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High Pope-Lord Bible Cuddles
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22 Aug 2011
Name: Exhein Deviscale
Title: Sellsword
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Place of Birth: Bern
Nation/Group of Allegiance: The Deviscale Corps

Class: Myrmidon
Level: 15
Weapon Levels: Sword {C}

Weapons: Click Here To Show/Hide This Text
  • Yevensi {D} - Steel Sword|Mercy|Defensive: Exhein's most used weapon. Roughly the shape of a standard longsword, the edges and tip are dulled and blunt, making it incredibly hard to kill another. The blade also holds a basket-hilt, in order for Exhein to better protect himself.
  • Caliburn {C} - Steel Sword|Killer|Perfect Balance: Exhein's 'combat' blade, Caliburn takes the form of a fairly wide, but well crafted Damascus Blade, with a curved edge. The blade is light, and is able to cut through most things with relative ease. Despite this, Exhein rarely uses this blade.
  • Garm {E} - Iron Blade|Heavy: Exhein's 'back-up' weapon, Garm is a relatively large, unwieldy blade. It doesn't fit his fighting style, exactly, but it is useful for making up for lost reach, as well as being useful for when Exhein needs to pack a little more punch behind his swings.


Height: 5'7" (171 cm)
Build: Lithe, slight.
Appearance: A young man standing at roughly 5'7", Exhein Deviscale has a slight, yet lithe build. Despite the slightness of his overall exterior, he is always brimming with vitality and energy. His body holds a soft, brown tone to it, and his eyes are an impressive forest green hue. His hair is a chestnut brown, and often a mess. Its unkempt, lack of style appearance is often kept in its shape by his red headband, attached to his brow. His face is usually holding some sort of smile, and often Exhein can have a completely blank expression covering his face. Not blank as in 'emotionless', but blank as in 'devoid of thought', or 'utterly confused'. Regardless, he is clearly rather attractive, or cute, depending on how you perceive him; his face still holds a little baby fat, and he looks to be around his late teens or early twenties, rather than his mid-twenties. Exhein's clothes are often worn out, and tired in appearance, but he is constantly seen with his long, faded pistachio-coloured coat, usually with a white shirt underneath. Upon his legs he wears leather-brown trousers, and his shoes are well-kept, but clearly the shoes of one who's always on the move.

Overview: Exhein is a young man who always seems to be brimming with an unusual amount of optimism. Not blindly, or stupidly, but always able to at least look on the better side of things in all but the most dire, desperate of situations. And even then, he will often manage to comment on something on the 'bright side'. He can be quite slow on the uptake on several things, missing the subtler points when it comes to the actions of others, but Exhein is nonetheless an impressively perceptive sort; whilst he isn't exactly able to 'read' others, false intentions and words rarely manage to get themselves past him. Whether he brings attention to this, however, depends on the situation. Still, he can often find himself rather confused by certain conversations, something that he has no shame in admitting outwardly to others, particularly when the pace increases to a speed that he cannot maintain himself. Exhein tends to be as helpful as he can, even to strangers, simply because he rather enjoys being helpful and useful to others.

When in the company of those he is unfamiliar with, Exhein is amiable and sociable, tossing a few jokes here and there and interacting as well as he can. He is unfamiliar with 'social boundaries', or rather, is awful at maintaining them, and thus tends to interact with most as if he were familiar with them. Still, he is at least smart enough to realise that if someone doesn't want to speak, it's best not to keep persisting conversation. Unless he's feeling particularly stubborn that day. And at the very least, he tries to hide his easily confused nature, although his success varies, depending on the company. Amongst those he is used to, Exhein allows himself to let loose. Whilst he is by no means formal in other company, amongst those closer to him, he is an easy-going young man, who enjoys toying and teasing with those around him. All in moderation, naturally. Unless he really likes them. It is rare for Exhein to outright dislike another person, but on those occasions, he will still attempt to be as amiable as possible, although he will outright explain to the person in question why he doesn't enjoy their company. It is best to be open about these things, after all.

He is usually seen in the company of a particular Manakete, as she is the 'partner' assigned to him by the Deviscale Corps. Really though, it's more a case of Exhein 'babysitting' her due to her relatively unique nature and circumstance. It is clear that he enjoys her company, however, even if she is quite skilled at strong-arming him into a variety of different scenarios in order for them to complete their current task. But, that's what partners are for, right?

Biography: Exhein's life story is a fairly interesting one. His mother hailed from a village deep within the Nabata Desert known as Arcadia, her name being 'Regina'. She was a fiery type of woman, one who always wished to escape the boundaries of her village, despite being tasked with being one of the guardians of the settlement. Begrudgingly, she followed these orders from her own parental figures, always eventually submitting to their wishes and never escaping the confines of the village. And despite her complaints, she actually took pride in her ability as she grew older, striving to be one who was able to protect the inhabitants and drive off those who would seek to raid or harm her home.

And then she got pregnant.

It was a bizarre occurrence. One she hadn't expected at all. But she had been fairly young at the time, and not exactly...careful, with who she laid with. Not to say that she was promiscuous, but rather that there was one particular male who's company she particularly enjoyed. She did not notice, of course, until a fairly sizeable bump had appeared upon her stomach, and the woman was most certainly fit, despite being a glutton. What happened afterwards was a chain of rushed, unplanned and badly-handled events, mostly caused by Regina herself. Her family was relatively ashamed by their daughter's rather sudden pregnancy, and in some kind of insane, unusual logic, Regina took their shame as a cue for her to simply leave the village and never return. Of course, these words had never been spoken to the girl, on the contrary despite their shame they still loved their daughter very much. But as far as Regina was concerned, they had simply taken a step too far, and she would leave and seek her fortunes elsewhere. With her baby.

The woman was one to jump to quick, and most often wrong conclusions. This was a trait she had displayed since her youth, and one that she never seemed to grow out of. And thus, after another brief, but mostly inconsequential spat between her parents and herself once again, Regina made her move. In the dark of the night, the woman crept out of her room, grabbed as many supplies as she could, as well as a sizable amount of valuables all flung into a sack, and with that she took to the sands. She'd rather try her fortune in the deserts than remain a constant punching back for her parents. Even if that wasn't what she was at all.

The woman had no idea where she was going, nor was she well-versed in the workings of the world outside her village. She had not, obviously, thought about the major implications of just what she was doing in the least. Despite being fairly well stocked up, the woman was mercilessly whipped and disciplined by the desert and its truly harsh conditions, long before she left the sands. It was only through chance meetings with nomads, or small bandit tribes, that she was able to find some means of direction, and resupply her almost constantly dwindling resources. The fact that she survived, let alone actually managed to make it to the lands of The Lycian Monarchy, can only be attested to sheer dumb luck and good fortune. But nonetheless, Regina reached the new lands, far from her home, and with that realisation clear in her mind, the woman was fairly convinced that she could do anything, from that point on. As soon as she had given birth, of course.

Regina seemed more well rounded, however. It appeared the lashings from the cruel environment of the desert had changed her a little, the 'jobs' and 'relinquishing of stolen goods' only keeping her strong arm sturdy, and maintained, as well lining her pocket with some valuable materials. Still travelling, the woman did not finally come to a settling place until she reached the Kingdom of Bern. Her reasoning for this was fairly simple. From what little she knew and understood, the Kingdom of Bern was the best area for someone of her skill set to settle. After all, asides from protecting the village, Regina really didn't invest in any other skills during her time in Arcadia. And so, naturally, the only kind of work she could see herself being proficient in was either working as a bandit (which would be incredibly hypocritical), or working as a full-fledged mercenary. She decided on the latter. Regina wasn't a hugely smart woman, but she was sharp enough to know where she was most proficient, and where she would be able to find the most coin to support both herself and her soon to be born child, despite the growing tensions between the military and mercenary forces in the Kingdom.

By the time Regina's son was born, she had already begun laying the foundations for her work. Acquiring a decrepit, small fort to the north of the Kingdom, in a rather remote yet idyllic area, Regina had already begun hiring arms to restore the structure, as well as begun to seek out potential comrades for her rather large endeavour to create a mercenary force of her own. Of course, she was naďve, and still largely unaware of how things actually worked. She was fortunate enough that one young woman, of a similar age to hers, was the first to show general interest. Rather than being interested in the prospect of joining together with a mercenary group, the mage was more interested in the woman leading the operations. If the word 'leading' could even be used. As if completely amused by this floundering attempt to run a rather dangerous, and serious business, the woman offered up her services. Introducing herself as Eimi, she kindly offered to take over the actual dealings, concerning both the restoration of the small fort and the recruitment of others. After all, Regina would have to look after her son, now that he had finally been born.

The first few years of dealing with Exhein were, obviously, very tough for Regina. Whilst she had Eimi's assistance, nothing could have really prepared her for just how much work and effort went into looking after a child. When she was not completing some task in order to gain both coin and renown, she was at the fort, tending to her son. Although small in number, the members of the 'Deviscale Corps' were an incredibly close knit group. Perhaps because there were so few of them. Regardless, as a result, Exhein was surrounded by a small, but colourful array of people from different walks of life.

A few years later, and one or two more members, and the 'Deviscale Corps' were a fairly well-rated mercenary group, within certain areas. By the time Exhein had reached five years old, he was already being instructed by Eimi on not only reading and writing, but how to assist the corps in the best way he could. Which, for Exhein, was pouring drinks into mugs far too big for a five year old to carry around, and presenting them to the members of the corps after a hard day's work. But the boy enjoyed it. He particularly reveled in the often overblown and over-the-top stories that the members of the corps would recite to him, often with great zeal and exaggerated outcomes. So much so that, upon his seventh birthday, the boy declared that he too, would become a legend. The Deviscale Legend.

Well, of course, the members of the corps had a field day with that. But Eimi, in her usual amused form, simply spoke 'Why not?' Regina, at first bemused by Eimi's suggestion, soon approached the idea with a zest she rarely showed. Of course she would make her son a legend! There was no doubt in her mind that he could be one; he was her son after all. With just that little spark from Eimi, Regina began her work. Of course, there was nothing strenuous for the young boy to do. He was still only seven years old. And in order for him to bear the fruit that Regina so hoped he would, first he had to show his own willingness to act. Fortunately for her, Exhein did. And thus, both Regina and Eimi got to work.

At first, the majority of it was theory work, with occasional short, brief drills regarding form. Eimi spear-headed the operation, as she did with almost everything, and Regina assisted whenever more specific details concerning swordsmanship were required. Exhein enjoyed it all, of course, his ability when it came to reading and writing becoming more pronounced, as he studied a topic that he enjoyed and had a true passion for diligently. The boy was no prodigy, of course. His form was sloppy, and his ability to recite previous read texts on the theory was often patchy. But he truly did apply one hundred percent effort towards the art, something that stayed consistent throughout his years, even up to present day.

Things took a little turn in another direction roughly three years on in Exhein's life. Although not directly there during the event, upon his mother's return from another job, an extra person had been acquired. A small, young girl that Exhein had never met before. Regina didn't waste any time, as she instantly thrust the girl towards Exhein and commented that from now on, Exhein would be the one responsible of taking care of her. Not even giving the young boy a proper explanation, he was forced to introduce himself to this young girl who appeared to be a similar age to him. Her name was Safiya.

As the years went by, Exhein was forced to learn how to manage dealing with a fairly insistent young Manakete, and keep up with his own studying. And that, of course, was not including helping out around the Deviscale Corps fort, Exhein effectively becoming the head chef and entertainment at the fort after any big task. He was the Deviscale Legend, after all. Rarely having any time to himself didn't bother Exhein, though. He enjoyed the company of a girl far closer to his age than anyone else in the Deviscale Corps as much as he enjoyed spending time with the rambunctious group and their over-the-top tales (many of which Exhein still believed outright, until a certain Safiya would comment on how stupid he was for believing them). The Deviscale Corps also partially participated in the action against the bandit clans of the southern foothills during 1044 where Exhein truly experienced his first real taste for combat. The young man was shaky, and nervous of course, but he returned home nonetheless, alongside the rest of the Deviscale Corps. Eimi cooked up a particularly grand feast for his first proper deployment, and the chant of the 'Deviscale Legend' and his amazing ability to avoid and axe by tripping on his own laces sounded out throughout the night.

Now twenty five years old, Exhein is still considered 'green', when compared to the rest of the corps. He has recently been able to take his own solo tasks, under the condition that he takes Safiya with him. Something he has no problem in doing, of course. Constantly honing his own skills and tending to the Deviscale Corps members, this 'Deviscale Legend' still has a rather long way to go before he can be considered the true heir to the Deviscale Corps. Not that he's in any rush, of course. He quite enjoys the pace he is moving at.

Timeline: N/A

(IMG:http://img43.imageshack.us/img43/2867/approvalanimated.gif)
26 May 2011
There's an old folklore passed around housewives with too much time in their hands, in some of the smaller settlements, of a terrible warrior whom pillaged, maimed and killed many folk within the Wilds, a short time after the war against demons. They say that if it were not for the combined effort of several heroes, many who lost their lives to this man, he would have continued to terrorize the Wilds for an eternity. It was as if he were a curse, apparently. One that reaped through all villages, towns that he passed by. Leaving nothing in his wake.

Of course, folklore is folklore.

Two small villages are currently butting heads. Both in close proximity of one another, and with most farmland devoted to the rest and training houses for Ithane's pirates, the necessity of land for the few farmers present is quite obvious. This dispute between the two villages is simple; it is in relation to the rightful ownership of a particular spot of land claimed by the smaller of the two villages. There are various ancestral ties and what have you involved, all leading to a rather unnecessarily complicated solution. It appears that a brief, but brutal conflict may be in the works, with what little diplomacy held between the two villages having been broken down completely.

--------

Okay, so. Pretty straightforward. Bandit/Pirate small village. In dispute with another nearby village concerning land. They're recruiting any and all aid because they're preeeeeeetty sure that there's going to be a conflict. So yeah. You can run with that if it applies to your character. Obviously takes place in the Wilds. I think I've got a couple of reserved places, and I'm still waiting for my second to be approved but after that this'll probably hit the ground running. With any luck. I guess I'm good for another one person. Maaaaaybe two. Depends. We'll see how things go, I guess.


1) Skysaer Ilthildan - Lv. 1 Templer
2) Symphony Duval - Lv. 8 Lancer
3) Raphael Arkaris - Lv. 5 Cavalier
4) Eudae Zwingley - Lv. 2 Bard
5) Ishal Arkaid - Lv. 1 Mage
6) Eve Beauchamp - Lv. 1 Curate
18 Apr 2011
Not having money made Marciel a sad little witch. There wasn't a whole lot he could do about it, living on the road was a pretty tough thing to do, but it still made him sad. He guessed this was the case for most people, so it wasn't as if he were an exception or something. Money was damn important in the world, after all. Still. Without money, he wouldn't be able to reach his next destination. How would he eat, after all? Heck, how would he find a place to sleep! The last time he slept outside almost got him killed!

So naturally, it came down to what it always did. The next city was to be the place he'd work up a decent amount of coin. He liked Ridellia, it was quite the nice city for him to relax in. He'd been there a couple of times in the past, always in passing. But there were decent folk about, and decent folk were often ready to at least take a few moments from their busy schedules and lives to humour a young man kitted out in a witch's costume. It wasn't exactly something you saw every day, and Marciel had grown accustomed to being quite the salesman when it came to his little magic tricks. Nothing special. It was usually something for the kids with their parents, and if he were lucky the parents would throw a few coins towards him. He couldn't really call it work, in a way. After all, he enjoyed showing these kids a little flair, and any money he received was more a bonus than anything else.

Well, it was a good philosophy to have towards this kind of work, he figured. Cracking his knuckles, Marciel got to work. He chose a little spot along a clear path heading towards the city centre, and set up a little table. Some cards, some cups and a ball, his broomstick was hanging in the air next to the table rather idly (a sign attached upon it stating 'Marciel's Marvellous Magical Magnificence', naturally ), and a few miscellaneous, nondescript items spread on the table also. Good, good. This was a good set up, and Marciel was pleased with the outcome.

So it didn't take too long for things to get underway. He'd been lucky, and chosen a fine path. Many wandered past his stall, and whilst most may have simply glanced at the young witch and raised a quizzical eyebrow before moving on, many decided to inquire further of Marciel's Magnificence. He was quite pleased with his little party tricks, even if they were at best simply party tricks, and being able to impress children was always a plus. The 'oohs' and 'aahs' were almost like music to the witch's ears. It was indeed a fun way to pass the time.

Having started in the early morning, by noon Marciel had worked up an almost unusual amount of coin. Whilst he enjoyed the work he was doing, he rarely got as much as he did today. It was a lucky break, a very lucky one. Grinning to himself as he counted over his earnings once again, Marciel slipped the coins into a pouch and pocketed it. He'd keep working for now. He'd get less business soon enough, and would probably have to set up again later on that day, but hey. At least he wasn't going to sleep on the streets tonight, by the looks of things! That was definitely a plus.
12 Apr 2011
C Support

After the tour of Rals Yllspyre...

Elphisia: "So that's about it. How do you like our Rals Yllspyre, Sir Veresin?"

Sulde: "Very interesting, Lady Elphisia. All the preparation in the world could not have readied me for the atmosphere within the 'tavern'. And the various foods, beverages and entertainment Rals Yllspyre presents are all awe-inspiring."

Elphisia: *giggles* "It might really look like that for you, but I would say this in nothing much compared to most taverns in the continent. Still, it's good to hear such kind comments, thank you."

Sulde: "Hmm. Perhaps. I have much to learn about the outside world. It's a little worrisome in all honesty, Lady Elphisia. Your direction has kept me safe thus far, but I cannot rely on your kindness too much."

Elphisia: *smiles, slightly changes topic* "I actually still wonder how you live in the barrens, the land must be cruel by itself. How do you make a living out of it?"

Sulde: -pauses, before closing his eyes- "...I'm not sure. How do I put it. In my clan, it really isn't my place to know these things. I am a soldier, meant to fight. Nothing more, nothing less. Information on how exactly we sustain ourselves is not given to me. I am sorry I cannot answer your question, Lady Elphisia."

Elphisia: *widen eyes a little* "Please wait a second, do you mean you have been fighting since you were born? Against what, monsters or perhaps...demons?"

Sulde: -nods simply- "Indeed I have, Lady Elphisia. Whilst the occasional expedition against a formidable demonic threat may occur from time to time, the majority of our fighting was against rival clans within The Barrens."

Elphisia: "Rival clans? So your clan isn't the only one...I see. Why...do you fight? Or you are not aware of that?"

Sulde: "It is now, Lady Elphisia. I know not why we fought. Only that we did, as the 'Suldes' before us did."

Elphisia: "Suldes...before you?"

Sulde: "Ah...'Sulde' is a title. It is not my actual name. We grunts, or 'Suldes', make up the bulk of our clan's army. My full title would be Sulde Veresin Thirteen. I apologize for not explaining that earlier."

Elphisia: "A-ah, it's okay...I wouldn't have thought myself. But that does explain something about you. Actual name, don't you have one from your parents?"

Sulde: "An actual name? I do believe so, but I am unaware as to what it is."

Elphisia: "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."

Sulde: -cocks his head to the side slightly- "Why are you apologising, Lady Elphisia?"

Elphisia: "The fact that you are unaware of your name hints to me that you are no longer with your parents, so I think I've asked you what I shouldn't have."

Sulde: -smiles, shaking his head- "Oh, no. I still have my mother. Granted I have not seen her in a few months, but she is nonetheless alive and well. It is simply tradition within the clan to not know one's name. I believe the clan feels one should earn the right to wield a name. It holds a large level of responsibility, having one's name that is, within the clan."

Elphisia: *sighs relief* "That's good... So, do you mean that you may hold your own name if you are in a higher position of your clan? That's strange to me...as names are important to everyone. I mean, for example, I won't be able to recognize our ancestors if they all have the same name..."

Sulde: "Yes. If you are at a high enough position, or somehow perform a task of great magnitude for the benefit of the clan, you shall receive your name partly as tribute. This is not the case outside of the clan, I take it?"

Elphisia: *shakes her head slightly* "As far as I know, everyone receives their name at birth, and use it until they die. Sir Veresin, do you actually want to have your own name someday? Is that the reason you left your homeland to complete such a task? To earn trust of your clan members?"

Sulde: "Not at all, Lady Elphisia. I left because it is my duty to do so. My clan faces potential destruction, and thus I must venture forth. Many 'Suldes' have done so, as well as 'Akuri'. I am not alone. I am but another soldier with a momentous task ahead of them, that is all."

Sulde: -pauses- "I have...never thought twice of owning a name. My title is all that I have, and it is all that I need."

Elphisia: "I see. If that task is not a secret to outsiders, may I ask you what it is? Maybe I will be able to help. Also, what is it that you called 'potential destruction'?"

Sulde: "Ah...I'm afraid that much I am not able to speak of, Lady Elphisia. Forgive me."

Elphisia: "It's fine, Sir Veresin, and I understand. I hope you will be able to accomplish it and avoid the said destruction, may Saint Zelena blesses you and your people."

Sulde: "Thank you for your understanding, Lady Elphisia. One day, I would be happy to divulge the information your curiosity seeks. Just not currently, I am afraid."

Elphisia: *smiles* "Anyway, do you already have your destination set? I mean, it is your first time outside the barren, are you well-prepared for this journey?"

Sulde: "Honestly, I have no idea where I am going, Lady Elphisia."

Elphisia: *giggles* "That settles it, I shall escort you a bit further, Sir Veresin, only if you do not mind."

Sulde: "Escort me? You would do such a thing for a stranger, Lady Elphisia?"

Elphisia: "Hmmm." *thinks a little* "Let's say it's my responsibility to ensure that our guests exit our land safely." *smiles*

Sulde: "Well then, Lady Elphisia. If you are going to be so kind as to offer up the chance for a guide, I will be happy to take you up upon said offer."

Elphisia: "Gladly, please take a good rest for to night, let's meet at the tavern tomorrow. Have a good night, Sir Veresin."

Sulde: "...You too, Lady Elphisia. You have my thanks."

Support Rank Increased~!
7 Apr 2011
Name: Marciel Clementine
Nation: Crimea (Begnion originally)
Age: 17
Race: Beorc
Class and Level Mage|10
Weapon Levels: Anima|C

Appearance:
Pictures: Click Here To Show/Hide This Text


Marciel's appearance is a gentle one. His eyes are a vibrant Lavender colour, fairly large and round. His hair is a pure, snow white colour, with a very slight shine to it. The length is somewhat short, coming to roughly half way up his neck, and a single braid of hair is tied to the left side of his head, secured by a violet piece of cloth. His skin holds a golden brown tan to it, and his expression is almost always locked in an energetic smile. He's a handsome young man, although due to certain past incidents he is modest (at best) about his exterior appearance. Standing at five foot six, Marciel's body despite his age and profession is rather well built. This is simply due to the constant, weary menial tasks his Mistress puts him through practically twenty-four seven.

For clothing, Marciel will never, ever, be seen without his lucky witch's hat. It is practically glued to his head, and removing it seems nigh impossible for anyone to do. That isn't his Mistress. Often he will wear a long sleeved, button-less shirt with an open collar. Black and white in colour, with a pale purple tint to it. He really likes purple. A pair of smart, black trousers shall accompany this, often with a belt to fasten it. His shoes are also often black in colour, and a broomstick will almost always be strapped to his back. Sometimes he'll wear a large, navy hooded cloak when he's out and about, although this isn't often the case.

Personality: Marciel seems like a pretty straightforward character to most people who meet him. With his expression practically always locked with a energetic smile, and his eyes always seeming to dance around with delight, Marciel's usual disposition isn't hard to figure out. He seems filled with energy, not overly so or off the walls, but always active. A courteous, social young man, Marciel enjoys company with others. Perhaps because he'll rarely meet the same person twice, due to the tasks often given to him by his Mistress, Marciel is often quick to form bonds with others that appear 'close'. He lacks the ability and patience to deal with the awkwardness of starting a new relationship with another, and as such will converse with others in a close, albeit formal, manner. Should he become genuinely close to any, Marciel's formal layer erodes, and he becomes even more relaxed, often teasing and joking with his closer friends.

In battle, Marciel still keeps up his energetic exterior. However, this is transferred to a sense of confidence. He is not overconfident, that aspect has been beaten out of him by his Mistress, but it is undeniable that he trusts in his own abilities, as well as the prowess of those he would fight against within battle. He will often aim to incapacitate firstly, although should death occur he will not think too much of it. The world is a scary place, after all, and those that are ready to raise arms must also be prepared to be struck down by them. Or so his Mistress says. And her word is absolute. Marciel finds it very hard to outright hate someone, opting simply to state that he would probably prefer the company of another. Still, he attempts to be all-encompassing in his relations with others, and very rarely actively goes out of his way to antagonise others. But should he hate someone, well. Simply put, it is quite an obvious show.

Biography:
Marciel's Past: Click Here To Show/Hide This Text
Marciel was born to a rather simple farming family within the Empire of Begnion. The community was a pleasant one, and as it was small and secluded all the folk within knew each other well. Marciel was an odd one during his early years. He was incredibly introvert, almost outright refusing to interact with anyone who wasn't his close family. And even then, that was a difficult feat for him to pull off. He was a lonely existence by his own doing, rejecting and pushing others away. He did not know any better during this time, and though his parents attempted countless times to rectify this personality of his, he stubbornly refused to change. He would lock himself away in his room when he was not needed on the fields, reading the few books his parents could afford to buy him. He would lose himself inside the texts.

This was most likely due to his natural talent for magic. There was but one family that could harness magic within the village. Incidentally, it was a small family whom had moved to the village a few years before Marciel's birth. They kept to themselves, but the youngest daughter of the family would often wow the other children with her trickery utilizing magic. Whilst Marciel was incredibly introvert, the use and wonders of magic did indeed interest him. It was something unexplainable. Perhaps the fantasies he had read caused the intrigue. Nonetheless, Marciel eventually mustered up the courage to actually speak to the girl. At the age of six, Marciel blurted out that he wanted to learn how she was able to do such things.

The girl was happy to oblige, surprisingly. Rather, the older girl took him back to her parents, wherein she excitedly proclaimed that one of her friends had finally taken enough interest to actually learn proper magic alongside her. The family was a rather pleasant one. It seemed her father, Senct, had retired from the military, but during his time there had been a fine Sage, working for the better of the Empire. Despite his seniority, he was happy to teach Marciel what he had taught his daughter. A little spark here, a little flash there. Party tricks, mostly. He leant the boy more tomes then he could carry, although all entry level, and allowed him to read them within the small living area of the family's house. His parents did not object to this. It was wonderful to see their son actually interacting with others, and taking up such a hobby. It was a little more than that, however, to both Marciel and Senct. There was something about Marciel that both excited and worried Senct. It was Marciel's talent. More specifically, it appeared that his ability to cast magic seemed to come almost instinctively to him. Senct couldn't quite understand why, or where this talent stemmed from, but he was torn to see such potential be grown and nurtured. For a boy like Marciel, at his age, it seemed to be like a dangerous talent to have. He insisted that Marciel only use his magic when completely necessary, such as when helping his family with the farm. Otherwise he was not to use it at all. Marciel complied, and with that, Senct continued to teach Marciel and his own daughter. Unfortunately, the man did not have too much time left. Indeed, he was working on borrowed time. Only a few months after Marciel's tenth birthday, Senct passed away in his sleep.

Without a tutor, Marciel continued to teach himself as best he could. He was given several tomes by Senct's daughter that belonged to her father before she and her mother left the village, and Marciel was left alone as the only magic user within the village from that point on.

His family was too poor to hire a tutor for the lad, and as such his learning came simply from what he could muster from the tomes and notes left to him. It was limited knowledge, so he simply focused to specialise in nothing but that knowledge. No longer would he stay up late at night reading his fantasy books. Now he stayed up reading tomes, practising his art, always attempting to push the boundary a little further. But not too far. After all, he was potentially a dangerous liability due to the fierce nature that his magic seemed to have. He could not abuse this gift he had been given, nor the trust Senct had placed in him to be responsible with his magic. Nonetheless, there was undoubtedly a sense within the young boy that this gift made him vastly different from the other children, and indeed the other inhabitants, within the village. Especially with Senct's family, the only group of people he'd opened up to asides his own family, gone. Whilst he helped out with his family's farm, he was able to lend a hand with increasingly efficient magic, as well as aiding physically. And perhaps he felt that this edge his family had would cause him to be shunned. Yes, that was almost certainly the case. And as such, the boy opted to shun others before they could him. He lacked trust. He never truly gave any outside his family a chance to get close to him.

The village would often come under attack by bandits looking for a quick, easy target. The land was ripe, fairly close to the Sempar Sea, and away from most other civilisations. So naturally the village came under attack rather frequently. However, due to this, the villagers were more than capable of holding off such half-hearted attacks. Marciel's mother in particular was quite terrifying with her scythe. There was no real fear of ever being harmed or killed during these attacks by any, and although wounds may have been inflicted upon the villagers, deaths were rare. Needless to say, things took an interesting turn during one 'attack'. The situation was the same, and yet, somewhat different. There were a few magic wielders involved, a rarity in these attacks. Marciel, celebrating (or rather, his family was celebrating whilst he sat there eating cake) his thirteenth birthday at the time, was called to assist against these bandits, as he often was on the rare occasion that a magic user may appear. They did not appear to be the usual run-of-the-mill bandit gang. They had large, ominous cloaks upon them with some strange intricate symbol embezzled upon them. As if an eye were being pierce by a feather. These men and women attacked the village, yet their objective was apparently not the supplies, or money within the village. It was the children.

The assault didn't last long. Despite having no battle training, Marciel's natural talent for magic was still rather terrifying. His constant studying and adapting of the arcana was put into motion. They also had the element of surprise. After all, would any man expect to suddenly be set alight by some young boy he had swept up whilst upon his horse? The combined effort of the villagers stopped this strange attack rather swiftly. Unfortunately, the troubles began at the end of the attack.

Marciel had never used his magic for such a prolonged amount of time. Not only that, but he had never used it to harm another person. Sure, he had studied on the theory, but actually experiencing it was something a tad shocking for a thirteen year old. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. A multitude of emotions flooded his being afterwards, and without any restraint or way to calm himself down, his magic exploded. A torrent of flames spewed from his being, maiming the area around him. The flames did not reach the village, initially, but they were spreading. The inhabitants could only watch as Marciel quickly descended into madness with power. For about a minute. At which point, having already mostly exhausted himself due to dealing with the aggressors, Marciel collapsed and passed out. Completely burnt out. Naturally, the villager's knew not what to do next. They could not exactly kick out a young child, nor did they have any intention to. But without a proper, consistent tutor to guide him in the realms of magic, he was a dangerous entity. It was fortunate, almost convenient, that one 'Celesta' had apparently been on her way to the village in pursuit of these attackers. She wasted no time subduing Marciel. The events that followed are hazy, at best, to Marciel, but needless to say his family eventually convinced Celesta to take him under her care in order to better train his magic. And once he became strong enough, and in complete control, hopefully he would be able to return to his family.


Marciel's life before his Mistress acquired him is something that he does not divulge with anyone. However, his life with his Mistress onwards is rather easily explained. Being born in Begnion to (presumably) a rather decent family, after a variety of events of which occurred, upon his thirteenth birthday Marciel met his Mistress. This woman, who referred to herself as the 'Luna Marionette', for a variety of reasons, eventually took the young man under her wing. Again, details of 'why' are things that Marciel discloses with none. Nonetheless, this was to be the beginning his life, as far as he is concerned.

The 'Luna Marionette', or 'Celesta', took in Marciel as an apprentice. Living in a rather large tower within the depths of a particularly large forest known as the 'Witch's Arc', situated in Crimea, Marciel's life was a trying one to begin with. Less an apprentice and more a slave, Marciel's 'training' was limited to completely menial tasks such as moving various large, bulky and unwieldy stocks of equipment and supplies up and down the tower for Celesta to utilize. The boy didn't complain, however. This was punishment for his previous actions, he assumed. After all, she had explicitly forbidden him from using magic whilst he did this work, even going as far as to secure a lightweight pair of Mana Manacles upon his wrists to make certain that he did not utilize his magic. There's no shock that his excellent body strength comes from these tasks, as he still continues to do them to this day.

Celesta liked to refer to herself as a 'witch'. As such, she referred to Marciel, her apprentice, as a witch also. He was not allowed to argue against this. His Mistress was a peculiar woman. She had terrible skills when it came to anything outside of the arcana. All the house duties fell upon Marciel as soon as he had arrived. The tower's initial state had been one of complete anarchy, with books, cutlery, clothes and the like strewn all across the many floors. To say Marciel has gained a knack for cleaning would be a grave understatement. His relationship with Celesta, although initially incredibly rocky and almost without interaction, slowly melted into a more amiable one. His Mistress was, once you waded past her 'cool, cold exterior', quite the brat. She came to depend on Marciel's existence within the tower soon enough, and once he reached fifteen she finally began to teach him their profession properly.

The first incident of removing the Mana Manacles, after so long, was a rather large explosion of magic. As if it had been held back all this time, waiting to burst, accumulating over the two years it had been forced down. Rather than weaken, it appeared that simply doing physical labour had actual shaped his body into a better container for the magic. At least, according to Celesta, whom stated that due to the particular nature of Marciel's own magic, both his body and his arcana ability needed to be in top condition and in sync. Otherwise he would simply fall apart and lose control again. The fact he still did his previous work physically and magically was the only reason he hadn't literally exploded, due to his body not being able to handle the magic coursing through it. Celesta's strenuous tasks that she had slapped upon him from a young age, therefore, had simply been training. Well, he should have guessed that was the case. Although considering how stubborn his Mistress could get, Marciel honestly thought she simply felt like punishing him for most his life.

As his magic and his body slowly became parallel with one another, and synchronized, Marciel's training began. She forced him to focus on minimal things. Within a room of three hundred candles, light only five very specific candles with one single spell, at the same time. Memorising in which order her thunder strikes rain down upon particular panels on the floor, and then follow that path without being struck. Things that trained his endurance, reflexes, magical prowess and his strength. Just what kind of witch Celesta was trying to train Marciel into, he had no idea, but there was no mistake that as this intense training went on every single day of the year, from early noon until late evening, despite the hardships Marciel was certainly gaining more and more control. And more and more strength within his magical abilities, naturally. Celesta even appeared to become more of a mentor and a teacher, genuinely pleased with her precious apprentice's fast growth, even going as far as to praise him. Once. That was a slip up, and she vowed never to do so again. But this didn't stop her from being proud of Marciel in secret, of course.

She even got him a stereotypical set of clothes befitting a witch. He requested a pair of trousers as opposed to a skirt. She begrudgingly abided to his wishes.

A number of years have passed since the pair first met, and Marciel is altogether a different person. Perhaps it is due to his close relationship with his Mistress, but Marciel's interactions with others has certainly improved. His magic he trains feverishly, almost religiously with his training regime, as to make certain that he never loses control of it once again. Often, Celesta will send Marciel out with a vague objective, or tell him that she requires some sort of object and then speak nothing else of it. He's gotten used to her cryptic ways, though. He doesn't have a problem with it at all. After all, she trusts him well enough to let him leave the tower, now. Although she always seems to have her eye on him, even after he has left. But, well. She wouldn't be his Mistress if she didn't do that, now would she?

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Emerald Wyvern
Ohai. Ish your birthday?
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Happy 19th man.
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