Nobody's quite sure what his name is. Some people call him the Scholar, but he goes my different names depending on the town. What is known though is that he always spreads knowledge. He gives the town folk who can't read lessions on how too. He donates books that contain rare knowledge. He is also called The Knowledge Bringer because of this.

Yet lately he's been.. acting strange. It all started when he visited Ethernia. It was The Week of Love. He was about to give his new knowledge to people, when he saw hundreds of couples of all types, all deeply focused on one another. A witness once said that he looked.. upset. Normally he seemed calm and collected, sometimes even jolly.. Than a woman bumped into him. She was new around the area, and was looking for the Princess. This would change his life forever.

While he still did his routine of helping people, he now often asked if they have ever seen this woman. It came to the point where the Fairy princess herself realized that he had a rare illness. Lovesickness. A fatal disease, the only cure to be to talk to who the sickness deemed their "true love". Now it's a race against time as the beloved Knowledge Bringer slowly loses his mind. Hopefully the woman he bumped into will find him soon and cure him of his illness.

Uh... this may have gotten away from me. Whoops?



Zaan, the Ember-In-Ice

By and large, Zaan's is a name known by naught but the most devout historians - and for fair reason. Their upbringing was largely unremarkable, growing up in Ethernia proper and attending one of the many mages' institutions therein. Though they lacked raw power, a keen eye for spell manipulation and the practical uses for fire set them comfortably in the middle of their class, well behind where such legends as Kjala Sun-Through-The-Leaves and Arathian Del'Avir had set in their own times.

So then what, you may ask, set them apart?

Fast-forward three decades from their graduation: they have long since moved north into the snowy wastes and are now appointed as guardian of the village of Ammil. Located on the coast, it experienced the worst of both ravaging colds and tempestuous seas. Zaan has found their niche here through managing protective barriers and the more mundane heat spells, and all is well in the early third era.

Except, as many of you may already know, the middle of the third era is well-known for the greatest disaster the north has seen to date: The Freeze. Often heralded as the extinctor of the northern peoples, The Freeze did not so much annihilate in one fell swoop as it did sink its teeth into the resolve of the entire citizenry and slowly bleed them out. Trade routes buried in layers upon layers of snow cutting off all access to the outside world, sylesti populations migrating south in droves and flooding the forests of Umbra and Ethernia, the last vestiges of vegetation shriveled into husks - and Ammil, alone and backed against the sea, saw the worst of it all.

And yet, of the five hundred and seventeen people who lived in Ammil, five hundred and sixteen survived. If you will, allow me to recount an oral history I heard once, from a child of Ammil many generations down that knew the old tales like the back of her hand:

...When the cold came and life left, we all feared our fates. Those from afar, who had settled here seeking peaceful solitude, felt regret like they had never known. Those oldest, who had chosen this place to spend their lives until the end, resigned themselves to their melancholy with hardly a second thought. Those youngest, who had never had a choice at all, did the same. By the fourth month of sunless blizzard, all had begun to mourn that which could have been and that which would never be. We had known the cold like the Faelora knows its antlers, like the Vulnyx knows its fangs, and we knew when it had decided that we had no more place here.

So none bothered to think of the Outsider, the Ember In Ice, when they continued their duties in earnest. A sun-blessed rune lovingly carved into every doorway, a barrier of blazing coalstones at every outer bound of the village and then some, and them in the middle of it all, staff at the ready and eyes alight with hope.

Until the storm came.
The elders had seen it first, slithering over the sea: a violent hailstorm, rippling the waves on the shore from half a league out, devastating the islands offshore and set on a course to devour us all. We all knew what it meant, and so we waited in our homes, the village sharing one choked breath between us. Many chose to sleep, in a final desperate gamble for one last shred of peace.

When the Spark heard the frantic whispers among the villagers, they walked alone to the water and stared down the great beast of clouds until they could no longer open their eyes for the wind.

And then they set the shore on fire. Great billows of golden flame spanning half the known coast, a shield slammed into the ground and braced by a tiny speck of blue in the center. None could see the ocean for the great bulwark of fire, rippling and writhing like it had a mind of its own. The storm was incinerated out of the sky then, not even a wisp of cloud left to call for retreat. It had no hope of even touching us - not with our Zaan, our beloved Zaan, sacrificing the last of their heart and hearth to give us just one more day. Just one more day...

Shortly thereafter, The Freeze subsided, and Ammil was able to scrape through the next few years until it was back on its feet. Zaan's body was never found, presumed to be either turned to ash by the flames or swept into the sea. In fact, the only physical legacy the mage left are the time-worn runes etched into the doors of the oldest houses and the remnants of blackened sand that still coat Ammil's beaches.

Zaan may be only ever relevant to five hundred and sixteen people, their descendants, and a handful of historians. The majority of their life may have been unremarkable in every sense of the word, and their death may be the only reason their name still has a meaning. But to die saving the lives of so many...well. Isn't that enough?


(Hahahaha. A "brief" historical overview. RIP to those who read the whole thing.)

No one quite knows exactly where Naiah of the Bayou came from. There is conjecture amongst scholars that she had been part of an expedition to explore the swamp and catalogue the species of sylesti found there, one that went horribly awry. But if any records on this expedition exist, they've long since been lost or covered up. Others swear she had been an elf exiled from the Sanctuary of Sarielle. Either way, Naiah has been a staunch guardian of the swamp, and all those creatures who call it home.

Finding Naiah is difficult, some would say impossible if she didn't want to be found. But she's been known to appear when there is need, to aid those who become hopelessly lost in the swamp or chase out those hunters poaching the local wildlife. Where one might have found her once, they will never find her again. Her home vanishes in the humid mists, reappearing elsewhere.

Quietly, Naiah disdains company, finding she prefers an isolated life on her own. Her family are the sylesti who inhabit the bayou. It's lead to an eccentric way of life and dress, and an innate distrust of outsiders, thinking of them more as trespassers. But with her there, the swamp thrives with a vibrant ecosystem. One that she would protect with her very life if necessary.

She's odd. Frightening to some. But she means well, and to those in need, an ally in a moment of desperation.

The mountain's protector, every year she comes from the mountains to check on the inhabitants and protect when time calls.

Vira is an aged vampiric warrior who was abandoned on the doorstep of an elven soldier as a baby. she's trained since the day she was left there, and trains still, only with other warriors. since that day many mortal elven friends (and enemies) have passed on. whether from old age or battle injuries, Vira has outlived them all due to immortality. with every loved one who dies, she wants more badly to find her people, to find her parents who left her on the doorstep of someone who they knew would eventually die. with every loved one that passes, she grows even more angry and wild during battle. stronger, faster, harsher, until one day she just gives up. "what is the point of all this?" "what is the point of anything?" "why am i fighting anyway?" she thinks, and holes up in the middle of a forest, hoping not to be found. who knows what her mind will be like when someone finds her? she could have turned into a deranged animal away from civilization with no one to talk to. or maybe she found peace. maybe she became tranquil and kind during all of her time away from all of the battles and fights,

Mikaeth Hakblade, the Righteous Hero

Mikaeth was known as The Righteous Hero.

A master of weapons and hunting, but better known for their unyielding ability to protect the people under their wings. A hero, a general, a soldier, and a friend to the people.
Deemed as a great Leader and soldier, the people looked up to and trusted their lives to them. And they had a role to fulfill in being their protector, their leader.

Being a non-human caused more strife than any enemy they had ever faced in their upbringing did. Although they wear the colors associated to the side of "good", the features of someone of a dark lineage always walked into the room before Mikaeth the person did.

Growing up, their personality became more of a mask to fit into the world around them. It was the only way to survive. You can't sit passively on the side of things when being quiet for some people means they are shy, but for you means your up to no good.

In the end, Mikaeth joined the army and became a known name for their ability to lead and control the situation. Their words were always somewhere in the rising speeches before the charge, weather from their own mouth or another. Their presence haunted the battlefield. Mikaeth first gained respect from their peers in battle, where your abilities in the present mattered infinitely more than a past you have no control over.

Eventually their reputation move up in the world, from enigmatic soldier to a recognized hero the more civilians they directly saved, gaining a reputation outside of the military. Through it all they eventually took on the official role of a general.

Mikaeth, although well loved knows they can't deserve it. Doesn't deserve it if they cannot be theirself to receive it. A puppet holding the strings attached to their own limbs, and a mask fully fused to the bone.

But, if you fully fuse with the mask, is that actually you? When does playing a character stop being a act if the present self has no true personality to return to anymore when you were raised and lived the lie?

Mikaeth's dream is for the monster wars to end, so they can retire and raise sheep. Maybe even get a dog.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=106424&page=2#16 Author: Echosing Time Posted: 7/2/2023 at 11:39 PM Mikaeth Hakblade, the Righteous Hero Mikaeth was known as The Righteous Hero. A master of weapons and hunting, but better known for their unyielding ability to protect the people under their wings. A hero, a general, a soldier, and a friend to the people. Deemed as a great Leader and soldier, the people looked up to and trusted their lives to them. And they had a role to fulfill in being their protector, their leader. Being a non-human caused more strife than any enemy they had ever faced in their upbringing did. Although they wear the colors associated to the side of "good", the features of someone of a dark lineage always walked into the room before Mikaeth the person did. Growing up, their personality became more of a mask to fit into the world around them. It was the only way to survive. You can't sit passively on the side of things when being quiet for some people means they are shy, but for you means your up to no good. In the end, Mikaeth joined the army and became a known name for their ability to lead and control the situation. Their words were always somewhere in the rising speeches before the charge, weather from their own mouth or another. Their presence haunted the battlefield. Mikaeth first gained respect from their peers in battle, where your abilities in the present mattered infinitely more than a past you have no control over. Eventually their reputation move up in the world, from enigmatic soldier to a recognized hero the more civilians they directly saved, gaining a reputation outside of the military. Through it all they eventually took on the official role of a general. Mikaeth, although well loved knows they can't deserve it. Doesn't deserve it if they cannot be theirself to receive it. A puppet holding the strings attached to their own limbs, and a mask fully fused to the bone. But, if you fully fuse with the mask, is that actually you? When does playing a character stop being a act if the present self has no true personality to return to anymore when you were raised and lived the lie? Mikaeth's dream is for the monster wars to end, so they can retire and raise sheep. Maybe even get a dog.

this one is so amazing I think this one is the best looking out all of them

This is Covura. She grew up as a dark elf orphan taken in by a lowly farmer couple by the age of 8. Covura had lots of dreams of being something big in her childhood. often enacting her dreams with the few other children she got to play with. This didn't sit well with most parents, as dark elves were given a bad reputation and stereotype for their evil ways of life. Unfortunately, Covura's shenanigans would eventually be brought to a halt when she accidentally hurt one of her friends playing thieves and guards. Angry parents hit their breaking point, and Covura's adoptive parents eventually had to put a stop to her rough housing. A hard lesson to learn for young Covura.

By the age of 17, Covura had left home, feeling she was no longer welcome in her community for her dark elf blood, and set out in search of her long imagined dream. She wanted to become a scholar and a politician in one of Sylestia's larger cities, Ethernia. Sadly where ever she went, her blood would often haunt her. Citizens would scowl and whisper behind her back, rumors had begun to spread of an assassin thirsting after the king's life, and she was once again driven out, much to her frustration. Why was it all those people saw was what her former people had wrought? She would not give up so easily, she decided she would prove herself by any means necessary.

She decided to take up bounty hunting. After all, if all the citizens of Sylestia saw was a brutal bloodthirsty monster, she would have to prove them all wrong. It was certainly not easy, with no prior combat training, and still naive to the world around her, Covura took up training alone in Umbra forest, somewhere surprisingly secluded for how much life it inhabited. By the age of 22, Covura had become adept with a glaive, setting off in her journey to prove the people of Sylestia wrong. She would be a force for what she thought was good, morals instilled in her by her adoptive parents, that every person deserved peace, despite their past or their appearances. She experienced her first taste of blood at 23, putting an end to an infamous bandit leader hiding in the hills of Viridian Meadows. News of her accomplishment spread fast, soon catching the attention of Esior's Haven's guards. She was approached soon after, in her camp in the hills by a small group of soldiers. A deal was struck. She would work as an undercover agent infiltrating a group of dark elf cultists, gather intelligence, and get out. How hard would it be? She appeared as a dark elf herself.

In the original mission, her goal was simply to see what this dark elf cult was up to, hardly a challenge, she thought. Unfortunately, the situation grew to be far worse than she expected. This particular cult was after the faeries, and had plans to hit the forest of umbra where it would hurt the most. She stayed put, feeling the absolute malice from the cult she'd infiltrated, and afraid for her life. When the time came she would have no choice but to report back to her employers, she was caught in the act of sneaking out, captured, and interrogated. Covura would hold strong, but she would have to sacrifice far more than a few fingers. When she refused to relent information, the leader of the cult punished her further, stealing her eyes and leaving her to die amongst the trees of Umbra Forest. She swore revenge.

When next Covura awoke, she found herself in the barracks of Saerielle's Sanctuary. A faerie had noticed her in need, and brought her back to safety. Despite her appearance? But everyone hated the dark elves, surely... When pressed, she explained her story, and was permitted to stay within the walls until she had full recovered. Unfortunately, There would be no full recover for our dear Covura. She'd gone blind. Thankfully, her quick wits and brilliant mind had not gone unnoticed. She was offered diplomacy lessons under a scholar from Ethernia, and for once Covura felt as though she truly belonged. Despite the few whispers she'd received from other residents in Saerielle's Sanctuary, however she'd already grown desensitized to it. She was permitted to exit the sanctuary walls in order to report back to her employers, and was honorably discharged from any further duties, sharing the information of her findings on the cult before returning to Ethernia to continue her studies.

By the age of 30, she was a speaker in the city. By the age of 44, she had risen to the rank of advisor, and was welcomed as a fully fledged member of the court. Her knowledge and quick wittedness was revered throughout Sylestia, and people from all corners of the continent would come to hear her speeches. Her words would rouse armies and inspire even the smallest child to chase their dreams. She often acted as a diplomatic executor for Sylestia, and civilizations beyond. She had truly found her place, and for that, she could not be happier.