The girl said and did nothing but stare at Randal the entire time as he tried his best to defuse any hostile intentions Luna may have had. Although, normally she wouldn't expose herself like this to anyone who got lost in the woods. Normally the spirit would terrorize their mind and force them to run away... But this kid was different... He did not act in the same manor as the rest.

Sure, he was obviously afraid, but the fact he hadn't been set off into a screaming panic interested Luna. She wanted to investigate further.

"Who do you call too? A friend of yours?" She asked again with the same, unwavering expression and tone.

When Randal ran towards the footsteps, he was met with an empty clearing of dead leaves. An unnatural fog covering the forest floor, engulfing his feet knees and anything below. However, the ground soon turned from soft dirt and leaves to an odd hard feeling, and then a loud crack was heard below his feet. It was a graveyard of bones...  Skeletons lie across the forest floor, their bones black as if they had been burned. And there she was...

Luna stood silently across the clearing in her physical form, her hair hung over her eyes, but she was obviously looking at Randal. Her expression unchanging from a regular frown. She wore a long white sundress, but the edges had been torn and were stained with red blotches.

"She's not here..." Her voice carried by a loud gust of wind, echoing with an otherwordly ambience.

The sun slowly sank to a faded twilight as the shadows began to climb upon the trees, casting a darken hue among the forested floor with an ominous yellow glow from above. The air got quiet as the day grew late, more and more animals that usually dotted the woods returning to their dens, for it wasn't safe at night. This was usually the most eerie part of the day, as the woods held their breath for the coming darkness, the sun abandoning the sky slowly to its sister the moon. Soon, nothing could be heard within the forest but the still wind of the leaves far above, and the crunching of Randal's footsteps.

As he got deeper, a feeling would weigh down on his mind. A great shadow growing near his back as if something was following, yet naught but the silent trees surrounded him. Now only the green tops of the wooden sentinels held the last rays of golden sunlight as it set upon the horizon, leaving the forest floor in shadow. When he neared the hill with the odd stones, he felt it beneath his feet.

If he chose to investigate the odd misstep, Randal would notice something unusual buried beneath the leaves... An old, tattered leather book. It was small, and had a worn leather front. Inside the parchment was yellow and the ink was faded... But it was obvious this was someone's journal at some point.

Here it read:

December 23rd, Village of Zantarctic
After a month of traveling I've finally arrived! I managed to hitch a ride on a passing merchant through Adela, so the last leg of the journey was fairly easy, lest we run into Bandits. BUt, it seems the god of luck smiles upon me, as I had no such encounters with any. However I cannot lie when I say I was somewhat confused when I arrived to this village. Many of the people here seem to be in fear of the mob... Understandable, but something the cold did not help at all either. I do not know if they get snow this far south, but the wind surly carries a nasty bite.

December 27th, Village of Zantarctic
The last box has finally been unpacked, and I've officially moved into the small hut near the river. It is actually quite nice here, moreso than I expected anyways. I can finally find a nice quiet place to finish my book. Thank the gods... It's been too long since I've written anything. I think I'll sit outside tomorrow and start.

December 28th, Village of Zantarctic
It was my mistake exposing myself like that. Turns out the security of Zantarctic is more lacking than I expected. Some men came by while I was enthralled in my writing and hassled me for cash. They didn't ask for much, and I certainly could afford it, but it bothered me, seeing as they weren't common beggars. No, they appeared to be hired thugs for the local Mob boss, Hildegarde something or other. They told me all new residents have to pay the 'protection fee' Not exactly sure what that entailed, but I could guess by their grim looking daggers, it meant protection from a unjust death. As such, they left me no choice. I gave them a coin purse and they left, probably going to bother my neighbor up the road. Anyways, I've learned my lesson. I'll write somewhere else now, to avoid this Hildegarde's lackeys. After all, the mob was known for it's excessive hassling...

January 2nd, Village of Zantarctic
Took me a few days to gather up my courage to write again, but I think I finally found a decent enough spot to do so. Not far from the village, there's an old trail that leads into the woodlands. I followed it for some time, hoping to get out of range from the loud noise the village brought. I decided to go off road, just in case any of Hildegarde's men decided to follow me. Probably just being paranoid, but you can never be too careful. After all, the sun was bright and shining today, and I knew my way back. There I stumbled upon an odd site, but it was quite a pleasant surprise. The treeline ends along the edges of a small hill. Filled with tall grass, I decided to hike to the top and take in the surroundings. This was the perfect spot to continue writing! It was quiet, and quite pleasing to the eye, best part of all though, there's even a few oddly placed stones on top where I can sit and lean my weary back against when writing. The move wasn't a bad idea... Not at all.

January 4th, Village of Zantarctic
Now that I've settled in, I've finally started to become attuned to Zantani culture. Learning the ways of its people and their history. Quite interesting to say the least. Its story was much richer than I expected it to be. However, they seem to think their history reflects on the present day problems of the village. Just this morning I came upon a disturbing site. A man with a terrible illness lie on the side of the road, being attended by a few woman. I couldn't quite place his odd sickness, so I decided to ask the woman. For he had excessive, bloody rashes growing on his skin, and it appeared he had blood coming from his eyes. THe answer I got from the woman however was not very informative. Being a man of science, I was hoping for a better explanation than the one I got. They claimed the man had what the Zantarctic people call "Wraithfire." Something I had never heard of prior. When I asked what that was caused by, they began to babble on about spirits and phantoms within the forest that cursed those who traveled after dark. I didn't pay any more mind to it however, for the man began to scream about 'his mistakes' and how 'the white one is coming'. Even if it's just stories, I couldn't help but grow nervous seeing the fear in his red eyes. I had to get out of there and try to forget the whole experience... But yet I can't stop myself from writing it now... Odd. I think I'll close my windows tonight and keep an extra candle next to it. After all, the woods look rather unsettling in the darkness...

January 7th, Village of Zantarctic
Something strange is afoot. Not sure what it is exactly, but it seems the weather's took a nasty turn lately, and hasn't let up in a few days. Heavy rainfall has prevented me from continuing my writing at the old stone top hill. Shame. The interior of my hut doesn't carry the same feeling for my inspiration. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to hold out and make do with the dismal circumstances. Strange though... These storms always end when the sun sets, creating a clear, and starry sky.

January 17th, Village of Zantarctic
It's been a while since I've recorded anything in here, but I had forgotten completely. The last week was rather eventful. Seemed like a gang fight broke out, and a few houses got caught in the crossfire... Thankfully mine is isolated near the river, and was left untouched. Although, many people volunteered to help rebuild the broken homes, myself included. Figured the best way to earn these people's trust was to show that I was willing to work with them. Unfortunately, I stumbled another case of this 'Wraithfire' disease. The victim suffered similar mental instability, and wouldn't stop screaming about the 'moon maiden'. Not entirely sure what that means, but It must of been just some nasty sickness he contracted in the woods. After all, his family said he had spent many days camping there... However, others seem to believe him more than I do. Apparently a legend swirls around the village about a wraith that stalks the woods, and any who cross the spirit's path are cursed with Wraithfire. Sadly, he died later that day... His eyes melting into blood. Most unusual... Despite this, the houses are rebuilt and the skies are clear, so I am free to continue writing in the spot that I love.

January 18th, Village of Zantarctic
I came back today with a rather strange feeling... I don't know how to describe, but I felt the urge to write it down anyways. It was like something growing in the back of my mind. When I left the woods, it vanished... But I can still remember it. It felt like something was constantly behind me.. Watching, waiting... But for what? I will try and shake it off, hoping it's nothing.

January 20th, Village of Zantarctic
My mind swims with pain as I try to remain focused. It appears I've come upon some headache... Some odd sickness. I can't tell when I had gotten it, but the pain in my head will not stop. It grows everyday, and I fear I may not be able to finish my book. Only time will tell. There is a herbalist in town, apparently. I will go see her and ask about it, maybe she can help me.

January 21st, Woods of Zantarctic
Nothing could slow it down. Nothing at all. I'm afraid the woman may have swindled me and gave false information about the expensive herbs she sold. And now i'm stuck here... I made a stupid choice today. I decided to try and write it my usual spot, hoping focusing on something else would help cure my headache.... But it only made it worse... I can barely record anything in this journal now, it just hurts so much... And now I'm stuck here... I got lost on my way back. The sun is setting and I cannot find the path. My head hurts... I cannot find the path.


The writing in the journal now was far more illiterate, the handwriting barely readable... And drops of dried blood dotted the pages:

Something is coming... It eats at my mind... I cannot see it, but I can feel it. The night has grown dark and the woods are quiet. A shadow stalks the trees, watching me.. Cursing me. My skin itches, and my head screams with pain. I wander the woods blindly as tears turn red among my eyes... I can't find the path...

She found me... My heart pumps violently as I tried to run.. But she is close. I know it. I SAW HER! A wraith among the forest... I heard her coming... She is coming... I need to find the path... I need to find the path... She is coming... I cannot get out... I cannot get ou-

The writing abruptly ends there, the scribbles of ink veering off the edge of the page. All the while the moon now stalks the sky, and the woods rest in shadow... The path behind Randal nowhere to be found. And a sound of crunching leaves in the distance.

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Luna, or "Luna O'the Woods"
Age Appears to be 11
Gender Female
Species Vengeful Ghost
Ethnicity Adelan (in life)
Height 4'10
Occupation Acheri Spirit
Residence The forests of Zantarctic

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description
In terms of physical appearance, Luna seems to look like a regular young girl, however there are a few notable differences. For one, her skin is a sickly pale, very unnatural. Her eyes also hold a cold, grey emptiness to them. Her hair is long and white, while her clothes appear to be a torn up sundress. She wears no shoes, and her feet always trek blood wherever she walks.

Her spirit form looks similar, the main differences is she is no longer able to physically touch or be touched by anything. And white wisps of ghost essence flows off her body when she moves.

Image removed. Please read our art usage policy. Thank you!

Personality
Being the vengeful spirit of a child, Luna's personality is very stagnant. She appears to be cold and emotionless, but she harbors much sadness and hate in her dead heart. She wanders the woods of Zantarctic, cursing those who cross her path, hoping to find the man who murdered her, but she is also very lonely. However, this does not entirely isolate her from interaction with others. The few who can peak the spirit's interests, and manage to get past her hatred, she can be quite friendly too. However, all of that kindness will fade back into sorrow, and then rage when others try to leave her. She only wants a friend, and will cry tears of red on those who resent her.

Magic/Abilities
Not much is known about how much power she holds, but one thing is certain... She is very dangerous. Over the many years, Luna has gained a reputation within Zantarctic as the wraith who stalks the woods, and causes great, uncurable sickness and madness to those unlucky enough to encounter her. The victims will usually return from the woods, driven mad with fear, and the urge to itch themselves. Over the course of a week, large, disgusting rashes will grow on the victim's skin and they will bleed from their eyes quite extensively. Ultimately ending in a painful death. The rashes will begin to feel like hot fire on the victim's skin, and eventually their eyes will melt from their sockets into dark blood. The only upside to this sickness is that it is not contagious... But no medicine or magic can stop it. This disease Luna causes to her victims has been dubbed "Wraithfire" by the people of Zantarctic.

Relationships

History
Nobody knows who Luna is or where she came from exactly. Or even if the spirit's true name is Luna. The title "Luna O'the Woods" was given because the girl was described to be as white as the moon. However, those who have lived in Zantactic long enough may have their suspicions as to her origins.

Month prior to her first sighting, a priest came to Zantarctic with a gang of violent fanatics. He claimed he had come to do good, and cure the people of their unclean hearts. With some shifting of coin, he payed off the local gang lord to allow him to preach however he saw fit. As such, he had his followers round up a portion of the village and preached. Those who refused to listen to his teachings were brutally beaten and thrown aside. However, this was not the case for one family. A family of three, a mother, father, and a young daughter were brought before the priest for their attempt to ignore him. As punishment, he would have them flogged and thrown aside just like any other... But then he took notice of the daughter's pale hair. For reasons unknown, he exclaimed the hair was that of a demon, and that this couple had given birth to and raised a devil! As such, he ordered the parents to have their throats slit in front of the girl. They did not stop there however...

[WARNING: DARK THEMES AHEAD]

The priest then had the girl tied up to a post, and using only a rusty knife, he gouged out both of the girl's eyes before the whole village. Her agonizing screams went on until she was torched like a witch... Dying in fire with blood dripping from the holes of her sockets. Leaving the remains chained to the post, the priest then moved on and left Zantarctic for lands unknown... But the spirits of the dead are not so easily ignored...

Now Luna, the spirit of rage, prowls the woods of Zantarctic looking for the priest. Unable to leave this world until his agonizing pain fills the night, killing anyone in her way without a second thought.

As such, the people of Zantarctic watched and did nothing during her death... And she never forgave... And she never forgot.

__________________THREAD TRACKER
Current Threads

Complete Threads

Hey all! Sorry to say, I'll be gone this summer since I'll be working as staff for a summer camp. I'll be there for several weeks, with limited access to the internet so I'll probably not be able to post very often, probably not at all. Just giving anyone who cares a heads up as to my absence, but I still look forward to continuing any threads when I return!

@Spicyspice @Eckhart_Von_Musel @Salzem @Blink @Cinnabar
(And anyone else I might've forgot.)

"Under most circumstances, I would be much obliged... However." He shot a glare in Cyn's direction. She simply returned the face with a look of confused innocence. "You did not need to go through such *extreme* lengths to get my cooperation. Cyn would display a thinking look for a moment, before smiling and snapping her fingers like she had just figured something out. However, she remained silent and kept watching the two converse.

"Money is power... But so is influence. I see why you came to me with your plight. And I doubt I have little choice in the matter." At this point, Cyn stood up. "But that's wrong! You, my friend, have all the power in the world! Just go about your business and pretend nothing had ever happened! That way we can be best friends!" She sneered, but then sat down again and remained quiet in case Mr. G disapproved of her little outburst. "I will talk with him, and not you witch!" He scowled. "I do business with business men, not murderers and thieves." At this she rolled her eyes. "You're unaware of just how close your own job is to both of those..." She chuckled.

The captain and guards moved out of the man's way as he hobbled passed them, exchanging a few odd looks due to his personality. It was clear he had no idea who, exactly their commander was, and he was no woman supporter. That may change in the coming days.

The men directed him to a wagon outside the library, and hopped on board as the driver set the horses in motion. "We'll be joining up with a supply caravan being sent to the camp as well. Fear not, it's well protected." He said, attempting to put any nervous feelings at ease. If he had any. By this point the captain could not tell however.

A few hours of riding later, they reached the caravan in question. The line was very large, transporting a few dozen new recruits, along with various siege weapons and other supplies for the camp. Ludwig's wagon rode near the back of it.

Later that evening, the rising smokestacks over the trees could indicate the camp was getting nearer, and sure enough the glow of fire could be seen as they exited the treeline to witness the large encampent ahead. As they entered, it was clear the establishment was very busy. Patrols of swordsmen rushed back and forth as multiple knights did the same. Many were attending to their tents, some blacksmiths were sharpening steel, and a few were transporting mage prisoners in large caged wagons. It was here when the caravan began to split off, as many different soldiers began directing the different shipments to their intended locations. Ludwig's wagon however was directed towards the center of the camp. There was a considerably larger tent here, the obvious HQ for this encampment. "Follow me." The captain said finally, stepping off the back of the wagon and entering the large tent. Inside it was scarcely decorated to what one might expect from a commander's residence. There wasn't any fancy beds, decorations, or any evidence that anyone even slept in this tent. Instead the tent held a long wooden table with multiple chairs situated around it. On the surface of the table was a long piece of parchment. It seemed to be a detailed map of the Hollow. The captain directed Ludwig to an empty chair and then went to speak to one of the cartographers attending the map.

"She'll join us momentarily.. She's just dealing with some rebellious prisoners." He told Ludwig, sitting down across the table.

Only a few minutes passed however, before the sound of heavy armored footsteps could be heard outside the tent. Then the tent flaps parted. Stepping into the laternlight was a MASSIVE being, clad head to toe in full body armor. Nothing about their physical appearance could be seen through the thick metal armor cover, not even their face through the thin slits of their faceplate. On their back was a long spear like weapon.. Still red and dripping. The soldiers stood at attention. THis was Battalion commander Annerith Rivere. She said nothing, but gestured with her hand and they understood to sit. The commander didn't even look at Ludwig, she simply walked passed him, the chain of her armor echoing with every step. She then stood on the other side of the table, gazing at the map before turning her helmet straight towards the old man.

"Ludwig Von Musel, the military tactician and historian I assume." She spoke bluntly, her voice cold and sounding almost mechanical through her armor.

Well, at least he wasn't as sulky as he'd been expecting.

"*She* believes your tactical knowledge can be of value to our current operation. We are here to inform you about this job, and tell you coin will be provided should you accept the offer." He responded.

"Commander Rivere did not inform me the reason for your assistance, only that I was to bring you to our camp in the Hollow." He said "We were ordered to assist your moving as well, should there be any items you wish to bring with you."

Seemed to be the man that was described. The captain sighed and shot a glance to a few of his men who stayed perfectly still. "We understand you have a certain set of skills, our commander is interested in." It was clear by the tone of the soldier's voice that he obviously did not want to be here, and had little faith this old man would be of any use. However, orders were orders. "The commander would like to meet with you in person. We're from the 12th Siege battalion, and have a camp set up in the Hollow." He spoke rather flatly, expecting another snarky bite from Ludwig.

Oh the words brought her so much joy. Cerci couldn't help but grin after witnessing his obvious distaste for the entire situation, but was happy he admired her own dream to build a city for the dead. This now opened up so many doors for her. His experience and power could benefit her greatly! She'd be sure to have some fun with it as well along the way.

"I'm glad you see it my way.." She chuckled, putting a hand on his cheek as he cringed. "Lighten up will you? We have a world to convert." She'd whisper. Turning back to gaze at the beauty gleaming below them, Cerci would speak again.

"We will begin with building a labor force... Raise as many dead as you can, and bring them to the wraith's tear..." She said. "We will accomplish great things together, you and I." And with that, the undead would feel light headed. In Cerci's illusionary world, she controlled what people saw and felt.

Embalmus would wake again, sitting atop his throne in Samara's tomb... But it's golden beauty had all but faded. The place was as it was before... A ruin. No evidence that Cerci had even arrived. The only sound was the whispering wind coming from the skylight far above... The only thing that was still left from Cerci's magic...

The Lord continued to eye Mr. G carefully as he answered his questions. He seemed like a reasonable man, at least more reasonable than this Cyn girl. Then again, if they were working together, that must've accounted for something. Even if he was involved with some shady business, he'd never work alongside someone as insane as this woman obviously was. This fact alone troubled him seeing as the man in front of him had obviously willingly chose her to be his partner.

"Aye, I know various people across Le'ranna that can be quite charismatic..." He responded, answering the demon's question. During this Cyn appeared to be quite interested in the conversation, but was careful not to speak. After all, Demagogue was the one in charge, right? "What is it exactly you'd like for me to say to them?" He asked finally, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as the words left his mouth. It was now obvious to Cyn that this was gonna be way easier than she had originally anticipated. Fallrin was far more interested in retaining his reputation and current business deals than fighting back against their black male. At least he was smart.

"O- Of course! Right this way, sir!"

The man sniffed with annoyance at the obviously inexperienced librarian. The man hobbled out from behind the desk and grabbed a chain of keys. "Right this way!" He said, pointing towards the long row of bookshelves. With that, he gave a nod to three soldiers situated behind him, and they quickly followed suite. This old man had better been worth all the trouble it took them for tracking him down. It'd been 4 days since they'd been ordered to do so, and the captain knew better than anyone how bad it would be to keep his commander waiting. Especially in the situation they were in now. Luckily for the soldiers behind him, they didn't know just how cruel their battalion commander could be.

"He was gazing over some of these tomes over here." The man sputtered, pointing a wrinkled finger towards the section of books. He nodded at the librarian and placed a hand on his weapon as he walked down the aisle with his soldiers following. Finally turning the corner, they saw a hunched old man with a cane. Assuming this was the person the commander had described, he didn't waste any more time.

"Ludwig Von Musel?"

She could just tell by his glare that the jackal was unimpressed with her idea. Sighing, she figured he either was too stubborn to let himself show any positive attitude towards her plan, or he simply misinterpreted it. Either way, she'd have to find another way to gain his approval. After all, when the subject was willing, the job was always easier. It was clear he didn't have an interest in any poetic words Cerci had given him. Straight to the point he was. Boring, but effective at least. It could've been a lot worse. However, something else did strike her as surprising. The jackal was no longer a jackal. Instead, he had morphed and shrunk into a human! How interesting! This action caused Cerci to smile.

"Well then..." She turned her attention away from him towards the stone wall. It was large and empty. "Come with me and you'll find out..." She chuckled. It was apparent now that Cerci was well aware of the undead's irritation to her actions, but it only fueled her entertainment, so she'd humor herself a little longer. Suddenly, a flash appeared in front of the two, and in the wall's place was now a massive glowing vortex of purple magic. It swirled like a whirlpool on the wall. Cerci said nothing else, but simply stepped into it. Her frame vanishing into the swirling magic.

Had the necromancer followed, they'd find themselves in what looked like a MASSIVE underground cavern. Cerci stood far ahead of him, up a rock face. She chuckled and waved a hand, signaling him to follow before she vanished behind the rocks. When he arrived, she'd be standing on the cliff edge of this underground landscape, staring straight ahead. There, in all its majesty, was the city of the dead. A massive metropolis of necromancy, sprawling with light.

"This place may only be an illusion, but this is what I'm planning on building." She said, her eyes staring widely at the majesty of the city. "A nest of death fitting for any undead army." She said again, grinning towards her partner. "However, I lack the 'friends' to help me run this army...."

Cyn made herself comfortable on the couch next to Demagogue's desk as the Lord carefully watched him. It was obvious he was still very nervous about this entire situation, but Cyn didn't really understand why. What reason did he have to be nervous? All he had to do was listen to what Dema had to say! Simple instructions! No stress in that, right? Regardless of her thoughts, however, he still displayed a cautious look towards the disguised demon. Cyn wondered how well his disguise would last without Nashya nearby. Where was that girl anyways? Cyn pondered the question for a moment, turning her head around the room to see if Nashya had been skulking in the shadows somewhere. She was disappointed to find nobody in the dark corners of the room. Her attention however, was snapped back to Dema and Fallrin as he scolded her for putting her feet up on the table. She gave a scowl and slowly put her feet on the ground like an annoyed child, crossing her arms and huffing, leaning back against the chair.

"I'm alright..." Fallrin said coldly, at Demagogue's offer for wine and food. Instead he simply sat down in one of the empty chairs across from the demon's desk. Cyn had preoccupied herself with an oddly shaped corkscrew, fiddling with the object between her fingers. Fallrin's attention soon focused on Mr. G, ignoring Cyn's childish attitude. "Daughter of yours?" He asked.

"Now can you tell me what this is about? What do you need from me?" He asked rather venomously, staring at Dema unblinking.

Fade continued to stare at the Grand Duke, her dead eyes watching curiously as she listened, and that's when Zannrick interjected. She turned to him as he seemed to be defending her words, answering Calent's question for her, however, she was interested to know the knight's own thoughts on the subjected.

And almost as if on cue, the Grand Duke asked him just that. Her eyes watched him closely as he answered, carefully picking out his words. At least he seemed honest. Not that it was really any mystery that Zannrick found babysitting Fade an annoyance, but he understood the reason. This also told Fade it wasn't his idea, but quite possibly the Grand Duke's. An interesting food for thought. She hadn't assumed Calent cared enough about her to have one of his trusted mordecai watch her. Then again, she was sitting at his dining table.

However, the Duke's second question caught Fade somewhat off guard. What if her lack of personal feelings would interfere with her job now? What was he going at? She had never been forced to answer a question like that before, mostly be cause it was irrelevant to her intended purpose... And she wouldn't lie about that.

"If that were an issue, I wouldn't be in this line of work."


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That's alright with me :3


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Annerith Rivere

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Annerith Rivere
Age 34
Gender Female
Species Human
Ethnicity Connlaothian
Height 6'3
Occupation Connlaothian Military (Mordecai)
Residence Wherever her missions take her.

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description

Annerith is a giant among men. Or at least a giant among Connlaothians. She stands at 6 feet, and is always, ALWAYS clad in head to toe with her heavy battle armor. This intricately designed set of equipment is what she is most well known for, as far as physical appearances go. Rarely has anyone seen her face, or any other part of her body for that matter, as she is very persistent to be armored at all times. However, on the occasion that she does take off her masked helmet, Annerith sports a very battle hardened complexion. Her eyes are a steely, cold blue in color, almost silver in tone, while her skin is a fair lighter color. Her hair is rather long, and blonde in hue. Most of the time however, she has it tied in a bun so it doesn't interfere with her helmet. Across her face are multiple scars as well, the largest reaching down across her right eye, lip, and ending on her chin. 

Image removed. Please read our art usage policy. Thank you!

Personality

Annerith is a very, practical, and literal woman. She is almost always stern, and her tone is unwavering. So much so, many who see her face assume she is constantly annoyed. However, this is not usually the case. Years of serving within the army of Connlaoth has morphed Annerith into a soldier at heart, and she takes her job very seriously. The reason behind this is because she has seen firsthand the horrors of war, and tries her best to live up to her family legacy. Both her parents served in the military for the majority of their adulthood years, and Annerith is determined to follow in their footsteps.

While she can be quiet at times, Rivere is far from distant. She is constantly watching her surroundings, and listening to nearly everyone around her. She takes pride in her duty as a mordecai, and made sure to heighten her senses through many years of training. And that may one of the biggest factors about Annerith, her sense of duty. She is known to be brutally honest, and can be quite the cruel woman when the need calls for it. She is not afraid to cut anyone down who poses a threat, and she will not hesitate to end any life... Evident by events in her past.

Magic/Abilities

MORDECAI
Rivere is a Mordecai, and possesses no magical power. Her Mordecai field however is wide enough to nullify any magic within a 1 mile and a half radius.

GUANDAO MASTER
Rivere's weapon of choice is her legendary long Guandao. The weapon sports a very long, staff like shaft with single bladed sword tip. The weapon itself is very large, reaching a height of 5 feet and 8 inches. However, due to Rivere's strength, and many years of practice, she is able to wield this weapon with a single hand almost effortlessly, and with great speed.

Relationships

History
Annerith, like many, grew up poor. She was the only daughter to a pair of Connlaothian soldiers who were stationed in Reajh. Her childhood was nothing particularly special, but unlike many of the other children in her part of town, she learned how to quickly wield a weapon. Her father had taken quite a liking to Annerith's interest in combat, and would often train her himself during his time off. As a result, the first chance she got, Annerith joined the Connlaothian military when she was 16.

Her early military service wasn't very exciting, but she was driven by the promise of a greater future with the more loyalty and dedication she showed her country. She had been assigned to be the squire of many Connlaothian knights during these years, but every time she would pick up a thing or two from every knight she was serving. With that, her skills grew until one day Annerith was able to best her own trainer in sword sparring. This feat got the young girl recognized almost instantly, and she had been permitted to receive tougher, and more challenging training. When she was 23, Annerith participated in her first full scale battle... And it was brutal.

"Red Hollow" The battle had been named, was a skirmish between a collection of various Mordecai and a large group of bandits. Her group had been tasked with escorting a military caravan through Matron's Hollow. A traitor in the ranks of the military, however, had tipped off a large bandit clan to the location and time this caravan would be passing through. Annerith and her group fought valiantly, though many of her fellow soldiers died in the battle. She emerged exhausted and bloody as the final survivor of the battle. During the fight, her blade had been lost, so she faced off the remaining 6 bandits alone with a sharp stick... Needless to say, she delivered the caravan to its destination 3 hours later, dragging the horses by their lead, and with a new scar to show for it.

News of this battle had spread around the hollow, and after Annerith had recovered, she was tasked to personally lead the investigation towards the identity of the traitor. Over the next few months, she had hit multiple bandit encampments across the region, rooting for names, dates, and other sensitive information the traitor could've possibly given them. However, she was shocked to finally find the identity of the rebel. It was her own father who had been feeding the bandits information. With her rage outweighing her sentiment, Annerith led a squad of soldiers to storm her father's home in the hollow. There she found him cowering in fear. An older man who once was a great warrior, turned into a rat looking for gold. Without any hesitation, Annerith cut down her father. Ignoring his pleas for mercy... Avenging her fallen comrades in the Red Hallow. In the aftermath of her justice, she found something interesting however. In her father's home, lied multiple stolen weapons and armor, along with schematics and sketches for newer arms. One set in particular caught her eye. A massive set of tower knight armor, along with a razor sharp Guandao to match. Taking the schematics, she had a trusted blacksmith forge her the armor and weapon.

After being promoted to commander over her own battalion of soldiers, the Civil War broke out. Annerith vowed to serve her country though this bloody conflict.  Pouring her loyalty and dedication towards the new Grand Duke...

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Lol yeah, the 9 foot height was a bit of an exaggeration, but she'd still be taller than average x3 Also, like I said before her history hasn't been plotted yet, but she could easily have a military background in Connlaoth, seeing as she was meant to be Connlaothian originally.


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Hey Spice! This thread caught my eye because I had actually been planning on making a character for a while who was an expert in hand to hand combat without the use of magic! This person who I plan to make soon is named Annerith Rivere, and what I had in mind for her was that she'd be a massive, almost 9 foot tall TANK. Always clad in head to toe with full body armour. Her original plan was that she'd be working as a mercenary/monster hunter to rival my newer character, Laina's work.

However, this thread popped out at me and I realized how well this could fit her exactly. I was kind of going for an Artorias feel when I made her, as her personality would be dark and silent, but she's still an expert tactician, and has a strong hate for mages. And yes, she'd be a Mordecai.

Anyways, that's just an idea I'd like to throw out there concerning Annerith, and seeing as she hasn't been created yet, her history and lore can alternate in whatever way to fit the title. If you'll have her x3




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