#SANCTOS      an oc based multimuse, heavy on but not exclusive to high fantasy themes. selective, slow activity, 18+.
    written by  ash  (they/he/she, 25)   

ASH  25, they/he/she. been here for far too long and counting. poet, bookseller, and library assistant. discord available upon request :)

  basics.   do we need to have basic rules anymore? don't godmod, have patience, racists, lgbtqphobes, and zionists stay away from me, be decent and we're good  shipping.   all my characters are multiship and chemistry based. many have canon relationships, but are still multiship! ships will just take place assuming the canon relationship never happened/died/broke off/whatever. you won't catch me liking shipping calls---that doesn't mean i don't want to ship, it just means i prefer it to happen naturally in threads/plotting. nsfw writing will appear , tagged as 'nsft' and 'not sfw text'  triggers.   i don't need anything tagged, though i would prefer to stay away from descriptions of vomit. common triggers found here will be death, illness, fantasy violence, etc. proceed at your own discretion! trigger tag format is 'tw: trigger'

  interacting.   i clean out my followers/following very regularly, based solely on inactivity or lack of interactions, not anything personal. if i follow you, i want to write! i have no intention of just gathering numbers.
im not on the dash often, because i'm usually at work, so i tend to miss rbed memes or starter / plotting calls! i'll post my own and meme calls often to compensate :)
i have autism and am quite bad at socializing, and i don't typically message first unless i'm feeling brave. i strongly want to plot and just chat with all of you, i'm just very shy and prone to thinking people don't like me. i also work a lot so sometimes i'm just tired and don't know how to approach people, lol. feel free to say hi at any point :D  credits.   psd   / psd 2 / border /  pinned / carrd template by @rcsea

  MAINS & AFFILIATES:      @anoffering ,   @warplanet ,   @wovetales ,   @polarean ,   @lunaetor

NAME  alunithir lutenn.NICKNAMES  alu.TITLES  agent of the nightfallen.AGE  520.SPECIES  shal'dorei / nightborne.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  bisexual.

HEIGHT  7'0"HAIR  long, silky black hair, pulled into a half-up style.EYES  entirely a barely saturated greyish-purple, which glow faintly.OTHER  very faint arcane markings typical of the nightborn, along his arms, legs, shoulders, and the sides of his face. barely noticeable, until they reflect in the light. looong long elf ears.FACE CLAIM  matteo martari.DRESSING STYLE  sleek black leathers, lots of belts and straps for knife placement. wears a dusk lily tabard when on duty, to show his loyalty to the rebellion.POSITIVE TRAITS  gentle, good hearted, loyal, passionate, curious.NEUTRAL TRAITS  quiet, skeptical, brooding.NEGATIVE TRAITS  standoffish, vengeful, malcontent.RELIGION  not religious, but aware of his ancestor's and the night elve's elune worship.DEMEANOR  alunithir is closed off and skeptical, a quiet sort who prefers to stand off to the side and listen to a conversation rather than contribute to it. however, he is a gentle and loyal soul when he opens up, and grows more curious by the day with the rest of the world now open to him.DIAGNOSIS  oh idk that yet probably something

PARENTS 
- sanna lutenn. ( mother. )
- jaelorne lutenn. ( father. )
PARTNER 
- imogène vanu ( separated )
CHILDREN 
- ava lutenn. † ( daughter, deceased. )
CLASS  rogue.WEAPONS  dual-wielded purple blades of magic, called arcsabers.RESIDENCE  suramar city.LANGUAGES  common, shalassian.POWERS / ABILITIES / SKILLS  trained in stealth, subterfuge, and deception. advanced weapons training with swords, daggers, and small firearms. skilled in arcane magic, as all nightborne are trained as children, though he does not use it much in his day to day life. mostly utilizes it to aid in his stealth, or do trivial tricks, like floating a glass across the room when he doesn't feel like getting up for it.

born long after the nightborne's isolation from the world, alunithir is a relatively young nightborne, who has only ever known suramar-----no sun, no sky, no people besides his own. he had the typical upbringing of a nightborne child, learning magic at an early age, drinking mana juice, and studying the history of the shal'dorei-----of the highborne, what their people used to be, of suramar's escape from the legion invasion, and how the invasion resulted in a sundering of the world. alunithir, like many others, was mostly convinced the world outside of suramar's barrier did not survive the sundering. but this, along with his entire life, was changed when suramar's barrier came down: when the rest of the world was re-introduced to them, and the legion was revealed to be at their doorstep, joining forces with the grand magistrix.until the breaking of the barrier, alunithir's life was quiet and typical. though he and his family were of civilian status, being winemakers and artists, they had enough notoriety to survive comfortably with a regular supply of the arcwine they helped produce. alunithir had a life partner, imogene, and together they had a young daughter, ava, who was alunithir's pride and joy. they worked, they lived, they were happy. until the legion returned.the legion's return was polarizing in suramar, though few would outwardly say so. many feared exile from grand magistrix elisande, and kept their opinions quiet to keep her favor----alunithir's parents were some such people. as was imogene, who began to sympathize with elisande's reasoning, and became one of her loyalists. alunithir was the only one in his family who seemed to remember his history lessons, who paled at the thought of the nightborne working alongside the legion they worked so hard to escape from ten thousand years ago. this way of thinking estranged him from his parents, and strained his relationship with imogene, their love turning quickly into resentment and arguments. alunithir eventually packed up and left imogene, taking their daughter ava with him, to protect her from her mother's corruption.

eventually, to prove her loyalty to elisande, imogene turned alunithir into the authorities as a rebel, and he was exiled from suramar city---and ava along with him. from here, his life became survival, scrounging mana wherever he could find it to keep himself and ava alive. it didn't take long for them to take on a nightfallen state, and as ava began to deteriorate, alunithir took less and less mana for himself in favor of giving it to ava. it was of little hope, however. being so young and vulnerable, ava couldn't withstand the withdrawal, and quickly became withered---a state which nightborne cannot return from.overcome with grief, and with a newfound thirst for justice, alunithir sought out the nightfallen rebellion----bringing his withered daughter with him, explaining the circumstances and begging them to do what he could not, and put her out of her misery. they did so, and in return alunithir dedicated himself to the cause, joining the rebellion as a spy.when the rebellion, alongside many newfound unfamiliar faces from across azeroth, finally stormed suramar city, alunithir was alongside them, fighting to the very end. briefly, on the battlefield, he reunited with imogene---and instead of killing her himself, simply informed her that she had doomed her own daughter to die, and left her with that knowledge----to whatever fate the battle would bring her.now, with suramar free and the legion once again defeated, alunithir is working to build a new life for himself. grief for the people and life he lost still weighs on him heavily, and he finds himself feeling lost, with only the direction of the nightfallen-----but he is filled now with a newfound curiosity, with the rest of the world now readily at his fingertips. he continues to serve as a spy for suramar city and the nightborne, but when not on missions he has been venturing out into the world: wandering lands he's only ever read about, becoming acquainted with the blood elves of silvermoon, and adjusting himself to the light of a sun he never knew existed.

  1. main verse. takes place in world of warcraft, which nobody on this site writes, from legion onward. if u have wow characters / verses PLEEEEASE tell me

  2. general fantasy. basically, everything is the same, but removed from world of warcraft. suramar and its nightborne elves are a society that has been long cut off from the rest of the world, practically forgotten. they're far detached descendants of moon elves. alu can pretty easily be placed in any d&d setting. :)

  1. dragon age. ooooh let me think about that one

NAME  demetrius sulvarin ii.NICKNAMES  dima, by his family.TITLES  lord of sulvara, daarim, king of dracidos.AGE  adult ( dragon terms. )SPECIES  black dragon.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  bisexual, selectively poly.

HEIGHT  6'5"HAIR  shoulder length black waves, usually worn in a bun, a half-up styles, or down.EYES  amber, sometimes with visible lizard-like pupils.SCARS / TATTOOS / MARKINGS  can have black scales on his cheekbones, ears, shoulders, the backs of his hands, and down his spine.FACE CLAIM  dev patel.DRESSING STYLE  silks and finery, black and dark shades of red and gold. wings, that drape around his shoulders like a cloak. ( verse dependant. )POSITIVE TRAITS  ambitious, strong willed, good natured, family-driven, storyteller, protective.NEUTRAL TRAITS  loyal to a fault, impulsive, distracted.NEGATIVE TRAITS  short tempered, wrathful, pessimistic, power complex.RELIGION  devout worshipper of loxros, the first king, father, and god of dragons.DEMEANOR  demetrius poses an intimidating figure: he's tall, looming, and walks with a prideful, almost angry stride. he's not entirely welcome or open, unless one is a dragon. nevertheless, when one gets to know him, there is more heart to him than first assumed.NEURODIVERGENCES & DISORDERS 
- depression.

PARENTS 
- lord demetrius sulvarin i.
- lady yvette sulvarin.
YOUNGER SIBLINGS 
- percival sulvarin.
- leofric sulvarin.
- ivana and eleanora sulvarin ( twins. )
SIGNIFICANT OTHER 
- virnan carmythe † ( canon verse, lover. )
- agathe ( canon verse, wife. )
- arivanwe ( canon verse, husband. )
CHILDREN 
- arwyn iii. ( much later in life / canon king verse )
CLASS  vengeance paladin. believes his patron is an ancestor he wishes to avenge. ( its actually loxros )WEAPONS  flame-tongue longsword.RESIDENCE  sulvara, eventually dracidos.LANGUAGES  common, draconic, elvish.POWERS / ABILITIES / SKILLS  offensive magic, damage and some support. draconic magic. trained in swordfighting. shapeshifting - able to transform between his natural form of a black dragon into the form of an elven man. due to how long he has hidden his nature, shifting into his dragon form now feels unnatural, and is quite painful for his body.

BEFORE. the dragon kingdom of dracidos is thriving, led by the god-king loxros: the first dragon, a bronze dragon of great power. they look to him for leadership, and live in relative peace----happy, home, growing in power.two dragons, a pair of brothers named ithil and arwyn, are inseparable and fiercely protective of each other. they roam the skies side by side in a time when dragons are powerful, a force to be reckoned with. and when they are reckoned with, ithil is one of the first to fall victim. shot from the sky like nothing but a bird, ithil is bested by a group of newly-formed dragon hunters, who call themselves the venatori draconum. with runes upon their arms, these beasts of mortal men contain the essence of felled dragons within them, imbue themselves with the dragon’s magic and use it against them. arwyn watches his brother as he’s felled, and before he can step in, ithil ushers two commands: run, hide. he doesn’t want to die, but above all else, he doesn’t want his brother to die-----and arwyn can see that arguing would lead them both to their deaths. so he runs, or rather flies. he takes to the skies in pursuit of dracidos, but returns to find it decimated: a city blown apart, inhabitable, all its previous occupants either bones beneath the rubble, or gone. even loxros himself is nowhere to be found.arwyn goes into hiding, and a deepset hatred for mortal men, these dragon-hunters, cements itself deep within his heart. he gathers other dragons endangered by these hunters, and hides them away in a city they create for themselves. they take on the form of elves, of mortals, and hide among them in plain sight: waiting for the day they might enact their revenge, soak the streets with mortal blood, and take back their home.the day never comes, not in arwyn’s lifetime. his people take on more mortal names, surnames even----his lineage goes on to call themselves the sulvarins, lords over the city of sulvara. and they wait. each lord of sulvara waits in growing impatience, watching for a window, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.ARC I: DEMETRIUS. far in the future, lord demetrius sulvarin i and his wife have their firstborn son: demetrius ii, heir to the lordship of sulvara. their generation in particular is loyal almost to a fault----dedicated to their cause, their people, and deeply devoted to loxros. demetrius is brought up just the same: the tale of his ancestors is a bedtime story, an epic he can recite by heart, ingrained deep into his soul. he hates mortal men for what they’ve done. when his siblings are born, he helps his parents teach them the same hatred, makes sure they remember arwyn and ithil’s names, and know what it is they fight for, and hide for.as he grows, so too does his rage, his pride. the determination within him is great-----its not a hypothetical to him that his father will reclaim dracidos, bring an end to the venatori, no: its taught to him almost as a prophecy, an assurance. a future to be prepared for. we will be the kings of dragons again. we will find our revenge, we will take back our home. so he trains, he makes himself into a force, prepares himself for all he’s ever wanted----battle, glory, a home to rule over. he trains as a paladin: convinced the patron who imbues him with power is arwyn, his own ancestor guiding him through life.by now, the venatori draconum have changed their name to venatori infernum, having long since allied with many dragons, reforming their order. they provide a save haven for dragons that will have it, now, and instead focus their efforts on infernal and demonic enemies----still using the same methods they learned on dragons. most have been content to forgive and forget. the sulvarin line has not.ARC II: THE TERROR. the world erupts into chaos, and the venatori infernum are at the center of it, defending the world from planar portals opening across the world. lord sulvarin sees this as an opportunity, and sends demetrius out to find them-----to weasel his way closer to them, and do what he can to further their own cause. he joins a party of defenders lead by one such venatori, and bides his time still masking as an elf, offering his skill in battle, all the while earning the venatori’s trust. and when the first opportunity arises, demetrius stikes the man down-----and he’s successful, but finds himself felled as well, one slip beckoning him into the grips of death.when his eyes open, its loxros he sees before him. the god-king has a great deal to say to him, and demetrius finds himself scolded. loxros has been his magical patron all along, trying endlessly to guide him down a different path----one of forgiveness, mercy. he sees a greatness in demetrius, promise, knows that he can be better than those before him: that he will be the one to reclaim dracidos. but he must learn to trust and forgive first. reclamation will be impossible without the help of the venatori infernum, and herein is where the scolding appears. can’t you see that they’re different, they’ve changed? the viceroy wants to atone for those before him, he wants to be better. he’ll help you. with this, dima is ushered back into life on one condition: he must give up his vengeful ways and turn to his self-proclaimed enemies for help, he must be better.devout as he is, demetrius listens. he drags himself to viceroy virnan carmythe, a man who’s blood he once prayed for: he tells him the truth, and asks for his help. and virnan, the kindhearted man that he is, says yes.

ARC III: THE 300 YEAR WAIT. for the longest, longest time, nothing happens. dracidos is a land long-since uninhabitable: decimated, magically volatile, and crawling with monsters. demetrius returns to his home in sulvara, and begins leading a double life. he is one man with his family, still dedicated and hate-filled, and another man with the venatori-----softening to them more with each correspondence, each dinner with virnan, each war-table meeting. for years, their efforts feel in vain. they send spies, none return. they try again, none return. another group, and only one by the name of agathe returns. every effort is futile. they get nowhere, gaining bits and pieces of information as decades, centuries go by. eventually, the mages of mirador join the cause, and things begin to progress a little.in the middle of these 300 years, lord sulvarin unearths the conspiracy. he says nothing to his son, but flies to the venatori in stonemyst----corners virnan with the intent to kill him, and free his son from his ‘manipulation.’ but demetrius is there to save his life, and when lord sulvarin refuses to stand down: demetrius cuts him down, an act of patricide taking his father away from him. he’s reassured by those around him----this is for the better. he never would have let this go on. but demetrius is weighed down by his shame, by the looks of disgust and betrayal from his family when eventually he returns home to claim sulvara. nevertheless, he carries on.ARC IV: RECLAMATION AND REBUILDING. finally, after three hundred years, the time comes. the dragons of sulvara, the venatori, and the mages of mirador march on the enemies within dracidos, and begin the act of reclamation. after three years of strenuous battle and great loss, the region is made stable again, and dracidos is rebuilt. dragons across valiar are invited to return home, to help build it back up, and the great leaders of the world are invited to a grand coronation: a dragon on the throne of dracidos once more, daarim demetrius sulvarin ii, king of dragons, appointed by loxros himself through both divine right, and great effort. the rebuilding of dracidos begins, the region once again seeing its city built up, biomes recreated for each type of dragon, and the river of dracidos flows once more. they’re home.VIRNAN. in several centuries of knowing one another, something blossomed silently between demetrius and virnan. demetrius learned it first when he saved virnan from his father----the terror he felt seeing virnan near the blade of a sword, the relief in seeing him unharmed. there were feelings, then, but virnan’s wife quickly reminded him of her existence, and paired with virnan’s mortality: demetrius gave up as quickly as the feelings emerged, bit them back as something foolish, something he could never have.after the reclamation of dracidos, virnan’s wife, old and frail in her half-elven life, passed peacefully. demetrius attended her funeral, and attended to his dear friend, comforting him in his time of mourning. some time after her passing, virnan steps down as viceroy and appoints the position to their daughter, and the magical life-essence granted to each viceroy begins to trickle away from him. he feels life catching up, and seeks out dracidos as a place to spend his final years.it takes but eight months for demetrius and virnan to end up in one another’s arms. its a bittersweet love that they share: one of lost time and lots of it to make up for, and one with an expiration date-----virnan doesn’t have much left in him, and he makes sure its known before they go on. demetrius doesn’t mind: to have him for a few short years would be better than not having him at all. so they love, they embrace, and virnan wants for no titles or privileges----only to belong to demetrius, to love and be loved in his final years.LOSING, AND LOVING AGAIN. after two and a half years of devotion, demetrius loses virnan at sunrise. the loss weighs heavily on him, burdens his heart with a darkness he’s never known. virnan’s ashes are split between stonemyst and dracidos, demetrius wearing them in a locket around his neck.some time later, the topic of the king’s marriage and need for heirs arises. demetrius finds himself torn between two options. the first is the spy agathe-----a dear friend he’s known since before the reclamation, who was close to both himself and virnan, a loyal ally to dracidos and the last of the silver dragons. through his mourning, demetrius confides in her, accepts her every comfort: she’s a good option, his first option. but then loxros sends his own son, arivanwe, and aside from the political and divine strength of this bond-----arivanwe is captivating, and their bond becomes just as strong. the answer to this dilemma, however, is a simple one: dragons are often polyamorous, and demetrius has every right to take as many spouses as he likes.so he does. he marries the both of them, honoring his late virnan even in this ceremony, and the three of them develop a love for each other strong enough to uphold all of dracidos. and when their first child comes to be, the boy that will be heir to dracidos, demetrius names him for what started this all: arwyn iii, the light of dracidos.ARC V. DAARIM. with his spouses and children at his side, loxros never far, and virnan in his heart, demetrius is king of dragons for centuries to come. their beloved daarim, he learns kindness and makes sure it is taught, a strong and honorable king, who has come to use his heart just as well as his head. to this day, he still holds the throne, and welcomes all dragons who will have it back into their ancestral home.

  1. main verse. takes place at any time during demetrius' biography, from before his death all the way to his time as king, which spans a very very very long time lmao. again, this is all very lore specific to our homebrew dnd setting, but can be tweaked to general dnd, taz, cr, etc very easily----dragons be dragons and people be hunting them. dracidos is ... idk it was hidden away somewhere and only dragons know about it. ez

  2. tes. when the dragon war of the merethic era struck, demetrius' family were quick to choose their side with the dragons, the side of alduin. as the battle waged on, however, and other dragons turned to the sides of men, helped them create their shouts and spells----the sulvarins took life into their own hands, and fled into hiding, foreseeing the end of their rule on the horizon. alduin was defeated, dragon remains buried, and dragon priests scattered to the wind, but demetrius' ancestors lived on. they tucked themselves away in a city of their own making, hidden in the mountains, and adopted the forms of men to blend in, await alduin's return and call. years down the line, demetrius was raised on this tale of history, raised on the hatred, the idea of himself and his family as better than men. though he's proud of his being a dragon, he's rather unfamiliar with being one, too used to the hiding, melding with men and living among them. still, he harbors hatred for mankind, and for the blades especially, and waits in anticipation for the day alduin, recently returned to the world, finds them and beckons them to his side once more. demetrius can be encountered by the dragonborn, and though he's largely an adversary to begin with, he can be recruited as a companion with a lot of persuasion. he's very set in his ways, but not as unmoving as his father; he's open to seeing reason, especially with other dragons involved.

  3. arthurian. there is a kingdom rarely heard from but often spoken of; where a family called the sulvarins live, an honorable and headstrong family that keep to themselves, rarely venturing far from their own lands no matter what the occasion. when those ventures are made, it is usually by the king's son, demetrius ii; a man of somewhat better temper than his father, who knows when its fitting to smile, whether or not that smile is genuine. he can be a scoundrel, that demetrius, a great flirt or a great fighter depending on the day, on circumstance-----but he's usually quite private and closed off, even unapproachable, to some. most interesting about this family, though, are the rumors that circulate about them; how magical they tend to feel to those who know what to look for, almost ethereal, and the dragons that apparently stalk their lands------coincidentally never found when the sulvarins seek them out, only seen when the family is inside, secluded...

  4. middle earth. demetrius is a relatively young dragon, raised on the belief in morgoth as a deity, and sauron being morgoth come again----a force that should be revered. his family does sauron's bidding, and thus, so too does he; using powers from sauron to change into the form of an elf, living amongst them to gather their secrets and movements. demetrius has a darkness in his heart, but not one so strong as his father's, and finds that the more history he learns, and the more time he spends with the elves, the smaller and smaller that darkness gets.

  5. bg3. backstory wise, not much is different from his main verse: his home is simply tucked away somewhere in faerun, and dracidos is an old legend. demetrius can be recruited likely pretty early in the game, as some of his people have been infected with tadpoles, and his father sends him out to investigate the cause. though he doesn't care much about mortal affairs, this particular one affects everyone, so he offers his help in combat as a companion, keeping up his ruse as simply being a dragon soul sorcerer elf.

  1. dragon age. in response to the dragon hunters of the pentaghast family, and the threat of near extinction in the steel age----a dragon named arwyn, who had lost his brother to said hunters, honed his magic in such a way that it allowed him to disguise himself as a mortal man. he taught this magic to other dragons, and hid with them in a city away from nevarra---a city in ferelden, not too far from gwaren. taking on the surname 'sulvarin,' arwyn became the lord of this little city, which he called sulvara, and made it into a safe haven for dragons: a place to hide and wait, ensure their safety and plan out their revenge against mortal men. years later, demetrius ii is the heir to the sulvarin lordship, and was raised with a great hatred for mortals----namely the pentaghast family themselves. nevertheless, when the sky tears apart and demons flood the world, he's sent along to the newly-formed inquisition posing as an elf, meant not only to offer his skills as a fighter, but to spy on the doings of men, and on cassandra pentaghast, who sits somewhat at the center of it all. dima acts as a traveling companion, and in dragon age terms, is kind of like a martial-heavy battlemage. he's tanky and goes pew pew. will you discover that he's a dragon?? oooh drama

  2. asoiaf. a young one during the dance of dragons, only just fully grown, he was given the name dyraxes as a hatchling, and remained unclaimed when the dance came to an end. a curious thing in his youth, he discovered a new magic whilst trying to get the attention of humans: he was able to change to look like one of them, blend in, learn their languages. he told them his name was demetrius. to the humans, dyraxes kept this a secret, but he taught his clutch-mates so they might cause mischief alongside him----he didn't realize then how important this power would be to their survival. though unclaimed, dyraxes and his siblings remained loyal to rhaenyra and team black during the dance, swearing their swords to the cause, using both forms to fight for them. however, as more people and more dragons began to die, rhaenyra herself falling, dyraxes decided it best to flee with his clutch-mates, to find rhaena and the eggs she'd taken, and defend them. when the dance ends, they return briefly with rhaena and her newly-hatched dragon, but upon aegon iii's reaction to seeing a dragon, and his newfound dislike for them, they remove themselves once again, for fear of their own safety. they fly far away and disguise themselves as human, taking human names and adopting their way of life: dyraxes calls himself demetrius permanently, and such is his life for the next 200 years. when all the world thinks that the time of dragons is long over, rumors spread of a targaryen girl named daenerys, who on her wedding day was given a great gift----three dragon eggs. during his years in isolation, demetrius came to feel scorned by the targaryen name: all they had they had because of us, he thought, we fought all their wars for them, we died for them. he's a much older man, now, cynical and grumpy. he emerges from his isolation with the intent of challenging this young targaryen, challenging her very claim to throne over that of dragons who can be men----but she's different, he finds, she treats her dragons as her children and she loves them as such, and they love her. so instead of challenging her, he lingers----watches her, watches over these dragons, little more than a warrior watching her back until he decides where his loyalties lie.

NAME  wilhelmina irvallel-sinclair.NICKNAMES  dove, wilTITLES  lord sinclair, champion of isedora, the evendawn, the mother's dove, sanctayn eraisa.AGE  23+ ( basically immortal. )SPECIES  elf.GENDER & PRONOUNS  nonbinary, they / them.ORIENTATION  bisexual.

HEIGHT  5'1.HAIR  white-blonde, grown well past their hips. usually worn down and flowing, or in various braids and updos.EYES  warm brown.OTHER  a smooth hunk of clear quartz is embedded in each of their palms. across their chest is a magical tattoo of a peony, in green ink..FACE CLAIM  morfydd clark.DRESSING STYLE  dresses only in palettes of white, creams, and shades of brown. lots of flowy dresses and overalls. often in a big cowboy-esque hat. dons a custom made cloak, made to look like dove wings draping over their back and shoulders.RELIGION  child and champion of isedora, the mother goddess.POSITIVE TRAITS  kind, soft, caring, gentle, well-read.NEUTRAL TRAITS  shy, uncertain, timid, quiet.NEGATIVE TRAITS  pessimistic, fearful, short fuse.DEMEANOR  wil is timid and shy, especially to strangers, and is easily described as quiet. they prefer gentle activities, and are more comfortable in nature than around others. however, they are loyal, curious, and stand up for others and what they believe in.NEURODIVERGENCES & DISORDERS  autism, depression, anxiety, ptsd.

PARENTS 
- arthur sinclair.
- rosemary irvallel. †
- isedora.
OTHERS 
- shiloh. ( parental figure. )
- ernest and gideon. ( father figures. )
- elspeth. † ( mother figure. )
- various other farm family figures.
- edgar, ringo, rahaleth, alphonse, valdus, iveanis. ( best friends. )
SIGNIFICANT OTHER 
- threnn nightingale. ( canon verse. )
CHILDREN 
- rosemary wynne sinclair. ( canon verse. )
CLASS  druid ( circle of the sun ) cleric ( life. )WEAPONS  arm of the forest, a very special druid staff, given to them by the lady of the forest.RESIDENCE  sinclair farms, in ocalis.LANGUAGES  common, elvish, druidic, gnomish, thieves cant.POWERS / ABILITIES / SKILLS  nature based and divine magic, lots of healing. can use wild shape to transform into a variety of animals, but usually opts for the shape of a dove.

from the beginning, the world was not kind to wilhelmina irvallel. though their mother taught them gentleness, kindness, taught them to be one with nature and love it fiercely----their father was cruel to the both of them. he was loud, angry and violent, and wil took to hiding in the forest the majority of their days just to avoid his ire. their mother, rosemary, took the most of his abuses, if only to shield wilhelmina from them. and when she felt wil was old enough, just fourteen years old but smart enough to understand, she helped them pack a back; took them out of town, and insisted she go home without them. she told them to run, to find something better, build a life for themself as soft as flower petals. find someone safe, and bloom.the safety they found was in a man named arthur sinclair, a farmer who's family had such wealth and impact that they were raised to the status of a lordship. in the town of annetta, named after the man's late wife, arthur found wil huddled in the corner of the inn, drawing pictures. the innkeeper, brandy, said they'd been there for about a week, sweeping and clearing dishes in exchange for food, a roof over their head. he spoke to wil gently, carefully, recognized their distrust and respected that boundary; but he offered them a home, something permanent. life on a farm, tending to the plants and animals, living in their own room with dinner every night and breakfast every morning. his entire farm was cobbled together by people like wil, you see, others with no home or family who came together to create one. at first, they didn't trust it. but brandy ( and practically everyone else in town ) vouched for the man, so they took the risk.too shy at first to intrude in his house, wil adapted an empty barn hayloft into a room of their own, complete with bookshelves, a bed, and fairy lights strung about the ceiling. for awhile, they treated this arrangement as a business exchange, work for safety. but as time went on, and the others continued to welcome them and treat them with kindness, wil began to see everyone, arthur included, as a little family----strange and miss-mashed, but a family nonetheless. arthur especially developed a close bond with them; his wife and children had died some years ago in a carriage accident, so he took to wil as his own child, treated and spoiled them as such, healed their saddened heart with an old, familial love. and he protected them, too; for eventually their birth father discovered their location, and stacks of letters littered with empty threats would be responded to in kind, with threats of arthur's own that were far from empty. after some time, the letters from the man would cease, save for one shortly after wil's seventeenth birthday, informing them of rosemary's death. the letter claimed she'd fallen ill, a sudden and brutal decline. neither wil nor arthur believed this to be the true cause of death.when wil turned eighteen, arthur's birthday present surprised them. instead of fine clothes, books, staves, and bouquets, this time he presented them with only a piece of paper-----adoption papers, already signed, only needing their consent. he would dub them wilhelmina irvallel-sinclair, they would keep their mother's druidic name and take on his own-----arthur's daughter, and heir to the sinclair estate. the first part of this offer they welcomed eagerly, but the second part, lordship, gave them pause. they were easily convinced; arthur had no living heirs to pass on the farm to, and he wanted it in good hands, hands that would carry on the sinclair legacy when he was gone, and no one was more suited to it than wil.the thought of lordship made them quail, ( all that paperwork, formalities, dinners and parties! ) but it didn't begin to affect them until their twenties hit. arthur grew weak and ill in his old age, and more and more wil was asked to attend parties and diplomatic get-togethers in his stead. they hated it. and one fateful party would go on to change the course of their life forever. there was a murder. and not just a murder, but a murder mystery----and suddenly everyone at the party was a suspect, expected to stay until it was all sorted out. wil was lumped in with a group of strangers to try and help figure it all out, and eventually the case was cracked; by a goblin living in the walls, nonetheless, who was an eavesdropping witness to the very murder itself.their life became very overwhelming following this party. the strangers and the goblin ( cory, lloyd, alphonse, ringo, and 'egs', who would eventually become edgar, ) insisted they stick together for awhile, at least until they reached the next town over and could get a bit of sleep for the night. but one thing led to another, and soon a night became a week, then several. wil was practically stuck with these people----there was a fondness growing for them, and in a way they felt if they abandoned the others, left them without healing magic, they'd hear word not a week later that the lot of them had perished in some very idiotic way. besides this, they were receiving odd letters from home--------stay out, don't come home just yet. we're not ready for you. enjoy your time in the world. they only wanted to return, but now it seemed they were a baby bird being pushed from the nest.when finally they were able to return home, it was alongside the entire group, and it seemed they wouldn't be able to stay very long before trudging off to their next adventure. they were hopeful things at home would catch them and keep them there, but they returned home to devastation----arthur had been diagnosed with a terminal illness of the lungs, and was deteriorating more every day. they were kept away to protect them from this. they were going to stay, to keep their home safe and nurse arthur back into health, but over the course of a night, everything went to hell. somehow, whether through drunkenness or guilty conscious, their 'friend' cory admitted to arthur that he was a cannibal, and it gave the old man such a fright that he choked, he sputtered, and he died. wil was present to watch him take his final breath, and when they learned of cory's true nature, helped to have him detained. tears and guilt-filled speech of family be damned, they wanted the man dead, and they sent him off to exactly that fate.now in mourning and desperately needing to run away from it all, wil, now officially the lord sinclair, left the farm once more, scurried off to dive into distracting adventures with their friends, now joined by a strange, fae-like bear man named ra'haleth. there was much to do, many people to save, things to investigate, and much mischief to get into. it was distracting, but it didn't keep them from their thoughts too much----for with every mission, it seemed there came death, evil, and the more wil saw of the world the more they were convinced it wasn't as beautiful as they always thought.in their travels, the group, ( who had dubbed themselves the birds of prey, and given themselves bird-themed code names, wil's being dove, ) came into a sort of employment by a group of criminals called the nightingales, namely by their leader, threnn nightingale. they were not friends, and the longer the groups were in contact, the more they became enemies. tensions were high, and when it all came to a head, when the birds were ready to go up against threnn, the nighingale gave them all a choice----stand down, or die. some stood down, including wil. the others, namely lloyd, did no such thing; instead firing at threnn, causing the whole world to go dark. when wil awoke, half of their friends were imprisoned by threnn, but not wil themself. threnn had grown to respect wil, and recognized that they stood down-----wil had a room and free roam, were only taken to the nightingale sanctuary so not to abandon them on the streets.

it was a strange time, trying to convince their friends to trust threnn, that there was more to them than everyone saw. but wil grew close to them, fond of them----they began to trust threnn nightingale and considered them a friend, and when the birds were released from this imprisonment, wil was giving a a nightingale pin, a form of communication; to keep in contact, in case of emergency. for the first time, they lied. they didn't tell the birds, who had all discarded and broken their own nightingale pins.adventuring continued on, and so too did wil's growing disdain for the world. it wasn't long before everything came crashing down around them again, and this time the blow was almost lethal. a calamity happened outside of their control, and for a long while; magic was gone. like a switch turned off-----all life sustained by magic gone in the blink of an eye, structures held together by the weave, entire societies were devastated and the very core of the world shook, causing the earth to split and crack. continents drifted apart. people died climbing mountains, getting groceries, flying with their friends. even some of the farm family were killed, including another of wil's father figures, shiloh, during something as simple as a much-needed beach vacation. the birds of prey were at the very home and city of magic itself, at the center of the devastation when it happened. the leaders of the world rendered everyone unconscious until it was safe to be awake. and when they were, magical lists appeared with ink that kept appearing and appearing-----the death toll, names climbing from the hundreds to the thousands and further on. wil bore witness as name after name appeared on that paper, endlessly, witness to the deaths of half the world, crumbling as names they knew began to appear.this moment was something final, a devastation that wil couldn't cope with. they wanted to die, saw no purpose to living in a world that was so evil, so dark and hopeless, filled with death. they were choked, they could see no light anymore, and they couldn't bear it. they were going to die, but a darkness came, and instead of dying they were carted away by threnn. how threnn got to them, wil still doesn't understand. they only know they were whisked away to the nightingale sanctuary, hidden safely in threnn's room, and when asked, threnn gave but a simple response; i heard you. i felt it. they stayed with threnn for a month, cut off from the world, from their friends. healing, learning to cope, and falling in love. threnn was their saving grace, the only thing in the world that made them feel okay. threnn used their powers to help them get closure-----threnn made the nonsensical make sense, and convinced them to stand on their own two feet again. when they returned to their friends, something else befell them, but this time it was not a devastation----it was a moment of hope, which turned wilhelmina into a beacon of it.they say that divinity reaches out in strange ways, that it finds you when you need it most. in a temple dedicated to the mother goddess, isedora, wil tripped and fell in the middle of a blessing, caught themselves on a basin of holy water----and when they touched the water, a great light appeared, and wil disappeared. their eyes fluttered open in the realm of isedora, and the goddess herself was stood before wil with open arms, a troubled but motherly look on her face. she spoke to wil of their woes and their pain, offered comfort-----not in exchange of anything, but just to give it, because wil needed it. you need a mother, isedora said, holding out her hand, allow me to be yours. wil took their hand, was pulled into a hug, and at once they felt a great warmth in their chest, the feeling of light spreading throughout their veins. isedora had but one command for them; spread good. they heard it in their head as they awoke again in the temple; now naked, with a large green tattoo of of a peony across their chest, and a smooth piece of clear quartz embedded into each palm. the priestesses in the temple drained of all color, began to treat wil as though they were a god themself. the champion, they called wil, the champion of isedora. in a ceremony that quite frankly made them uncomfortable, and they felt forced into, wilhelmina was dubbed exactly that-----the champion of isedora, the mother's light, the evendawn. wil took to referring to isedora as mother, and felt more comfortable in the light again, felt their heart beginning to bloom from its wilt.the adventuring seemed to be endless. they met more gods, nearly all of them. they went to the feywild, to a strange circus, even to a previously undiscovered place called the sands. they saved threnn from capture by their previous abuser, oclo, the former god of death----went as far as traveling deep into the abyss and facing the god head on just to bring threnn home. they fought a dear friend, tiefa, as her transformation into 'lady of the forest' warped her in a way she could not control. and eventually, they grew weary, bone-tired from all of the hell they'd faced. when it seemed things were safer than before, when the only trouble left was the kind they'd have to seek out, wil finally bowed out from the adventuring life and returned home to the farm. they brought threnn with them, and together they began to heal further than they ever had before. they restored the farm from all its prior devastation, patched the wounds in their hearts, they brought shiloh back to life and turned the farm and annetta into a safe haven for all that needed it.a group of oppressive bigots would overtake the world, calling themselves the philosophers, and claiming religious rights that they'd simply made up to control others, control the world. the sinclair farm would become known as a haven from these philosophers, annetta a place immune to their reach, due to the shotgun-wielding, no-nonsense champion of isedora slaughtering them at the door. when years down the line, the philosophers are taken down, wil and threnn are quick to jump on the last stragglers of their authority, killing them quite publicly to make the message known.with the world safer and lighter again, wil and threnn decide to have a child, and are graced with a daughter, who they each name after their mothers----istril rose irvallel. and years down the line, when wil and threnn meet their peaceful end, the divinity and power in their very bones brings them to ascension. they become the dove and the nightingale, saints and protectors of the lost, the unheard, the frightened and mistreated.this is the longest bio ever on the planet, fellas, and let me be honest; there's a lot in here that i condensed down and left out for brevity's sake. this is just the most important pivotal parts, and parts that i can remember. the birds of prey campaign was a very long one and is incredibly dear to my heart, and the last few parts of wil's story stretch out into the campaign next. <3

  1. main verse. broadly d&d based, can be adjusted for taz, cr, or bg3. catch-all fantasy verse. wil is a farmer, healer, and religious figure all wrapped into one little person. they live on their farm, mostly retired from adventuring, focusing their time on healing and nature. they venture out based on political needs, to visit their friends, or when their healing skills are needed.

  2. modern verse. wil translates easily into modern times; taken away from their family when they were young, they were adopted by arthur sinclair in his lack of own family, and raised on the farm within the patchwork family of workers he’d already put together. in their adulthood, they usually stick to the farm, but are attending online college for literature and occasionally have to travel to their school, or can otherwise be found helping out on trips to the farmers market, in the library studying, or in ballet classes. here wil is a hellenic pagan, just starting their practice, with a particular focus on demeter and hestia, looking into witchcraft as well. they were born in yorkshire, but live on the farm in wales.

  3. dragon age verse. inquisition based. i eat bioware lore for breakfast. wil is a city elf, raised in the denerim alienage until their mother snuck them out and away from their abusive father. they ran and hid, for a time, but were taken in by arthur sinclair, and his patchwork family on a farm. there they were allowed to blossom into themself, practice the magic they’d kept as a secret close to their heart, and even study elvhen culture----leading them to worship the elvhen gods, with a particular draw to mythal and sylaise. during inquisition, the sinclair farm can be found as a resource to feed troops and harvest healing herbs, as well as a place beyond skyhold for inquisition agents to seek shelter, and wil themself can be recruited as a healer and gardener.

  1. tes verse. wil's farm is nestled at the edge of the rift, bustling with life and nature. their produce feeds a great deal of skyrim, and their name is somewhat known----for better or worse. upon the time of dragons returning to skyrim, they find their farm under attack by one such creature, and will offer the dragonborn a warm place to stay----with a bed, homecooked meals, and the peace of nature----in exchange for their protection of the farm. wil themself can be brought along as a healer, as well, decently skilled in both first aid and healing magic.

  2. middle earth verse. wilhelmina is a silvan elf, who reached adulthood about 23 years prior to the timeline of the hobbit. they were originally born in lothlorien, but fled their home at the urging of their mother, as their biological father was a cruel man, with no love for children or his wife. they ended up at a quaint little farm outside of mirkwood, where a mixture of all the races of middle earth live happily, cultivating the earth and trading with nearby lands. the owner of this farm, a man named arthur, eventually came to adopt them as his own---though being a mortal, by the time wilhelmina had reached adulthood, he had passed, and in doing so passed the farm along to them. wil is a somewhat sad thing, having seen much turmoil even in their adolescent years---but their spirit has not yet been broken, thanks to the world around them, and the land they tend to. they’re a great lover of poetry and songs, get happily lost in their fields of flowers, and only find themself dismayed when they must leave home to trade, which they do as infrequently as possible, as other elves tend to find their lifestyle odd.

  3. sanctayn eraisa verse. broadly d&d based, could also be squished around for other medias and real world. after their death, wil ascends into sainthood, known as the dove, oftentimes depicted as a person with the head of a dove. they are the patron saint of the lost, abused, and unheard, offers them comfort, listens to them, ushers them into safety and healing..

NAME  moss.NICKNAMES  just moss <3TITLES  prince of mushrooms.AGE  25.SPECIES  tiefling...? thing.GENDER & PRONOUNS  nonbinary, he / they.ORIENTATION  gay.

HEIGHT  5'9.HAIR  very long and dark, usually pulled into a loose braid. changes with the season: brown in the fall, white in the winter, pink in the spring, and green in the summer.EYES  entirely black.OTHER  faun ears. elk antlers for horns, that shed velvet seasonally like a deer's.FACE CLAIM  tom holland.DRESSING STYLE  mismatched layers and colors, expensive silks, lots of tattered drapery. loves a fun corset, a skirt, or a puffy shirt. mushrooms stuck to his antler-tips, and flowers often in his hair.RELIGION  follows no gods--simply loyal to his father, who is an archfey.POSITIVE TRAITS  kind, mischievous, curious, sweet.NEUTRAL TRAITS  morally ambiguous, a little dumb.NEGATIVE TRAITS  morally ambiguous (again,) slow to trust, enabler, chaos lover.DEMEANOR  moss usually looks very lost and curious when not in his home forest, and has an air of stupidity and kindness about him. sometimes, however, he can be a little unnerving, and his morals seem up in the air.NEURODIVERGENCES & DISORDERS  anxiety, autism, adhd.

PARENTS 
- lormle, the mushroom king.
OTHERS 
- squish, his pet rabbit with a mushroom cap on his head. seems to appear and disappear at will.
- amanita, a moorbounder, and his new best friend.
SIGNIFICANT OTHER 
- none </3 he is kissless</3
CLASS  druid ( circle of spores ) / warlock ( pact of the archfey. )WEAPONS  a few daggers, staff of swarming insects.RESIDENCE  deep in the forest, in an ancient abandoned stone city. often wanders, or appears in the feywild.LANGUAGES  common, elven, druidic, sylvan, infernal, myconid.POWERS / ABILITIES / SKILLS  nature and offensive magic, with a focus on poison, spores, fungus, trickery, and manipulation. a few healing and party-buffing spells. can shapeshift into a variety of animals. possesses the ability to speak with animals at will.OCCUPATION  your friend, protector of the forest, name stealer, secret keeper, prince of mushrooms.

A BABY'S CRIES AWAKEN THE FOREST, a bundle abandoned atop a stump. an uncourted fey named lormle, king of the mushrooms, who had found his way into the mortal world discovered the baby, and adopted him as his own.  he named the baby moss, and raised him in the forest,  where an old civilization of stone buildings and statues stood crumbling and grown-over. not accustomed to mortal ways enough to teach them, moss was raised with ... interesting moral standings, sheltered away in his forest abode, never venturing into proper civilization. lormle brings him gifts, stolen treasures from the outside world, clothes, food, and trinkets to decorate his stone walls.now an adult, moss is a strange thing, but considers his life to be a lavish thing; he wants for nothing, draped in stolen silks, putting on plays with his tiny myconid friends, and living off the land and the food it provides.  still, he's curious of other mortals like himself,  and has recently discovered what kissing is, and has made it his personal quest to receive as many kisses as possible.

recently, moss' father has sent him away from home for the first time----his first ever adventure, in order to see the world, and collect names and secrets that lormle may find useful. moss doesn't particularly like it out in the world, and already finds himself overwhelmed: frightened by several instances of combat, and suffocated by treeless city air, or the lack thereof. nevertheless, he tries to makes friends, seeking nature and like-minded individuals everywhere he goes.his latest adventure has been a trip to the underdark, and though he hasn't like it one bit, he has found himself leaning more into his mischief, and understanding things just a little better. he and his newfound friends camped inside a large underground fungal forest, and for the first time in awhile: moss feels right at home. except, they're about to approach a dragon, who apparently is only friend to the mushrooms...

moss' campaign has only been going on for a little whle! not much has happened to him specifically yet, so there isnt much meat or angst to this backstory. we have dnd every friday, so check this space for potential updates! we've recently discovered the main plotline (apparently earlier than we were expected to,) so expect things to get a little fucky. until then, this space serves as a little wrap-up of moss' experience in campaign so far!

  1. main verse. based primarily in a homebrew dnd world, but easily tweakable for general faerun stuff, bg3, cr, or even taz balance! tldr he's a strange little tiefling who was raised by an archfey, not that he'll tell you that right away. bring him along for your adventures and give him a pinecone :)

  2. modern verse. moss, and everything is mostly the same, except its in the real world and lormle is a woodsy off-the-grid guy, and they live in a little cottage in the woods. moss is a weird little sheltered homeschool kid who talks to bugs.

  1. dragon age verse. moss is a creature far disconnected from the world. found abandoned as a baby in the deep forest, he was raised by a strange spirit of the woods, raised as what one might wish to call a 'witch of the woods.' and he's very odd looking; appearing to be some odd mix between possibly a qunari and an elf----his ears are pointed, his skin a strange shade of greyish-green, and he has horns upon his head that almost jut out like antlers. he never ventures into the world, knows near nothing of the culture outside his little home----until demons begin appearing from nowhere, spilling from a rift in the sky, and he's forced to leave his home in search of safety. he finds it within the inquisition, timidly asking to stay with them, just until its safe to go home. in exchange, he can offers his magical skills for healing, as well as survival skills learned from living in the forest. note: qunari/elf is the closest i could get to tiefling, so we're working with it. he doesn't actually know, anyways. biowares whole 'blah blah if a human and elf have a baby thats just a human' lore is stupid and i hate it. the more employees bioware lays off the more im eating their lore and shitting it out. <3

NAME  giovanni de viscardi.NICKNAME/ALIAS  vanni, gio, little moon.TITLES  none.AGE  375 and counting.DATE OF BIRTH  april 27, 1644.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  bisexual.SPECIES  human, cursed with immortality.BIRTHPLACE  rieti, italy.RESIDENCE  an old house hidden in the mountains outside of bevino---usually just says 'sanremo' for ease, since its close. often takes up long-term residence in rentals in other countries, frequently the states and france. always returns to his house, in the end.

HEIGHT  5'6".HAIR  loose, pitch black curls with the sides shaved, always falling over a particular portion of his forehead.EYES  near-black brown, very empty and old looking.OTHER  a plethora of little scars covering his arms, torso, stomach, etc. one especially large incision down the center of his chest, over the heart. a scar over the throat, reopened several times. a bullet wound scar on his forehead, beneath his hair. tattoos covering his arms and fingers.FACE CLAIM  aneurin barnard / lucas jade zumann.DRESS STYLE  by modern times, giovanni dresses, for lack of better words; like an e-boy. all black unless stripes are incorporated, lots of layers and sometimes jewelry, and absolutely never seen without a turtleneck or scarf covering his throat. in historical periods, he dresses accordingly; but still very goth and bundled up.DEMEANOR  giovanni, though seemingly youthful in appearance, carries himself in the manner of an old man; his eyes are old, his movements seem to creak and ache him, and his posture is weary as someone well beyond his years. he’s distant, closed off; not the most approachable looking man in your local cafe. and, whether one can tell or not, he often hobbles as though sporting injuries, pushing through one pain or another.POSITIVE TRAITS listener, attentive, apologetic, caring.NEUTRAL TRAITS  honest, quiet, broody, melancholic, blunt, cold, lonely.NEGATIVE TRAITS  apathetic, pessimistic, stoic, stubborn, impulsive, non-feeling.DIAGNOSIS 
- depression, comorbid PTSD.
- some chronic pain, poor lungs, a bad knee, nerve damage and scar tissue that can flare up, horrendous stroke-mimicking migraines due to past brain damage. heart murmur.

DECEASED RELATIONS 
- francesco de viscardi ( father, )
- marietta de viscardi ( stepmother, )
- matteo and niccolo rossi ( stepbrothers, )
- cornelia de viscardi ( half sister, )
- benedetta de viscardi ( nee. fiore, wife, )
- martino de viscardi ( son. )
LIVING RELATIONS 
- eddie liu ( 'acquaintance,' verse dependent partner. )
- the star man. ( ???? )
OCCUPATION  unemployed, living off old family wealth and money from previous jobs. used to help out in funeral homes, mortuaries, graveyards, etc.RELIGION  raised extremely catholic. torn between nonpracticing, religiously traumatized, and borderline obsessed. depends on the day.LANGUAGES  italian, english, french, mandarin chinese, russian, german, spanish, rough latin. recently started learning swedish.SKILLS  well-practiced piano, which he has played since childhood. cooking. a little bit of painting. still vaguely remembers some ballroom dancing. has a knack for researching.ABILITIES  cursed with immortality. giovanni is unable to permanently die, try as he might. he can enter a state of 'death,' of sorts, in which his body is unmoving, shut down, and going cold, while his consciousness itself is in a sort of void state, which he calls purgatory. the way giovanni describes it: he can be close to death, see it on the horizon, reach out for it and almost touch it, then gasp awake at the last moment. he is always aware when he is 'dead,' and can feel it when he's about to wake up again. his lifeforce is persistant----his heart is able to beat even when severed from his body. he's tested it.

1644.  a little boy is born to francesco and felicita de viscardi. they name him giovanni, and he bears more resemblance to his father than his mother. his father adores him immediately; they form a fast bond, giovanni his father's treasure.1653.   giovanni, aged nine, wakes in the night to a scream. he enters his parent's bedroom to find his mother limp and empty on her pillow; father is pale. he tells giovanni she was ill, and he awoke to find her cold. giovanni remembers her hand still being warm when he touched it.
months later, his grandmother, convinced that francesco murdered her daughter, and bearing a resentment for him and giovanni both; takes giovanni into the forest, and places a curse of immortality upon him. she claims she couldn't look at him anymore, and that hurting the child is the parent's greatest punishment; a life for life. francesco is devastated.
giovanni, traumatized by the occurance, bears almost no memory of this---he only remembers a witch, the dark forest, and his father weeping. he has forgotten his nonna all but entirely.
shortly after this, francesco marries another woman, who he already seems well acquainted with, and adopts her two sons. he claims it is a marriage of convenience for them both.
1654-1659.   mortified by the sinful nature of magic placed upon his son, francesco's life becomes consumed with removing the curse, and cleansing giovanni entirely. these years become a blur. by the time he turns fifteen, and still doesn't look a day over nine, his father's determination only grows. life becomes painful, and terrifying. countless, weekly exorcisms. priests praying over his body, dousing him in water, vinegar, and any other concoction they can think up. nearly drowning him in rivers and lakes. only a child, still, he comes to associate the sound of his name being called with walking headfirst into terror, only to walk out disappointed. he nearly dies when they try to bleed out the rest of his cursed blood. nothing happens.1660-??.   the year gives a mild distraction. giovanni's new step mother, marietta, gives birth to a baby girl. giovanni hopes this sibling will like him, as none of his step family hold any affection for him. he loves her right away, little cornelia, adores her; but is quickly swept away from her, fallen ill with a terrible fever. the sickness races through him like a darkness with a vendetta. its fast. within a month, it kills him. the memory of coughing until he couldn't anymore, until his lungs felt empty and oxygen nonexistent, still haunts him. his illness suffocated him to death. he awoke the next morning, to the mortification of all those around him. it was his first real death. from then, recovery was slow, nearly a year long-----as he wasn't only recovering from illness, but recovering from death itself. death was dark and empty. he begins to call it purgatory; the quiet in between.
life blurs again. the family with the boy who denied death have to move house, run away from the scorn of their neighbors, the hatred. it frightens giovanni, the way people begin to see him. they can never stay in one place. cornelia is his only friend, but then, in her thirteenth year; a fever takes her, too, only she doesn't wake back up. devastated, terrified, and tired, giovanni's life becomes a haze. he's old enough to be an adult, but barely looks a teenager. life is a miserable time of loss. he doesn't see more of it coming.
1704-1720.   it comes. life becomes death after death, loss another thing giovanni expects alongside breakfast. his father, an old man, goes first, then his stepmother, then the oldest brother followed by the youngest. he's passed around family members for care like a family heirloom, a puppy needing constant rehoming to keep him fed and warm. with them all dead, he's left with no choice but to press on alone; still only looking like a young man in his late teens, wandering italy alone in search of jobs, housing, stability, and friends.

1851.   finally appearing like a young adult, giovanni's eyes begin to harbor the darkness and loss of an old, old man. he stops looking for friends-----they all die or run from him in the end, anyways. he keeps those that appear, though he knows knowing them will only ever end in pain. this is the year he first tries to take his own life. he thinks perhaps the illness just didn't kill him hard enough. he wakes up. he tries again. he wakes up. eventually, he loses count. he just wakes up. the part that comes before waking up starts to itch at him like a craving, an addiction. he wakes up. he wakes up. but at least for a few hours, he gets to sleep.
to try and break the curse, he begins research in areas that scare him, things that would have been deemed sinful by his father. magic, curses, death itself; he even travels, learning folklore surrounding death and immortality across the globe, anything to make it all stop. nothing seems to work.
1862.   on the verge of losing himself, giovanni earns a brief reverie. her name is benedetta; she wears a yellow dress the first time they meet, and her crooked smile captivates him upon first glance. their courtship is immediate, when he gains the courage to speak to her, and they're a fast pair. she understands his struggles; she hears his pain, sees his scars, and does not deem him sinful----benedetta doesn't run from him. they share a dream of a quiet, cozy life, with children running amok. they're married by the end of the year. no two people had ever been more in love.
while their marriage is a happy, joyful thing, their shared life together is not so lucky. giovanni knows he'll lose her in the end, but what he doesn't expect is how many losses come first. they try again and again for a successful pregnancy, but each lasts barely a few months, always lost in the end. their deaths weigh on the pair like a ton of bricks. giovanni blames his curse, his darkness for their losses. why should he get to live forever, when his children can't even get one breath of life, can't even meet him?
1865.   is when a pregnancy reaches full term, when a life is swapped for a life yet again. a baby boy is born, little martino, and the love they feel for him could fill another planet. the birth is a strain on benedetta's body, and so are the hours that follow. they think little of it. she's weak, tired, the bleeding was severe, but ... surely she'll be alright. that night, giovanni curls up beside her in bed, wraps her arms around his body and nestles into the crook of her neck. when he wakes, the skin against his is cold, and benedetta is limp, empty. he awakens in his dead wife's arms, and the scream that tears from his lungs makes the all the world feel silent around him. something shifts in him, that day; something numbs. he doesn't feel right. but he holds onto himself, for as long as he can. after all, he has a baby to look after, all on his own.1866-1900.  giovanni and martino are the best of friends. their love and understanding for each other knows no bounds, and even despite his grief, giovanni feels a warmth in his heart that is brand new. fatherhood suits him. despite all the days he takes ill, the days that numbness feels a little too strong, or martino's questions about his mother strike too sharply; giovanni glows within fatherhood, couldn't say enough thanks for the blessing of his son. he secludes them away in a house in the forests of italy, a short trip away from san remo, where they enjoy the beach, collect sea glass together. martino keeps a box beneath his bed of all the trinkets he collects. he grows to be a soft, tender thing. sensitive and sweet, a lover of fairy stories, nature, poetry, writing.
giovanni secludes him for as long as he possibly can, mortified by the idea of martino falling ill, or getting into an accident. when martino is nineteen, the seclusion finally strikes the wrong nerve, and for the first time in his life, he and giovanni get into an argument. it doesn't last long; and it ends with martino allowed to attend college, under the condition that he still live at home. after college, he goes on to teach small children at a local schoolhouse.

1900.  the year can be marked as the death of the de viscardis. only thirty-five, martino catches a case of pneumonia, and dies choking in his bed, begging for life.
in his despair, at the height of his agony, giovanni cuts the heart from his chest in the middle of the living room. for, he theorizes, he can't stay alive without a beating heart. when he wakes from death, he only hangs on for a second; long enough to see his heart in the palm of his hand, beating strained and irregular. the recovery took months, grasping onto the few seconds when his eyes would flutter open, when between the gasping and seizing he could return the organ back to its place, crawl himself to bed, and let the flesh around it heal.
something clicks into place for him, then. the numbness takes over, it spreads across his body like a curse of its own. giovanni gives up, truly, for the last time. he settles himself never to love again, never to be happy, content, or feel anything at all----it all leads bad to misery and loss, in the end. no, he finds it better to be stoic, secluded, a creature hidden behind his own walls, living only because he has no choice, living to try and end it. he dedicates his every second to his work, to trying to break his curse.
1982.  on martino's birthday, a wave of emotion hits after so many years. its too much for giovanni, too overwhelming, so he tries something new, and puts a gun to his own head. the rest of the eighties are consumed with recovery from brain damage.2018.  after years of seclusion, only entertaining people long enough to satisfy a night, or be polite, giovanni runs into a man living in italy, who doesn't speak a word of italian. his name is eddie liu, and somehow, he sticks. once they meet, there's never a time where he isn't near. eddie accepts and understands him, even assists medically when needed. he's a writer, somewhat obsessed with giovanni's condition. and he's in love; giovanni claims to share no such sentiment, but they share a bed and eventually a house, anyways. despite it all, eddie stays.NOW.  giovanni does all he can to break his curse. he still travels, still tries, and is currently trying at necromancy to revive his father, ask what he remembers of that fateful day. thus far, he is utterly unsuccessful, with no gift for magic himself. the most he has managed to do was resurrect a dead raccoon, which lived long enough to bite him, jump off the table, and die again.if you thought wil's bio was long, then i'm sorry to slide this across the table, lmao. giovanni is from my incredibly long novel i still need to do a rewrite of and edit, so he's got a lot to him.

  1. present verse. follows giovanni's day to day in present times; traveling, studying anything from magic and folklore to various religions and their views on curses, trying desperately to break the curse, or simply sitting in coffee shops, sometimes joined by another man, staring out the window for up to hours at a time. on the surface, he just seems to be a very dark, very stoic and isolated man, but the supernaturally inclined may be able to sniff out the curse that envelopes him, and determined mortals may get a word or two out of him, if they're persistent enough.

  2. past verse. available for any time before the present day; from giovanni as a young man in the 16/1700s, before even meeting his wife or losing himself entirely, to victorian father giovanni, all the way to the giovanni of the 1980s, suffering from self-inflicted brain damage, alone and relearning how to perform basic functions.

  3. santo vitale au. what sparks within the soul, when enough prayers are said to it? in this au, enough people become aware of giovanni's immortality that his story becomes twisted into something divine over time; this divinity sparks into something alive within him, and soon enough, prayers said into the empty air begin to reach his ears: prayers to a god of immortality, of life long lived, of time. it greys his hair, his eyes, dulls his blood into something that seems to shimmer. giovanni becomes revered as a god, santo vitale----but he doesn't want it, suffocates under prayers for the one thing he's tried for centuries to be rid of, answers them only with exhaustion, with tears and confusion.

  1. fantasy verse. dragon age, elder scrolls, dnd, etc giovanni's story is essentially the same; he's a human, he was cursed by magic at a young age, and is still alive now trying very hard not to be. minor details such as religion, birthplace, and historical events he's witnessed vary based on setting, but really its the same basic concept across worlds. as far as class goes, he doesn't have one. he's just a civilian :)

  2. asoiaf verse. ok listen i fully fleshed out this verse but i did it verbally without writing it down and now i forget. what i do remember is that his curse is old valyrian in nature, he has valyrian blood very distantly, and he's so old he's lived thru like Everything like name a historical event in asoiaf he was there. he's tired at this point and doesn't give a damn who sits the iron throne frankly. i'll flesh this out and actually write it another time.

  3. misc. i can fit giovanni in lots of different places, if need be! tma (PLEASE,) cowboy settings, cult aus, the literal underworld, anything! none of these verses have been truly fleshed out yet due to lack of use, so come plot, and it'll be a tailored experience!

NAME  evandir athril.NICKNAMES  someone should call him evie :(AGE  26.SPECIES  elf.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  bisexual.

HEIGHT  5'10.HAIR  dark, about shoulder length, wavy and usually pulled into a half-up style.EYES  previously a warm brown, now they are more amber in tone, and glow.OTHER  occasionally, particularly when he feels threatened, one can see the magic running through evandir's veins.FACE CLAIM  maxim baldry.DRESSING STYLE  dresses modestly, preferring to be covered up--though he enjoys lots of color, fun patterns, and drapery.POSITIVE TRAITS  gentle, shy, giving, attentive.NEUTRAL TRAITS  jumpy, slow to trust, quiet, curious.NEGATIVE TRAITS  self loathing, suspicious, guilty.DEMEANOR  evandir is somewhat closed off, though its clear he longs for connection and someone to trust. he is quiet, and keeps to himself, though when interacting with others or learning something new, there is a certain light in his eyes.NEURODIVERGENCES & DISORDERS  ptsd. anxiety. depression. survivors guilt.

PARENTS 
- andreas athril ( father, † )
- helene athril ( mother, † )
SIBLINGS 
- korinna athril ( older sister, † )
- maximos athril ( little brother. † )
CLASS  no definable class, a mixure of all magic casters.RELIGION  acknowledges the gods, but worships none.BIRTHPLACE  sunhold, morrona.RESIDENCE  wandering, lost.LANGUAGES  common, elvish.POWERS / ABILITIES / SKILLS  an assortment of mismatched and badly controlled magic: conjuration, offensive spells, healing magic, blood magic, shadow magic, necromancy, you name it. he is still grasping the scope of his abilities, and discovering new spells every day. this, however, makes him quite volatile: think of wild magic in dnd.OCCUPATION  does odd jobs and spellwork for money.

tucked against the border of morrona, the elven kingdom, and andon, the human kingdom, sunhold was a small settlement, known for nothing in particular, populated with people from both sides of the border. it was built in harmony by elves and humans, founded by a married couple seeking a homestead close to both of their homes. its residents were a tight-knit community, who worked without complaint for everything they had, always jumping to help a neighbor with one project or the next. this is where evandir was born to the athril family, a quaint elven family that ran a well-loved general store.evandir's childhood was mostly uneventful. his parents were gentle and loving, and as the middle of three children, he was rarely bored, always getting up to one mischief or the next with them, babysitting his little brother, or being sent on errands and deliveries with his older sister. in their free time, the children loved most to have picnics outside of town, where they sprawled out over a large quilt and each read a different book, now and then sharing about the plot, or what they were learning. evandir loved schooling books the most, always pairing his reads with a blank journal to take notes, or doing math in the margins of old textbooks. because of his affinity for learning and how well he did with numbers, evandir was set to inherit the store, and was the first of the children to begin shadowing their parents during working hours, helping inside the store rather than outside. secretly, though he felt fulfilled by the work he did, evandir always hoped that in his adulthood, he might temporarily leave sunhold to pursue higher education before taking over the store. this was a well-kept secret, however, one he never quite found the courage to express or act on.when evandir was twenty-three, things began to change in sunhold. visitors from deeper within the elven kingdom became more frequent, some of them almost looking rich, noble. they were terribly interested in sunhold and its people, though they would not say what for. they would visit, inspect the town with a careful eye, enter into deep conversations with its people, and then leave until doing it all over again. some of sunhold's residents became quite close to these visitors, and eventually began scouting around town with them, whispering things into their ears.by the time evandir was twenty-four, these visitors had become permanent residents. this was the beginning of the end for sunhold. it started simply, quietly: these new residents were mages and wizards, looking for willing participants in various experiments. nothing harmful, they claimed. at first, there was a large number of volunteers, the people of sunhold curious, eager to see magic so far from morrona's capital. such interesting things never happened in sunhold, after all----most thought the rest of morrona forgot about them, including their very king----so many were tripping over each other for the chance to help with something grand. but as time and experiments carried on, the number of volunteers began to dwindle, and a handful of people even went missing.

this is when the mages turned on sunhold for true. when the number of volunteers dwindled down to none, these people---who called themselves the hands of augmentation----began forcing the residents of sunhold into their experiments, taking them from their homes, even clapping them in chains. soon the people of sunhold were prisoners to it, and the hands of augmentation assumed complete control of the settlement.the experiments, it was revealed, were to see if the mortal body could withstand every type of magic at once----if a mega-class could be formed out of this, a healer, necromancer, wizard, druid, and dozens of others all in one body. the cult was forcing magic into the blood and bodies of those with no affinity for casting, many of them dying at the first touch of magic, some surviving until the point of overload. a select few survived the magical injections, though the weight of all that magic wreaked havoc on their health, and left them in various states of illness, coma, and catatonia.evandir, subjected to the magic in his twenty-fifth year, was one of the survivors. despite being funneled full of different magicks over and over again, he did not fall, barely weakened, and his body seemed to adjust well to the changes, however slowly. the longer he lived, the more careful the cultists became with him, taking their time in adding more magic, allowing him long recovery times in which he was practically doted on, and training him---though he never got a very good grip on controlling his new magic. because of his resilience, he quickly became a favorite of the augmenters, even catching the eyes of their higher-ups, who jumped on the opportunity to try converting him to their ways, manipulating his mind to their favor. evandir was not convinced, but pretended for the sake of his still-living family: he thought if he behaved, let himself be favored, then they might be spared.he was wrong. just shy of his twenty-sixth birthday, every one of his family members was subjected to magical injections, the cultists sure something within their bloodline was special, perhaps even touched by the gods. his little brother was the first to perish, followed by his mother, then his father. his older sister survived for some time, and the two confided in each other----evandir going to her for comfort, often losing himself to the panic and heartbreak he was bearing, clutching onto her as though he might fall through the ground. two months into her recovery, however, korinna perished, and evandir lost the last living member of his family.the grief was too much to bear. why could the cult not have left his family alone? why was evandir's importance not enough to save them? why was sunhold so forgotten, that even the kingdom of moonhaven did not come to their rescue? why did no one care for sunhold? evandir had watched families he'd grown up with die, seen his closest friends go still with catatonia, had watched as the cult treated them all like lesser beings, cattle.

and filled with magic so strong it made his eyes go grey, evandir begin to feel his grief mingling with his magic, and an unstoppable force flushed into his veins-----he felt fear, agony, terror, and them something like a blinding fire: and the world went dark.evandir became a bomb. a bright flash of magic erupted from him, the sound of its explosion so loud it was heard across all of morrona. he had no control of it, and no idea of what he'd done----until he awoke the next morning in a pile of ash and rubble, sunhold completely leveled, with no survivors but him.his home was a wasteland, smoke billowing from ashen patches that hinted at previous buildings and structures. seeing the empty land of what used to be sunhold, he screamed, and it echoed against the chilling silence, caused a rainstorm to erupt over the land. from here, evandir was all a-panic, scrambling across the wasteland in search of any life, any survivors. he knelt by bleeding bodies and shook them, begged them to awaken, and they did----his necromantic magic flowing into their bones, raising the dead to follow him like minions. when an entire crowd of them was following behind him against his will, he screamed again, begged them to stop---and they all dropped again into a pile, corpses once more.evandir tried to use his own magic against himself, to either do harm to himself, or pry the lifeforce from his body-----but his magic would not act, would not harm its host, and so he stood living and breathing among the remnants of all he'd ever known. petrified, sick, and filled with self hatred, he ran----with no direction in mind, no purpose any longer besides getting away from this horror. and he lived. despite his every wish, the deep-rooted hope that his magic might become too much for him, evandir lived another day, and then another, wandering the lands of morrona, hidden and shrouded with his secret, chipping away at survival.

  1. main verse. a general fantasy / dnd type verse, in which evandir is wandering after the destruction of sunhold, trying to survive and find purpose in his life again. he does a lot of odd jobs here and there, as well as small magical favors when he feels confident enough. he is occasionally found in the company of atlas, prince of moonhaven, written by @eueclid :)

  2. modern verse. evandir is a cult survivor, having been born into the hands of augmentation after his family was lured in by them. the hands focus was greatly on magic existing within every person and needing to be drawn out, as well as the concept of a magical 'ascension,' with various rituals and ceremonies being commonplace. when evandir was 26, the hands arranged one final ritual that they claimed would lead every member to ascend into their true magical form----which was, of course, actually a mass suicide. evandir, having begun deprogramming in secret and researching online, was too scared to proceed with the ritual, so he pretended: but to his terror, everyone he'd ever known, his family included, proceeded to drop dead around him. none of them woke, none of them exploded with great power---and he knew then that everything he'd been raised on was a lie, and his family was gone forever. he lay there in that room filled with the dead in a traumatized stupor for two days, until neighbors, suspicious by the lack of activity in the house, called in a wellness check. the police escorted a terrified evandir to the hospital, and a new life began for him----an unfamiliar life out in the world, with little knowledge of how it actually works.

  3. tolkien verse. evandir is an elf originally from rivendell, though he has not been able to return home in some time. for years he cannot count, and due to the simple mistake of exploring and getting lost, he has been held hostage by the dark lord's forces-----a sort of toy to sauron, an experiment. in an attempt to forge his own sort of hyper-magical being, his own version of the istari, sauron funneled evandir with magic and darkness the likes of which evandir had never understood before. this was, of course, a failed experiment, given it was the valar who created the istari, and evandir has since escaped----now wandering the world in terror, brimming with magic he doesn't understand how to control. and with the building tension in middle earth, the growing threat of sauron's forces----evandir feels more and more afraid, terrified he will be captured and used as a weapon once more.

  1. bg3verse. not much needs to be changed from evandir's main verse to fit into bg3----sunhold is just a place within faerun, and the magical classes funneled into him were actually made with dnd classes in mind. here, though, the hands of augmentation were beginning to connect with the absolute cult, another terrifying factor which led to evandir's explosion. the absolute cult has a particular interest in acquiring evandir for his abilities, so when encountered by tav, he will beg for their protection, that they don't let 'those creatures' take him away again.

  2. dragon age verse. evandir and everything is the same except sunhold is located in the dales, near the emerald graves, and the hands of augmentation are posing as a circle to get away with casting + their mistreatment of mages. many of the deaths from their experiments are the result of their victims becoming abominations. here, evandir is more aligned with the elven gods and fen'harel especially, and another trigger of his magical explosion is all the fuckery in the world prior to the events of veilguard making his magic extra unstable. after the destruction of sunhold, he wanders in the direction of minrathous, curiosity piqued by mention of the elven gods, hoping perhaps one of them could help with his affliction. needless to say he is disappointed and scared, lmao! it becomes clear that ghilan'nain and elgar'nan would much rather use him for his magic, so he flees from them, feeling once again betrayed and lost. he can be recruited as a veilguard companion, though his magic is very unstable and he is reluctant to use it.

NAME  octavo adorin.NICKNAME/ALIAS  tav, tabby to family and close friends.TITLES  none.AGE  25.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  bisexual.SPECIES  altmer / high elf.

HEIGHT  5'10.HAIR  blonde waves, usually kept around ear-length or slightly longer.EYES  pure golden and glowing.OTHER  the bright gold skin typical of altmer. bright freckles to match, that almost seem to glow or glitter.FACE CLAIM  lucas lynggaard tønnesenDRESSING STYLE  dresses quite lavishly and androgynously, loving the look of layers, drapery, silk, and sheer fabrics. he is always in too much jewelry, and often adorns himself in makeup and glitter.POSITIVE TRAITS  eager, excitable, lavish, friendly.NEUTRAL TRAITS  over-indulgent, picky, crybaby, flirty, suggestive.NEGATIVE TRAITS  greedy, lazy, unmotivated, clingy, overly-trusting, falls in love too easily, air-headed.DEMEANOR  octavo is a very extraverted, forward person. he likes to flirt, usually with the intention of it going somewhere quite fast, despite his affinity for falling in 'love' with someone his first time in their bed. he is a dreamy, life-loving boy, who strives in all things to have fun, and live gloriously. he carries himself with a certain confidence, always throwing bright smiles across a room.DIAGNOSIS  anxiety, adhd. needs glasses, but he only wears them alone at home.

PARENTS 
- morana adorin ( mother. )
- nurrion adorin ( father. )
SIBLINGS 
- orwen adorin ( brother. )
- valiaya adorin. ( sister. )
CHILDREN 
- avanwe ( daughter, unknown. )
CLASS  rogue / bard.RELIGION  follows the altmeri pantheon, loosely.BIRTHPLACE  summerset.RESIDENCE  a cottage in the rift.LANGUAGES  common, altmeri.SKILLS  well trained in swordplay and dual wielding. writing, gardening, jam-making, beekeeping, painting, baking, singing, and being pretty.OCCUPATION  unemployed, sometimes sells the fruit he grows or various jams and honeys he makes, steals in desperate times. aspiring trophy husband.

a golden boy born into a life of luxury, it should have been expected that octavo would turn out a bit spoiled, taking delight in the lavish and expensive rather than what mattered. his family were highborn, after all, wealthy, some of them merchants----they even gave themselves a surname some generations ago, adorin; a way to differentiate themselves from the others, keep ties strong. so its no wonder that the youngest son ended up with a sense of pride, of being above others, entitlement-----but it would prove too much for even the snobbiest of families to bear.growing up was the first of many strikes. he was not interested in his lessons, in anything that was less than fun; he wanted to lounge, enjoy himself, to shop and listen to music and flutter about the fields. to drink and be merry, when he was of the age. he wanted to kiss pretty people and feel kingly when they traced over the shape of his body, proclaimed with mouth pressed to his collarbone that they could not get enough of him.it got him far enough. a fiance he adored, a lovely young woman whose beauty nearly matched his; he loved to parade about with her, hand in gentle hand, he loved to show off that she was his; look at us, we’re beautiful, she loves me. someone loves me. by now it was no secret that none of his family did, after all, besides his brother----someone loved him. that was enough.until it wasn’t, until she didn’t. an ex boyfriend began slandering him across all of summerset, and all of alinor was saying the same thing; octavo is easy, octavo gets around, the adorin boy jumps from bodies like moths to a flame. even rumors of unfaithfulness; this one in particular sent him crying himself to sleep, begging his fiance to believe him----he was lazy, a greedy and selfish thing,

the rumors were ceaseless, so it was decided there was but one remedy; a duel, in proper altmer fashion, but the boy was mortified-----he didn’t want to hurt his ex despite this slander, even if it was only with blunt dueling weapons. he didn't want to duel at all. there had to be a way out, he thought, a quieter solution, but there wasn’t; nothing but forfeit, which by standard rules would make the opposing party the winner, make the rumors right.the day of the duel came, and it was disaster; octavo stumbled over the opening words, messed up on every speech, and when it came to the fighting----he cowered, flinched, and soon found himself simply dropping his weapon; this is foolish, he sneered, the tears in his eyes finally falling, i don’t want to duel anyone.he thought it would be the noble thing to do, but before he could even breathe, he found himself with nothing. such a fluster brought shame to his family, dishonor; if they didn’t already hate him before, they certainly did then. he was disowned, an embarrassment, thrown from his household----even his fiance would not have him, none but his brother would even pay him a glance. to them, he was nothing, any longer. just the spoiled brat they once knew-----not family, not an adorin.all he could do was leave, wander, try to carry on in the optimistic way he always did. for the first few months, it was sad, lonesome; his cheeks crimsoned when he asked for money, disappeared from inns before paying for his meal, when he offered his body to a stranger if only to have food and bed for the night. for he could have sought out a job, of course, but he so loathed the idea of labor, of working; he wasn’t meant for such a distasteful life, that would be embarrassing above all else!

no, he came to get by with his charm and beauty; distracting enough that strangers would not notice him making off with their coin, that they would offer him assistance without him having to beg-----eventually, he found a home in the rift, with fruit trees in the back yard, and life seemed to be looking up. he could sell the fruit, that wasn’t so hard, and with his stealing and fluttering eyelashes, he found coming across money was not so difficult, either.its not the most ideal life, but octavo has crafted it to be good enough for now; his house is pretty, his fruit tastes sweet, and he has plenty of yard space within which he can lounge and read poems. still, though, he wishes for a change; wishes he could go home, or at the very least find someone kindly to marry, so he could simply live as a pretty house-husband, and wouldn’t have to worry again.and what he still doesn't know, years later, is that shortly after his exile, his ex-fiance discovered she was pregnant. she bore them a daughter, and hid away with her----keeping this secret from all but the adorin family, who paid her off to keep this quiet. its been years since octavo has been home, and he has yet to even learn about his daughter, who yearns from across the sea to know of her father.

  1. main / tes. octavo lives in his little cottage in the rift, occasionally selling his various products in riften's market, and venturing into the city to mingle, flirt, and entertain himself. his goal is to move into a bigger, prettier house, though secretly he's living in hope that soon enough, his family will send for him to come home. he's too scared and baby to really help the dragonborn with all of that alduin business, but offers his home as a regular resting place for them, with the promise of warm bread and jam served with honeyed wine whenever they need a place to lay their head.

  2. modern verse. octavo was forced to go to college by his parents, but upon seeing his failing grades and continuing spoiled behavior, they promptly grew tired of him, cutting him off from family and finances alike. now, he lives in a small cottage he’s managed to rent, working as a librarian's assistant----and doing so quite far from home, so no locals or friends he may meet will know he works, of all things, or got cut off. he spends a lot of his time riding around on his bike, flirting with strangers in at college parties, selling jam at farmer's markets, and reselling clothes on depop. he also, tragically, wears glasses---though most of the time he forgoes them, and squints at everything instead.

  1. historical verse. octavo’s family is one of wealth and status, and thus, despite their dislike for him; they refuse to disown octavo for fear of what such a scandal may do to their reputation. so instead, they’ve moved house completely, and don’t even speak of him-----those around town may not even know the adorin’s have a second son, unless they arrive as a guest and somehow stumble upon the wing of the house he’s shut up in, or see him roaming the gardens. octavo is all but disgraced for his laziness, unloved by his household, and rumor has started spreading that there’s been a baby girl birthed to their previous neighbor, with a striking resemblance to octavo….

  2. gen fantasy / dnd. octavo just kind of works in most fantasy settings: he's a high elf / sun elf from a land called summerset, and was driven out of his family and forced to live elsewhere, fending for himself as shown in his bio.

NAME  nyliahn starheart.NICKNAME/ALIAS  nylah.TITLES  none.AGE  30. ( very young adult in night elf terms, lol )GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis female, she / herORIENTATION  bisexual.SPECIES  kaldorei / night elf.

HEIGHT  6'0HAIR  greyish black, wavy. usually worn down or in messy half up styles. often holds onto leaves, flowers, and vines.EYES  warm, glowing golden.SKIN  a pale, greenish-teal, with a variety of freckles.OTHER  traditional night elf markings around her eyes and cheekbones, in a shade of teal, which look relatively new. burn scars on her body, primarily on her hands and arms. very long ears, which also have some burns.FACE CLAIM  ellise chappell.DRESSING STYLE  lots of pretty flowing dresses and layers. shades of green, brown, cream, blue, or pale purple. patches shaped like stars, moons, and flowers mending holes in various pieces. leather armor themed after nature and the moon, when required.PERSONALITY  nyliahn is a gentle girl, with a kind and caring heart. she has a softness for anything to do with nature, and a great fondness for the world at night, illuminated by the moon. though she is a sweet thing, and prone to anxiety, she has a brave and responsible streak about her, and is willing to keep her chin up and face whatever frightens her for the sake of those she loves. still, there's a new sadness in her eyes that seems to well them entirely, a grief to the tunes she hums while she works.

DIAGNOSIS  anxiety, ptsd.PARENTS 
- alanria starheart (mother, †)
- nandryn mossbloom (father,)
SIBLINGS 
- aledor starheart (younger brother, †)
PARTNER 
- elrytheria "ellie" summerscribe. (verse dependent)
CLASS  druid of the moon.RELIGION  polytheistic, worshipper of elune and the ancient guardian wild gods.BIRTHPLACE  darnassus.RESIDENCE  amirdrassil. formerly resided in stormwind, teldrassil, and darkshore.LANGUAGES  darnassian, common.ABILITIES  broadly nature based and healing magic, with an affinity for moon and star themed spells. stronger in her magic at night. can shapeshift into various animal forms. higher energy at night as well as night vision.OCCUPATION  druid, tailor, gardener, volunteer.

nyliahn was born in darkshore, to a loving, close-knit family-----her mother and father, and eventually a little brother. they ran a little tailoring shop together, which grew as the years went on, thus prompting them to move their business and their home to darnassus. they were happy, here, happy with their lives both individually and together. the children ran deliveries around the city, played together in the forests of teldrassil, and they all reconvened each night for warm dinner at a cozy table.in her adult years, nyliahn found an affinity for druidic magic, for healing, felt as though the very moon and stars ran through her veins----a blessing from elune. she took to this magic quickly, delving head-first into her studies. these studies would eventually bring her back to darkshore and reawaken her love for it, and she moved back there----but made it a habit to travel to darnassus as often as possible, often going back and forth multiple times per week to see her family, offer her services to her people, or even just have dinner and spend the night at home.it was in darkshore where the first of many disasters struck her, where the dark, dark end of things began. she remembers fire, screaming, she remembers running and running until she thought her legs would give out, being cornered and surrounded by horde fighters------malfurion her one salvation, a wall of wisps shielding her and dozens of others from certain, gruesome death. it did not end there. the flames were carried elsewhere, to darnassus, to teldrassil------why? nyliahn wept, begged for the chance to go and help, put what little power she had to use, but by the time she got there everyone was gone; her father missing, her mother and brother dead, their shop and home a pile of stone and ash at her feet.nyliahn and her father, nandryn, were not reunited for a week, not until stormwind could sort out the refugees and put them back together. but nandryn was a changed man; where once he was soft and jolly, a man with a big smile and bellowing laugh, now he was silent-----he was sad, kept his eyes cast to the ground and embraced his daughter with a weak, half-alive hug.

his silence remained; he was reduced to little more than sounds and grunts, the occasional one-word answer when it was required of him. his sadness was too heavy, it weighed his shoulders nearly to the ground. nyliahn tried to carry it for him, but her own grief was already weight enough.her prior experience with tailoring was the closest thing they had to a saving grace. she was able to get them just barely on their feet in a month, putting her resources to good use helping local tailors, making clothes at discounted prices, and fixing holes and tears for whoever would pay her a silver or two. at the very least, it got them off the streets-----a small cottage with just enough room for the two of them, scraps of groceries to get them by. it was a start, it was something. yet with their family cut in half, even the walls of this small house felt empty, felt lacking.from there, nyliahn did her best to keep her chin up. she pushed forward to care for her father, working still as a tailor, taking commissions for all sorts of items-----clothes, blankets, curtains, whatever you can think of. in her off time, she sewed quilts and clothes out of scraps, put together tents and bags, and gave it all to other refugees-----those still on the street, still in need, in hopes that someday soon they'd all be, at the very least, balanced on their own two feet.this was how her life remained until very recently, when tyrande, ysera, and others put forth the effort to plant a new world tree in the emerald dream----this one called amirdrassil. a new home for the night elves. as soon as amirdrassil broke through the ground of the waking world, nyliahn and nandryn packed up their little stormwind home and moved it all to the newly-bit houses there, eager for the familiar feeling of home, of closeness to the dream, to their people. here, nyliahn continues to sew, to help, and to garden-----she travels around amirdrassil putting her druidic skills to use, and does all she can to heal, and help her father heal alongside her.

  1. canon/wow verse. takes place within the above bio. world of warcraft :) im certain i am never going to be able to use this verse on tumblr in my entire life but i can dream<3

  2. modern verse. after a house fire takes the lives of nylah's mother and brother, she and her father move into a house in the countryside not too far from a town. with her father being now mute and unwell, nylah decides its not wise to leave the house for so long every day to support them with a regular job---so in order to stay close to him, she starts an online business instead, selling handmade clothes, thrift flips, and various pieces she's crocheted or knit. she advertises quite shyly on social media, and has business deals in place with various shops in town, selling some of her work through them.

  1. general fantasy verse. nyliahn is a moon elf, and a circle of stars druid. the premise here is basically the same: she lost half her family to a fire in her village, caused by a fire element attack----the source of which remains unknown to them. she and her father move elsewhere, and she tailors to keep them afloat, volunteering her nature and healing magic in her spare time.

NAME  ser wulfgang cadogan.NICKNAME/ALIAS  wulf, wulfy.TITLES  knight of xona, the weaveblade, child of magic.AGE  31.GENDER & PRONOUNS  nonbinary, he / they.ORIENTATION  bisexual, male leaning.SPECIES  "human," demigod, made of magic.

HEIGHT  6'1HAIR  black locs, usually kept in a bun atop his head, now with an iridescent shine. shaved on the sides, so he can flip them in either direction.EYES  eyes of the magical weave itself, iridescent and shifting in color. hues of white, blue, purple, pink. previously simple brown.OTHER  iridescent freckles and veins, that seem to shimmer in the light.FACE CLAIM  jacob anderson.DRESSING STYLE  literally just dresses like a guy, puffy shirts, dark pants, armor and cloaks. rapiers at his side. recently has begun experimenting with more colors and drapery, as he embraces his demigod status. lots of gold jewelry, especially rings and bracelets.PERSONALITY  wulfgang is a ( hopefully ) charming mix of a jock himbo and a nerd. he's shy, but incredibly friendly and warm, and though some may seem him as intimidating----a literal god-child, and knight of the realm-----wulf is a soft man, who flusters easily, and is so gullible you could tell him its written on the ceiling.DIAGNOSIS  panic disorder. ptsd. adhd.RESIDENCE  his shared estate in xona.LANGUAGES  common, sign, elvish, draconic.

PARENTS 
- guinevere cadogan ( mother )
- amarn ( god of magic, father. )
PARTNER 
- alaric farrier ( best friend / husband / soulmate / verse dependent )
OTHER 
- iola farrier ( mother figure )
- anja ( mentor, resurrected. )
- yvonne and oswald ( anja's family.)
CLASS  fighter ( eldritch knight ) wizard ( war. )RELIGION  previously unaffiliated, now devoted to his father.ABILITIES  offensive magic, damage. lots of floaty, mind-fuck magic. multiplies himself and has a rapier that flies around. trained in swordfighting and hand to hand combat. learning chronomancy, and as much magic as he can.OCCUPATION  knight, demigod, leader of ( redacted )

A BABY BORN OF A VIRGIN MOTHER, scorned from her home, from her family, berated. wulfgang was born to his mother guinevere with no father to attribute him to, born on the same day as alaric farrier, whose mother iola had befriended guinevere as her pregnancy had occurred under the same circumstance. wulf and alaric became the best of friends, spent their days together morning to night sparring with sticks, reading to each other.  the boys wanted to be knights,   like the ones in their stories, valiant and honorable heroes, protectors of the land. as they grew, they met a woman named anja, a knight of the land of xona----and she trained them, took them under wing, her little prodigies. as they grew, they grew stronger, alaric taking to martial strength, while wulf had a natural skill in magic, going so far as to enchant his own weapons. when their training was completed, the mission that would make them knights lying at their feet, anja took the boys on one last venture as apprentices----but she never returned. a faulty bridge, reflexes that weren't quite quick enough; their mentor was gone, leaving the boys out in the wilderness with naught but each other. she would not approve of them turning from their mission, so they carried on in her name, made peace with a dragon that was tormenting the city, and returned; knights, heavyhearted, riddled with loss.anja's family cut them off, her wife and young son. it devastated the boys, but they had more to focus on now, anyways; they were knights, defenders of xona, collecting wealth, honor, status. they built up a tournament arena, where they put on fights, choreographed shows. their fame spread far and wide across valiar, an attraction to bring citizens back to xona.a group of researches disappeared in the underdark, and wulf and alaric were called on to lead the rescue group.  the rescue group was a bunch of buffoons, a sure set-up for disaster.  but they ventured forth, determined, unaware of what discoveries lied before them. through their adventures in the underdark, wulfgang came to realize he had an odd resistance to magic, an affinity for it----his eyes would glow gold when he touched old runes on a wall, his hands did not dissolve in pools of pure arcane.

magic constructs in this place he'd never been bent to his will, called him creator. and alaric, he was strong, beyond himself; his warrior spirit seemed to grow, and he was unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. a being of pure magic dug deep into their souls, and the answer behind these odd occurrences and their heritage was discovered; they were children of old gods, god's who's names had been long forgotten. alaric was fathered by the god of war. wulf, the god and creator of magic----amarn.the mission was successful only in finding bodies, and leads to a cult which was shaking the world. their mission became to escape, and when they did, life never was the same. they reported to the archmage with their findings, and were met with awe and exhaustion; it was true, these gods had fathered them, and they were returning to valiar----an entire pantheon of scorned, usurped gods, coming back to claim what was theirs. in the midst of it all, wulf got to meet his father amarn, and in their brief visitations the bond between them became unbreakable. wulf began to study magic under the creator of it himself, and he thrived----he changed,  the weave reflecting in his physical form,  glistening in his eyes, his hair, his very veins. alaric had yet to meet his father, but reached out nevertheless, hopeful, afraid.when the war between old gods and new came to a resolution, wulf fought side by side with his father and a group of adventurers who had discovered the occurrence in the first place. the old gods were contained behind the divine gate; not far, but never too close to the world to change it.  it was a month until amarn found the strength to visit wulf again.  he was greeted with open, eager arms, a son who had missed him, cried over his disappearance.now, wulf and alaric have gotten engaged, are planning their wedding, and to have children one day. guinevere has met the father of her child for the first time, and sparked a sweet romance with him. the boys continue on in their knighthood, and wulf has been approached by a powerful mage named sedalene, helping her create an order to protect the weave.

  1. main verse. takes place any time during or after the events of his biography! can easily be adapted to a general dnd verse, taz balance, cr, etc. just might get a lil complicated with the gods, but we can figure that out :)

  2. modern verse. wulf is just a guy. literally that’s it. he has welsh and german heritage, is childhood best friends with alaric, and the two of them have always been big stupid jocks with a nerd streak. like yeah they were probably on the football team but they also still bring magic the gathering cards to parties and try to plan a dnd group at least yearly. these guys will do keg stands then ask if you’ve ever read arthurian legend or been to a larp before. these days wulf and alaric work at medieval times as knights, so come catch a show!

  3. middle earth verse. though but five wizards are known to the world, many may have been sent to arda, and one such wizard went on to become wulf’s father. this particular wizard was curious about men and their families, and from this curiosity manifested a baby of his own from pure magic-----a man, in a way, but thrumming with magic in his very blood. tasked as all wizards were with keeping the children of iluvatar safe, this wizard knew that however much he wanted to keep this child, raise him; it could never be. so he brisked him away into gondor, and left him on the doorstep of a particularly lonesome looking woman, who yearned for a family of her own. wulf has absolutely no idea about his heritage, and is deeply confused as to how a simple man such as himself can be so skilled in magic. this skill has gotten him great titles and rewards, however, and he serves as a knight to minas tirith, determined to use this great power to keep all people safe. as always, alaric is present in this verse, another abandoned child that sparked up a great companionship with wulf, and fights alongside him as a knight.

  1. bg3 verse. similar to karsus, amarn is a powerful wizard, who went on to make his own version of the weave: toeing the line of godhood, letting it sink into his soul without truly realizing. the difference is that amarn kept to himself----he was simply a creator, a lover of magic, not trying to usurp any thrones or claim any titles. he loved his weave, his magic. but when he learned of the conflict with karsus, the real danger he was putting himself into: he compressed his weave into something smaller, and set out to faerun in search of somewhere to hide it. instead of a place, his search led him to a woman. she was perfect, tender, a good guardian and keeper---but amarn was not so selfish as to burden a stranger with this. however, the moment he set eyes on her, and his weave felt her safety: it gravitated towards her, left amarn's hand and settled itself to her. amarn's weave had given itself life, made itself into a baby, offered to sweet guinevere. to preserve the safety of them both, amarn went into hiding, far from them. his weave was born as wulfgang cadogan, a man with a natural knack for magic, who would go on to be a knight of the realm. when bg3 swings around, wulfgang can be recruited as a companion simply by speaking with you---he might even approach you himself. he asks for nothing in return: only that he's able to help save baldur's gate, save the world, and stop this cult of the absolute----as is his duty. but gale and magic-oriented tav's will feel something off about him, something strong: he feels like magic personified, like godhood, and quite frankly the magical energy wafting off him is strong enough to give one a headache. why?

  2. arthurian verse.knight :) like seriously what else is there to say he's got big magic and a mysterious yet kind aura about him. drop his ass at the round table he'll get shit done!!

NAME  martino de viscardi.NICKNAME/ALIAS  marti.AGE  35 at death in 1900.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  gay.SPECIES  human.

HEIGHT  5'10APPEARANCE  standing at 5'10, martino is a pale but sunkissed young man, with a smattering of freckles across his face. his hair is kept short but fluffy, a contained mess of loose curls.FACE CLAIM  maxence danet-fauvel.DRESSING STYLE  dresses in typical sophisticated late-victorian / early edwardian garb, leaning towards flowy fabric, floral patterns, and dark earthy color schemes, including lots of brows, greens, and black.PERSONALITY  martino is a shy young man, slow to conversation due to his sheltered and anxious nature. he's not socially the greatest, but is a kind soul, happy to chirp about whatever book he's been reading or writing.DIAGNOSIS  anxiety, depression, adhd.RESIDENCE  just outside sanremo, italy.LANGUAGES  italian, english. french.RELIGION  raised very loosely catholic.OCCUPATION  poet, schoolhouse teacher.FAMILY 
- giovanni de viscardi ( father. )
- benedetta de viscardi. ( mother, deceased. )

wtf do i do with all this empty space help thats all the stats he's got LMAO he's just a man...

MY EARLIEST MEMORY IS THAT OF MY FATHER, his eyes wet with tears, every inch of him pale and drained of life. and while i know it is rare for one's earliest memory to be when they're a newborn, this scene has always been crystal clear to me----whether its one memory or an amalgamation of years of them, it does not matter to me; what does matter is my father's heartbreak, the apologies he muttered to me in the dark as he rocked me around my room, trying to get me to sleep. i remember them each night. i will never forget them as long as i live.my mother should not have had me. statistically, i know i should not be alive, but i swept my parents out of the shadow of many miscarriages, and into the light of life; my father called me a miracle more than once. it was short lived. papa does not often talk about mamma----he never did, and i doubt he ever will. but the things i know for certain are these; she was tender and taller than him. she would have loved me. her name was benedetta, and my birthday falls on the same day as her death. papa never told me the circumstances, but its easy to put the pieces together; birthing a child is still a great risk, in our time. ( our time, future reader, being now 1900, by the by. ) i came along, and she did not make it to the morning. oftentimes i feel as though i killed her myself. i know i musn't think like that, though, and i know papa would not be pleased to hear it. neither would she. still, still ..its time to speak on papa. i cannot truly explain myself and my upbringing without explaining him first. i learned when i was a boy, perhaps nearing my tenth year, that my father is immortal. he was born in the 1600s, and cursed at the age of nine so that he would never die---i have never personally seen eternal life as a curse, ( is that not what many seek from the embrace of god? ) but papa has shown me it can be so easily; he was alone, you see, until mamma and i, and when i die he will be alone again. the loss he's endured has taken a great toll on him, i know; he tries not to let me see, and never has he breathed a word of it, but i have seen the scars. sometimes i feel my father's pain as my own. i can't help it. i'd like to help him shoulder it, even just a little.

now i believe we may get on to me, though compared to papa, i am not terribly interesting. he is my best friend, reader, the only friend i have ever had, and i don't mind that for a moment. he raised me as if i were made of glass, you see. the rules i had to adhere to for my own safety were strict and careful. so now i fear too many things; water that runs too swiftly or plunges too deep, running, unstable chairs, heights, certain bugs, stray animals, disease, sharp objects, strangers----this list could go on until my very last breath. make no mistake, i don't mind any of it. i know he has only ever been afraid of losing me, trying with all his might to prolong my life, so i can live it long and fully-----whether that's to its fullest or not.we barely left the house, he and i; there were too many people to hurt me, too much illness, too many chances for accident. but when we did, reader, it was lovely; he would take me to the beaches of sanremo and i would collect sea glass and rocks, tuck it all away into a box of collections i kept hidden beneath my bed. otherwise, we were home, father sitting in the window watching me play, reading books i wasn't allowed to look at, while i gasped at mushrooms along the treeline and checked beneath them for faeries, waved at birds and spoke to insects as though we were all very dear friends. it was a sheltered life, see, but it was mine, and i never found myself longing for anything different.until i was eighteen, of course. then the melancholy of youth kicked in and i became insufferable----i wanted to go to college, i wanted to make friends and meet people and get drunk on wine at parties and spin around in a ballroom. i wanted to be a young man, i wanted to see the world he shielded me from. he allowed me, on the condition that i was careful, i had a curfew, and i never went so far away that i couldn't come home again. i never minded that, either. i've never wanted to move away.college introduced me to myself. i'd already grown with a love of poetry, literature, history, but these interests were set ablaze with every lecture and new book introduced to me.

i never made friends, never met a girl i liked ( though i find these days i don't entirely care to, ) but i did discover my great passions, and let my mind stretch and grow with new knowledge i was before unexposed to.now i am thirty-five, and i've never loved life more than i do now. my father and i look like brothers at best due to his lack of aging, but we remain best friends, teasing and confiding in each other every night by the fire. i still write poems, i hide them away in my collection box when the words are too dear to my heart. secretly, i plan to look into publishing soon, hopefully put my own poetry book on the shelves. and i'm a teacher, i don't dare forget that fact. every day i walk out of our forest to the little schoolhouse i run, and i share with the children all the knowledge shared with me in my youth----we paint, we read, we write poems, we sing songs. we do math, as well, but only as much as the curriculum demands. and i love them. i love the children, i find myself still learning from them, and i love life----every second of it, from a quick breakfast on my walk to work, to unwinding in the evenings with my father, laughing over the day's events.i will update this the next time something extraordinary happens to me, whether that be friendship, love, a published book, or something else entirely. if i'm lucky, this short journal ( does this count as a memoir? ) will carry on until i'm old and grey, and the difference between my father and i is so stark and hilarious that i'll barely be able to write through my laughter.update, for logging purposes: these were the last words he ever wrote. i found this several years later, going through old books and journals. his cause of death was illness, 14th of may, 1900, some time after midnight. he was my light, and nothing is the same with him gone. he did not capture his sweetness in words, and neither could i, not in my wildest dreams. if you are reading this i must be with him now, finally. remember him. - giovanni.

  1. main verse. takes place anywhere during martino's life up until his death in 1900: either while he's a sheltered youngling, a shy young man just stepping into college, or a sweet and excitable teacher, still too shy to face the rest of the word.

  1. immortal verse. in which his father's curse is a bloodline curse, and long after giovanni has left their home, martino awakens in his own grave, and has to claw his way out of the dirt. he goes on to search endlessly for his father, following trails of strange deaths. can span anywhere from 1900 to modern times.

NAME  thomas abbott.NICKNAME/ALIAS  tommy, red.AGE  25.GENDER & PRONOUNS  cis male, he / him.ORIENTATION  gaySPECIES  human.

HEIGHT  6'1HAIR  a fluff of ginger curls just past the ears, mostly frizzy because he hasn't bothered to learn how to take care of them.EYES  dark green, usually blown out and bloodshot.OTHER  freckles in abundance, over his face, neck, and shoulders. intense dark undereye circles.FACE CLAIM  evgeny shwartz.DRESSING STYLE  lots of baggy, oversized pieces. layered tshirts, hoodies, too-big jeans. funky patterns, graphics, and bright colors.PERSONALITY  tommy is a kind man, and very outwardly welcoming to everyone he meets. its clear he's a party guy, and he loves chattering about whatever show he's watching, or his latest conspiracy theory. there is an underlying sadness about him, though, a tendency to space out, and he jumps if one moves too swiftly when near him. also has a very clear protective streak, often taking blame off others or throwing himself into danger to defend someone else. parentified child energy.DIAGNOSIS  addiction. autism, adhd, depression.

PARENTS 
- mary beth abbott. ( mother. )
- unknown father.
SIBLINGS 
- alice abbott. ( yet-unborn sister. )
OTHER 
- victor conley. ( boyfriend / best friend. @erebius. )
- jodie conley. ( friend / mother figure. )
- amos. ( employer. )
RELIGION  atheist.RESIDENCE  a small town in new york.LANGUAGES  english.CLASS  rogue (thief.)SKILLS / ABILITIES  trained in stealth and deception. basic weapons training, primarily with pistols and small knives. skilled in appraisal of various items and metals----gems, jewelry, watches, and so on.OCCUPATION  thief, pawn shop worker, jewelry appraiser.

tw: child neglect, drug use, addiction, suicide attempts, abuse, murder. sheesh!A YOUNG MAN WITH AN EYE FOR PRETTY THINGS, tommy found himself down on his luck searching for jobs out of highschool. his mother, narcissistic and always out drinking, was never much help; he’d return home from a long day and eat a dinner of dry cereal at the table alone, and maybe if she was sober enough when she got home, she’d think to say goodnight. stealing came easy. it put food on the table, pretty things in his pockets, and soon it was second nature----- what was the point in getting a job when getting what you wanted was as easy as taking it?  what was the point in anything like that, when there were pretty boys to take to bed, powders to snort, pills to pop? his life went from silent loneliness to the haze and glitter of joy, to gem-filled pockets and empty heads, sitting pretty atop a strangers hips with his head swimming, sharing pills between them like candy. he didn’t need his mother’s attention if he had someone else's, he couldn’t feel hungry if he was unconscious, if everything about him was deliciously numb.he never thought his mother cared enough to pay attention. she never seemed to, until she barged into his room drunk to say goodnight, saw him bent over his nightstand with a pretty white line under his nose.  mary beth was an alcoholic but apparently cocaine was a step too far ----he wept for her understand but before he could make sense of left or right his bags were packed, he was on the sidewalk with his head in his hands, and the rain was falling so hard he thought he would drown.it was alright, for a time. he had enough money and coke in his pockets to get him by, had enough hookups to jump from bed to bed and keep himself afloat. but eventually, every well went dry, and dizzy nights in cozy beds turned to the shake of withdrawal on a cold street corner, thinking on all the hook-ups who never went further, those who forgot his name or had never even bothered to ask for it in the first place.

then it was heavy, the weight on his chest, the pain------withdrawal was too much to bear living like he was, and eventually he found himself waking in the morning with a cry for his mother, hugging himself away from the cold and pretending it was her, wishing she would peek around corner and invite him to come home. when she never did, he took matters into his own hands. there was nothing more he had to live for.he awoke to dark eyes and scarred skin, a boulder of a man wrapping his wounds with hands that felt too rough. the stranger moved with a certain gentleness but there was something about him that frightened, even when he spoke, words of concern offered with a plate of warm food. he said his name was amos, and he liked to help lost souls. he was british, hard to understand, moved there recently to start a little pawn shop. plenty of jobs open, he said, if you’re down on your luck. and i couldn’t help but notice all that shit in your pockets.the pawn shop breathed life back into tommy’s lungs. he was meek, to begin with, but when the itch to steal returned to him he found that joy once more, adorned in gold chains and stolen jewels, and found himself when he could afford his vices again. to top it all off, he met amos’ second in command, a man his age named victor. it didn’t take long to get him to bed, and soon he was there every other night----the pair became inseparable, and victor was at the forefront of all his thoughts,  the breath in his lungs, beat of his heart.  they could relate in their misery and loneliness, the fear amos struck into their hearts and bruises he struck onto their faces.he’d never loved anyone the way he came to love victor, but victor loved him too quickly, too easily. tommy could see easily the attachment to amos, the damage to his sweet lover’s heart-----a night of tearful conversation brought him to his ultimate decision; he couldn’t love victor, not yet. at least, victor couldn’t know he did. because victor deserved more, deserved better; he needed to get away from these people and take care of his mother, he needed to run towards happiness and never look back, not attach himself to a homeless addict who could die in his sleep any night.

tommy knew well the look of someone who couldn’t take that, and victor wore it plainly across his face. it only worsened when the poor thing’s mother died, when he took to drugs like tommy had and found himself at the bottom of the pit. he didn’t need someone like tommy to influence him. he didn’t need that mess, that pain. but he was hard to resist.tommy had given up on thoughts of romance and happiness long ago, but they flooded back to him when things began looking up. his wages were decent, amos helped him find a cheap apartment, and a phonecall to his mother clued him in on the new existence of a baby sister, due in mere months and eager to meet him. then he started to entertain the thought, the fancies; what if he could get away, what if he could save up enough to get his life on track, get a real job, get victor and himself away from amos and run back clean to his mother?he settled on it. the idea of the two of them healing side by side warmed his heart, and he laid awake in the early mornings thinking of suggestions for his sister’s name, wondering if his mother would hear them. but then day by day everything went to hell; victor got worse, landed himself in the hospital, and amos grew angrier by the second. then one day he sat on a bridge, smoking and thinking of better days, and amos stepped up behind him-----tommy couldn’t even get out a hello before there were hands on his back,  the wind rushing around him and the ground below closing in.  amos, he thought in those final seconds, would say he jumped. victor might even believe him, might follow along after. but he'd never know. the ground grew closer, and he turned mid-air, his savior-turned murderer's face the last he'd ever see.

NAME :   vandred conley.
AGE :  varies.
SPECIES :   human / quarter-elf.
GENDER/PRONOUNS :   nonbinary, he / they.
SEXUALITY :  bisexual.
RESIDENCE :  verse dependant.
OCCUPATION :   son, baby, rogue in training, his father's keeper.
HABITS :   fidgeting, hair ruffling, shifting his weight, picking his nails.
LIKES :   cats, wolves, vikings, reading, criminal mischief, cigarettes, being in the woods, video games.
DISLIKES :  the big city, overly sweet things, math, loud noises.
MORAL ALIGNMENT :   true neutral.
TRAITS :   sweet, kind, mischievous, a little lost, empathetic, good listener, insecure.

LANGUAGES KNOWN :   english. / common, elvish.
ABILITIES :   healing and trickery magic. rogue training, stealth, sleight of hand, combat with daggers.
WEAPONS :   dual daggers.
CLASS :  rogue ( mastermind ) cleric ( tempest ).
RELIGION :  dabbling in norse paganism. / follows the gods of his father, in d&d.
DIAGNOSIS  adhd, depression, anxiety, bipolar 2.
RELATIONS :   victor conley, ( father, @erebius ) mother ( unknown ) jodie conley ( grandmother, deceased ) walter conley ( grandfather )
APPEARANCE :   6'1 when fully grown. dark brown hair to his shoulders, wavy and ruffled. casual dress, but with lots of layering, jewelry, and fur accents. gender neutral. freckles across his cheeks and nose.
FACECLAIM :  harry gilby / daniel portman.

  1. main verse. vandred is the product of a one night stand between victor conley and a stranger. his mother had no desire for motherhood, and thus dropped vandred off with victor when he was a baby, and disappeared----a familiar story, for the new single father. though his father did his best, he never wanted to be a parent either, and the weight of this has caused ripples of sadness throughout vandred's life. he struggles with feelings of being unwanted, not being good enough, and oftentimes wonders if his father would be happier without him. nevertheless, he loves his father, and tries to keep his chin up----often disappearing into the comfort of fiction, throwing himself into the worlds of books and video games. he's somewhat directionless in life, unsure what he wants to do outside of school, too focused on being with his father, watching for signs of relapse, and coping with his own faltering mental health.

  2. dragon age verse. vandred's story in dragon age is mostly unchanged, and begins shortly before inquisition. he and his father come from the denerim alienage, and he was present with his father in skyhold as a toddler. by the time of veilguard, he's a teenager, and a regular face within the lighthouse----given that his father has taken up the mantle of rook, which continues to fill vandred with more and more dread. vandred, like his father, is skilled as a rogue but also possesses magic, which he uses for healing purposes whenever companions may need.

  1. d&d verse. vandred and everything is the same but its in a fantasy world now and his ears are pointy.

  2. actual canon. a rarely used verse, this is vandred's actual canon, where he originally came from. he is the product of a conception spell misfiring, creating a child from the blood of two fathers----victor and his husband, the king of nydia. in this verse, vandred is the second son of a kingdom, the 'spare' heir in case of emergency, and has such a huge family that its a little ridiculous. this came about from a campaign i played in for about 2 years. if you don't have a ship with vic and want to interact in this big lovely homebrew, let me know :)

wilhelmina sinclair.

they/them.   23+   verses in d&d, modern, dragon age, tes, and middle earth.   druid/cleric.

wilhelmina, known usually as just 'wil,' is a gentle soul fond of nature, literature, and slow living. they were raised with an abusive father, and a mother who shielded them from much of his rage until age 14----when she decided enough was enough: wilhelmina needed to be away from that environment. staying behind herself, rosemary irvallel said goodbye and urged wil into a new life, one where they were safe, and happy. a farmer named arthur sinclair would come to be their adoptive father. a widower, having lost his wife and children in an accident, sinclair's farm was built with people like wil----those alone, down on their luck, in need of a warm home and purpose. the sinclair farm is one big found family, with wil truly coming to have several parental figures, all who love and dote on them. but arthur, arthur was a special bond, and legally adopted them, so that the sinclair name could carry on, and the farm with it. after wil turned 23, arthur passed due to illness, and the sinclair estate fell to them. though they accepted the farm through their grief, they found themself largely uninterested in the more technical aspect of owning farmland, and tend to delegate the more complicated tasks to other family members. wilhelmina is no business person----instead, they can be found working the land, napping under trees, or reading books to the flowers, convinced this helps them grow.           muse page.

demetrius sulvarin ii.

he/him.   dragon.   verses in d&d, dragon age, tes, asoiaf, arthurian.   vengeance paladin.

demetrius is a young black dragon, one in a long line of ancestors who were hunted for sport, or out of hatred. his bloodline was built out of a need for vengeance: one dragon, fleeing from his brother's corpse, promising himself to justice. this dragon, arwyn, went into hiding as a mortal man, created a city as a safe haven for other dragons to do the same, with the intention of building numbers, one day seeking out retribution. centuries later, demetrius and his siblings are born, raised on the notion that mortals hate them, and want only for every last dragon to die. a direct descendant of arwyn himself, demetrius is set to become lord of this land---called sulvara---upon his father's passing, and thus is trained with an iron fist, allowed little room for anything else. he is strong willed, stubborn, strongly devout towards the god of dragons, and harbors a great adoration for his people. however, he comes to a point in his life where he realizes the world is different. some humans have allied with dragons, some live alongside them. his entire perception of life is changed, and he must navigate the challenges of this world, which directly contradicts the one he expected ...           muse page.

ser wulfgang cadogan.

he/they.   31.   verses in d&d, modern, middle earth, arthurian.   eldritch knight fighter / wizard / demigod.

wulfgang was born of a magical anomaly: a virgin mother suddenly pregnant, frightened of the whispers and gossip that flooded her hometown. she fled her home to raise her child in seclusion, but along the way met another woman with the same strange affliction. they raised their children in neighboring houses, and thus wulf had a constant companion: alaric, the brawn to his brains, muscle to his magic. growing up, they longed to be knights, often 'sword-fighting' each other with sticks, and they determined they would train and be knighted together, whatever it took. upon becoming adults, they achieved this dream---though not without the loss of their mentor, heavying their hearts the day of their knighting. some time later, on a particularly strange excursion, they came upon the knowledge of their origins: both wulf and alaric had gods for fathers, gods who had given them to mothers they saw fit. alaric's father was the god of war and battle, while wulf's father was the god of magic, creator of the weave itself. though alaric was unable to locate his father, wulf found his, and formed a strong bond with him. since then, he's been reaching magical heights he never thought possible.           muse page.

nyliahn starheart.

she/her.   30.   verses in warcraft, modern, d&d/general fantasy.   night elf druid.

nyliahn is a night elf, who's entire life was uprooted, forcing her to start over completely. her life growing up was uneventful: a good childhood, a younger brother, loving parents who ran a general shop. when she reached adulthood, she moved to neighboring lands, and began working as a tailor, always bouncing back and forth between there and home, all the while taking her druid training more seriously, to help and bond with the land around her. all of this changed in a heartbeat one fateful day: sylvanas windrunner torched both of her homelands to the ground, and suddenly nyliahn and every night elf survivor was brisked away to the human capital, refugees whose eyes and lungs were still clouded with smoke. she was able to reunite with her father, but learned that her brother and mother had perished to the flames-----her father fell fully into the trauma and grief, and has not spoken since. she took it upon herself to take care of him, finding them a little house in the city of stormwind, and supports them solely on funds she scrapes together through mending and tailoring. recently, however, a new world tree has been planted----amirdrassil, so she and her father, like many night elves, have begun the journey to this new home, hoping for a greener future.           muse page.

moss.

he/they.   25.   verses in d&d, modern, dragon age.   tiefling / spore druid / archfey warlock.

moss is a tiefling, and a strange one at that. green skinned, with elk-like antlers and ears akin to a faun's: its no surprise that moss has direct ties to the feywild. abandoned as a baby in the heart of a thick forest, moss was found by an archfey called the mushroom king, who adopted him as their own. as an archfey is an unconventional father---moss was raised to be quite a strange thing, sheltered somewhat from the world outside of his forest, but flourishing in matters of nature and the fey realms. now, as an adult, he has come into druidic magic as well as acquiring magic from his father, and is considered a close friend to nature, and fungi especially. he lives in an ancient abandoned village in the heart of the forest, with buildings made of stone, and statues old and corroded, reaching out from the bottom of a lake. he has only recently begun to wander outside of the forest, urged by his father, seeking out the wonders of the world---as well as its secrets, and as many names as he can collect. the prince of mushrooms is a curious thing, and most experiences are new to him, and while he's finding much of the world to be interesting: he is also finding much of it frightening.           muse page.

giovanni de viscardi.

he/him.   immortal.   verses in modern, fantasy, + various times in history.

giovanni is a man cursed with immortality, trying desperately with every second of his eternal life to find its end. cursed as a nine year old in the 1600s, due to vengeful reasons he's mostly forgotten, giovanni is fated to always return to life when he dies. no matter what he tries, or how close he gets to the afterlife, he will always wake up. for some time, he tried to live with it, and even had a family of his own----but this was short lived, and only left him alone with his grief, which became too much to bear. thus, for the past 100 years of his life, he has surrendered himself to stoicism: isolating himself, and determined not to feel a thing, form a bond, or lay down roots. he researches ancient folklore surrounding death and curses, travels the world in search of answers, he experiments with the limits of his curse and finality of death, and walls himself off from emotion. this is all he knows, now. though he will not admit it---beneath this stoic exterior is the saddest, loneliest, most exhausted man alive. he has given in to his grief, and the desperation he feels to grab onto an ounce of control is eating away at him. he feels scorned by the world, by god, by death itself, and all he can do is keep trying. to him, there is no other choice.if you struggle with mentions of death, suicide, or self harm, please be wary reading gio's info!           muse page.

evandir athril.

he/him.   26.   verses in d&d/fantasy, modern, dragon age, middle earth.

evandir is a human boy from the quaint village of sunhold----or, what used to be sunhold. he lived a perfectly average life, until a cult known as the hands of augmentation laid claim to sunhold and its people. targeting it because it was small, out of the rest of the kingdom's sight, the hands of augmentation had one goal: to create the most powerful caster known to man, hoping to form a new class entirely out of this. they experimented on the residents of sunhold, funneling them with magic of every type, from every class, waiting to see if any could sustain the magic and live. none did, until it was evandir's turn for trial----not only did he survive the experiment, but he survived another week, another after that, and just kept going, his body slowly adjusting to the onslaught of magic in his veins. he was exactly what they wanted, a perfect example. he became a favorite of the cult, treated marginally better, all the while hearing talk of using him as a weapon, while he seethed and sought any means of escape. eventually, the magic mixed with the rage and grief he felt became too much, and evandir became a magical bomb. magic exploded out of him, rendering him unconscious. when he awoke, every hand of augmentation was dead----as well as every resident of sunhold. evandir's power had leveled the village to the ground. now all that remains are charred corpses, smoldering ashes where houses used to stand, and evandir. he is traumatized, terrified, and grief-filled, forced to live on with this uncontrolled magic boiling within.          muse page.

martino de viscardi.

he/him.   30 at death.   verses in the late 1800s, loose fantasy, and a modern immortal au.

martino is the son of tragedy, who himself became a tragedy too. he was born to a mother who died after childbirth, and a father who is cursed with immortality----unable to die by any means. for the early years of his life, martino was a sheltered thing: his father petrified of losing him, deciding instead to keep him away from all manner of illness or injury. this didn't bother martino any: he had a great love for the outdoors, for fairytales and books, and making tiny houses along the tree line for the sprites to live inside of. he lived a joyful life in his yard, with his father, his fondest memories being trips to the beaches of sanremo where they collected sea glass together. when he grew to adulthood, martino dared to leave the house enough for a higher education, and upon graduating, went on to be a teacher at a small school house. he discovered much about himself, in his adulthood-----that he had a special ability for poetry, that he liked history and hated math, that he preferred the company of men over that of women, that wine was a buzz he quite enjoyed, and he absolutely wanted children. unfortunately, in his 30th year, he came down with a terrible illness that left him bedridden, gasping for air. his father tended to him endlessly, practically begging him to hold on, but it was not long before martino began to choke on his own breaths, and breathed his final one. the year was 1900, and the thing he regretted most was leaving his father alone.          muse page.

octavo adorin.

he/him.   25.   verses in elder scrolls, modern, historical, d&d.  high elf.

octavo is the soft, spoiled son of a high-ranking altmer family. never caring much for studies or training, octavo enjoys the finer things in life----people, parties, and the things he can get from them. he lived a rather lavish, carefree life for much of it, to the near despair of his family, but watched as it all was ripped from him practically overnight. an ex-lover began spreading terrible rumors and slander about him, and the widespread gossip resulted in a duel: one octavo wanted no part in. he refused to fight, casting aside his weapon, and found himself banished from his family for embarrassing them, harming their honor and reputation. he was pushed away, practically exiled, and found there was nowhere left in the summerset isles that did not have a negative opinion of him. thus, he left, sailed to skyrim and found himself somewhere to live in the rift---a quaint little cottage with fruit trees in the back yard. it used up the rest of his money, and now he lives off of sheer luck and will alone: selling his fruits and the jams he makes from them, picking pockets when he must, and hoping with every bat of his eyelash that he'll find someone to love him and support him just the same. unbeknownst to him, however, another former lover from summerset was with child when he left, and to this day, his brother---the only family member who wants anything to do with him----has been searching for him to tell him he has a daughter.          muse page.

tommy abbott.

he/him.   25.   verses in modern, dragon age, can fit anywhere.  connected to @erebius.

tommy is a homeless young man, just about to sign a lease on his first apartment. he runs with a group of thieves run by a terrible man named amos, stuck there with him originally due to owing him a debt, and now out of fear of retaliation should he leave. besides thieving, his main task is identifying gems and metals and pricing them---a particular interest and specialty of his. as well as this, he struggles with an addiction primarily to cocaine, which also branches out into anything else he can get his hands on. tommy does not like what he does, or the life he lives. he wants a happy, normal life. he wants a regular job, he wants to go home to brooklyn before his baby sister is born. thus, for the past year or more, he has been saving every bit of money he is able, all with the ultimate goal of getting steady enough on his feet to disappear----get away from amos, and take his situationship best friend with him. getting this apartment is the first notch in his plan: it can act as a safe haven, a hiding place for extra money, for his own business away from amos' eyes. the next part of his plan is finding somewhere to run to, somewhere he can heal and get clean, a jumping off point to a new, safer life. unfortunately for him, circumstances turn against him in the end, and amos ends up killing him in a fit of rage, and a grasp for control. tommy's death is the catalyst for amos' ultimate downfall and death.          muse page.

alunithis lutenn.

he/him.   520.   verses in warcraft, general fantasy, dragon age?   nightborne elf.

this is my hubris. i choose a carrd layout with character blurbs because i want character blurbs, and now i dont feel like writing them. he has a bio though so i'll do this later lmao          muse page.

mori minas.

they/them.   127.   verses in d&d, dragon age, tbd.   elven bard.

mori is still cooking because i've played them for 3 sessions so far but i adore them so i know they're gonna end up here. i just wanted to put their placeholder here :) pink-haired college of valor bard who is out on their first adventure, collecting original stories for their troupe.

vandred conley.

he/they.   age varies.   verses in modern, dragon age, d&d, anywhere.  connected to @erebius.

vandred understood from the beginning that he was never supposed to happen. he doesn't remember his mother, but he knows well enough that a baby out of wedlock wasn't something she had interest in----as before he was even a year old, he was dumped on his father, victor conley, and neither of them every heard from her again. the product of a one-or-two-nights stand, vandred was raised in an unconventional situation: by a father who was not prepared for him, and, though he would not admit it: did not want him. it was his grandmother, jodie, that he formed a bond with first----though as he grew, he grew closer to his father as well, and finally began to feel loved by him in his second year of life. briefly, despite that wound of sought-out love, there was happiness. everything was fine, they made a happy little family despite their complications. but when his grandmother died---everything changed. his father seemed to succumb to a darkness, fell into a pit of despair vandred couldn't understand. from there, everything changed very rapidly. suddenly, the same people didn't come around as much anymore. suddenly he had a grandfather, and his father slept for long, long hours, which seemed to make his grandfather scared. his father would cry himself to sleep, and hold him a little tighter----vandred didn't know why, but he decided then that he needed to look out for his father, take care of him, at any cost.          muse page.

vic npcs

i'm too lazy to make them each a dedicated section here but basically if you have ever written with vic @erebius at all PLEASE write threads here with jodie, walt, or worst of all, amos .. and also tommy but he got moved to secondary muse bc i like him Too much hehe. i cannot stress enough how much i enjoy writing these characters btw especially walt literally if u have the bare bones of a plot with vic going on, any of his npcs are available to you for threads LMAO