Young Writers Society

Welcome to a realm where deceit and betrayal are only the half of it.

From her tower, high above her city, the Empress watched her city fall. Kyran had fallen, and along with it, so had Jadira. The city was breached. The Jadiran Empress, Saffir was devastated. She had to watch with only her Advisor and her General for company from the tallest tower in her city, watch as the army of Daeron of Nazar tore apart the gates and flooded the city with fighting men. The commoners fled, those who didn’t were cut down. It was not what the Empress had expected.

Meanwhile, Daeron had uncovered a secret tunnel and made his way to capture the Jadiran Empress, which he did with great satisfaction. And so, Jadira had fallen and Daeron now held the power in the western lands as well as the east. The Nazaran Emperor had cut the realm in half. The North could not reach the South and the South could not reach the North. The realm was in chaos.

Far to the north-east, deep within the badlands, the Gryphons have been watching the entire thing unfold. And they have a plan--apart from the marriage alliance they’d proposed to Saffir. As to what the plan is? Well, Gryphons never were likely to share their secrets now, were they? Besides, the Gryphon Ambassador was set to arrive at Kyran within a few weeks, and now that he’s there, he’s not impressed. Who would attack an unprotected city? Why, Daeron, of course.

In Tonhir, the Elvish city, the Elves are restless. They have been watching the attack unfold--but they are closer than the Gryphons, and more susceptible to attack. Their leader isn’t afraid or unruffled yet. She is watching and waiting. The right moment will come to send in her elves, and she is content to wait for it. After all, elves had eternity to wait, didn’t they?

Back in Kyran, everything is not as it seems. Daeron has had held the city for just over a month, and every moment of it has been torture. The Jadiran Princess has been restricted to her room while Daeron refuses to let the Jadiran Empress leave his side for too long. General Basia is also restricted to his rooms while Saffir’s Advisor is rarely left unguarded, and those left in the city? They are still trying to adjust, but it’s difficult. Daeron’s men are everywhere and anything they deem suspicious is severely punished.

When your home is overrun by the enemy, what else can you do but plot and wait for the most opportune moment?


Important Information:

Map of Vianna - Jadira and Nazar:


Races/People:


Ranks:



Rules:
- Usual YWS/SB rules.
- ALL posts must be readable, co-relate to previous posts and have correct spelling. That means no chat speak.
- 800 characters minimum or about 165 words for those of you using MS Word or other writing programs. Use this if you're not sure.
- Swearing; it's allowed just don't overdo it. And keep it reasonable; No F-bombs!
- Romance is allowed but no sex scenes; No one needs to read about details.
- Can claim up to 3 characters and No Characters Under 16--without permission.
- Fantasy creatures are allowed. Just don’t go crazy--This still isn’t Curuwen.
- Don't God-mod. Please, it's not fair. And no Mary/Gary Sues either. They annoy me.
- Please don't double post unless there have been no new posts for at least 24 hours.
- Please have a name and place at the top of each post. Such as Name | Place OR, for example; Mia | Town.
- Please do not kill another person's character without permission; it's unfair, and not to forget mentioning, godmodding. We really don't like that. And besides, no one likes it when they're randomly killed.
- All NON-SB posts to the DT please people.
- The SB is co-run by Me (ScarlettFire) and SisterItaly.


Character Slots:
- Jadiran Empress, Saffir - Claimed by Stella Thomas.
- Nazarian Emperor, Daeron - Claimed by me (Scar).
- Jadiran Princess, Neri - Claimed by Em (SisterItaly).
- Nazarian Prince - Ilarion, - Claimed by Octave.
- Jadiran General, Basia (M) - Claimed by me (Scar).
- Nazarian General F-
- Jadiran Advisor F-
- Nazarian Advisor M -
- Dark Mage Leader, Lord Adelfan -
- Mage, Haroun - Claimed by Shadowlight.
- Mage - Blair - Claimed by gleek456.
- Elf Leader F-
- Elf -
- Gryphon Ambassador, Simon - Claimed by GriffinKeeper.
- Assassin 1 -
- Thief/Beggar, Blis (Rabbit) - Claimed by LiquidDeath.
- Commoner/Gypsy, Morwenna (Gwen) - Claimed by me (Scar).
- Gypsy/Thief, Kestral - Claimed by PrincessOfDarkness.
- Lord, Daniel - Claimed by Isha.
- Gypsy, Naida - Claimed by Isha.


Character Slots may be added/removed as needed.


Character Sheet:

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b] (First AND Last, if known)
[b]Age:[/b] (16+, please)
[b]Gender:[/b] (male or female)
[b]Race:[/b] (Human, Mage/Gypsy, Elf, etc)
[b]Rank[/b] (Assassin, Prince, Thief, etc.)
[b]Allegiance:[/b] (None, Jadira, Nazar, Other, Self)

[b]Appearance:[/b] (description and picture)

[b]Personality:[/b] (Include likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses)

[b]Flaws/Weaknesses:[/b] (You must have at least one)

[b]Power/s:[/b] (If you have one/any)

[b]History:[/b] (At least two four line paragraphs. And none of this “I don’t remember” stuff. Your character has a story, so give us a glimpse of it)

[b]Up For Love?[/b] (yes, no, orientation, conditions)

[b]Other:[/b] (Anything we’ve missed?)


Link to DT: topic88747.html

*OBVIOUSLY I still have editing to do... but yay for reusing old characters?)

Name: Neri
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Rank Princess of Jadira
Allegiance: Jadira

Appearance: Neri isn’t short, but she isn’t tall either. She’s about average height for her age and her body can certainly tell you she’s not a child. Her deep red hair reaches just over her shoulders and is usually left down, unless she deems it appropriate to wear it up. Her eyes are a light honey brown and large in comparison to the rest of her face.

She has a thing for long gloves that reach up most of her arm, She likes to dress herself up and make herself look good, but that’s for her own pleasure and no one elses. She won’t admit it, but it’s kind of like dress up for her.



Personality: Neri is your happy-go-lucky and way too chipper type. She’s always got even the smallest smile on her face, even if she’s crying (not that she cries often, in the first place). Some people wonder if she’s slightly crazy, and she just may be with how enamoured she is with Simon. Even if at first she was turned off by the idea of an arranged marriage.

She never questions her mother or Simon, but she does question every one else’s motives. She’s always ready to get the ones she loves out of a sticky situation any way she can and she’s more than positive that either of them would do the same for her. Neri is always one-hundred percent reliable, and always keeps to her word.

She's not much for being a public face, but her people don't dislike her. She keeps to herself when she's not with her mother or Simon. She's terrific at entertaining herself.

Flaws/Weaknesses: She’s horrified of the dark, she’s not a very talented fighter, she can be a little *cough very* annoying and she doesn’t understand the concept of ‘personal space’.

Power/s: She and her mother have a bit of a blood bond that allows them to communicate and see where/what the other is doing as long as the other wants to be seen.

History: Neri was born into royalty, and for her whole life was sure she’d die royalty. Thanks to recent events, she isn’t sure anymore. She has a great relationship with her mother, and her fiance. Though it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when Neri had a sort of teen rebellion; when her mother had told her she was set to be married to Simon. She was appalled by the idea of being forced to marry, her mother had never forced her to do anything she didn’t like before. She did everything she could think of to convince her mother to call it off. She was extremely well behaved, then not so well behaved, she locked herself away in her room and then she tried following her mother everywhere and glaring at her while doing so.

Then she finally got a chance to meet Simon. He wasn’t such a bad guy after all. As time went on she grew more and more fond of the idea of marriage, and hated to see him leave to return home for a short while.

Up For Love? She’s kind of engaged...

Other: She's not fond of farm animals, or being forced into life changing situations without her approval first. Or boredom. She hates being bored.

Hi! Can I please reserve the Mage slot? Profile will be up today or tomorrow.

Decided not to take te Advisor...

Name: Blair Amoré Mevéntuz

Age: 19, almost 20.

Gender: Female

Race: Mage

Rank: Commoner

Allegiance: Jadira, and self.

Appearance: Blair has long, curly blonde hair, in which looks bright in the light. She likes to wear he hair messily braided and hidden in her cloak, or down, without the cloak. She has piercing blue eyes, and long eyelashes. Blair has a heart-shaped face, and good bone structure. Blair has a black facial abnormality, from being a Mage. It is very curvy, and gothic-like. She has slightly rosy cheeks, and a broad smile. Blair is a tall woman, and has a very slim figure. She has slight curves, but she's pretty skinny. In clothing, she likes to wear pretty light colored cloaks, with the hood up, and she likes to dress formally. Blair would be seen wearing silver, white, or light pink cloaks with dresses underneath, and she's usually wearing simple, yet pretty shoes.



Her tattoo:


Personality: In words, Blair is sweet, flirtatious, and kind. She is a very sweet girl, and usually thinks before she acts. Blair knows that once you do something, you can never take it back. Blair, for a Mage, is a bit immature, but very responsible at the same time. She may do very flirtatious things, such as frequent touches, or gazes. She is a really kind girl, and usually puts others first instead of herself. Blair isn't very snobby, but may appear to be.

Blair is also a sarcastic and taunting girl. Yes, she's kind, but she's also cruel. Blair can appear kind at first, then sarcastic at another. She can intimidate anyone very easily with her powers and beauty. Blair likes to make sarcastic comments and make people feel uncomfortable... when she first meets them. Blair knows her actions, and takes pride in beauty and being a Mage.

Blair absolutely dislikes it when people take after her. She believes it serves no right to her independence and individuality. She also hates when people decide to go ahead and copy her. Copycats are a no-no. Blair likes when people stop and stare at her, or do a double take at her appearance. Sure, she's a Mage, but she's a beautiful Mage.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Blair seriously hates bugs. She will kill them on the spot if she sees one. She's defenseless when it comes to combat, which is why she uses her powers in all her fights.

Power/s: Blair is a Light Mage, which means she uses her powers for good. She has the power of light. Blair can create light, and destroy it at the same time. She can cast light spells without a staff, and no delays. Blair is also a bit of a Priestess, and being a Light Mage enhances her healing abilities.

History: Blair was born to a Mage father and a sort of Priestess mother. She was raised and grew up in Jadira, following her father's footsteps, and he mother's... sort of. Blair was always the strange child when she was little, always secluded by everyone, quiet, and shy. Blair didn't even try to talk to the other kids. She always thought that she was the only one who was a Mage. Blair continued like that until she turned 18.

When she turned 18, Blair practically mastered her powers, and decided to master her socializing skills. She did, but had some sort of other side of herself from her original self. Blair had a little sister, who was also a Mage, and they were closer to eachother then their parents. They loved each other, enjoyed their company, and thought of each other positively. Everything was fine until Blair's sister got diagnosed with pneumonia. She died shortly after, and no one really knew why she died, she barely did anything to gain the symptoms.

Up For Love? Yes, straight.

Other: Hope you don't mind that she has a British accent. I have a fetish for accents.

Name: Simon of Altair
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank Ambassador of Altair, Trustant.
Allegiance: Loyal to the Aeries of Altair (Gryphon).

Appearance:


Simon is a little underwhelming to behold. Everyone has different ideas about what a noble should look like, but no one expects them to look, well, average. Simon is very average looking. Average height, average build, brown eyes, brown hair.

He is also a master of disguise. He can stand out if he wants to or disappear quietly into a crowd. It's one of the skills he picked up.

Personality: Simon is the knight in shining armor. Intelligent, noble, and wise, he has earned the trust of gryphons at age twenty. That is saying something when you consider the suspicious nature of gryphons with respect to humans.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Simon's weak spot is Neri. The urge to keep her safe will win every time. He may know it's an ambush, but he'll go in anyway.

Power/s: To be an ambassador, the gryphons expect that, should a situation arise; that you will be able to handle it, single-handedly. By situations they mean things like "Getting attacked by dragon mercenaries" or "escaping an armada of pirate ships." To that end they have extensive training in combat (fighting), spy-craft(getting information), and warcraft (leading armies). Ambassadors are also expected to know how to deal with politicians, so they have an education in politics, philosophy, science, and... etiquette.

He was able to learn this quickly, thanks to a photographic memory.

History: Simon was discovered by the gryphons of the Altair Aeries. He was brought up by some humans that were members of the gryphon clan. The Matron of Altair, a powerful gryphon leader, recognized the potential in Simon and began training him to become an ambassador. His training lasted years, and finished but recently.

There has been a lot of disputes among the gryphon clans as to how humans should be dealt with. In the past, they were watched with extreme caution. With the success of Simon though, the momentum has switched away from isolationism to setting up relations with humans. They looked closely and decided that they would make an alliance with Jadira. To further strengthen their ties, the Matron proposed that Simon marry their princess. This proposal was met enthusiastically and so Neri and Simon were promised to one another.

Where Neri was resistant to the idea; Simon never really was. He had been trained to help out the Aerie as much as he could. Marrying Neri would bring an alliance closer together, benefiting the Aerie. And really, who would complain about marrying a princess? He would have given his life for the gryphons, so giving his heart wasn't a problem for him. Winning Neri's heart, on the other hand, posed a bit of a problem.

When Simon first came, she locked herself in her room and refused to see him. When the Empress ordered her to unlock the door or have it broken down; Neri replied back that she was naked and if that is how she wanted the guards and her future fiance to see her, then go ahead and break the door down. The Empress did not give the order to break the door down. Instead, she decided to keep Neri under siege instead. Unless the Princess came down and met Simon, she would get no food or water.

Simon, on the other hand, decided to take matters into his own hands. At night, when everyone had gone to bed, Simon snuck out and prepared a meal for the Princess. Then, with the help of a gryphon companion, he found his way onto the balcony outside of the princess's room; picked the lock, and then went into Neri's room. Without waking her, he placed the food and drink down; as well as one of the many gifts that he had brought along for the Princess. After this, he made his way back to the balcony, locked the doors behind him, then returned to his quarters.

Simon did this for several days. On the third night, he found her sleeping on a chair, waiting to catch her benefactor in the act. When she woke up the next day, she found herself in bed, tucked in, and a beautiful dress hanging by the door.

In the meantime, the Empress grew worried about the princess; but when she called to her through the door, she remained defiant! She didn't sound dehydrated or hungry; if anything she sounded stronger! So the siege continued. In the meantime, Neri began to live for the night; in the hope of catching her benefactor; although afraid of what she might find.

She finally succeeded on the seventh night. As Simon put the food down, Neri approached him from behind, with a sword he had given her the previous night. She had him at sword point and for several moments they stared at each other and said nothing. After the moment was over, Simon suggested that they eat. So it was that their first meal together was at sword point in the middle of the night. The gift for that night? An engagement ring.

On the eighth day, she emerged from her room and met with Simon in public. The Empress could never quite figure out how they got along so well so quickly, and why she was in such good spirits when she emerged. The marriage itself will not take place until Neri has turned eighteen. From time to time, Simon would need to return to the Aerie for consultations. So it was that he was away from Jadira when it was attacked.

Up For Love? Simon is engaged to be married.

Other: When Simon travels, he does so with a gryphon known as Aloysius.

Placeholder for profiles.

Edit; Profiles. Happy? Still have the history to do, but I'll be back after a certain Someone uses the internet to finish those.

Nazarian Emperor:
Name: Daeron Turgal-Nazar.
Age: 39.
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.
Rank Emperor.
Allegiance: Nazar, himself.

Appearance: Daeron is tall, over 6’ and deceptively unassuming. Brown hair, brown eyes and tanned skin. He appears to be nothing more than some peasant boy at first glance, not overly strong or too weak, but it’s a lie. Daeron’s strength is almost unnatural--especially when he’s annoyed and furious. He wears simple and elegant yet expensive clothing and doesn’t like to skip out on the little details, such as gold trim or the royal Nazarian design of a dark bronze dragon in mid-flight.

Personality: Despite his somewhat kind first impression, Daeron is actually cold, cruel, slightly vicious yet smart, determined and not easily distracted. And sometimes he appears to be not entirely sane. He hates to see those he cares about hurt (not that he cares about much anymore) and often gets really defensive if someone he likes is harmed, but be warned--he doesn't like people who pry. He can get mad—really mad. And a mad Daeron, who has a few interesting talents, is not a good thing. And although he’s talented, his downfalls are his somewhat short temper and the grudge he holds against those who enjoy life and see no consequences for their actions. He’s quiet more often than not and thinks a lot before speaking or doing something.

Daeron likes to plan things out, if he can. Especially battles and the like. He highly dislikes when his plans are thoroughly screwed up by stupid mistakes and he has made a few mistakes in the past, and dislikes when this is pointed out. It's not his fault; he's just a man who has the title of King. He can't do everything. He also hates being called a coward—it’s another downfall of his. He dislikes nature and everything about it, but he likes a pretty woman or man, and he's not afraid of people knowing about it. He likes fighting, war, destruction and everything that comes with it, and he's not opposed to doing what he thinks is right, even if that's joining a fight he probably shouldn't have.

He usually has a blank, cold and uncaring edge to his expression, like he’s lost all emotion or just doesn’t give a damn about the rest of the world. This is probably true and may just be a mask to hide his crueler side. Not that he'd ever let that mask slip in public. And beware, he is always plotting something. It’s best to watch one’s back around this man. He’s erratic and dangerous, and will stop at nothing to achieve what he wants.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Daeron’s biggest and most obvious flaw would have to be his god complex; the man thinks that he is a god and that the world revolves around him. He isn't opposed to the idea of looking and touching who and/or what he wants, when he wants. And he's not afraid to let it be known, either... Can’t stand being called a cowards or helpless, in any way. Dislikes being seen as just another madman when he clearly thinks he isn’t. The man is dangerous, but he has a weakness for a pretty face--particularly one face; Saffir’s.

Power/s: N/A. Much like Basira, his only real power is the one he has over his people, and he experience in the art of war. Though, that’s more of a skill than anything else, really. He might have a touch of magic in his persuasion, but that might just be Daeron’s charming personality.

History: Daeron's father was a peasant, nothing but another body for the army. Until he married the Empress of Nazar, and took over the kingdom. Daeron was born a few years later and he was the only child they ever had, as Daeron's father murdered his mother as soon as he was old enough to get around on his own before hiring a tutor. He never really did have a childhood full of fun and games; his childhood was full of lesson. His father was grooming him to take over. Daeron took it to heart and started to pay attention to what was being taught. He learned all he could from his father and the tutor before having the man killed. He was never exactly a sane child.

He took the throne at the age of twelve, gave a memorable speech and seduced the entire nation. Of course, no one could figure out how his father died, nor if he had a hand in it. And he liked it that way. Over the years, Daeron went about securing his hold on the Nazarian throne. And he wasn't always gentle about it. He married a Gypsy Princess when he was fifteen--the girl was eleven. Four years later, his son was born. Daeron set about educating his son in much the same way his father had educated him. A few years later, his wife had a girl. Once she had reached the age of around five, he killed his Empress and declared it an act of foul play set up by the Jadirans. This, of course, wasn't true. After a bit of an uproar by his people, Daeron set about launching a campain to take Jadira. He failed many times before he realized that subtle wouldn't work. He set about planing for an invasion.

Now, over two decades later, he's succeeded and he's planning on joining the two thrones. It's not exactly an honest thing, let along morally and ethically correct, but this is Daeron. He's not entirely sane, but he's a genius none-the-less. He plans on uniting himself and Saffir so that he secures both the Jadiran throne and the Nazarian one. Then he plans on seducing her in some twisted game of his before conquering the rest of the realm. One thing you can say about him; he does have his priorities set straight. For now, though, he's just going to hold Kyran until the next stage of his plan comes to fruition; marrying Saffir and getting her pregnant. He's a little obsessed with the woman and the wedding is about a week away.

Up For Love? In a sense. He doesn’t actually have an understanding of the concept, so for him it’s more of a lust thing. He doesn’t really care about love, but maybe someone could change that? Then again, maybe not. The man isn’t exactly sane, is he? He's been married, but he killed her after she became useless.

Other: Daeron is never seen without a weapon of some kind--or several. He usually has more than one dagger hidden on his person and one in plain view, but he also carries a sword;





Jadiran General:
Name: Basira Levon.
Age: 30.
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.
Rank General.
Allegiance: Jadira, Empress Saffir and himself on occasion.

Appearance: Basira is tall, standing at around 5’9, 6’ with curly, pitch black hair, brown eyes and lightly tanned skin. He’s a skinny man, but no less of man for it, with a brooding look that he only has marring his face when something highly displeases him--like a decision Saffir made that he knows won’t work or fail entirely. He's slim, athletic and stronger than he looks. He's also gorgeous--or so the servant girls say. He doesn't believe it, though. He is normally seen in the colours of Jadira, dark green with a white horse and a dark red dragon adorning his armour--the Jadiran Royal symbol.

Personality: Despite his somewhat cold impression, Basira is actually kind, loving, caring, and smart, determined and sometimes easily distracted. He is devoted to his Empress and his country, and hates to see those he cares about harmed in any way. He often gets really defensive if someone he likes is harmed, or you say the wrong thing about Saffir, as he simple adores he woman. But be warned--he gets mad. Really mad. And a mad Basira is not a good thing; he’s a General, and getting on his bad side is a sure way to find yourself in the dungeons without any real explanation of how you got that. He’s not above telling Saffir what he thinks of something or if he thinks a plan she has will fail, and he’ll do it quite bluntly at that.

Basira has somewhat short temper and the grudge he holds against men who harm women is a deep seated and very old one; it’s not something he likes to speak of either. He’s quiet more often than not and thinks a lot before speaking or doing something. He likes to plan things out, if he can. Especially battles and the like. And highly dislikes when his plans are thoroughly screwed up by stupid mistakes. And he has made a lot of mistakes in the past, and dislikes when this is pointed out. It's not his fault--he was 'just following orders'. After all, he can't argue with orders...even if he wants to. He also hates being called a coward—it’s another downfall of his.

General Basira often has a blank, cold and uncaring edge to his expression, like he’s lost all emotion or just doesn’t give a damn about the rest of the world. This is his mask, to hide his softer. Not that he'd ever tell you about that.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Basira’s greatest flaw would be himself. He is very afraid that he doesn’t live up to the standards that other people believe of him, nor does he think he’s all that worthy of being in the same room as his Empress, even though he adores her and is devoted to the woman, the kingdom of Jadira and their cause.

Power/s: N/A. The only real power he has, if you like, is the one a General has over an army and the people. And his skills in the art of war, if you can count that. Otherwise, there is nothing magical at all about him; he’s just human. No mage or elf blood distinguishable--that he knows of.

History: Basira was born to a poor lord and his peasant mistress-turned-wife, their only child. His childhood wasn't all that different from many other average childhoods. He was still learning how to run the failing family business (Who knew a bodyguard business would be so unpopular?) after his father was gone, which included knowing how to defend himself, when the worst happened. Well, then again. When his father said bodyguard, he meant something else entirely. Sadly, Basira would never find out. The family's shop was burnt down, taking his father with it. He was only twelve at the time. A few months later, his mother died of poisoning. Clearly, someone didn't want Basira's parents to talk, and he wanted to know why. So he spent the next few years digging around but he came up with nothing.

At the age of sixteen, he joined the Jadiran army and swiftly rose through the ranks. He was a general by the time he was twenty-four. He spent his military career making a name for himself and was eventually brought before Saffir. They took a liking to each other and she trusted his judgement; Basira definitely knew what he was doing. To an extent. He spent five years at the palace, looking over old war records and battle plans. He liked what he saw, but he could also see flaws. He aimed to fix them and spent years in-between small minor wars, reorganizing and re-planning old battle plans before he finally realized that reading the records wouldn't help him any longer. He had to rely on his instincts when planning for a battle, not just his knowledge. After all, every war was different, wasn't it? He knew that better than he though he did.

Now, at the age of thirty and after many small-scale skirmishes between Jadira and Nazar, Basira thinks he may have a plan. It's risky and insane, but he has a feeling it'll work. Now it's just time to see if any of the myths and legends are real--one of which has been proved already when the Ambassador for the Gryphons arrived, offering a deal. Basira advised his queen to take it, and she did. But then Daeron invaded...and everything's gone to hell. Basira is never left alone and Daeron often contacts him on advice for his insane war plans. The Jadiran General hopes he'll escape whatever fact Daeron might have in store for him so that he might slip out of the city unnoticed and go seeking some of those myths. After all, wan't there an old legend about an Elvish city deep in the woods to the north?

Up For Love? Yes, and he is straight, but he’s too devoted to his Empress and his country. Maybe someone can get him out of this habit and into some romance?

Other: Basira carries several weapons, most being daggers of various styles but he also carries a sword, much like this one;



Commoner Girl:
Name: Morwenna “Gwen” Teodor.
Age: 19.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human, half-Gypsy.
Rank Commoner/Gypsy.
Allegiance: Herself.

Appearance: Morwenna is tall, but not too tall, perhaps 5’5 in height with bright red-orange hair, pale blue eyes and pale skin covered in freckles, even though she works outside a lot. Her physique is slim and very feminine, with the right curves in all the right places and the clothes to match. She is often dressed as a high-ranking lady, which, of course, is a lie. She’s a commoner and has been playing the lady game for just over a year. One rarely sees her out of her “Lady Gwenna” persona. Her Mage marking are very feminine in design and mostly run down her spine and arch across one hip, from low on her stomach to up over the hipbone. She also has some rather faded designs marring the back of her hands and across her chest, below the collar bones. They're mostly black or a dark shade of green. She doesn't bother to hide them, either.


Personality: Morwenna seems timid, kind and naive at first but she's not shy or afraid to speak her mind, even if she gets hurt because of it. She often gets her in trouble for speaking her mind and luckily someone has always seemed to be there to get her out of it. Fierce and loyal, if sneaky and more than a little selfish, Morwenna can't stand to see those she cares about hurt or threatened. Although, as “Lady Gwenna” or Gwen as she nicknamed her persona, she can be incredibly selfish and completely forget about that sometimes. She's not timid, but she is kind of blunt and sometimes comes off as cold and uncaring. Even incredibly selfish on occasion, but normally only when acting. She has a tendency to be snobbish and forget about those she cares for. Surprisingly, she does have a fiery temper, but she'll only lose it when she's been pushed too far.

She panics when backed into a corner and tends to cause trouble. A lot. Either by general snobbish behaviour--ignoring people when she doesn't get her way, treating others as disposable and unimportant--or begging tactics designed to get under someones skin and get exactly what she wants. Or she just steals it. She really has an obsession with herself, almost to the point of being unhealthy. But she does dislike violence, fighting, death, even if it's her business. She also dislikes bullies and rules--she never did like rules. After all, weren't they made to be broken? Likes sunrise, the stars, the moon, the sun, life, getting her own way/whatever she wants and/or likes and her freedom. She'd hate it if she didn’t have her freedom.

Morwenna is quite the actress and is very good at sneaking around, hardly ever getting caught at it. She does have a tendency to daydream, mainly about things she doesn't yet have and would like and often forgets about what it is she's supposed to be doing. She won't stand down when confronted about something she doesn't want to do or thinks is wrong.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Morwenna’s greatest flaw is her inability to discriminate between several of her smaller personas. She’s an actress, a woman of many mask--but only when she wants something. She also doesn’t know how to use any of her powers properly, apart from her minor foresight and her general magic. She also highly dislikes being caught out/backed into a corner or just plain put on the spot outside of her plans; it unnerves her and she’s likely to lash out, verbally or psychically.

Power/s: There may be some vague kind of something that makes people overlook her unless she’s actively seeking attention. She also has some very minor, mostly undiscovered healing abilities.

She also has access to all the normal, run-of-the-mill magic that many Mages and Gypsies tend to have, and is very practiced it it. It still wears her out if she over does it or attempts way too many of the...larger spells or charms in too short a time. She uses her general magic for small, simple charms and spells that she sells to the general public from Madam Zilar’s Magic Emporium.

Morwenna also has some slight foresight, which she barely manages to use to predict the future for those fool enough to seek it out at Madam’s Zilar’s. The only thing she’s very powerful in at all, really, is her general magic, which isn’t much at all for someone who has a very powerful, full-blooded Mage/Gypsy parent but a human mother. You would think something more would come of it, but no.

History: Morwenna was born to a reasonably rich lady and a very famous, very powerful, full-blooded Gypsy lord, or rather, he called himself a king. Morwenna doesn't that believe that tale of her mothers at all. As all children of wealth, her upbringing was rich and educated, but there was still some controversy as to who, exactly, Morwenna's was. Her mother had never told her his name, nor if he was still alive. Or anything about him, really. And she was curious. Who was this man who gaze her these strange abilities and markings adorning her skin? Somehow, she knew would never find out. After all, the man was probably long gone and had moved on. She hoped she would find out who he was one day.

Over the next few years, she developed a liking for masks and personas, changed her appearance slightly and her personality just so she could toy with others, mainly those rich than her mother, whose fortune by now was almost completely depleted. This was not a good sign for her mother and the rest of the family. They needed a solution and fast. Morwenna, at the age of eleven, thought she might have one, asking a cousin around her age at the time to teach how to handle a dagger. He did so without really questioning her and she proceeded with her plans. By the time she was seventeen, she's have five husbands and every single one of them had died mysteriously. He latest husband, Aram, had dies with smile on his face. The man had been old, and happy to leave his considerable fortune to Morwenna.

Despite the large fortune, Morwenna didn't think it's enough and she wants more. At nineteen, she's now out to rob poor Daniel of his fortune, even if she has to kill him herself. Even though she appears to be a bit of a black widow, she's still a romantic and looking for that one guy to spend the rest of her life with. She despairs at the lose of Jadira to Nazar and fears the Nazarian Emperor. She only saw him once and it was enough to frighten her, despite his unassuming appearance. Looks don't deceive her. When she's not pretending to Lady Gwenna, she's either working at Madam Zilar's or at the palace, playing Kitchen maid. What else can she do? She's a curious girl.

Up For Love? Yes, and she’s straight. She’s a romantic, so enjoy wooing her.

Other: Morwenna carries several daggers, most are hidden but there may be one or two hidden in plain sight--so that odd, wooden gypsy charm hanging from her belt might not actually be a charm at all.

Okay! Here goes nothing.

Character Sheet:
[code]
Name :Blis (Rabbit) (last name unknown)

Age :16

Gender:Male

Race:  Human

Rank : Thief

Allegiance :None (Though that might change)

Appearance :Dark brown hair, dark green eyes, about 1 meter 25cm tall, thin body, dresses like a beggar

Personality :Humorous, favorite colour is blue, he can't stop himself from stealing anything that has value, surprising smart, arrogant. Although being an orphan he never mistreats girls. Has good morals. Hates the rich and powerful, eats any form of food. 

Flaws/Weaknesses: Over confident, always the first to run. Loves to talk

Power/s : He is able to rob you blind without you noticing it, very sharp eyes, notices the things that are often well hidden. A very good liar. He will soon discover a power that resides within him.

History: His mother abandoned him as a baby. He lived in an orphanage until the age of 7 where he left and started his life as a thief. He never had any friends. A few days after he ran from the orphanage he was caught while stealing from a wealthy lord. The lord had him punished by whipping him 30 times on the back, resulting to ugly scars. 

After that he managed to stay concealed and never got caught, his skills got better and better until they were unmatched. He always keeps his distance from other thief's so that he doesn't get mixed up in other people's problems. He lives all around the city, always moving to aviod detection. He trys to sell or use everything he steals so that he would not be caught with it.

Up For Love? : Yes, but he doesn't really know it. It will develop from a normal relationship to love. Has to be his age or at least 1 year younger

Other:  He's a sucker for blue gems. His father, who he doesn't know anything about, had some powerful abilties

Name: Her Most Gracious and High Majesty, Empress Saffir Herela Montestea, the Third of her Name, Ruler of the Kingdom of Jadira and Protector of the Glorious City of Kyran and her People.

Alias: Saffir.

Age: 36

Gender: female

Race: Human, but the Montestea line has a long history of mage blood.

Rank Empress, Ruler of the Kingdom of Jadira and Protector of the Glorious City of Kyran and her People.

Allegiance: Jadira. Always.

Appearance: Saffir and her daughter share their dark red hair and golden eyes. Saffir's mage blood has left her with markings across the chest and up one arm. She is a short, petite woman, and takes huge pride in her appearace- the fact that Daeron allows her access to her dressmakers is not of much comfort, but at least it helps a little bit. Picture here, all credit to the artist.

Personality: Saffir loves Jadira, Neri and her life.

That's the first thing you need to know about her, and probably the last. She loves her country. She loves her job, weirdly, since most rulers either don't or are just plain psychopathic (she believes Daeron to be of the latter kind), she loves her people, she loves the land. She's always ruled with a strong yet gentle hand. She often struggled to be heard among her councils and generals but she's extremely stubborn and makes sure that she gets at least part of her way. At the same time, if she realises she's wrong, she'll take a step back and apologise. Saffir likes to have everything balanced, believes that everything should be in moderation and had planned to keep her realm- and her family- happy, safe and stable for her entire life.

Flaws/Weaknesses: She may easily admit she's wrong, but when somebody else is wrong she will really lose her temper. She can hover over decisions for a long time and in an emergency she's always needed friends and advisers to be beside her and guide her. Saffir rules well, but not without help, she's very dependent on her various helpers.

Power/s: She can share a psychic link with her daughter, Neri, but only when both are willing to create it, which rather annoyingly means she can't check up on Neri whenever she likes. But should the two be far apart it has always been useful checking that her daughter is safe, and for keeping Neri up to date with the happenings in Saffir's own life.

Apart from this, she has a weird instinct that makes her survive where others die. Her younger brother Mairek was killed by a falling tree that she simply wiggled her way out of underneath, her assassination attempt count is now up past two dozen and each time she's avoided the arrows, the poison, the darts, the venomous snakes and the explosions unscathed. Even that time when the assassin had a knife to her throat, the chandelier that had hung for two hundred years in the throne room took that very moment to fall. It might just be luck, but paired with her mage's markings, Saffir thinks it's something else and is thankful for it.

History: Saffir's mother, Empress Herela, died in giving birth to her younger brother Mairek when Saffir was six. The crown immediately moved to Saffir as a result, with her father fulfilling a role as regent. Her father, though a loving man, was not a proficient ruler and under him Jadira suffered. After Mairek was killed when he was eight and Saffir fourteen, her father contracted a wasting illness. For years Saffir watched him in spouts of agony and hallucination from his medicine. Saffir's uncle Jaire would have taken over the regency if he died, but the Regent had something up his sleeve. Jadiran law stated that Saffir would be of age either at the age of eighteen or upon her marriage. He told his daughter his plan and she agreed simply so that he could sleep peacefully that night.

Two months later she was married to Garigan, an almost entire stranger, a nobleman living on the border between Jadira and the Elves' land. Saffir was coronated a week later and her father slipped into the next life. While she barely knew Garigan at first, she very easily fell in love with him as time went on, and their beautiful daughter Neri was born a few years later. From this experience, Saffir never thought somebody as good-natured as Neri would oppose an arranged marriage.

Garigan died nearly six years ago, now. Saffir misses him nearly every day, but she always had enough to keep her busy. Especially now. Daeron is sitting in Garigan's place on the table, acting as if he's Emperor. Saffir has never truly wanted someone dead in her life until now. General Basia has long been her closest friend and they had fought bitterly when he said he believed the defences against Nazar were not strong enough. Saffir had refused him funding on account of a drought in the south and the money going towards an expensive irrigation project instead. Now, although they are both trapped in the palace, the subject is a bone of contention still, and Saffir has never felt quite so guilty.

Up For Love? If you really want a widowed Empress with an awful lot of issues with whom Daeron has a personal fixation, go for it. Saffir's never had the chance to truly fall in love in her life, with Garigan it was all about convenience.

Other: Just a note on her relationship with her daughter- she loves Neri a huge amount but sometimes the girl can be aggravating. The events of hers and Simon's engagement really upset Saffir, who thought her daughter would always be obedient and loyal as she was to her own father. Saffir felt it as a personal blow despite her friends and advisers telling her it was a natural instinct of Neri's. Saffir also worries that Neri will never be able to rule when her time comes and she wishes that she'd take life more seriously, think harder about her future and pay more attention when her tutors try to teach her diplomacy. Not that, as Saffir is reminded bitterly, diplomacy has done her any good against Nazar.

Name: Naida Rashirriz
Age: 16 (and a half, of course)
Gender: Female
Race: Gypsy
Rank Wanderer, street-performer, thief, pick-pocket, runaway, the list goes on.
Allegiance: None; not even herself at this point. (if she ever pledges allegiance to anybody, it will be one singular person-- never a group or a city)

Appearance: Naida has dark, usually dirty, skin with a brushing of freckles over her cheeks and nose. Her hair is an unkempt mass of black tangles that fall down to about her mid-back, though it's usually pinned up in a messy bun or braid and hidden by a scarf that she uses as a bit of a veil at times. Her eyes are a sight to behold-- being somewhere between brown and amber, with blue flares around the pupils, they definitely stand out. There is a constant half-smirk on her lips that draws attention on its own, never-mind her extravagantly-colored clothes and hoards of jewelry, her facial features are striking, more in a peculiar way than a beautiful way. Although, if tastes lie in the odd, I suppose that one may dub her beautiful. She's short, at around 5'2".



Personality: Naida, oh Naida, how is it that you get under people's skin and give them many a heart attack the way you do? She has a tendency to mysteriously appear in various places-- just sort of pop up, and she does so in a way that literally scares people. She's been told before that she's not good for the heart, and she does anything but deny it. She's deceptive, manipulative, witty, sarcastic and prying, with no concern for another's personal space or comfort zones. Oh, she knows they're there-- she just doesn't give a damn (speaking of which, she tends to say words that ladies just should not be caught saying). Her constant blunt statements and prying prattle tend to create a tense atmosphere for whoever is unfortunate enough to be in her company, and she has a knack for standing up right in the middle of an already-awkward conversation and begin rummaging through others' personal belongings and snooping around the room, all the while still talking. Either that or she's stopped rambling altogether and is humming to herself. She has no temper whatsoever, and any insult, jab or snide remark that's thrown at her is met with her either throwing her head back and laughing, or smirking and saying something that usually makes no sense to anyone but herself.

She's also got a bit of a crazy streak (obviously), but what's worse are her moments of insanity. During one of these moments, she is in a trance-like state, wide-eyed and fearful. If somebody tries to approach her and they get too close, Naida will not hesitate to shriek in terror and fling the intruder over her shoulder. She believes that she was cursed, although she has no real evidence of it, and it scares her. One of the only times this girl seems noticeably upset and distraught is when she's pondering her 'curse.' (either that or when she's thing back to her old life, and what happened to her, although that isn't often).

Flaws/Weaknesses: Naida is, as mentioned, currently suffering from her little trances, which are getting more and more frequent, and they often leave her exhausted, dizzy or with a migraine afterwards. She is also uncaring towards other people's feelings, has no manners whatsoever, and obviously doesn't make friends easily. She has problems with anxiety, and she hides it. Very, very well. Her latest problem is with her state of mind-- she's beginning to wonder if death isn't the only way to rid herself of this little curse of hers. She also has a deep, deep fear of small, dark spaces. Either or is fine, but if you mix the two together she goes into auto-panic mode.


Power/s: Power-wise, Naida is able to create illusions-- sight, sound and smell. Sight is her strongest, as she is the mist practiced with it, and she absolutely lives using it to mess with the minds of others. Sound is her second strongest, and although she could and does occasionally use it to confuse people (or to throw her voice if she's hiding and wants to communicate with somebody else), she typically is found using it to create music or a voice to talk to. Scent is her weakest and least used-- in fact, she forgets about it more often than not. She's practiced in her magic, and it can take a while for it to tire her out. 

History: Naida was born to a gypsy caravan, and right from birth, they knew that she was going to be a problem child. She grew with her older brother, Adhan, her widowed mother, Shira, and a little orphan girl named Elizabeth that her mother had taken under her wing in one if the cities. 

She was seven when she woke up to find her entire family murdered, with knives and various stab-wounds driven into their bodies. The caravan blamed her, (this is probably where her idea of a curse came in), and would have been burnt had it not been for her older cousin, Delhanio. He pleaded with the elders for her life, promising to take and rear her-- to help her. 

It lasted for five months, and the troupe came to another city. Nobody knows how he did it, exactly, but Delhanio became a very, very wealthy man in a very, very short amount of time. To both increase his finances and his rank, he married a noble's daughter who had fallen deeply in live with him (it was the work of magic, not love, that tied their fate). He invited Naida to stay with him, but she refused and went back to the troupe, her 12-year-old mind convinced that they would still be welcoming towards her.

They were not. Delhanio became a lord, and Naida became an orphan and an outcast. Her trances started soon after, and the troupe was bent on her death.

So she took all she could, a strong horse and ran. She's been on her own ever since, bouncing between gypsy troupes and cities. At the moment, she's come back to visit her cousin.

Up For Love?[b] Yes, straight-- Uh. Good luck.

[b]Other: Naida's ability to sneak around is unmatched by any, and her illusions aid her. She can get anywhere at any time, and she does so easily and almost habitually. 

She's unusually protective of her horse (and a donkey that she 'found' along the road-- the donkey carries all if her belongings and the horse carries her). Their names are Desperado (the donkey) and Shamrock (an Arab stallion)

*********************

Name: Daniel Rashirriz (once was Delhanio Rashirriz) 
Age: 31


Gender: male 
Race: Former gypsy; doesn't use his powers enough to consider himself a Mage.
Rank Lord
Allegiance: Jadira

Appearance: Daniel has medium-length, dark brown hair and olive-colored skin with deep brown eyes that fade to a murky amber color when he's using his powers. His mustache is his pride and joy,  and it and his hair are always kept neat (he often ties his hair back), and his clothes are always neat and unwrinkled. He has laid down his old daring gypsy garb for this new, more refined look that matches his rank. Stands at exactly 6'.



Personality: Daniel has always thought himself unmatched for gypsy life. He's calm, charismatic and rather charming, and very sociable. The only trait that he believes he has in common with the rest of his people is his deceptive  qualities. He can lock his conscience in a box and use who he wants to get what he wants without thinking twice, although if he cares for someone, he genuinely cares for them, and he doesn't like using people unless he sees it as his only option.

He is not a cruel man (usually), but he does have a temper and though he doesn't like lashing out physically, he will not hesitate to yell if you tick him off. He is stubborn, headstrong and tends to be a bit on the prideful side. He does well in crowds, but he tends to brag-- not excessively, just to the point where it gets a bit annoying. He can also get greedy, and money is something that he prizes highly.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Greed, pride, easily irritated, and he is definitely not the greatest fighter out there. He knows how to handle a knife rather well, but that's about the extent of things.

Power/s: He's a charmer-- but he needs his victims to eat or drink something that he's placed a spell on. He uses it very rarely, and isn't as practiced with it as he once was.

History: Delhanio was born into a troupe, though his father was a noble-man in heaven-knows-what-city. The troupe accepted him, as his mother was a very respected woman among the troupe, known for her strong potions and healing abilities. She had, ironically, died in child birth, along with Delhanio's baby sister. 

He was fifteen when Naida was born; twenty-two when her life was threatened and he took her in. He did love the girl like a sister, he truly did-- but their paths were clearly different. When the troupe came to Jadira, he used every spell he knew to accumulate nobility, and he offered his cousin a home with him. Unfortunately, she refused and, although young, she took off, claiming that Delhanio-now-Daniel's new wife was a word that a girl of her age shouldn't be saying. 

He let her go, having no will to hold her back and keep her prisoner to a life that she would not love. His wife, Edeara, died in her sleep three years ago of unknown causes. The two had no children, and so Daniel has tried to fill the void with other people that he doesn't necessarily care about. 



Up For Love? Possibly, I'm fairly certain that he's straight. 

Other: N/A

UNDER CONSTRUCTION


Name: Kestral

Age: 19

Gender:Female

Race: Gypsy

Rank Theif, StreetPerformer, Pickpocket,

Allegiance: Self until proven otherwise.

Appearance: Short, messy brown hair and blue eyes. She is tall and very agile.

Personality: She is brave and determined. She is also very competative, and cant stand people who boast or are extremly arrogant. She can be sarcastic, but she likes people who are honest.

Flaws/Weaknesses: She lets her heart rule her head and usually jumps into thigs without thinking.

Power/s: All will become clear. XD

History: Arwen has always lived in the Gypsy camp for as long as she can remember. She began moving around at the age of 15, but regularly visits the camp.

Up For Love? (yes, no, orientation, conditions)

Other: (Anything we’ve missed?)

BOTH PROFILES UNDER CONSTRUCTION STILL.

Name: Haroun Rijn
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Mage
Rank Commoner
Allegiance: No one as of yet.

Appearance: Haroun isn't very impressive physically speaking. He is JUST six feet tall and his build is willowy, lean not outwardly strong looking. His skin is pale but not unhealthy looking and he has no freckles. His eyes are large, slightly almond shaped, and a striking blue color. His hair is dark and in the sun it appears to have, almost what one would call, a purple hint to it. He has his mage marking on his upper back and it is in the form of a phoenix.


Personality: On first impressions Haroun is not a very approachable person- he seems serious, cold and taciturn. He has a emotionless, placid expression on his face almost always. He may be angry, he may be happy-who knows?
In truth though Haroun is just a quiet, shy person. He is the one who would rather listen than be the center of attention, he hates being in the spotlight. Haroun is very easy going and sweet with a benevolent personality when one gets to know him. He has a good sense of humor but rarely laughs out loud or smiles, when he does smile it is a boyish smile that is endearing. He has a hard time making friends because of his outwardly cold look, but once he gets to know and trust you, he is a fiercely loyal friend. Haroun may not look much like a warrior but he is and follows a very strict warrior honor code and would die before breaking or violating that code.

Powers:Haroun is a mage with the gift of foresight and visions, in short he can foretell the future. He also gets strong -pre-perceptions of the outcome of certain events going on around him, for good or ill. The only downside to this ability is the manner in which he communicates it- he draws it. His creations are often frighteningly surreal and always cryptic, with strange symbols and wildly fantastical things inhabiting them. Another problem for him is that he himself cannot read what the meaning behind his drawings are, and needs what is called a "reader" to disypher what he has drawn. A reader can be anyone, with or without magical abilities. Haroun has a especially strong ability in foresight, but as of yet the visions come and go at random. He cannot consciously foretell what is going to happen, he has no control over them or when they happen. When he has a vision he is driven to draw it out and cannot rest until he has done so. this can pose a problem for him and he has been known to draw visions out with whatever was handy: scratching it in the dirt, the burned ends of sticks, even his own blood- he must get it out or the urge will drive him distracted.
Haroun also has a good handle on the common "meat and potatoes" magic that makes a mages life easier. He is a white magic user and has never touched the darker magic and never would willingly do so. He is afraid of a Black magic user twisting his gift for evil as that is what happened to his father when he was a child. Haroun is a highly skilled swordsman and is a formally trained fighter. His weapons of choice are two single edged slightly curved swords.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Besides his character flaws and inability to decipher his own drawings, Haroun has no magic ability to protect himself from attacks and has trouble sensing other magic users. Right after one of his visions, he is left feeling exhausted and drained, both physically and mentally. Another side effect form his ability is that he is often plagued with terrible headaches. Haroun is also afraid of heights, not paralyzingly so , but he has a very strong dislike for them.

History: Haroun has a painfully normal life up until he was ten years old- well as normal as one can get living in a mages house. Both his parents were and still age mages- his mother is a Healer and his father was a mage of foresight like Haroun. When Haroun was ten however his normality was shattered, when his father was twisted by a dark mage and turned to evil. When in an instant of clarity his father realized what had happened, in his horror and shame he took his own life, leaving his family alone and grieving for him. Haroun's mother left their home in the in the south east and traveled back to Jadira- to where her family lived. His mother hoped that if she didn't have him trained in magic, then his ability wouldn't grow beyond what it was. So she apprenticed him to a apothecary but unfortunately by that time though Haroun was already unable to resist the urges to draw.

So he chose to make his living with something he's good at- art. He is a portrait painter and starving artist. He lives in the capitol of Jardira working in a small studio over a busy-ironically enough- apothecary shop owned by the man he trained under who took a shine to the quirky boy. Haroun still fears being used like his father so when the city fell he kept his head low and has never told anyone what he was- those he works near think he is just a harmless albeit eccentric artist.

Haroun for all his cold exterior has a soft spot for the unloved and abandoned of the city- the orphans. Many a little waif has shown up on his doorstep and been welcomed, he never turns anyone away. It is a strange house, a magic house, but the children don't seem to mind it eccentricities, or those of the man who is like a older brother to them.

Up For Love? Haroun is straight as a poker and is very much open for a relationship. He really does carry his heart in his hands and would give it away gladly, for all his apparent coldness. Because of his shyness he would be unsure of himself. If a young lady would be patient enough to just give him time, he would be a very passionate and devoted lover.

Other: Haroun is left handed, though he can fight with both, he is decidedly more nimble with his left. he has a love of music and can play the guitar and sing quite well (though he would die before playing in front of someone.) He likes most animals- which is a good thing, for all the orphans bring along their "pets" and the number of both children and animals in and around his house is always in flux. His house is in one of the poorer neighborhoods, and is a crooked two story little thing, but it is not what it seems, on the inside.


(I hope this is alright Scar, if not PM me and I will edit. Also if you (or anyone) has any plot foreshadowing you want to do using Haroun- PM me, I'll be more than happy to work with it!)

Name: Ilarion Nazar
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Part gypsy, mostly human
Rank Prince
Allegiance: Nazar

Appearance: Ilarion shares nothing with his father in terms of appearance, save perhaps for their height. At 6"2, he can look his father straight in the eye without having to look up, which is a lucky thing, he supposes. Otherwise, he strongly resembles his mother's people, with finely carved features and a ultra-slim frame. His hair is a golden brown, and his eyes are a muted green color that's neither remarkable nor piercing. They are, however, long-lashed and feminine, beautiful, almost.

Though by no means the ugliest man alive (far from it), Ilarion is not what is conventionally termed handsome. There is simply this magnetic sort of attraction his looks command, especially when he dresses up for formal occasions, where his clothes tend to be dramatic, in stark contrast to his father's simpler getups.



Personality:

Ilarion is an obsessive man, and often gets so wrapped up in the details of things he gets lost in his own world. This is frustrating for his father, to say the least, but it's not as if Ilarion tries to upset his father. He just enjoys different things in his spare time, like cultivating beautiful (although mostly poisonous) flowers, crafting delicate bronze statuettes, playing chess and admiring beauty where it is found. He doesn't like books much, however, seeing as they take too long to get through.

It's not like Ilarion is lazy - he practices his swordsmanship all the time and is an excellent marksman. He just tends to latch onto things, and when he does latch on to someone or something that catches his fancy, it's very difficult to make him let go of it. When he wants something, he will get it, no matter what.

Ilarion has this almost paranoid delusion eating him out from the inside, given his relationship with his father. He knows what his father did to his mother - to some extent. He's not dumb, after all. He just can't help feeling his father might do the same to him one day, and so keeps his father an arm's length away. He doesn't trust anybody and mostly keeps to himself, making him come off as aloof and arrogant. Ilarion is hounded by a lot of different habits, such as testing wine and food on his father's dogs before eating it himself, collecting antidotes just in case, and always carrying a dagger around. He's observing, always observing, and is quick to misinterpret actions. It's partly why he's here and then gone the next moment, almost a phantom. It'd be no surprise if some in the castle forget he exists.

Despite all that, Ilarion does love his father to an extent. He craves his father's approval and is quick to squash any budding rebels in the court. He's perhaps his father's best spy, and although he'd never admit it, he'd probably die for his father. Not that you'd notice it - whenever, they're around each other, the tension is so thick it kind of chokes anyone else in the room. Still, a duty is a duty, and a prince must always be loyal to his kingdom, and to his father.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Paranoid delusions, and sometimes he's too clever for his own good. He has a tendency to overthink things, misinterpreting people's movements. His tendency to fixate on things also tends to make it difficult to interact with him, despite his sharp mind.

Power/s: Well, he's partly gypsy, so he can do these very small, almost useless magic tricks, like turning objects into a different color. Not a very useful talent, and one he makes sure his father doesn't know about, lest he gets embarrassed.

History:

There isn't much in the way of things - his father's always training him, pushing him to be rougher and stronger. Unfortunately, Ilarion is less built for brute strength and more agile. This leads to a very disappointed father and a pretty frustrated son. Ilarion often ran to his mother for protection, not that she could do much against her large husband.

Then his mother died, and Ilarion was left alone with his father and younger sister. While always close, after his mother's death, Ilarion and his sister shared an increasingly unhealthy relationship. He was obsessively protective of her, and very jealous of her time, as she was of his. They were inseparable -

-and he was the one who woke up to find bloody sheets beside him. His father's indifference to his sister's disappearance was maddening, and it eventually got to Ilarion's head that maybe his father was the one who killed his sister. This resulted in a large tantrum and periods of madness that had the whole Nazarian court (save for Daeron) in an uproar, but it disappeared as soon as Ilarion realized that if he became a liability, he'd be next. This forced the boy to straighten out his act

When his father set his sights on Jadira, a few of his father's advisers turned against him. Ilarion was there to squash that before it became anything serious, and, using the reputation he has for being a brilliant boy, backed his father up. Never got so much as a thanks, but Ilarion saw it more as his duty than anything else. It also bought him a few more years in terms of life expectancy, he thought.

He's actually surprised his father brought him to Jadira, seeing as he expected to be left behind in Nazar. Oh well. He supposed this meant he wasn't going to die anytime soon - right?

Up For Love? ...I guess, if you're willing to put up with someone this screwed up. oo Well. He is a sweet guy, just...>> Be careful.

Other: He's adept with poisons, antidotes, stealth, and is an excellent marksman. Also as fast as his father is strong. Also, he doesn't necessarily pop up as much as he drifts in and out of life.

Daniel | His Home

The fire was still burning, the couches were warm, a tray of fresh tea sat on the table before them... everything had been set for a perfect evening. Unfortunately, his guest hadn't but touched her tea, and her gaze was locked on the fire, almost bored with the drawl set-up. He had told her stories of his days in the gypsy camp, of his crazy cousin and his mother's death... the tales had led all the way to present, to his opinion of what was happening to Jadira. Still, she seemed to be in a dull mood-- almost indifferent.

Daniel frowned, watching Gwen as she watched the blaze. Perhaps he had spoken too much... women always had been fond of a time where they themselves were able to speak. Or, perhaps being in the company of one of a more advanced age made her feel uncomfortable. Then again, there were many young girls in far less desirable situations. After all, he wasn't forcing her into anything-- he had been the perfect gentleman; though it would seem that he wasn't being the perfect host.

"Please, forgive me if I've bored you with my prattle." He had been using his most refined speech all evening, and to be honest, it was growing exhausting. Still, he allowed a warm smile to come over his lips. "I've been told that I have a tendency to ramble when I'm trying to make a guest feel comfortable." He had never been told that-- not once. He had been called a braggart before, which he, in all honesty, could hardly deny. He was proud of his accomplishments. Any man that had started from his statute would have been.

Gwen's eyes flickered towards him for a moment before settling back on the fire. "Perhaps I'm just not in a very sociable mood tonight." 

Well, he had sensed that much the moment she walked through his door. "Well, are you in a hungry one? I'm sure that there are some before-supper appetizers in the kitchen if you'd like." He almost slipped into one of his old habits and winked at her-- but that had been left behind with his old troupe, and wasn't typically a welcome gesture coming from a Lord.

"I'm fine, thank you." 

His smile faltered, just barely holding out in the end. "You've not touched your tea."

"I suppose that I'm not very thirsty, either." He could have sworn that he heard a quiet sigh penetrate the drawl atmosphere, but he couldn't be sure.

Daniel relented and leaned back in his armchair. This hadn't been the way things were the last time they had supped together. She had smiled then, laughed, too. Perhaps she was just tired, or had more important things on her mind than a man who wasn't quite old enough to be her father. Come to think of it, she had been smiling and charming as ever when she had first walked come into the grand house, too. Perhaps he had rambled on a little longer than usual on this particular visit.

He had made up his mind to ask her to speak, to enthrall him with one of her own tales for once, when the slightest of noises caught his attention. He scowled, twisting to see over the back of his chair. Nobody. Nothing. Daniel let out a quiet huff and turned back around, jolting to his feet almost immediately. Gwen was already staring at the entry that divided the den from a hall that lead to a staircase abs multiple spare bedrooms. Or, rather, she was staring at what was standing in that entry.

"Naida?" There was no way in any world that he wouldn't recognize his baby cousin-- particularly not when she was standing in his own house.

Honestly, he had been expecting that bizarre grin to come over her-- the one that he had always been so familiar with. But it didn't-- not even a flicker of it. Instead, her expression was cold, lingering on the red-head that was sitting on one of the room's two couches. "Dalhanio," she murmured, gaze lifting from Gwen to Daniel.

Daniel faltered, glancing between the two. He hadn't seen his cousin in years-- what the hell was she doing here now? And who, pray tell, had been a large enough imbecile to let her in without permission? Still, he forced himself to move across the den, towards Naida. She looked so much more grown up now... but she was definitely still Little Nai. The look in her eyes said that much. "Naida! What... how did you get in?"

The girl offered a one-shouldered shrug. "You shouldn't leave your windows open, Delhanio." 

He paused, mid-stride and felt a sinking feeling come over him. Her tone was even dryer than Gwen's was tonight, and she still wouldn't look him in the eye. 

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of Naida's skirts, and the clanking of a heavy amount of jewelry. How had she managed to sneak in unnoticed with all of that on? He watched her steal his seat in the armchair, gaze locked intently on Gwen. 

"Is she yours?" The question soured far more innocent than Daniel believed it was. 

He felt his face flush. "She's just a gue--"

"Pity, really. I met with an old hag on the side of the road with twice her beauty and charm."

"Naida!" Daniel was stunned by the comment, and Gwen's expression was everything enraged and offended. "Apologize. Now!"

Her gaze drifted slowly, and one eyebrow arched in subtle amusement. "You don't ask the dog to apologize when he finds a pantleg that he feels he must mark."

"Dogs don't speak, Naida. Apologize." 

"I was merely marking my territory. Perhaps I don't speak, either." 

If Daniel's face hadn't been red before, then it most certainly was now. If only he knew whether it was from embarrassment or anger. "Gwen is not your territory!"

"I wouldn't want her to be, dear cousin, but the truth is my territory as much as it is yours, and if you're too blind to claim this area of truth, then I am more than happy to take it."

Daniel stared at his cousin for a moment, flustered, humiliated and utterly enraged at the girl's rudeness. Not to mention her sudden entry and the fact that she had nearly caused him an early death by heart attack. "I told you to apologize, so I would suggest that you do it. Immediately." 

Naida's nose wrinkled. "I am not a child anymore, Delhanio, and you have no place in telling me what to do and whom to do it to." She leaned back, completely comfortable, completely at home. 

Daniel kept fuming. "Daniel, Naida. My name is Daniel."

Naida's head snapped back, and there was something new in her eyes. Something that Daniel wasn't used to.

"You changed your name?" Her tone was disbelieving, almost shocked. 

"Yes-- Delhanio seemed to be far too extravagant."

"If an engagement ring was too extravagant, would a woman discard it like everyday trash?" 

Daniel felt his eyebrows draw together. "That's a little different, Naida. An engagement ring holds just a little more value than a name."

"An engagement ring holds far less value than a name! Your name, Delhanio, is all that you have left of your mother! She chose that, birthed it when she brought you into this world through bloody pain! How dare you discard it like it's a mere band of silver?" 

She didn't remain in her seat, didn't slip back into her old accent even once in anger or frustration or whatever it was that she was feeling at the moment. She simply rose and stormed out of the room, pausing at a different entry to call to Gwen over her shoulder. "Perhaps he should give you a kiss, and something even relatively beautiful will spring forth from you, hag." And then she was gone-- or, at least from sight. Heaven knew where she was lurking.

Gwen rose next, obviously just as furious as her host. Daniel's head snapped back to her so quickly that it shot a spike of pain through his neck and into his head. "Where... where are you going, my dear?" His tone was frantic.

"I'm leaving, Daniel." 

Obviously. He followed at her heels, dropping to his knees when the reached the front door. He clasped his hands in front of him, making as much of a scene as he could for her. Every pinch of dramatic flare that he was capable of pulling out was there in that moment. "I beg you, at least stay until after we've dined. I'll keep my cousin locked in the kitchen, or confined to her room if that's what it takes. The evening's already been a sour one for you-- please, allow me to make it up with the meal that the servants have been slaving over since early this morning." 

Naida. Perhaps he should have expected her to return with a flare.

Naida | Daniel's Home 

Naida swept through the halls, ignoring a stray glance and a shout from a startled maid as she passed. She had an apple from the kitchen in her hand, the peel hovering near her mouth. She had expected Delhanio to be far more inviting-- more hospitable than he had been.

And she had definitely not been expecting the bitch that had been curled up on his couch. There were few people that Naida felt inclined to trust, and this fire-head was most certainly not one of them. She paused at the room she had entered through, free hand wandering to her hair, slipping past the old scarf to find the pin that was stuck to the underside.

The lock was easily picked-- perhaps her cousin should be thinking less about beasts and more about his security-- and slipped inside. She had already made her animals a place in the stable, not bothering with useless things such as permission, and her bags were all splayed out over the bed that she had claimed as her own. This old manor had been far too easy to break into.

She wandered to the window, turning about half-way there to move to her bags. She removed her jewelry, piece by piece, and set them aside, and then off came her layers of skirts and wraps, replaced by darker clothing that was far less flashy. Naida had a mind to go on an exploit tonight-- and she wouldn't be doing it in her usual garb. Perhaps after she knew the area, but it was unwise to be flashy the first night. 

Particularly in a place as heavily-guarded as a palace. Naida tied her scarf back in, pausing for a moment.

Delhanio had changed his name. 

Delhanio had changed his way of life.

Delhanio was infatuated by a hag.

Delhanio was now Lord Daniel, and Naida had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be able to bring him back. To resurrect him. She sighed, crept to the window and shook her head, peering at a tower that she could just barely see over the tips of the trees that lined her cousin's estate. At least there was some promise to this little visit. 

Empress Saffir- The Imperial Palace, Kyran

At this time of the evening and this time of year, the sun set just before dinner, and it had long been Saffir's routine to watch the city before her as it was streaked with extra layers of gold and pink. Her city. Her home, her subjects, her family. She had always seen things that way and for the past nearly twenty years, the sunset would put a smile on her face as she imagined the last calls of the market, the candles blown out in children's bedrooms, and the thousands of others who, just like her, watched the shadows set in over the mountains. They were beautiful things, the sun putting her people to bed.

Today she did not smile, and sunsets were a sad thing, the end of a day like the end of an era. She turned away from the window of her tower room. Well, no, not her tower room. Her chambers, the Imperial Chambers that had been her mother's, and her grandfather's, and her great-grandfather's and her great-great-grandmother's and the home to generations of Montesteas, had been taken over by Emperor Daeron. While she refused to join him there, she would sleep and dress here, in this poky little room with no furniture and four Nazarian guards on the door.

She had put on the dress Daeron had sent up for her. She wasn't even allowed to choose her own clothes today, there was no wardrobe up here for fear of her hanging herself. She hated this dress. It was red, and Saffir had never liked red.

Was it any wonder that Daeron did, loved the colour of blood and anger and slaughter. No, no it suited Daeron perfectly.

There were footsteps on the stairs leading up to her room, the clunk of armour as the guards moved aside for their Emperor, Saffir still scoffed the word, even if Daeron was rightfully an emperor in a different empire anyway. She did not turn around but could feel his presence in the doorway, watching her back. She clenched her jaw and continued her survey of the city.

"That light is extremely becoming," Daeron said breathily. "You're fit to have your portrait painted."

She did not respond. His boots clicked against the floor, she knew without looking that they would be black leather, polished to perfection.

"Truly." He reached out to touch a loose strand of hair hanging past her ear. Saffir shied away from his touch, bowing her head.

"Will you accompany me to dinner, Saffir?"

Only if it means I get to eat you and spit you out, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. Basira's idea, and though she didn't like it, after the last time she disregarded his advice, she had to take it. 'He'll hurt you otherwise. Better to just play along until-' and then someone had come in and the two had to act as if they had not spoken at all.

So now she just laid her hand on Daeron's proffered arm and ignored the guards who stared at them as they moved down to the dining hall.

"I'm serious about the portrait. Would it please you?" Daeron asked, their shoes echoing in empty corridors.

"I think you'll find I've had my portrait painted many times. One of them in the throne room, which I'm sure you've noticed since you seem to have taken up residence there." In my seat.

"But what was that? Ten years ago?"

"Are you saying I've aged?" she asked, mostly to see Daeron squirm but also a little out of vanity.

"No- no- not at all- I only meant- it would be a record of how beautiful you are today, as I see you now."

He's good. If he weren't so vile, I'd almost believe him. She considered the option before realising it wasn't really an option at all. She was within Daeron's grasp, and she could either have the portrait painted painlessly or have it painted with bruises on his face, and Daeron would comment to everybody how lovely his 'bride' was.

Besides, perhaps there was some benefit to the thing. "It would have to be a Jadiran painter. I don't like Nazarian- style," she finished so as not to cause any unnecessary offence.

"It shall be done," said Daeron and kissed her hand. She nearly recoiled, but by then they were in the dining hall. Neri was already seated and appeared to be counting ceiling tiles. She looked up and grinned at her mother as they came in. Saffir's heart went out to her, but she coudn't understand what would possess Neri to smile at a time like this. The girl was so strange sometimes.

Basira was at the end of the hall watching them darkly. He strode forward and took Saffir's hand straight off Daeron's hand and kissed it. "Your Majesty," he murmured.

"General," she replied.

All Daeron got as greeting was a glare. Saffir could practically feel him seething.

The hall was full of various Nazarian ranks and a few unhappy Jadirans spread amongst them. Saffir insisted that Basira sit with them near the top of the table every night in the hope that the two would get a moment to talk, to discuss their next move, to formulate an escape. But there was never a chance. If Daeron wasn't watching then Illarion was, sitting beside Neri opposite Saffir.

"Mama, I saw the dressmakers leaving with the lace, earlier," Neri said in a desperate attempt to make normal conversation. "It looks beautiful."

"For the wedding gown?" Illarion asked. "Jadiran lace is immensely intricate, I've noticed that here. At home it's so plain."

"We are a people who appreciate beauty," Saffir muttered, not looking up from her soup. "What good would lace be if it weren't intricate? It would just be cobwebs on your dresses."

"Then I take it you are pleased with the gown," Daeron said sharply.

Saffir tightened her grip on the spoon, looked at her daughter who willed her to stay calm. "Yes," she said curtly.

"Perhaps we should wait until after the wedding for the portrait then-"

"Portrait?" Basira asked.

"Saffir plans to have her portrait painted."

"But there's a picture of Her Majesty in the Throne Room already-"

"Don't I know it," Saffir muttered.

Daeron sipped his own soup. "That shall be removed presently, once I assume the throne."

Saffir's spoon dropped into her soup, splashing the tablecloth and the red dress. "Perhaps this isn't a talk for dinner," Neri said uncertainly.

"Well then, when are we going to talk about the fact that this man plans on taking everything that is rightfully mine, everything that is rightfully yours, Neri?"

"I'm not taking it- after the marriage it will be rightfully mine."

"It's not a true marriage."

"Then what of your arrangements between your daughter and Simon of Altair?" Daeron gave Neri a scathing look. "Was that a true marriage?"

"Neri's future is none of your concern," Saffir said. "She is my daughter, and at least there I still hold the responsibility I have always held."

"Perhaps," Daeron said casually, threateningly. "Perhaps not."

Whatever remains of Neri's usual smile had totally vanished by now. Saffir cursed herself, and Basira lay a hand on her shoulder to urge her to calm. She took a few deep breaths, looked around the hall that had held so many parties, housed so much laughter and warmth.

Her realm was going to ruin, but there was one thing she could still save. Neri was sipping her soup as if nothing had happened.

No matter what happened, Saffir was going to keep her daughter safe at whatever cost.

Emperor Daeron Nazar | The Imperial Palace, Kyran:

After his little half-veiled threat, Daeron leaned back in his chair and smiled. This was what he wanted, and how he wanted his Empress. If she had doubts, then it would be easier to convince the woman that marrying him and following his lead was better than fighting him. At least in this. It was only a matter of time before he took this kingdom as his own--legally, that is. Right now, he had just conquered Jadira. He hadn’t actually taken it over yet, made it his own. To do that, he had to either kill off the current royal family or marry into it. And killing Saffir and her daughter would just be a waste, wouldn’t it? After all, the Jadirans loved her, and killing Saffir would cause an uproar. An uproar he could not afford to let turn into Revolution. That would make him have to waste his precious time subduing the general populace. Time he couldn’t afford.

Yes, Daeron of Nazar had a timeline, all his action set out according to how long he thought each step should take. And right now? He was about a few years ahead of schedule. He had been planning on invading Jadira for a long, long time, and had planned for a very long campaign against the western kingdom. Something that may well have taken years, or even decades to do. But then he’d seen an opening, a chance he couldn’t pass up. And he’d taken it. Now, here he was. Years ahead of his schedule with time to spare. He’d moved up plans, but he could still afford to linger here, in Kyran, for a while. Long enough to secure his hold on the Jadiran throne.

“You look like you’re plotting something,” Basira stated from beside Saffir. Daeron’s gaze flickered towards the man. They narrowed their gazes at each other. “It’s suspicious.”

“And you would do well to keep that mouth of yours shut,” Daeron replied with false sweetness, earning him a glare from Saffir. She knew flirting when she saw it. He shot the woman a cocky grin. This only made the other man’s gaze narrow dangerously. “It might get you into... trouble some day.”

“Daero---” Saffir’s hand on his arm cut him off. Basira shot his Empress a glance. She scowled at him. All of this, Daeron watched with amusement. It was like stirring a hornets nest, only these hornets didn’t exactly sting him.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Do not give him the satisfaction.”

Daeron leaned forward, laying a hand over the one Saffir had resting on the table. “Oh,” he said, all pseudo-innocence. “Please do. I would love to have the satisfaction of throwing that boy into the palace dungeons.” He gave his Empress a self-righteous smile. She looked away, disgusted and he smirked, leaning back in his seat and taking his hand with him.

For the rest of the evening, Daeron sat there, watching everyone else. The way Saffir looked at her daughter and the way Neri looked at her plate more often than not, and the way Basira watched Saffir, adoration in his eyes. That man’s eyes would betray him eventually. His son, though, just sat there, gazing around absently. The boy looked rather bored to him.

Daeron stood and everyone went tense. He smirked. That was exactly the reaction he wanted. With a secretive yet knowing smile directed towards Saffir, he swept from the room, all pompous, self-importance. He would leave her for now. Basira, though, was another thing altogether. A problem. Daeron had plans to remove the other man from the picture, and it wasn’t going to be pretty either.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Morwenna as “Gwen” | Lord Daniel’s Mansion:

Gwen watched, rather emotionlessly, as Daniel--or rather, Delhanio as that weird so-called ‘cousin’ of his had called him--got down on his knees and started begging her to stay. Really? Begging? Not going to impress her. Besides, that cousin of his had called her a hag. A hag! She wasn’t going to stay there and possibly be insulted more. “She’s right, you know,” she stated flatly, frowning at the man. “You shouldn’t just discard the name your mother gave you.” She gave him a cold look. “After all, I like Delhanio much better than Daniel.” At that, she gave him a small smile and swept out of the house. “Goodnight, Delhanio.”

She swept down the steps, pausing at the bottom to look up at him, still on his knees just inside the house. A small had him falling back on his rear and a flirtatious wink sent him scrambling to his feet, but by the time he got himself together and went to catch up to her, Gwen had disappeared into the shadowy drive that lead up to the front door of his mansion.

Gwen discarded her persona and fell back into Morwenna. She chuckled, skipping off down the drive. He wouldn’t follow. She’d known he wouldn’t. After all, he was rather....flustered now. Morwenna grinned. That had been the idea in the first place. Now, though, she had an evening of work at Madam Zilar’s, and she had to go home to change before then. It was going to be a long night.