTANT:

By sending a PM to me with a character enclosed, you are agreeing to the following conditions:

--I agree to dedicate time and effort to this storybook, and notify me (Buscador!) immediately if that is to change.
--All executive decisions of the storybook will be ultimately decided by me (Buscador!).
--Post at least three times a week, at least one of which must be in the story thread, the remaining two may be made in discussion.
--While every post need not be plot deciding or life changing, every post I make must be grammatically correct, with correct punctuation and minimal typos.
--Every post must be significant in some way--be it character development, character interaction, or just plain action. Basically--put effort into each and every post you do. Don't half-ass it just because you need to post. Personally I would prefer you did not post at all than post some three line post with one line of dialog. Work with one of the other authors to come up with a post if you're having trouble with dialog. Come up with a scene.
--Help your fellow authors if asked. We're a team now.

*was not sitting here waiting for this all day...*


Name: Lissa

Age: 57

Gender: Female

Race: Forest Nymph

Appearance: Lissa has long blonde hair held together in a mass of braids, curls, and small blooming flowers. She has large green eyes and a small delicate nose. Her body appears frail and weak, but she is quick and stealthy. Vines wrap around her legs with the facade of tattoos, however sometimes they shift and change position, becoming almost alive on her skin. By looking at her, you would guess that maybe she was in her late teens.

Clothing: Simple dress, the only clothing she has donned since her turning.

Background: Her friend sold her into slavery after she betrayed her people. After the betrayal, slavery was a kinder punishment than what her sisters would have done, that is all that is known of her so far.

Race Background: Forest nymphs “the sisters” are very social creatures, when it comes to each other. However to engage in communication with mortals is considered beneath them. To reveal oneself to a moral is a high crime, punishable by a painful slow death. Her species is reliant upon their surroundings and habitat, and if separated from it for too long, their minds start to deteriorate. Forest nymphs are hunters, and are more than capable of handling their own, in their forest. They are also capable of creating other nymphs, and are not born as special beings, but have their powers given to them by other nymphs.

Personality: Playful and free in the forests, her personality takes on much more of a caged animal feel aboard the ship, from time to time appearing rabid and vicious, while other times appearing to be catatonic. She is strong willed and stubborn, often throwing out sarcastic barbs rather than helpful advice. She has very little to say, but when she does speak the words are often worth listening to. In her home land, she was a fierce hunter, and was once prized among her sisters. She has an unyielding fascination with mortals, and has studied their behavior for more than three decades.

Abilities: Metamorphosis (changing shape, she often took on her human form so she could walk amongst them unbeknownst to them). Purtify; the ability to heal herself as well as cleanse of any magics instilled upon her. Land lore; the ability to reach out ones subconscious and have a heightened sense of physical awareness, but only applies in temperate forest areas.

Name: Ballow

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Demon

Appearance: Ballow has red eyes which turn black when he uses demon magic. He has white hair which cascade to his shoulders with curls at the bottom. He is very tall and is muscled well. (which makes him even more wanted as a slave). Ballow is usually described as handsome.

Clothing: A red billowy cape! Brown tunic with green trousers and little black shoes.

Background: He was captured by mercenaries after he supposedly devoured a girls soul. After figuring that he was a demon, in good health and that couldn't handle him if he became conscious they sold him to the slavery ships. He is a half demon prince - his mother was a human and he is an outcast in the demon race - this makes him less stronger and more friendlier to humans. Therefore goodies wouldn't want to kill him as much.

He is trying to get back into his Dads (the Demon King's) good book, by attempting to report/stop demons from breaching the Only Law.

Mage/warrior: He is adept, but not good or proffesional at both. Though he prefers not to be in fights as he find them "troublesome".

Weapons: Long sword; with his height it is easy to use. Throwing daggers - for long range.

Armour: The cape he wears is made out of specially cursed material which protects him mostly; though only mildly.

Spells: Element Balls - All four elements, sometimes mixed, sometimes pure.
Produce light/dark - exactly what it means.
Curse - Partially paralyze victim."

Race Background: Demons are a cold lot, who enjoy pain and suffering. They are ruled by a singular King who is the strongest of all Demons. There is only one law which they ahve to follow, "Never lend or give demonic script or magic to mortals." The demons which break this law are caught and put in eternal suffering where they aren't allowed to die while they are being tortured forever. Some demons are used to up hold these laws and Ballow is one of them.

Personality: Cold, intelligent, secretive, bubbly and not afraid to have his point heard. He has a personality which is very hard to describe, because it changes as the situation changes. If the situation requires someone who is intelligent - that is what he will be. However, he is usually a scary figure which people shy away from. He has odd quirks and thinks strange things are funny. He will smile alot; beware for it is dazzling and can freeze you were you are or make your bones chill.

Abilities: Uhhh, I can't remember, but when I do; be ready ^^

Disabilities: Doesn't enjoy bright lights that much.

OverEasy--Approved
Light_Devil--Pending

Eamon D'Arnise

Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Alignment: Chaotic Good
[b]Age: 23
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 140lbs.
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Hits: Gorgeous women, shiny coins, upscale pubs.
Misses: Ugly women, empty purses, injustice, slums.
Strengths: Stealth, indirect combat, stunning good looks and winning charm.
Weaknesses: Physical strength, direct combat, range combat.
Clothing: Black and white vertical striped parachute pants, knee high leather boots, high-cut silk vest, black beret, heavy leather bracers and gloves, and multiple belts.
Weapons: Fine, jeweled rapier worn on the hip--throwing knives in sheathes on a separate belt.
Quantified Stats, for reference:
Str: 9
Dex: 17
Con: 12
Int: 15
Wis: 11
Cha: 16
Personality: The prankster and the ladies man, rolled into one. He is the only person on the ship that shows the slightest hint of compassion toward the slaves. He frequently jokes with them and knows most by name, though none know his. His job on the ship is not quite clear, for he seems to do it all. Not a slave.
Background: Well now. If I told you, it'd take all the fun out of it!

Name: “Bob”
Age: mid-30’s
Race: Human
Nationality: Styrian.
Physical Description: "Bob" is a huge, black warrior. Noble of feature, but with a giant’s size and a warrior’s ripped build; he is feared by all and not without reason.
Demeanour: Quiet, reserved, aloof. He doesn’t speak much at all and generally, only when ordered to. He is snidely referred to as “Bob” as he refuses to give his name. It is the one point on which he doesn’t budge.
Personality: He is fiercely intelligent but above all else, disciplined and calm. His placidity is a feature that has come to be viewed with disgust by his fellow slaves, and respect and derision from the slavers.
Abilities: Strength, strategy, and weaponry. His weaponry skills are renowned in Styria; he is capable with most weapons (capable by his own standard, which is to say, generally better than those one-weaponed specialists) but brilliant with a staff or spear. He has an awareness and knowledge of magic, (as he was attended by a personal shaman for most of his adult life) but no particular skill in its usage.
Background: Unknown.

OverEasy: Appoved
Light_Devil: Pending
Jiggity: Approved
kittykat: Pending
Dreamer: Pending
Kitty15: Pending
FinalFreedom: Approved

A consideration when creating a character: This is not Noah's Ark--only humanoid (that i, bipedal and human-like) races would be taken as slaves, and even then only if they were safe to keep around without heavy enchantment and a dragon watching over them. If I've asked you to revise your character, do your best to get me on some form of Instant Messenger (listed below), so we can discuss this in real time; PM is kind of clumsy.[/b]

MSN: dono87@gmail.com
AIM: tekkieman880

Videl Vane Vateir
(Vid-L Van-A Vah-Tear)

Race: Half Elf
Class: Rogue/trickster
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 20
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 109lbs.
Eyes: Dark Green
Hair: Burgundy
Likes: Gambling, Riddles, Full Purses(for her to steal), Easily-seduced dim witted men.
Dislikes: Sly men, inequality, rich slobs
Strengths: Direct combat, ranged combat, her cunning wit
Weaknesses: Magical strength, stealth, dual cunning wit
Clothing: White knee-length skin tight pants with long tears on the legs, a navy blue vest-like shirt, knee-high flat bottom leather boots, and her hair always up in a pony-tail.
Weapons: A long blade katana held on her back by a thin sheath, a separate dagger hidden in her shirt.
Personality: Videl is a trickster with a cunning wit. Her gorgeous body and unmarked beauty makes it easy for her to seduce men into doing her bidding, which she often does if the need arises. Despite her mistress-like attire and attitude, Videl has never bedded a man and has never truly been in love. She is a caring soul when she wants to be, but most of the time she takes up the role of tricking and demeaning.

And an image just for measure;
http://yiasafrai.deviantart.com/art/DnD ... r-73769851

Name: Galea
Sex: Female
Race: Halfling
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Height: 4’2
Weight: 84
Age: 23
Clothes: Simple tunic and pants. A belt wraps around at the waist with a number of pouches attached.
Appearance: Short brown hair cropped to frame her face, a single earring in her left earlobe. Average girth and on the taller side for a Halfling, though not overly so.
Personality: Logical, calculating. Thinks for herself and occasionally goes against popular opinion in her decisions. Is able to push emotions and personal feelings aside and deal solely with the issue at hand. Can be seen as cold because of this, but only when cornered or when she needs to think in this way. She is otherwise easy-going and personable, though she continues to see things from different angles. As a result, she’s not the best person to go to for comfort, often giving the other person’s perspective for the would-be victim to consider. On the ship, she is perpetually in the state of mind listed above.
Strengths: Good with a bow and long-range combat, hitting her marks more often than not, though most of her training has been done in galleries and open ranges with straw targets, moving or still.
Weakness: Not good with close up combat, often resorting to going for the legs and knocking her opponent off balance. Can get a couple hits in, but is not nearly as skilled up close as she is at a distance.

Machavell

Race: Human

Class: Traitor

Alignment: Neutral

Age: 31

Height: 6' 2"

Weight: 160lbs

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Black, a thin moustache

Hits: Opportunities for self-gain, other peoples’ misfortune.

Misses: Physical exercise, open confrontations, failure.

Strengths: Excellent judge of character, exceptional designer and carpenter, well versed in court politics.

Weaknesses: Speaks his mind, does not understand the fragility of his mortality, few (if any) friends.

Clothing: Grey cloth shirt rolled up at the sleeves, closely fitted black trousers and dark brown boots ending just below the knee.

Weapons: None.

Personality: Distant and cold. Often obnoxious and rude, he influences the people around him like the wood he crafts. Morals have long since left his mind and he lives only to achieve his personal ambitions. As such, he is aligned with no group other than the one which will benefit him the most. He takes pleasure in observing chaos and, more often than not, causing it.

Background: He is valued by the slavers for his prowess in carpentry and so is often unchained and taken out of the hold to give advice on repairs. The ship’s carpenter died in suspicious circumstances part way through the voyage and Machavell twisted the situation to his advantage. Soon he was above deck almost every day, free from the heavy manacles for several hours at a time. Upon returning below decks, he was met every time with a wall of silence and envy-driven respect. Machavell remains untroubled by his precarious situation, and cautiously pursues a plan that will ensure his escape…


[s](Character awaiting approval)[/s] APPROVED!

Kester
Race: Human
Class: Manipulator
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 21
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 65kg
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Hits: Weak people, alcohol, distractions.
Misses: Rigid authority, being undermined, not knowing things.
Strengths: Manipulation and mind games that he plays with other people to get his own way; can move about without many noticing him, can be charming if he tries.
Weaknesses: Unskilled in actual fighting, but can hold his own with basic weapons, particularly knives, doesn’t have many real friends, prone to paranoia.
Clothing: Very plain tunic and pants, with worn boots
Weapons: A concealed knife in his clothes.
Personality: Tends towards being quiet. People assume that he isn’t intelligent, but he is actually weighing up the situation. He tends to be manipulative in tense situations, using others to get his own way. These are the ones he relishes, although he doesn’t like to take the credit, preferring to keep himself hidden from others, who know next to nothing about him. A lot of his game-playing stems from his paranoia. However, if he finds someone to trust and confide in, he will be loyal to them. In possession of a strange sense of humour that often makes others perceive him as unfeeling. For the most part, though, others do not notice him. He forgets himself when he drinks. He comes across as indifferent.
Background: He does not tell many people about his former life, particularly how he ended up on the ship. Those who he does meet find out only a fragmented version of his past. He tells them that his family died in unknown circumstances and he was taken from the streets to be put on the ship. He desires to team up with others to escape the situation, despite the lack of trust they have in him.

Name: Deaven L'evon

Race: Human

Class: simply... slave.

Age: 34

gender: male

appearance: http://media-2.web.britannica.com/eb-me ... 363ED2.jpg

weight: 83 kg

height: 193

color of eyes: dark brown

any other features: scars on his back from whip hits, and on his face for slaps.

Bacround: Became a slave in a young age. Has been a slave since. He has always had a slight dislike for slave owners and traders.

Personality: Seems cold, and distant. He keeps a cool head, but hates slavery and slave owners. HE is not a man who does things fast but a man of patienece and control.
He has a slight lust for blood.

First Mate Brent, of the Aggressor

"The crew is restless, Captain. We've been out for weeks, and there no sign of our destination. Maybe you should let the men have a go at some of the more...exotic prisoners?" The wiry, rat-faced man stood before Captain Devlan Raynor of the Aggressor, arms crossed over his chest.

"I've been very clear in my instructions, Mr. Brent," Raynor said softly, shifting the long, curved pipe in his mouth to better accommodate speaking. "If you'd like to explain to the buyer why his product is not up to standard, you are more than welcome." He puffed on his pipe and threw his feet over one another atop the desk at which he sat.

Brent shifted his weight from one foot the the other, and Raynor knew he had made his point. There were too many stories of entire crews immolated aboard their ship while they sat at dock, because their employer was not satisfied with the condition of his slaves. Only the promise of vast rewards kept his shipments coming--and frequently.

"Sir, with all due respect, if the men decide to mutiny, it won't matter what--"

"The men know what they are allowed, Brent. They also know what is forbidden. If any would like to challenge those restrictions, they are more than welcome to challenge me for command of this ship. The labor slaves are more than fair game--so long as they are not crippled, the buyer needs them only for his construction. The common whores...likewise fair game, so long as their faces are not marred. As for the more--how did you put it--exotic slaves, they are to be treated with the utmost care."

Brent nodded, watching his Captain as he tapped his pipe against the desk, emptying its expended contents--likely some exotic and expensive weed--into a dish on his desk. "You're dismissed, Brent." The first mate turned to exit the captain's cabin, forcing himself to keep his cool.

"Oh, and Brent--stay steady, my friend. You more than most know the importance of this run. Those prisoners alone are worth enough to keep this ship in top-shape for the next decade."

Brent closed the door behind him, doubting seriously Devlan's claim. For all the Captain's skill with a blade and at sea, his taste for the extravagant would expend their resources in half that time. He left the cabin more frustrated than before, and the look on his face told the crew that nothing had changed. As he neared them, however, he let his face split into a wide grin and he held his hands up to soothe the fire in the gathered crowd.

"It's all right, boys. Cap'n says we're still on course, and that your bonus is to be increased by ten pieces each, for the trouble." Their journey had been a long one, the longest the veteran crew had been on, and they were beginning to doubt their Captain. It was a blatant lie, but one that would appease them for a time. A few of the crewmen nodded in approval, and others merely grunted and went about their tasks.

"Oy! An' what'if ten pieces ain't enough?" Brent flinched at the voice,couldn't determine its source, but held up his hand once more and raised his voice to cow any others.

"Ten pieces is more than enough--it's enough to pay for the Governer's Suite back in Waterdeep for a day, and still have enough to find a warm body to accompany you through the night." He threw a wink in for good measure, and those closest to him let our a roar of laughter that made Brent smile.

Eamon D' Arnise, the one who had dared to shout against the First Mate, smiled too.

Lissa

Lissa’s knees had started to ache from sitting in the same kneeling position for so long, her shoulders were slumped, and she was quiet. The vessel rocked back and forth, the slow motion often becoming nauseating. The stench of un-bathed bodies stung her sensitive nose; it was enough that she tasted her own bile.

Her hands were bound behind her back in soft leather. It struck her odd, that slavers would bind her in something that would not irritate her skin. She was a slave after all. Slaves were not generally treated with kindness, or so she had heard. Her thoughts wandered more; something very strange was going on aboard this ship. She knew of course, that she should be dying. Her body should be decomposing at a quick rate without her forest, without her climate. She was not dying though, in the back of her mind she was always going through possibilities. They were all far too farfetched to make much sense though. Though her body wasn’t fading, her mind was, and fading fast.

A guard stood off to the left, his body just as un-bathed as the rest. His hair was matted and unruly, and his beard probably still had left over food stuck in it from weeks ago. Out of all of the people in the room, the stink of him was the worst. Like sour milk, sweat, and ale all mixed into one, it was not pleasant to her at all. Lissa found herself even more disgusted by the human race than she previously was.

She stared at him with open curiosity; how this lowly creature had managed to become her “master” she would never know. Even with the help of her own kind, Lissa had always thought herself capable of overcoming anything, even in most cases, her own kind. Humans, she sneered, were obviously the lesser beings. Yet here she was; bound at the wrists, her neck donning a collar that rendered her powerless.

Her mind drifted with the sound of the waves in her ears. She closed her eyes and hummed softly to herself, ignoring the current situation and letting her memories take her back to more pleasant times.

The feather light tickle of dew on her skin as she ran with her sisters on a hunt, their chime like giggles more beautiful than any music mortals could dream of creating. Her hair all but danced around her as her naked form sprinted through the brush.

The hunt, more a game than anything, had lasted six days thus far, and was far from over. Her skin rippled with excitement as one of her sisters came from behind her. Their arms entwined as they spun in a small circle before continuing on. Their laughter echoed off of every tree, every rock, everything around them serving only to heighten the enrapturing sound…

A small smile played on her lips as her mind took her away from the pungent reek of the ship to the tantalizing scent of pine and pollen.

Deaven L'evon:

He looked as the body fell to the ground. It slammed against the hard rock of the street. "Nooo!" He shout out.

"No!" Deaven shot awake. He was in the dark, sweat was dripping from him. A crewman sneered at him "Havin' bad dreams?" He asked laughing.

Deaven just lay down on his bed of hay. A tear ran from his eye. He wiped it.
He fell asleep... When he woke up he was alone, unless you wanted to count all the other slaves in the cages all around him. It was dawn, that time of the day.

The hatches of the slave cabin was opened. A few crewmen walked in, they opened the cage and woke everyone up. They were taken on the deck for inspection.

The inspection clerk walked through the lines of slaves, writing a few comments about each on his notebook. The clerk was an old man, he had a neatly trimmed white beard and a pair of round glasses.

He stopped at one of the younger slaves. The young man was shaking, to and fro.

The clerk pointed at the man "He is sick. I recon he has fever. He might infect it."

The lines of the slaves retreated from the sick man. The young slave looked at the other slaves for help. Two crewmen took hold of the young man and walked to the side of the ship.. They threw the young slave off.

They were soon after led back to their cabin.

Name: Elias Canthrup

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Race: Gargoyle

Position: Prisoner

Alignment: On the side of self interest

Race History: Traditionally, a gargoyle is loyal and true, the sort of creature who will stand guard over one residence for their entire life but this is only an outward appearance. Just as a snake may shed its skin, a gargoyle does the same and leaves its rocky outer layer on show while the being itself (humanoid with grey tinged skin and magnificent, skeletal wings) may walk the land unhindered.

Appearance: Elias has pale grey, almost silvery skin and his eyes are dark sockets, as is his cavernous mouth and small nostrils. He has little, curved horns on the top of his head, large protruding ears and a body that resembles that of an ape. The framework for his wings is large and they appear to be solid bone. It is evident that the thin webbing usually spanning between the shafts of bone has been cut away. He has a short, stubby tail and his hands are larger than that of a human, complete with claws.

Clothing: Traditionally, a gargoyle wears nothing but for the sake of decency (of which Elias has no comprehension) he is forced to wear black, cotton pants. That is all.

Background: Elias was taking a break from his position as guard of an exquisite mansion without permission, his stone skin remaining outside, when he got adventurous and flew out over the water. Elias had not seen ships before and his curiosity overcame him. He landed on the mast of one such slave ship. Persuaded by a foolish curiosity, Elias descended to the deck upon request and was invited to join the crew for a meal. Later he awoke in a cell and found himself in heavy chains and wearing a power restricting collar.

Personality: A lazy man at heart, Elias detests the work he is being forced to do but grudgingly obeys most of the time. He's the type of man who enjoys to gamble though he prefers cards to dice as there is a little more skill required and he likes to think himself an intelligent being. He wins most of the games but gets cocky and plays until he has lost all of his money again, only then satisfied to give up. Elias has a gruff way of speaking to people and he's a slow and steady sort of man, not making friendships quickly but he's reliable as long as there is profit in it for him in so being. Elias is loud and critical of others, he likes to aggravate a situation due in part to his curiosity: he likes to see how far he can push a person.

Abilities: Strength, attack with claws and he can go into a phase known as 'stone sleep' where he hibernates within a stone outer-casing that allows him to regenerate his health. Elias also has some skill at turning others to stone but the effects are only ever temporary as he is still a very young gargoyle.

Weaknesses: Women. In general, Elias will not harm a female of any species, regarding them as a wonder of nature and a being to be revered and treated with the up-most respect. Elias will cheat and swindle and murder but only when his victims are male. He is also slow in terms of movement and an unusual sense of loyalty is ingrained into him that you will discover more of in due time. Elias has also lost all ability to fly.

Weapons: None. In fact, Elias is quite boastful about the fact that he has never found the need to learn how to wield any type of weaponry.