[lands of domhan] ⇢ invite only

[faraday]

Ｉｎ  ｗｉｌｄｅｒｎｅｓｓ  ｉｓ
ｔｈｅ ｐｒｅｓｅｒｖａｔｉｏｎ
ｏｆ  ｔｈｅ  ｗｏｒｌｄ．


❝The Lands are
xxxstill wild. ❞


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Ｔａｂｌｅ  ｏｆ  Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｓ

I. Introduction - You are Here
'II. Domhan Index
III. Character List, Weather
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Thousands of years ago, before the time of the great Kings and Pharaohs, the world was ruled by five great races. The Elves, the ageless kind with advanced medicinal technology and prodigious archers, the Dwarves, who slave away deep in the mountains to provide the rest with fine gems and metals, the Humans, the young race to the East of the mountains who knew little of the world and it's ways, the Fera, the reserved shape-shifters who do their best not the meddle in the affairs of others, and the Centaurs, the most arrogant of the five who care not of the well-being of the other races. Together, they maintained a dangerously fragile peace that lay upon the lands like a thin sheet of ice, just waiting to be broken.

As years went by, the tension between the Elves and Centaurs grew, which caused unrest within the other races. After years of this, the Centaurs finally made their move. They rallied their forces and expanded their territory onto Elvish land, which was the last straw for the Elves. A great Council was called, with a representative from each of the five races, and a representative for each of the Elven Clans. The Nymphs and Wood Elves agreed to pardon the Centaurs for their brash move, but the Dark Elves were not so kind. They threatened the Centaurs with war, which the other races objected to. The Dark Elves were advised to pardon the Centaurs, but they did not believe in letting them off so easily.

Deep within their caves, the Dark Elves plotted and schemed. They traveled to the south end of the mountains to seek the company of the trolls, and rallied them to join their forces to overthrow the other great races. When the Dark Elves returned, they realized that their small rally for war had grown into something much larger- something so large it had awoken great powers of evil. It was at this time that the other great races learned of the Dark Elves' efforts to destroy the peace, which brought them together. Together, the Dwarves, Humans, Fera, Centaurs, Nymphs, and Wood Elves rallied their forces to compete with the Dark Elves. Not one of them could predict what was to come, however.

[faraday]

Ｉｎ  ｗｉｌｄｅｒｎｅｓｓ
ｉｓ ｔｈｅ
ｐｒｅｓｅｒｖａｔｉｏｎ
ｏｆ  ｔｈｅ  ｗｏｒｌｄ．


❝The Lands are
xxxstill wild. ❞


━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Ｔａｂｌｅ  ｏｆ  Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｓ

I. Introduction
'II. Domhan Index - You are Here
III. Character List, Weather
━━━━━━━━━━━━━

xxxxxxxx

Ｃｏｌｏｒ  Ｋｅｙ

Blue - Locations
Green - People
Grey - Races/Sub-Races

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Aldrion: The city of the Dark Elves. It sits in the Mountains of Eskelon, South of the Dwarf city Nordale. Aldrion is located on the inside of one of the mountains, and is full of expansive caves that the Dark Elves have created over hundreds of years.

Aster Miraberg: The successor to the throne of the Kingdom of Men. His father was Tharanor Miraberg, and his mother is Jezebel Miraberg. He has no known siblings. One of the chosen seven.

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Beval: The most prosperous dwarf family. They live in Nordale, and specifically mine Emeralds. The family trait is dark hair and light eyes.

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Civade: The name given to the series of caves within Aldrion, the city of the Dark Elves.

Centaurs: Half horse and half man, these creatures are extremely brash and arrogant. They hardly ever seek the council of the other races for they are very confident in themselves, even though they tend to make bad decisions when it comes to dealing with the Elves. They live to the West of the Mountains of Eskelon, and often have territory disputes with the Elves. Centaurs' hair depends on the color of their tail, so it is not uncommon for centaurs to have black hair.

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Dormere: Dormere is the Nothernmost Dwarf city, known for it's fine iron and silver. The city itself lays outside of the mountain it is nestled against, but a large stone fortress leads to the inside of the mountain where the mines lay.

Dwarves: Dwarves are known for being stubborn, gluttonous, hard-working, and loud. They are generally short and stocky, usually measuring in at around 4 feet tall and 170 pounds. They work in the mines, excavating precious stones and metals for the crafting of weapons and armor. Dwarves reside in the Mountains of Eskelon, and only venture out when called upon for war or when they give advice to another race.

Dark Elves: The Dark Elves live in the Mountains of Eskelon, for they fled from their kin hundreds of years ago to live in darker conditions. After hundreds of years of living in the dark, their skin turned a sickly light grey color. They hardly ever come out of their caves other than to seek council, or give council. They are the tallest of the Elves, usually standing around an average of 6 feet tall.

Domhan: The name of the lands that the five races live in. It is surrounded by water to the West, and few venture past it's borders to the East.

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Eskelon: The name of the mountain range that splits the Humans and Fera from the Centaurs and Elves. This is also where the Dark Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, and Dragons usually spend their time. Crossing the mountains usually takes 3 weeks or so, unless you are crossing in the winter when there is a heavy amount of snow.

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Faywyn: The name of the area where the Nymphs reside. The area is full of marble structures such as gazebos, and everything seems to be in synchronicity with the trees that surround them. Faywyn sits in the Western corner of Domhan, very near to the ocean.

Fera: The Fera, which are commonly referred to as "shifters", are a small group of humans who were born with the ability to shift into another creature. The Fera are very solitary and do not like to meddle in the affairs of the other races unless it concerns them. The morals and values of the Fera vary, as it depends almost entirely on the clan.

Feldor Nightflei: A Fera of the Nightflei clan, he shifts into a leopard. His father is Orthorik Nightflei, his mother is Nadaira Nightflei, and his sister is Ariale Nightflei. Orthorik is the current chief of the Nightflei, making Feldor the prince. One of the chosen seven.

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Humans: The youngest species of the five races, Humans are generally inexperienced in the ways of the world, yet they are exceedingly brave and strive to be strong. Humans usually measure in at 5 and a half feet, just like the Wood Elves. They are scattered around in villages to the East of the Mountains of Eskelon, although one of the Human Kingdoms tends to generally rule over the other villages.

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Jezebel Miraberg: The mother of Aster Miraberg, widow of Tharanor. She is fond of botany and spends much of her time in her gardens.


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Nordale: The second Dwarf city, located in a large valley in the center of the Eskelon mountains. It is known for it's precious jewels, which is it's main export.

Nymphs: One of the Elf sub-races, who reside mainly in the groves and meadows of Faywyn. They value peace and harmony, and are highly aware of the environment around them. They are often associated with trees.


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Shayna Raiz: A Fera from the Raiz family, shifts into a snow leopard. Her family members are unknown. One of the chosen seven.



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Tharanor Miraberg: The father of Aster Miraberg, former Lord of the Human Kingdom. He passed away two years ago from illness.



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Wood Elves: One of the Elf sub-races. Wood Elves of both genders are required to keep their hair short, and they often wear browns and greens. They reside in forests, and much like the Nymphs, value peace and harmony unlike their Dark kin. They are the shortest elves, usually measuring 5 and a half feet tall.

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[faraday]

Ｉｎ  ｗｉｌｄｅｒｎｅｓｓ  ｉｓ
ｔｈｅ ｐｒｅｓｅｒｖａｔｉｏｎ
ｏｆ  ｔｈｅ  ｗｏｒｌｄ．

❝The Lands are
xxxstill wild. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Ｔａｂｌｅ  ｏｆ  Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｓ

I. Introduction
'II. Domhan Index
III. Character List - You are Here
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

xxxx
xx
xxxx

" Small flurries of snow are being reported East of the Mountains of Eskelon, with temperatures of about 27 degrees Fahrenheit. West of the Mountains it is a bit warmer at around 34 degrees, with partly cloudy skies and snow in lower altitudes beginning to melt. "

Ｓｅａｓｏｎ: Winter
Ｗｅａｔｈｅｒ: 40% chance of evening snow/rain showers
Ｔｅｍｐｅｒａｔｕｒｅ: 27-34 degrees Fahrenheit

Ｈｕｍａｎｓ

Aster Miraberg || Nineteen || Male

Ｄａｒｋ  Ｅｌｖｅｓ

Sinderous Melwasúl || Unknown || Male

Ｗｏｏｄ  Ｅｌｖｅｓ

None yet

Ｎｙｍｐｈｓ

Nimbalia Oronar || Unknown || Female

Ｄｗａｒｖｅｓ

Rosfir Earthtapper || Twenty || Female

Ｆｅｒａ

Shayna Raiz || Twenty one || Female
Feldor Nightflei || Twenty one || Male

Ｃｅｎｔａｕｒｓ

Altair Thunderhoof || Twenty seven || Male

[faraday]

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Ｆｕｌｌ  Ｎａｍｅ: Lord Aster Miraberg, son of Tharanor [pronounces ast-ur]
Ｎａｍｅ  Ｏｒｉｇｉｎ : Aster was born to Tharanor, Lord of the Human Kingdom. His mother was quite fond of botany, and the flowers of Domhan in general. Her favorite flower in all of Domhan, however, was the Aster plant that he is named after. Aster is a flowering plant belonging to the daisy family that has bright rayed flowers, typically purple or pink in hue.
Ｇｅｎｄｅｒ : Male
Ａｇｅ : Aster is nineteen years old as of last autumn.
Ｆａｍｉｌｙ : His father is Tharanor Miraberg who was slayed in battle when Aster was sixteen, naming him Lord of the Human Kingdom at a young age. His mother was Jezebel Miraberg who is still alive, although frail. He has no known siblings.

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Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ : Aster is very young and innocent in the ways of the world, much like the other humans. He tries to be brave, he tries to be a hero. He's very selfless in this way, but at the same time extremely reckless. He's prepared to face death to save another, but his mind will often warp situations so he will put himself in danger even if who he's trying to save is safe in the first place. He feels as if it is his duty to protect everyone else, and if he does not, he has failed. He takes a long while to warm up to, as he does not trust others easily. If you are trying to make his acquaintance, do not force yourself upon him, for he would much rather get to know you over an extended period of time. He is not one to be found smiling, for he often a very conflicted young man. Some say the reasons his eyebrows are so heavily set are from years of scowling. He is not the person to go to if you have your own personal problems, for he is very insensitive and is not known for his kindness. To be able to get along with him you have to put yourself in his shoes, for he will oftentimes come off as cross or stern. He takes long periods of time when it comes to making decisions, for one of his greatest fears is making the wrong decision and potentially putting someone's life in danger. He's constantly trying to please both himself and his peers, although it hardly ever seems to work out that way. Although he's very talented physically, he is not the smartest and is never the one to think outside of the box and find a creative solution to the problem, because his brain is rigged so that he always follows protocol, never straying from his desired path. Because of this, he follows orders very well. However, since he does follow them so well, it is not difficult to manipulate him as others have discovered in the past. He's never been a fan of attaching himself to others, for he knows if he does he has a hard time letting go, which in his case, he sees as a weakness. The reason for this is that in his opinion, he learned the hard way with his father. He opened himself up to him, but when he was taken from him he was broken. He fears if it happens again he will be like his mother, sullen and empty. He's always feared of letting others down, which is one of his driving forces for being so brave. If he was not as selfless as he is, we would be a weak leader, for he would have nothing to motivate him. Despite being brave, selfless, and heroic, he is not very forgiving and has been known to hold grudges. The reason for this is because he takes everything very personally and will not let things go with ease, as stated earlier. If you cross him, he will let it be known.
Ｈａｂｉｔｓ : Being raised to fight in the name of what's right, Aster has many habits when it comes to how he handles his sword. He will often run up and down the hilt with his thumb while waiting for the battle to come to him, and he will flip it in his hand before he sheathes it. It used to be that he was showing off, but now it's become a habit. He will also chew on the inside of his cheek when he's under a lot of stress, which is often, so the inside of his cheeks are always raw and bloody.
Ｆｅａｒｓ : Aster's fears are not like the fears of you or me. He has only two fears; not of spiders, or heights, but of letting someone down when they trust him. He feels as if that is the ultimate act of betrayal, and he does not want to be remembered that way. His second fear is attaching himself to someone- unlike his first fear, he feels as if this would be weak, and he does not want to be seen as weak.
Ｌｉｋｅｓ : Travelling, training with his sword, the smell of rubbed sage, being alone, gaining others' trust, sleeping, his mother, having fresh water to drink, being praised, proving others wrong.
Ｄｉｓｌｉｋｅｓ : Being told what to do, disapproval from others, mud, rain, not having enough to eat, the cold, being underestimated, the dark, mushrooms.

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Ｏｖｅｒａｌｌ  Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ : Aster is generally well-kept, unless he's off on some daring mission. He has a long face with a chin that's set slightly forward, and low-set eyebrows that are rather thin as opposed to bushy. He is of average height and weight, not too tall or short nor too thin or plump. He has toned muscles, but not so that they bulge through his clothing. He usually wears cotton clothes with leather armor and chain mail, which hangs loosely around his frame.
Ｈａｉｒ  Ｃｏｌｏｒ : Aster has what can be described as dark blonde hair, or light brown. His hair is naturally brown, but the top layer is a light honey from time spent in the sun.
Ｅｙｅ  Ｃｏｌｏｒ : Aster has dark hazel eyes, that are lighter near the pupil. A ring of dark green surrounds the outside of his iris, giving his eyes depth.
Ｓｋｉｎ  Ｔｏｎｅ : Aster has lightly tanned skin throughout the year, for he spends an equal amount of time outside in the winter as in the summer. His tan covers his face, neck, and most of his shoulders. The rest of his body is extremely pale, almost white from being covered up by clothes.
Ｈｅｉｇｈｔ : Aster is five feet and eight inches tall with no shoes on- with his boots on, he stands at almost five foot nine.
Ｗｅｉｇｈｔ : Without any of his heavy clothes, Aster weighs in at approximately one hundred and forty pounds.
Ｓｃａｒｓ／Ｂｌｅｍｉｓｈｅｓ : Aster has freckles on his nose and shoulders from spending time outside, and many scars cover his body, but his largest is a large scar that goes down his back from being cut with a dagger in battle two years ago against a coven of huge trolls.
Ｂｕｉｌｄ : Aster is well-built with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His muscles on his arms and legs are well toned from practicing with his sword, and running long distances.

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Ｑｕｏｔｅ :

Gallantry is not the absence of fear, but instead it is the conclusion that something, or someone is more important than that fear.


Ｗｅａｐｏｎ : Aster owns a long sword that once belonged to his father that has seen many battles. The sword itself is crafted from fine silver from the dwarves, and the hilt is wrapped in dark brown leather. It is very well-balanced, and the blade itself is in excellent condition.
Ｔｈｅｍｅｓｏｎｇ : Time Machine - Adult Cinema
Ｏｔｈｅｒ : Aster is extremely allergic to milkweed.

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Ｆｕｌｌ  Ｎａｍｅ: Rosfir Earthtapper [pronounced ross-fear]
Ｎａｍｅ  Ｏｒｉｇｉｎ : Rosfir comes from the Earthtapper dwarvish family, which is named for tapping the earth for precious resources, specifically silver. Rosfir's first name does not have any special significance, other than her mother's name was Rostor, which her name is a play off of.
Ｇｅｎｄｅｒ : Female
Ａｇｅ : Rosfir is turning twenty-one years come this spring.
Ｆａｍｉｌｙ : Rosfir's parents are Rostor and Mertol of the Earthtapper family. However, her father was not much of a father as he spent nearly all of his time in the mines and she hardly ever saw him. Rosfir has three younger siblings, Eodu the youngest, Lahir, and Rode. They are eleven, seventeen, and nineteen, respectively.

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Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ : Rosfir has a very kind heart which is something she inherited from her mother, but what is kind in her case is also weak. She is not easy to hurt for a dwarf, as she takes things very personally. She was picked on as a child because she was the only one that would react to the taunts- the other dwarves would poke fun at her just to get a response from her, which at first was tears and running off to be alone, but as she aged she learned how to get them to stop by telling them off and not giving them what they wanted. However, her experiences from her childhood have made her into a very different dwarf than she would have been, for if she had not been teased and taunted she would not be so quiet and reserved today. She's a good listener and is extremely understanding, but don't expect to hear much from her side when you partake in conversation with her. She never has much to say, and even if she does she will most likely keep it to herself. She is nurturing, and will step up to be the motherly figure for anyone who needs one. Although she is very kind and understanding, it is hard for her to see anything other than from her point of view. For instance, if there was a piece of bread and it was between her and a starving child, she would not give it to the starving child because she understood it was hungry, but because she wanted to help. To put it in other words, she has very little empathy for such a considerate young lady. Rosfir is not a daring or adventurous dwarf, and would much rather have the comfort of home than go off and venture to someplace new. She fears the unknown, and what it brings with it. She is never the first to venture into a dark cave, for she lacks the courage and will to do so. This also leads into the topic of whether she is a leader or a follower, which the answer is already quite obvious. Rosfir is most certainly not a leader, and will blindly follow the will of whomever is leading her. Because of this, like Aster, she can be easily manipulated into doing things, but only if she trusts them. Rosfir also tends to be a worrywart and worries about very small things, such as "what if it rains and her hair gets wet?" or "what if I rip a hole in my dress and poke my finger with the sewing needle when I'm patching it up?". She does not whine about things however, she just asks herself these irrational questions and then proceeds to worry about them until she finds something else to worry over.
Ｈａｂｉｔｓ : Rosfir has the habit of braiding her hair when under any amount of stress, and will often braid others' hair as well. The reason for this is because when she was a young girl in need of consolidation, her mother would braid her hair so hair-braiding is an activity that brings memories of love and comfort.
Ｆｅａｒｓ : Rosfir fears anything that is unknown to her, for her imagination will always get the best of her. Just like a small child that has nightmares over what terrible monsters live under their bed, Rosfir fears the worst of everything that is alien to her. Being of skittish nature, she is afraid of most anything that poses a direct or indirect thread to her well-being or safety.
Ｌｉｋｅｓ : The comfort of home, freshly baked bread, the sound of crackling fire, someone being there to comfort her, looking at her reflection, when her fingers are stained red after picking salmon-berries, listening to the sound of voices when she falls asleep, the feel of sand between her toes, listening to others sing.
Ｄｉｓｌｉｋｅｓ : The unknown, the dark, toadstools, being scolding, having to scold others, the smell of stagnant water, toads, warts, stinging nettles, the sound of crying, death, decay.

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Ｏｖｅｒａｌｌ  Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ : Rosfir has prominent cheekbones and a short face, with small ears that stick out at awkward angles. Her hair is thick and wiry and reaches down to the small of her back, but parts of it are usually pulled back in braids and the like. Her eyes are very dark, so dark sometimes you cannot see her pupils, but they appear lighter by the firelight. She has very light skin with a small amount of freckles, and she burns in the sun very easily. Her shoulders are broad, her hips are small, and her limbs are short. For a dwarf though, she has a very small build, and is not built for the mines like the others are. Her hands are terribly scared, but they still function well. She usually wears dresses or shirts and skirts, but for this mission she wears some of Aster's old clothes and armor for better mobility and to be better protected if they are attacked.
Ｈａｉｒ  Ｃｏｌｏｒ : Rosfir has long dark hazelnut hair that reaches the hollow of her back that is often decorated with small braids. The tips of her hair are a much darker shade than the roots, for as she ages her hair gets a bit lighter. It is rather wiry as opposed to silky, and extremely thick.
Ｅｙｅ  Ｃｏｌｏｒ : Rosfir's eyes are an extremely dark brown, which is a trait she received from her father. Near the outer edge of the iris they are nearly black, but are more of a chocolate brown near the pupil.
Ｓｋｉｎ  Ｔｏｎｅ : Rosfir is extremely pale, as dwarves spend little time outside of the mines. She has a few light freckles here and there, but otherwise she has very pure skin.
Ｈｅｉｇｈｔ : Rosfir stands at four feet and six inches, a healthy height for a female dwarf her age.
Ｗｅｉｇｈｔ : Rosfir weighs in at approximately one hundred and fifteen pounds, deeming her rather thin for a dwarf, but still stocky.
Ｓｃａｒｓ／Ｂｌｅｍｉｓｈｅｓ : Rosfir's hands are heavily scarred from being scalded by molten gold in the mines when she was a young girl. Other than that, her skin is relatively blemish-free.
Ｂｕｉｌｄ : For a dwarf, Rosfir has a very small build. Most dwarves are built very heavily with thick legs and arms for working in the mines, but Rosfir's mother came from a family that specialized in making small toys and trinkets, so their family line has a much smaller frame as they do not possess the need for such a large build as the other dwarves do. She has broad shoulders that taper down to her waist, and her frame broadens again ever so slightly even you get down to her hips. She has short arms and legs, but they are not thick.

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Ｑｕｏｔｅ :

Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go.


Ｗｅａｐｏｎ : Rosfir is not skilled in the way of weapons, although Aster has been teaching her how to wield a sword. In the meantime, she is equipped with a small wooden club so she is not completely defenseless.
Ｔｈｅｍｅｓｏｎｇ : Eels - I Need Some Sleep
Ｏｔｈｅｒ : N/A

[Sparrow <3]

Sinderous Melwasúl, son of Mablung Melwasúl


Sinderous's age is unknown to all but him. He is middle aged for an Elf, essentially.


Male


There is very little known about Sinderous's heritage and family, other than the fact that his late father, Mablung Melwasúl was one of the higher ranking Dark Elves of his time. Sinderous inherited his rank and is now quite influential.


Dark Elf
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To describe Sinderous in a few words would be, dark, selfish and corrupted. Above everything he craves power and revenge for those who live happy lives out in the sunshine. He is bitter to all of his Elvin kin and hates the fact that the Dark Elves live in darkness. Though the thing he fears most is the very thing that he envies for; light. He is ambitious, and his hunger for power can be stopped by only death. He basically feels no regret, has no morals and would be completely fine with killing an innocent being. He is a very creative orator, and is able to gain the confidence and loyalty of his brethren by persuasion. Though he is capable of killing, he would rather have someone else do the killing for him. Overall, Sinderous is not capable of love or compassion. He has never had any close relationships, or any sort of bond with another being before in his life. He finds value and beauty in himself and is very much a narcissist. He could also be described as slightly bipolar, and reacts very violently when things do not prove to be in his favor. He hates loosing, and would rather cheat in a game instead of earning a victory. He has a fiery temper, and is not apt to listening to the other side of a story before he dishes out judgment. He believes in extreme punishment for rule and law breaking, and does not at all mind watching executions or tortures. He is incredibly insensitive to others' emotions but is very sensitive when someone so much as utters something that sounds remotely close to an insult to him. He is very prideful but doesn't think much of honor. Sinderous is very snide and sneaky. He enjoys poking around and finding out about things that he should not know. He is the king of blackmail and uses that as leverage to gain rank and power. He is a very bad eavesdropper and would risk a lot to spy on certain beings. He finds the young race of humans as insolent, incompetent and stupid. Anything mentioned about a human in his presence he immediately shuts the speaker up. Another tidbit about Sinderous would be the fact that he can almost wither flowers by merely giving one look. He has a deadly glare and sneer.


As mentioned above, Sinderous is above all things is afraid of the light. Though he is not thrilled if he is exposed to broad sunlight, the sort of light that this Dark Elf is afraid of is not the kind you find in electricity or the sun. He is afraid of the purity of light and the light of hope. He rules with fear and death and only light, love and hope is stronger than him. He is also afraid of his own death and would do anything to save himself.
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Like most Dark Elves, Sinderous is about six feet tall with sickly gray skin and long black hair. He keeps his hair like all of the more powerful Elves. It is completely straight and measures to the middle of his back. He has very dark blue colored eyes and occasionally appear black in low lighting and certain angles. Like most Elves, Sinderous has a long face, and very prominent features. His ears are pointed at the tip and slender in appearance. He is overall slightly thinner than his Elven brethren and sometimes appears almost sickly.


Sinderous carries a sword with a black sheath. It is intricately made, and is mostly for show. He sort of knows how to use it, but really only uses it for ceremonious and showy purposes.

Sable Oronar, daughter of Gilraen Oronar and Elessar Oronar of the meadows of Faywyn



Just Sable


Female


Sable appears to be in human years about 19-21.


Sable is the daughter of Gilraen Oronar and Elssar Oronar. She is the only child between the couple and the trio live in the meadows just outside the Elven city of Faywyn. Her mother, Gilraen is the daughter of the leader of the small village of meadow Nymphs; making Sable related to the most important Nymph in their small home. Her grandfather, the leader, is Huor Oronar. The meadow Nymphs typically don't marry outside of the meadow, but Gilraen fell for a forest Nymph. Sable is seen as a 'halfbreed', but the expression is very rarely used. Though the Nymphs find the birth of the meadow/forest Nymph, they don't fully mind her heritage.
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The young meadow Nymph in many ways is naive and quite unknowing about the world outside of her own little village. She has only been to Faywyn once, and it terrified her in more ways than one. She is timid and shy, but at the very same time very curious and adventurous. The meadow Nymphs are very quiet and peaceful people, and not very adventurous or curious at all. They blame this trait of Sable's on the Forest Nymph part of her blood line. In a multitude of ways, the young Nymph is very innocent. She knows nothing of death, pain, suffering and fear. She occasionally quivers in the darkness if she stays out too long at night, but other than that she has had no contact with true darkness and evil. She has a passion for stories of the great and powerful beings of Domhan and listens intently to any elder that is willing to tell her anything about the world beyond her little meadow. Occasionally Sable can be a little insensitive and conceded, for all she has known is herself in the little world of the meadow and her home. She is doted on constantly by her parents and their workers and hardly has to do things for herself. Though she would be more than willing to work, she has gone a little soft in that sense. She would rather let someone else do her work for her, but not because she is lazy. Overall, Sable is one of the kindest, sweetest, and most gentle being that you will ever meet. She has a large heart and is very fond of little things, especially baby animals and flowers. She knows a great deal about herbs and has a talented healing hand. Though she is not magical, she knows of plants that are almost so. She admires Elves greatly, and in some ways wishes that she was something more than just a meadow Nymph. Making new friends is tough for Nimble, considering she is very timid and flighty in new situations. Though she is intensely curious, she would rather stay at home than be whisked off into the unknown. Though she has never done it before, she would be capable of fighting if properly taught. She thinks that weapons are scary, but if she got over that mild fear than she would be very good with a bow, for she has very keen eyes (much like an elf). Sable is also very self conscience and is very hard on herself when she feels she has done something wrong. She has a very strong sense of regret, and tends to dwell on bad things, rather than look onto a more hopeful future. Sable is also very keen to please, and would work very hard to gain someone she admires praise and feedback. She doesn't tend to take critique well, for she takes it to heart and beats down on herself.


At first, Sable is fearful of almost everything. Unknown noises in the woods, beings she does not know, even certain animals and plants. But as time goes on, the young Nymph will learn to conquer her fears and become more brave. Though her one main fear is the terror of evil and suffering. She is also quite afraid of deep water and does not know how to swim. She has is quite terrified of those that she comes to love and admire being killed. She would rather take an arrow than a friend or family member.


The meadow Nymph does not have many habits, though running back to her home whenever she thinks she encounters something scary could be counted as one. She also wrings her hands together and rubs her palms with her index fingers when she is intensely nervous.
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Sable has a few skills mentioned previously in the 'Personality' section, though she has a few more. As talked about previously, she is very good at healing and knows a great deal about flowers, plants, and poisons. She learned this valuable skill from the oldest Nymph of her small meadow village. She also has very keen eyesight and later when she learns how to shoot a bow and arrows, she will develop and talent for that. Sable is also athletic and has a high endurance. If she had to, she could run for quite some time. Another attribute that makes this little Nymph quite unique is the fact that she is very good with animals. Wild or tame, she can calm down just about any animal that shows slight hostile actions towards her.


Her timidness and shyness can definitely be counted as a flaw. She would much rather run away than face whatever has startled her. She is very much like a deer in this sense. Her idea of not having to work and fend for herself is a flaw as well. The fact that she has never been exposed to pain, suffering, death, and evil can also be seen as a flaw. She beats up on herself over the smallest bad thing, and she is afraid of hurting anyone which makes her timid to speak her mind. She would be very easy to crack if she were to be tortured, though she would never be able to live with herself after she gave away valuable information. She can over think things sometimes, and think about too many of the bad outcomes instead of the good.


To describe the way Sable looks in a few brief words would be, blond haired, hazel eyed, and fair skinned. But there is much more to her appearance than just that. Because Nymphs are merely a subspecies of Elves, they all have the thin and slender pointed ears. Some may describe Sable as 'delicate', and that would not be a lie, but it is not the whole truth either. She appears to be about nineteen to twenty one in human years but her innocence shows in her age, and occasionally she seems younger than that. Sable is indeed very beautiful, with shoulder length blond hair with a slight wave in it. She has high arching eyebrows, wide spaced hazel eyes and high and prominent cheek bones. Her skin is fair and pretty pale, but not flawless. She stands about five foot and three inches and is fairly short for her species. She often wears flowers braided into the top of her hair around her forehead when she is at home and has nothing else to do. She does not have a very 'feminine' body for her age and species however. She is not at all 'curvy', and is rather glad that she is not. She has an athletic build with broader shoulders than most Nymphs. Her mother would rather her wear dresses like every other female meadow Nymph, but Sable finds that she is more comfortable in pants and a shirt. Occasionally, her mother forces her to wear a dress instead of her normal pants, leather boots, and cream colored shirt. She also has developed the style of tying her hair back, despite her mother's disapproval. Clicketh.


As mentioned above Sable will eventually acquire a bow and a quiver of arrows. Eventually she will gather the courage to learn how to use them, but for the time being she does not have any weapon whatsoever.

( Wheew! Forms are finally done. ;D )

[Rivkah]

the snowy r e b e l

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Introductions
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{{ ηαмє ;; Shayna Grace Raiz. Just call her Shayna.
{{ gєη∂єя ;; Female, you twit.
{{ αgє ;; Twenty one years of age, deary.
{{ ѕρє¢ιєѕ ;; For your information, Shayna happens to be a shape-shifter. Her animal form is a snow leopard. She has three forms; snow leopard, human, and in between. In between is an awkward phase, where she resembles the creatures of art cultures that are called anthros. The official name for her species is Fera.

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Physical Notations
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{{ єуєѕ ;; Shayna's eyes are typical for her type and red hair. Bright emerald green and blazing with personality that isn't hidden. Full eyelashes rest atop her eyelids, and she never uses mascara or eyeliner.

{{ нαιя ;; Shayna possesses flaming red hair. Going all the way down to her waist in length, it is a mix between straight and wavy. She will cut it only when the temperature is that of summer and usually ties it up when she wants it out of the way.

{{ ѕкιη ;; She displays rather pale but healthy complexion. The thing you immediately notice is that she is plagued with freckles. Freckles appear all over her face, shoulders, arms and legs and she couldn't get rid of them if she tried. She's easily irritated by chemicals and hates spray-on tans. She will sunburn in extreme conditions.

{{ вσ∂у ;; Shayna's body is relatively thin and due to high metabolism it is almost impossible for her to gain weight. So, as a result, she's stuck at one-hundred thirty [ 130 ] pounds. Her height is Five-foot nine [ 5'9" ] and she's not getting any taller. You can describe her as an hourglass figure though it is easily concealed. She is rather coltish and lanky, but she's more than used to that awkwardness by now.

{{ вσ∂у мσ∂ιƒι¢αтισηѕ ;; Save for a few scars on her back, Shayna possesses nounnatural modifications like tattoos or added piercings. Just pierced ears.


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Digging Deeper
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{{ σνєяαℓℓ ρєяѕσηαℓιту ;; Shayna is a fiery lass. Her psyche is colorful and creative to say the very least. Her temper is rather short at times, but she means well. She lives for her pranks and jokes, finding a bright side to everything. Sometimes more than other times. Over-protective and stubborn to boot, it's impossible to change her mind once it has been made up.

While sometimes secretive, Shayna is usually open at mind and heart. Too determined for her own good, she will do whatever she has to in order to set things right. Her energy is limitless and you have to get used to that sometimes. Overall, she means well. The one mistake is getting her angry or messing with who she cares about.

{{ ιηтєяєѕтѕ ;; Shayna is very easy-going and enjoys a variety of things. Her greatest love is the outdoors. Her other hobbies include singing and other musical activities, and painting. Her favorite season happens to be winter, her favorite books are science, and her favorite colors are green and silver.

{{ ανєяѕισηѕ ;; Shayna absolutely loathes rude people, and doesn't suffer fools gladly. She isn't too tolerant of summer, and prefers the cold. Being a lover of animals, she won't stand for animal abuse of any kind.

{{ ѕтяєηgтнѕ ;; She's rather strong-willed and can survive a lot of tough situations. She's good at quick-thinking and problem solving, because she needs to be, knowing how easily she gets into trouble. She's got a sharp tongue and her main asset is her legs - watch her run, why don't you.

{{ ωєαкηєѕѕєѕ ;; Shayna is easily emotional and often controlled by such. She is also easily tested or angered and she recognizes this as a fault. She means well, she really does.

{{ нιѕтσяу ;; Born in the country, Shayna was always rebellious. She comes from humble beginnings as a farm girl, always knowing she didn't belong. Her parents may have been her species, but they were no kin of hers. She wasn't shown the love and companionship she needed, and she's slightly insecure from that. She lives in a small house now, alone.

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Relations
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{{ ƒяιєη∂ѕ ;; Not many, I'm afraid.
{{ ƒαмιℓу ;; They don't care much for her.
{{ яσмαηтι¢ ιηтєяєѕт ;; ... Seriously? She doesn't have her eye on anyone.
{{ ℓσνєя ;; You must be joking.
{{ ραѕт ℓσνєѕ ;; Who'd love a freak?
{{ ¢σмραηισηѕ ;; One gray tabby kitten named Sugar.

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Thanks to Gabrielle on weheartit.com for the pictures. They don't belong to me.

[Temperance.]

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I run with the night wind, silent as the moon, beneath the frigid sky

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{ N A M E: }
Feldor Nightflei {Fell-door, Night-fly}
His name is not a common one. A lesser-known, nearly forgotten, name it stems from an ancient Fera Chieftain.The original Feldor was well known for his feats of bravery and the prosperous nature of his clan. Unfortunately he fell prey to a troll -common enough at this time, which was before the great troll wars- and was slain protecting his subjects. His name was used for a time as a symbol of valour and strength, however as time continued it grew disused and nearly forgotten. At least, until the birth of Feldor Nightflei. His last name is of a prominent Fera household, in which he is the current chieftain's son and heir to the chiefship. Nightflei itself was derived from the clan founder, who's name literally meant, "the flier of the night" this was due to the fact that the first chieftain of the Nightflei clan was a winged panther, although none since him have had that form.

{ N I C K N A M E S: }
Feldor isn't generally partial to having other call him anything but his name. However if you manage to win his trust -or if he just decides to allow it on a whim- he is sometimes called Fell. Jag is fine with him along with Uar as well, any combination of his name and his shifter species is generally alright with him, PROVIDED that you are friends and he gives you permission.

{ G E N D E R: }
Obvious enough, he is male in every aspect of the word.

{ A G E: }
Feldor is twenty-one years of age

{ S P E C I E S: }
If you hadn't already guessed, Feldor is a Fera, a shifter.

{ C R E A T U R E F O R M: }
After shifting Feldor is a jaguar. Though in jaguar form he tends to be larger and more powerfully muscled than wild "normal" jaguars.

{ F A M I L Y: }
As briefly mentioned above, Feldor is the son of the current chief. As such he has many responsibilities, and his official title is "prince" of the Nightflei clan.
Father - Orthorik Nightflei, clan chieftain
Mother - Nadaira Nightflei, clan chieftess
Sibling(s) - Ariale Nightflei, sister, clan oracle
He is extremely protective of his sister, to the point of near obsession. He is rarely happy when she receives any sort of male attention and nearly always drives them away with his scrutiny. As a result of this Ariale has periods of time when her affection for her brother wanes, but in a pinch they are both always there for each other. Ariale is also the clans oracle, meaning she is responsible for "seeing" the future, and is indispensable to the chieftain -her father- Feldor typically butts heads with his father, and the two rarely agree on anything. Orthorik is also growing old, and it is rumoured that the chiefship might soon be passed on to Feldor. Nadaira is the peacekeepr of the family, and pretty much keeps them all in check.

{ T H E M E S O N G: }
Carry on my Wayward Son - by Kansas
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Look into my eyes
Look deep into them
Do you like what you see?
Can you feel the fire?
The never ending hunger?
You're dealing with a predator
And my claws are sharp

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{ H E I G H T: }
Feldor is six feet and two inches tall

{W E I G H T: }
Feldor weighs a neat 175 pounds. Slightly underweight for his height, but still healthy.

{ E Y E C O L O U R: }
Feldor's eyes are a lovely hazel shade, though they have been known to change on occasion slightly, depending on his mood/stress levels/environment, and whether he is in jaguar form or not.

{ H A I R C O L O U R: }
Feldor's hair is an inky black colour

{ S K I N T O N E: }
Feldor is fairly pale, given that he lives in thickly forested areas that rarely get a lot of sunlight, not to mention the fact that he's usually a jaguar when in the sun, it's not all that surprising. Still, his family in general is known for their fair, light, skin, and its considered something of a family trait.

{ G E N E R A L: }
As a clan prince Feldor is expected to maintain peak physical condition. So as far as muscle tone and physical abilities go...he's quite adept and strong. Naturally he is much more daunting a foe when in jaguar form, but he does know hand-to-hand combat -since weapons aren't really plausible given the fact that he shifts to animals form- Though he does like to carry a few daggers and perhaps a short-sword with him, and he could probably defend himself with them in a pinch. Though his swordplay is fairly poor. Realistically his main source of protection is his bestial form, and when a jaguar he is extremely lethal.

{ O T H E R: }
Feldor has quite a few scrapes and scratches, reminiscant of training sessions that got a little brutal. He has a particularly nasty one that runs across his chest, this occurred in a painful scrape with a horned prey animal that caught him unawares.
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{ H I S T O R Y: }
There's not really a whole lot to tell. Feldor was born to Nadaira and Orthorik Nightflei, chieftain and chieftess of the Nightflei Fera clan. He was raised as a prince and taught the ways of ruling a clan so that he might someday rule himself. In accordance to this he was taught how to fight along with the art of diplomacy and leadership. He had a few unremarkable relationships with some of the clan's female Fera, but nothing serious ever developed and he has remained unattached throughout the years. As the years passed and he grew older, his father grew steadily weaker, and during the past three years Orthorik has depended heavily on his son for the maintenance of political alliances with other various clans, generally anything that involves making a journey has been handed over to Feldor. Thus leading him to be the one to take notice of the evil the Dark Elves have woken and being the one to go and tentatively attempt to resolve the situation.

{ B A S I C P E R S O N A L I T Y: }
Feldor is something of a quiet soul, it would be unfair to say he is introverted, but he isn't really fond of chatting overmuch. This may be due to the fact that he's never really had a true friend, and so has never had an opportunity to be extroverted and cheerful. He is fiercely loyal to those whom he cares about, and would fight for them to the death. He is extremely chivalrous and courteous to women, treating them all with much dignity and respect, truly he will treat them all as proper and sweet lady's, unless they give him a reason to feel differently. His attitude towards men is...complicated, as he doesn't really have any male friends the only masculine interaction he receives comes from his father, so he doesn't really know how to act around them. Once you get him to open up he's quite fun loving, always with a joke to tell or a story to reiterate. He can usually find the brighter side to life...unless he's in one of his "moods"

{ S T R E N G T H S: }
-He is extremely loyal to those he cares about
-He has an acute intuition
-He is an excellent fighter in feral form
-He is well versed in diplomacy and politics
-He is often optimistic and cheerful
-He enjoys keeping up the spirits of others through humour
-Is adept at hand-to-hand combat

{ F L A W S: }
-He's quite insecure with himself
-He doesn't know how to handle/communicate with men his age very well
-He's a fairly poor fighter with weapons while in human form
-He sometimes has "moods" where he's dark, gloomy, and quite antagonistic
-He's a bit of an idealist and sometimes is oblivious to dangers
-He is quite sheltered and so has little "field experience" to speak of
-He sometimes can be a bit overbearing and haughty, which is a result of his upbringing

{ L I K E S: }
-Women
-Mead
-Animals
-Singing {a secret passion}
-Diplomacy
-Reading
-Shifting

{ D I S L I K E S: }
-Pessimists
-Being cornered
-Being forced into conversation
-Arrogant people
-Opinionated people
-Non Fera entities
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{ N A M E: }
Altair Thunderhoof {Al-tear <--like ripping, not crying, Thunder-hoof}
This name is actually fairly common among the centaurs, and is often given to first-born sons -generally among the warrior or higher class centaurs- as a token of good fortune and an excellent future. Altair itself is based on Centaur mythology, essentially there was once a might centaur lord. He was legendary among his people, well loved and beautiful. The elves, however, grew jealous of Altair's beauty and sought to take it from him. Luckily Altair heard of their plans and made a preemptive strike against them, foiling their plans and reigning happily for many years after that. Some circles believe that to be representative of the centaur's grudge against the elves...but no one really knows. Thunderhoof itself is a respected last name, well looked upon by most of the prominent centaur families. This is due mainly to the fact that the Thunderoof family has often been counted upon as stewards for the reigning family, along with being skilled and highly praised warriors.

{ N I C K N A M E S: }
Altair has none. Call him by anything other than his name and you're liable to earn his angst and irritation

{ G E N D E R: }
Male of course! Fairly obvious after you see him.

{ A G E: }
Altair is twenty seven, nearing his twenty eighth year

{ S P E C I E S: }
Altair is a centaur and proud of it.

{ T H E M E S O N G: }
Eye of the Tiger - by Survivor

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{ H E I G H T: }
His horse body is about 15.3 hands high. And if he were to stand flat on the ground as an actual human, he would stand at about 6' 4"


{ W E I G H T: }
Altair weighs 1400 pounds


{ E Y E C O L O U R: }
An aqua shade of blue that borders on a green-ish hue.


{ S K I N T O N E: }
Altair is bronzed with a healthy glow to his skin. This is hardly surprising given that he spends the majority of his time running across the plains west of Eskelon, where the sun shines brightly throughout the day.


{ G E N E R A L: }
Altair is well muscled and very powerful. Trained in the arts of a warrior since birth he has command of a vast array of weapon and battle knowledge that has shaped him physically as well. His equine body is in peak condition, able to run for nearly hours without succumbing to exhaustion, while his human physique allows him to fight battles with precision and fortitude. Most of his muscle mass occurs in his torso and arms -obviously- since he has worked them for many years in order to be capable of wielding various weapons.

{ O T H E R: }
Altair boasts many, many, scars and wounds. Having fought in many minor border skirmishes, along with some larger battles, he has seen his share of vicious swordplay, and encountered many near-misses with death. It's nearly impossible to name and describe them all, so suffice to say it is predominantly clear that he is a warrior, and both his human and his equine form are battle scarred*

*His appearance can clearly be seen in the above partial art piece of him, the full version here shows a better view of Altair. HOWEVER since this was bought as a pre-made sort of thing, he does not have the scars that are aforementioned. Or at least, he doesn't have them in this art piece, however he does indeed have many scars so...just try to imagine them xD

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{ H I S T O R Y: }
Born into the Thunderhoof family, Altair was immediately pressed with familial obligation and the need to bring honour to his family. An exceptionally proud and arrogant bunch, the Thunderhoof's had a long history of success to live up to. With that in mind he began warrior training at the age of five, progressing from easy wooden blades and weapons to the actual weapons at the age of ten. A quick learner he swiftly took to most of the weapons at his disposal, and was well known for his Falconry and the hunts he would take with them. At thirteen years of age he was engaged in his first battle, a skirmish at the border between the centaurs and the elves. He was wounded but pulled through, and lived to fight in six other battles before his nineteenth year. At nineteen he was promoted to captain of the guard, a specialized militia group that served the reigning family as their guardians. So when he reached his twenty-third year and an uprising began against the reigning family, he was placed into the most dangerous and costly battle he had yet to encounter, barely escaping with his life. Their side won despite many losses, and he was given the highest honours by the monarchs. Unsurprisingly when news came of the Dark Elves activities, the ruling monarch tasked Altair with bringing these presumptuous upstarts to their knees and retaking any lost land.


{ B A S I C P E R S O N A L I T Y: }
Altair is fairly typical of a centaur, arrogant and prideful he looks down on the other races as inferior. He has a particular dislike for the elves, more acute than even others of his race, which stems from his very first skirmish at the border with them. In his mind they are forever branded as an evil and carnal lot, and he is hard pressed to even tolerate their presence. Having been captain of the guard for nearly eight years he has a very strict and almost cold view of situations. He acts and reacts as a battle-hardened general, very rarely losing his head, and has a strict moral code that he adheres to with almost a religious tenacity.

{ S T R E N G T H S: }
-Is adept in nearly all weapons
-Has an especial affinity for swordplay
-Has excellent experience in the battle field
-He is very rarely shaken or flustered
-Can think on his feet in stressful conditions
-Is in excellent physical condition
-Has fantastic leadership skills


{ F L A W S: }
-Extremely arrogant
-Very distrusting of others
-Horrifically biased against elves
-Stubborn and prideful
-Does not take well to advice
-Very condescending at times
-Very poor tact/social skills


{ L I K E S: }
-Fighting
-Being in control
-Women
-Alcohol/Mead
-Running
-Falconry

{ D I S L I K E S: }
-Elves
-Others attempting to be in control
-Other races in general
-Laziness
-Fear
-Weakness

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[Sparrow <3]

( ~Bump. )

[faraday]

ＡＳＴＥＲ  ＭＩＲＡＢＥＲＧ
Ｉ  ｗｉｌｌ  ｎｅｖｅｒ  ｌｅｔ  ｙｏｕ  ｇｏ
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The clouds above were dark and imposing, their very presence breaking Aster's spirits. The earth below his boots was soft, and liquids oozed out with each step. He took heavy breaths, and his heart pumped at a steady rhythm. He was tired from walking, tired of hiking, but that's how it always was. He paused at the sound of scrambling footsteps behind him as they struggled to keep up, his eyebrows lowering in distaste as he scowled. "Hurry, will you not, Sephus?" A ratty man not much older than Aster stumbled down the slope after him, his thin nose and tight lips pulled tight together in a pained expression. "Yes, my sire," he panted in an exhausted manner, the heavy pack on his back obviously taking it's toll. Indulging in his moment of rest, Aster straightened his posture and took a deep breath of the crisp air. "How close do you reckon we are now? Take out the map, won't you?" Aster proposed, turning his head to glance at his companion, who returned the gaze blankly. "Sephus!" This brought the man back, who blubbered frantically as he searched the various pockets of the pack for the map to their destination. Aster, of course, would have to send Sephus back over the mountains after he had escorted him to the realm of the Elves, for he was not accompanying Aster on his quest. However, Aster's council advised him it would not be wise to journey to the Elves alone in times such as these, so he had hired an escort. "My liege," Sephus began in a polite tone, "I believe you are still in possession of the map." Aster squinted in confusion, using his hands to feel around his shirt, until they fell upon the map that he had tucked into his trousers earlier. "Oh- yes, I remember now, thank you." He unrolled the ancient piece of paper, scrutinizing every detail. They had already crossed the Mountains of Eskelon, but the famous groves were still nowhere in sight. Aster let his hands fall to his sides and was about to tuck the map back into his pants, but decided against it and handed it to Sephus who neatly rolled it up and placed it in the pack. He let out a heavy sigh that rattled his entire body, and took a hesitant step forwards. "We should start moving Sephus, I suppose we have much ground to cover," Aster lamented solemnly, his eyes fixed on the land ahead. "Actually," Sephus piped in a squeaky voice, "I have traveled this way many times before. The groves will be visible once we cross the ridge over there." He pointed a scraggly finger in the direction of a wide hill with a few scattered trees and shrubs sprouting from the top. Aster's heavy mood was lifted, and he turned to face his escort. "So we will be in Faywyn by nightfall, then?" Sephus chuckled, his laugh dry and raspy. "Perhaps, if we don't stop as often as we have been."

It took them only a few more hours to reach the great Elven city, for Aster's morale had been boosted greatly and he was ecstatic to finally be invited into the city of so many legends. Sephus and Aster parted at the edge of the city, and Sephus handed off the pack of supplies to Aster. "Best of luck," He wished Aster, creases forming under his eyes when he smiled gravely. "To you as well." Aster turned around slowly, his eyes widening in astonishment at he took in the full impact of the great Elven city. Almost everything was marble, and it almost glowed in the waning sunlight. The Dwarves were known for their craftsmanship when it came to jewelry and weapons, but their artisan skills were nothing compared to those of the elves. The presence of the surrounding forest was prominent, with moss and creepers covering most of the stone streets, and ivy hung from the great pillars of buildings. As he wandered aimlessly, he nearly collided with one of the elves in the city, and he proceeded to apologize several times, all the while entranced by her elegance and beauty. Some say they looked similar to humans, just taller, but in this moment, Aster disagreed. They were much more pure, and you could feel their superiority to humans just by looking at them. In the heat of the moment, Aster almost let the instructions he had received from his runner slip his mind. "Once you enter the city, find the largest building and enter. They will know who you are." Aster swiveled his head as he walked, a bit disappointed with how vague the description of the building was. All of the buildings were very impressive, how was he supposed to tell which was the largest? Then he saw it, the building in the center of a square down the street. It stood several stories tall and was embezzled with various statues, all perfectly proportional and seamless. The detail was beyond anything Aster had seen before, and he was drawn to it like a moth to a fire. As he neared, he felt the stares of several Elves fall upon him, as if they knew who he was. How would they know? It wasn't as if he had ever visited the realm of the Elves before. A grand staircase led to the entrance of the building, and he hesitantly scaled it. Compared to the way Elves climbed the steps he was a blundering fool. Their bodies hardly even moved, it was as if they simply hovered over the stairs. When he finally reached the entrance, he was hesitant to step inside. There were Elves inside watching, as if they had been waiting for him to step inside. A few moments later he assured himself that his petty fear was irrational, and he stepped inside. As soon as he did, the tallest Elf stepped forwards to meet him half-way.
"Welcome Aster, Son of Tharanor, to Fawywyn."

ＲＯＳＦＩＲ  ＥＡＲＴＨＴＡＰＰＥＲ
ｄｏｎ＇ｔ  ｏｖｅｒｌｏｏｋ  ｔｈｅ  ｓｍａｌｌ  ｔｈｉｎｇｓ
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Rosfir had always dreamed of meeting an Elf, even if she knew she'd only meet their waist. She heard stories of their elegance and grace, and for so long she desired that. To be tall and beautiful, to look down on all others. But alas, who was she to think such things, a humble Dwarf such as herself? The frosty breezes nipped at her toes and sent shivers throughout her entire body. Her frozen fingers struggled to grasp the walking stick her mother bestowed upon her before she left as a parting gift. It was beautiful, with engravings of ancient Dwarvish tongues up and down the staff from top to bottom. Another gust of wind from the North whipped at her face, and sent her dark hair flying behind her. She struggled to keep herself upright, and used her walking stick as support. She had been walking for two days now, which was far longer than she had ever before. In fact, she had never really ventured out of the mountains before. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of the great Elven city her mother had always told her so much about. It was on days like these, when the snow came down and it was too cold to go outside when her mother would hug her close and tell her stories of the lands beyond. "Everything there is beautiful Rosfir, more beautiful than you could ever imagine. Words do it no justice." But of course, Rosfir tried to imagine anyways. She raised her head, and squinted her eyes in confusion. "What's that there in the distance, then?" She asked herself, her voice tainted with confusion. The clouds prevented her from seeing formations in the distance as clearly as she would like, but she could swear she saw the green of the fabled forest. Did her eyes deceive her? She pushed herself forwards, nearly tripping over her long skirt. She was certain they would make her change her wardrobe if she went on this quest, for her skirt would certainly be a hindrance as she had learned over the last few days. As she pressed on, she felt the air grow warmer and the earth grow softer. "I must be getting close," She thought, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. She had never felt this way before, adventurous, if she could even call it that.

All the while as she thought to herself, she hardly even noticed the forest as it grew nearer and nearer until she was right on top of it. She gasped as she scaled the final ridge and the city in all of it's glory was revealed to her. Pillars of marble that seemed to rise out of the earth welcomed all to the Faywyn, the great city of Elves. Rosfir was out of breath as she walked towards the pillars, her fingertips lightly brushing against the cool stone. She shuddered and returned her hand to her side, her mouth pulled tight in a smile. "It's absolutely beautiful," she breathed to herself softly, turning her head to marvel at the rest of the city. She used to think that her home was beautiful, but no longer. She now knew true beauty, and this was just that in it's purest form. Her eyes fell upon a figure up ahead, and her breathing fell silent. Her mother was right, words really do them no justice, for their elegance and grace is beyond comprehension, especially for a Dwarf such as herself. She was used to being around those who were loud and sloppy, but this was something else entirely. She approached the Elf cautiously, who stood tall with golden hair that fell to her hips. "Pardon me," Rosfir began to get the Elf's attention. She met her gaze, and Rosfir could barely manage to form the rest of her sentence. "I am here to meet with a council, could you direct me in the direction that I should head in if it's not too much of a bother?" The Elf nodded and laughed, which sounded like bells on a silent night. "You are courteous for a Dwarf. I see why they chose you." Rosfir felt her face flush, although she was sure if her father were here he'd blow up in the Elf's face about treating the Dwarves as the lesser race. "Thank you, very much." The Elf then directed to her to a towering building near the center of the city. There were many Elves in the square, and one small Elf. "Wait a second..." She thought to herself, narrowing her eyes. It was a human! He was probably there for the same reason as she. Shortly after he entered the building she reached the stairs, and they was a struggle to scale due to her short legs. Once she entered she saw one of the Elves talking to the human, and another greeted her.
"Welcome Rosfir Earthtapper, to Faywyn."

[Temperance.]

Location: Entering Faywyn
Mood: Nervous/Hesitant
Tags: Aster, Rosfir

~I run with the night wind, silent as the moon, beneath the frigid sky

Feldor's eyes moved restlessly about as he studied his surroundings. The thinning of the trees suggested that they might very well be upon the great elven city soon, and if his nose didn't deceive him -and it rarely did-, then he was correct in his guess and they were very near Faywyn. Bristling slightly the young man felt the hairs at his nape rise, and he had to fight against the urge to turn tail and slink into the forest. When the decree had come that declared him as a chosen member of some sort of quest...well, he had been certain they had chosen wrong. After all, he was necessary to his clan, responsible for organizing diplomatic matters and seeing to the running of things! Sighing wearily Feldor shouldered the heavy canvas sack that had been loaded with supplies, thinking back to what his sister had told him. As an oracle her word was highly respected and taken immediately to heart, so when Ariale told him that he was destined to take part in a great quest before the mandate came, he hadn't been surprised when the actual request came. That didn't mean, however, that he agreed with their choosing. Why, he could think of a dozen strapping Fera males, in his clan alone, that would have killed for a chance like this! But no, it fell to him, son of a clan chieftain, one who was destined to take over the chiefship himself some day.

A quiet voice interrupted his train of thoughts however, and he realized with a start that he had ceased walking and had been standing motionless for the past few moments. "My prince, the city is near, I can smell it. Should...should we not press on?" The voice was tentative and meek, belonging to a nomad Fera that his father had commissioned to escort him to Faywyn. After all, it had seemed utter idiocy to send Feldor on a quest only to have him get lost and die on the trek to the great Elven city. The Fera his father had chosen was a timid and quiet soul, not used to the companionship of others and quite eccentric in his actions. If the whispers were to be believed, then Zulu -the Fera in question- was a bobcat shifter that had been exiled from his clan for some sort of heinous crime that none would speak of. Still, he had seemed a good choice at the time, and Feldor found himself doubting the rumours, the dainty male seemed less harmful than a butterfly.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Feldor cleared his throat and nodded at Zulu, offering him an awkward smile. "Um yes, of course." He managed to say. Oddly enough his lack of eloquence today had nothing to do with his difficulty in maintaining relationships with men, -he was required to act as a diplomat of course, and so was capable of fine speech aimed at other men- but rather out of his own angst. The thought of a bustling city filled with elves displeased him greatly. He had had basically no interaction with any species other than the Fera, and so he was leery about interacting with this species, which was well known for its elegance and beauty, two things that he was not well versed in. Still, he had come this far, and his family's honour depended on him handling this entire situation adequately. Feeling the weight of responsibility increase on his shoulders, Feldor blew out another soft breath and turned to look at Zulu. "How would you feel about shifting and running the rest of the way?" He inquired hopefully. The run would help calm him, and perhaps release some of the tension he was feeling. The guide's eyes lit up, and he nodded his head rapidly, so with an acknowledging grunt Feldor shifted the sack's straps so that they would accommodate his feline form and relaxed.

As a Fera aged the shifting became something that was as natural as breathing, he simply relaxed his muscles and allowed himself to give in to the baser thoughts and feelings that were associated with his feral form, and with simply that his body began to morph. A common misunderstanding was that the process was painful, it wasn't, it felt more as though he was melting, or perhaps sinking, into another comfortable form.

When he next blinked open his eyes, the world was more alive and vivid than it had been when he was in human form. His nose could detect the slightest of scents, and his entire body thrummed with a vitality and awareness that was nearly intoxicating. Letting out a happy rumble Feldor turned to glance at his companion, Zulu had shifted into the form of a bobcat, and was now staring at Feldor with faint surprise. A jaguar? I don't know if I've ever seen a Fera one before...sire. The guide murmured softly, and Feldor shot him an amused glance through amber eyes. I believe it skips a generation in my family, my grandfather was one though. He replied smoothly, his confidence higher when in this form. Ariale had once teasingly told him that perhaps he was born to be a jaguar and not a Fera, he had laughed but sometimes felt that perhaps she had been right.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he flicked his tail towards Zulu to signify that he was going, and then pushed explosively forward on powerful hind legs, running across the ground with a languid and effortless pace. The speed he chose cut down traveling time considerably, and they reached Faywyn just as nightfall was beginning. Feldor had to pause for a few long moments to stare at the sprawling city. It was elegant and pleasing to the eye to be sure, but the unnaturalness of it put him off slightly, and he found himself already craving the jungle and their simple homes.

Feldor entered the city in feral form, leaving Zulu, who did not wish to come any further, at the outskirts. The Elven citizens looked at him initially in surprise, but gradually they seemed to realize he was a Fera, and when Feldor realized he had no idea where he was meant to go...he spotted a graceful Elven lady who looked friendly enough. Approaching her he sat back on his haunches and tilted his head. Fera have the ability to sort of...project their "voices" mentally. It's non-invasive, the recipient simply hears the voice in their head rather than out loud. So he used that when asking her a question, Pardon me my lady, but I am expected by the council, and am afraid I have gotten myself quite lost. Could you perhaps direct me to the place I am supposed to go to?

She seemed amiable enough, and offered him a friendly smile before nodding. "Certainly my well-mannered friend. Do you see the tall building over there?" She turned and pointed a single elegant finger north of were they were, and Feldor turned his head in that direction and spotted the building mentioned. He nodded once and she continued, "You will find the council waiting there for you." Pleased to see that it was not much further, Feldor dipped his head to her and headed in that direction.

At the entrance to the building he scented two unfamiliar scents in addition to the Elvish aroma, and immediately deduced that it likely belonged to two of the other "chosen ones." An elven man waited at the door, and when Feldor had reached the top of the stairs the man dipped his head to him. "Greetings Feldor of the Nightflei clan, the council and two others await you inside. However we do request that you take up your human form, as your wild form may startle your two new companions." Grudgingly accepting this, Feldor shifted back into human form with a sigh and stepped through the now-open doors. Ahead of him he saw what appeared to be a miniature female and a human speaking with some Elves.

Location: Entering Faywyn
Mood: Unsettled/Irritated
Tags: Aster, Rosfir, Feldor

~See me coming? You should turn and run now, I'm not forgiving

Altair's eyes narrowed unhappily as he paused within the Centaur borders, one hoofstep more and he'd be in Elven territory. The very thought made him feel disgusted and unclean, as though his hooves would be soiled the instant he set them onto this place, but he knew full well that he didn't have a choice in this matter. He had been chosen for some sort of quest, and it required him to go to the Elvish city of Faywyn to meet with the council. Deplorable, they should have hosted the meeting in Centaur land. It was favouritism plain and simple. And it repulsed him. His lips twitched into a grimace as he finally ventured to take that first step. It didn't feel physically different, but his own mentality regarding their lands caused him to feel as though this place was entirely foreign. He had refused an escort outright, bad enough that one centaur was leaving to go into enemy territory, he didn't want one of his brethren to face that unhappy deed as well. Besides, the Centaur territory was right beside Elvish land, which made the trek much shorter for him than whatever other races would be there. He remembered the upset it had caused when he had told his battalion of his orders, they had been furious, how could their captain be forced into some sort of quest? He hadn't had an answer for them, only more questions, but the monarch had made it very clear that he was obligated to go. Something was stirring, and the monarch seemed to have an inkling as to what it was, which meant that the Centaur's needed to be there to keep control of the situation.

Doing his best not to think of the unholy earth on which he walked, Altair distracted himself with thoughts of what he should expect when he reached the city. It was always prudent and wise to know your enemy, so Altair had long ago learned all he could about the Elven race and their cities. He knew they were said to be architects of such beauty that even the Dwarves envied them, but then, the Dwarves were a bumbling race that spent their days slaving like animals in the mountains, so he didn't hold much stock in their opinions. Or any of the other races actually, they all were a bit air-headed or short-lived, hardly reliable sources of information. No, if you wanted to know something, and know it accurately, you needed the impartial view of a centaur. Snorting in agreement with himself the Centaur captain was surprised to realize that he could already see the great city in the distance. Feeling skeptical he eyed its glistening marble buildings with a detached air of impassiveness, he couldn't fathom what was so special about it, the fact that they used fancy stone and had too much time on their hands? It just lent itself to the accurate opinion that Elves were air-headed fools who lived too long.

He reached the city just after nightfall, having been in no hurry to reach the marble atrocity. Just looking at its symmetrical buildings and eye pleasing displays made him want to gag. No normal creature should have so much time on its hands that it could waste energy making something so uselessly pretty. The Elves he passed stared at him with mild interest, some with a faint air of dislike, but they all reminded him only of idiotic butterflies, and he felt less daunted than annoyed. Still, he refused to speak to any of them, and knew immediately that he was to head to the tallest building in the city, for it was where they were to meet. As aforementioned he had been certain to research the cities structure and map before journeying here, he didn't like asking for help at the best of times, and certainly he wasn't about to ask anything of an ELF.

He reached the building soon enough, if anything too soon for his liking, and climbed up the stairs with ease before standing before two impressive double doors. Of everything he had seen of the city the doors were the only thing that even faintly caught his interest. They were sturdy and well crafted, looked to be able to withstand a heavy attack, which was valuable under any circumstances. But he had better things to do than remark on the doors, so without any concern for startling whomever was inside, Altair threw open the doors and clopped inside.

Two elves, who presumably had been standing guard, looked briefly startled by his abrupt entry, before they realized who he was and gave him a much cooler stare. "Greetings Altair Thunderhoof" The greeting sounded slightly reluctant, and he smirked to think that the feeling between them was mutual. He preferred their dislike over some airhead display of "love and peace to one and all" that some of their race sickeningly displayed. Ahead of him a human, a dwarf, and what appeared to be another human stood engaged in conversations with other Elves. However Altair hadn't come into this hated place for a friendly chat over Elven tea and biscuits, so with a resounding stamp of his hoof to the floor he glared at them with faint annoyance and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, are you three a part of whatever this quest is as well? Or are you simply gabbing for a lack of anything intelligent to do?" He asked coolly, his eyes neither friendly nor unfriendly, simply impassive and a bit irritated.

One of the three, the one closest to him, jumped a bit and whipped around to stare at him with shocked eyes. Altair felt a sneer build on his face, if the rest of his "companions" were as jumpy and pathetic as this one...well, they were all liable to die before they even began. "I-I am Feldor. Urm...I...uh...I am a Fera and was summoned for the quest as well." The jumpy one said, looking flustered and a tad unhappy with himself. Which was good, it hinted that perhaps the boy in front of him realized how pathetic he was as well. "Mmmm...good for you boy." The Centaur said, his uninterest palpable. "What about the rest of you."