Kumo came from a wartorn part of the world, and had found purpose at a young age in providing companionship and comfort to those affected by the ongoing war. This was to be expected, though, as his family had done this for generations, remaining loyal to a specific lower-class family in particular. They lived on the outskirts of the contested area, in a small town, trying to keep quiet and avoid bringing the conflict any closer to them than it already was. It wasn't an easy life for Kumo or his friends and family, but they were happy, Kumo knew he was loved, and it was fulfilling to dedicate his life to aiding others.
However, it all came crashing down around him as the war made it to his hometown just as he was becoming a young adult. The invasion was ruthless, much more a glorious pillaging by the invading force than it was any sort of battle or military occupation. Kumo tried to fight, tried to protect his family and friends, but in the end he could only watch as each of them was slain one-by-one. He cowered in the arms of his last surviving friend, staring at the axe driven into her chest. She told him to leave, to save himself. Kumo didn't want to leave. She pushed him away. He tried to return to her, but she pushed him away again, and Kumo got the message. Heartbroken and grief-stricken he ran. He ran from his home, from the family he lost, from his dying friend. He had been told to run, but the thought stayed with him all the while: He had failed. He was meant to be a companion, and in his eyes a protector, and he couldn't protect them. The entire time, he could only watch, helpless. He fled into the wilds. He had hardly ever so much as walked beyond his town boundaries, but now he had nowhere else to go. He had no clue where the nearest unravaged civilization would be. Heck, he had no clue what he would've done when he got there. Thus, he wandered the wilds, trying to fend for himself to little success. It was days until someone found him, shivering and wet from a recent rainstorm, tired and near starvation.
The person who found him was different from any he had really seen. He was armored, but not in any sort of uniform he recognized from the attack on the village. Though Kumo was initially scared, the man spoke with an authority and calmness that lulled Kumo into peace. He told Kumo that he had been destined to find him, that a goddess had sense his plight and wanted him to be saved. Kumo had heard of the gods and godesses, of course, but he had never thought any would ever take interest in him. The knight spoke of Friyena, the goddess of warriors, and of compassion, of doing good for the sake of doing good. He told him that he served her and helped protect and aid all who needed it. He asked Kumo to follow, and Kumo did. Kumo found himself taken in by the knight, and by extension the order of knights he commanded. He lived with them, traveled with them, and learned from them. They helped and protected others, like Kumo had always wanted to do. They taught him of Friyena, of her teachings and beliefs, and how they served her. Though Friyena had been missing for years at this point, and there had never been any activity from her in his lifetime, they believed in her, believed she may one day return, They knew that now more than ever they needed to uphold her values and virtues. They were strong, Friyena had helped them be strong. Kumo wanted to be strong, he wanted to never feel as weak and helpless as he did when the knights found him. He devoted himself to Friyena. Though he never told the knights of his past, he made it clear he wanted to train with them, and perhaps one day be a part of them, and so they trained him.
It took many years, but he grew stronger. He learned to fight, to take on enemies far more capable than him, and, eventually, he even found himself fighting alongside the knights, becoming more and more a member of their order. He felt a kinship with these people, one not unlike the bond he had felt with his friends and family as a child, and now he felt confident that if his comrades ever fell into trouble, he could help them.
It was at this point that the announcement came. It came to many people in many lands across Avelaide, from town criers and from whispers in taverns, and for the Knights of Friyena, it came by intricate and formally-written invitation: a Tournament of Champions.
The knights had spoken of the Tournament before. None of them were old enough to have been alive for the last one, but the legends of it were plenty. It had been a grand event in the past, where heroes of all sorts could vie to be champion, Friyena's champion. To be able to fight at the side of the goddess, to serve her will, to meet her directly. There were other accolades and awards of course, but any Knight of Friyena knew those were meaningless. To compete in the Tournament of Champions in of itself was an honor, and to win it would be the greatest accomplishment any knight could achieve. There hadn't been one for over half a century, and yet now there was to be another! The invitation came from the Rosakel Empire in an effort to bring Freyina back. Kumo was naturally ecstatic. It was a long shot, but maybe, maybe this could be hischance, a chance to give back to the goddess that had given him so much, and perhaps even a chance to see her face-to-face, so he may thank her for saving him all those years ago, regardless of if his rescue was directly her action or the actions of those she inspired. It would be a long journey to reach Southern Eviera, but Kumo knew he was prepared. His order assisted him in getting supplies and preparations for the journey, and after a bit of a tearful goodbye, he set off, the knights telling him they would meet again once his time at the tournament had concluded.
It took Kumo many months to reach the tournament. he traveled across many different lands, seeing many different places and staying with many different people, doing his best to pay back their kindness and uphold Frineya's convictions all the while. He arrived only a short while before the event was scheduled to begin. He approached the registration booth. He was donned in his finest armor, sword at his side and his now-rather-light pack of supplies still on his back. He knew there would be many trials and tribulations ahead of him...
"Is... Is that a dog?" ...and that was going to be one of them.
“Again, duelist,” Kalthor said, “why this tournament? Oh, and if you’re planning on stating your desire to prove yourself to me -”
“I am,” Audhild replied.
“ - I don’t want to hear it,” the lich continued, ignoring the Attyan woman. “I’ve heard it a dozen times already, and you’ve proved yourself twice that. Why are you really entering this? I can’t imagine you’re doing it for altruistic reasons.”
Audhild shrugged. “I’m a duelist. I might as well see if I can stand against the best.”
If the lich still had eyes, Audhild was sure he was rolling them. “I’m sure.” Kalthor sighed. “At least it isn’t proving yourself to me this time,” he grumbled.
He walked over to a box resting on his desk, opened it, and pulled out a ring. Walking back, he said, “If you’re serious about proving yourself to me, take this. It’s enchanted so you can report your progress to me.” Handing Audhild the ring, he added, “Don’t abuse it.”
Audhild took a breath and opened her eyes. That had been two weeks ago. Now, she was standing on a dock at an Evieran port, about to go to the Tournament, and she was surprisingly nervous. She hadn’t been to anything this large since she was a child, especially not as a participant.
The duelist looked down at the poster she had seen back in Attya. Taking a breath, she walked towards where she was told the Tournament registry station was.
Personality Audhild is a good-natured, if stiff, woman from Attya. Her family’s second child, she was raised in the Attyan tradition of family duelist. As such, she tends to see things as a series of duels, and reacts as such. Still, she isn’t unkind, preferring to learn from and teach those she faces.
Of particular interest to her is the maintenance of dueling weapons. Her father taught her that the quality of a duelist’s weapon reflects the duelist themself, and Audhild took that to heart. She keeps her sword in excellent condition, and subconsciously looks down on opponents who don’t keep their weapons in good condition.
Motive A challenge, a vacation, and new places to see are all part of why Audhild is fighting in the Tournament. She’s also interested in proving herself to Kalthor, a local lich, in order to gain a place at his court and keep an eye on him. She believes that the Tournament will be the best way to do that, although Kalthor has said he is already impressed with her skills.
Fighting Abilities Audhild is a master swordswoman, as well as a decent knife-thrower. Still, her strengths lay in close quarters, and ranged attackers could easily get an advantage. Kalthor has given her a protective ring to help against this, as an investment in a potential guard captain.
Edit: Feel free to message me if you want your character to interact with Audhild! I look forward to anyone who does.
That reminds me... I might want to explain my characters' goals!
Michio and Mia both strive for peace. The Tournament of Champions gives them a chance to prove their worth and secure peace on a plane where (they assume) it's possible.
It's possible that something happened to Michio's beloved Haru that extends beyond the reaches of their home place; even if it may seem silly, they're willing to continue searching.
Beyond these two things, Michio and Mia strive to avenge those innocents that have been dealt undue harm. Win or lose, they would still seek to become enforcers. Michio being a wanted man and Mia being her daughter, they would likely be hunted down on their home world, but here, (presumably) no such worries will stop their pursuit of peace and retribution.
The woods whisper quietly, trees rustling, shade shifting. The motion is soothing for those who care. Animals carry out their business, predator and prey alike. There's no evidence of humanoid touch in this sanctuary yet. "And yet this won't last...." She could tell. These islands had few enough spots that you didn't see the burgeoning growth of dedicated crops, or the crowded, foul cityways. The spots that did exist kept shrinking, as the population grew, they took more land. The wolves happily running around here would be killed, the trees the birds nested in would be cleared for another plot of farmland, used for fuel or a wagon. Each of the animals here had their lives constantly at risk. Oritira stood up, gently displacing the fox kit napping on her lap. "Go to your mother, little one. Hide away before Man gets here. You will be in my prayers." The kit obeyed, not understanding the despair Oritira felt. Dusting her cloak off, Oritira wandered through the forest, towards a town that she knew was nearby. Her medical supplies were running low, and while it galled her to admit that she was reliant in some way on the society that she saw as ruining the natural world, the advantages that even proper bandages allowed were enough to bring her in. Going past the town crier, she paused. It was important to keep up on the news, if depressing. Another mill opening, who's owner had probably paid for it to be shouted in the streets. A noble coming to the town to visit. A.... what? "Yes! The priests of Friyena have declared that the time is ripe for a new one in hopes that she will return! And the hero who wins is assured rewards from the Emperor himself!" A reward.... from the Emperor? If that reward was a favor that could allow... well a lot! Perhaps a decree or something. Or hell, Friyena might herself be willing to take action. It seems too good.
Alright everyone! This is Oritira, and she's a druid! She's very critical of the expanding of society and is usually very cool towards other people who don't share her passion. I, however, would love to do interactions with other characters, so either pm me here or on discord if you wanna have a scene or multiple. I'll edit this with any questions that you guys want answered too.
I will also throw out that I'm open to having Kumo interact with other contestants, so if anybody wants to do something specific with him, DM me on Discord or PM me here and I'd be happy to work something out with you.
It was dark. Though plenty of moonlight filtered in through the leaves of branches of the forest, the former guard tower was a different story. Though its canopy had long since withered away, the stones stood in defiance of the passage of time, maintaining much of the structure besides the large hole that was created when a catapult had struck it. The building stood in tranquil silence for well over a century.
Until now.
Stones being shoved aside signaled the presence of life within the tower, as a youth who could barely see in the shadows of the moonlight dug through the building's remains. "Come on, there's gotta be something here, I can't have come this far for nothing!" They'd been digging for the better part of an hour after a two day journey, and another ten minutes of digging brought them their prize. It was a helmet, dented and rusted over the years, and far from serviceable. "Well," muttered the youth, "maybe with a little polishing I can sell it off to a museum. Or a lot of polishing." They wiped it off with their sleeve, and made camp to rest for the night.
However, their slumber would not go undisturbed. Overlapping snarling sounds wormed their way through the youth's sleep and roused them to a drowsy state, barely awake. Greeted by the sight of several wolves illuminated in the moonlight, the youth's eyes snapped wide open. The first feeling was panic, then fear, followed by an amalgamation of the two into terror. "Nice doggies, you wouldn't wanna hurt me right? I've got hardly any meat..." Attempts to negotiate with wild hungry beasts are a futile exercise, and this was no difference. A wolf prepared to pounce, and the youth shut their eyes, prepared for their imminent faith as a chew toy.
Imagine their surprise when the next sounds they heard was not their flesh being devoured, but an animalistic cry and whimpering from the surrounding beasts. The youth hesitantly opened their eyes, and the sight before them was nearly incomprehensible. A gallant knight stood before the wolves, sword and shield at the ready, and glowed with a brilliant golden light in contrast to the night. He also didn't seem to have any legs, with his lower half instead being a trail of light originating from the youth's bag. The body of a wolf laid mere feet away and was cleanly cut in twain.
"Stay back, foul beasts!" He flourished his accoutrements, and the wolves quickly turned tail and ran, understanding they were outmatched. The knight looked down at the youth. "I am delighted to see that you are unharmed. As you bear my helmet, it is my duty to ensure your safety. I failed my task once before. I shall not again." The knight kneeled to the bewildered youth, though the gesture was ruined by the lack of legs. "Though, if I may be honest, you seemed sorely unprepared for combat. We should rectify that." "Wh-What? Combat?" The youth finally came to and managed to sputter out a few words.
"Yes, combat. The world is harsh, and I will train and prepare you."
"B-But, hold on, I don't underst-"
"Very well, you shall be my squire, and may address me as Syr Cedric Traidor. Should that prove to be too much of a mouthful for you, a simple 'sir' or 'my liege' will do. Now, rest well, young squire, for we have a long journey ahead of us, for you shall travel to the nearest city. I wish to see what I've missed over the last 150 years." Before another word could be uttered, the knight vanished, his light spiraling into the bag like water down a drain, leaving the youth sitting there with a bewildered look on their face and processing the bizarre adventure they'd gotten themselves sucked into.
Harrel Groe was an artificer from Kaladesh. He worked on large-scale constructions such as Skysovereign. He also could manipulate Aether, making him into a respected figure in Ghirapur. He led a huge designer, architect, and technologist team that was given most of the work. However, one day, he accidentally put the wrong plating on a highly important security machine. When it was found out, he lost her position of respect, and was taken down as leader of the group. He was so infuriated that he burned down the construction site, and then was detained and arrested. For the safebeing of the citizens, Hareel was deemed too dangerous to be allowed in public, so he was kept under close supervision.
But one day, he escaped from the detainment area and went rogue. He explored for days and nights, looking for refuge. Finally, he saw a sign saying “Ladies and gentlemen! Warriors and wizards! Beasts and summoners! Angels and demons! I welcome you to the Tournament of Champions 5! Hosted in Avalade” He knew that Avalde was another plane.
An hour later, he hit another stroke of luck. Another sign, this time saying “Planar Bridge containment Area this way” So he went exactly there. When he got there, she was stopped by a group of aetherborn. He was harassed and bullied, so Hareel lost control. His flames spread across Ghirapur, and many people died in the blaze. As authorities were attracted to his position, she hopped into the portal. His memory of Kaladesh lived on through an eternal wound in his left arm…….
Deep within the recesses of a faraway castle, a young boy looked up at his teacher. No older than 10 years, he stood in front of the mutilated remains of a training dummy, with an expectant expression of pride on his face.
"You have done well, my pupil. Martial combat skills seem to come quite naturally to you." She said with a slight smile. "However, this is not all that I have to teach you. Put down your sword, and sit in front of me."
The boy sets his sword on the ground, and takes a seat cross-legged across from his teacher.
"Good. Now, close your eyes. Do you know what knights of our order mean when we say that fighting spirit comes from the soul?"
The boy closes his eyes, and then shakes his head in response to the question. "No, I hear you saying it all the time, but I've never been quite sure what it means."
"That's alright. We've never explained it to you, so that's to be expected. But now, I believe you are ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Ready to learn the true power of our order. To begin, we must start with the soul. The soul is not a physical thing, like the brain or heart, but is rather the place where all of your emotions and experiences, everything that makes you you gathers. The soul is the truest representation of who you are."
The boy nods. "I think I understand."
"However, to us, the soul is not entirely intangible. Clear your mind of all unnecessary thoughts, and look within you. Concentrate only on the things that make you who you are."
The two sit in silence for a few moments before the boy says, "I think I see it. It's like a light, deep in my mind."
The teacher gives her student a look that shows that she is impressed, although perhaps not surprised, although he can't see it. "Very good. You have done better already on your first try than many. But you can go further. Reach out, and try and take hold of that light."
The boy's expression grows more focused, as he puts all of his effort into grabbing the light in his mind. "How do I know when I have it?"
"You'll know. Now, once you have it, draw it out. Focus on bringing any small part of your soul into the physical world. Eventually, you will learn to pick out aspects, such as fighting spirit, but for now, focus on just grabbing the whole thing."
The boy's face scrunches up, as he seems to be concentrating immensely. Finally, a tiny wisp of smoke begins to appear in front of him. The boy opens his eyes, and smiles. He knows he has a long way to go before he masters this new power that has been shown to him. But he, at that moment, resolves to keep training and learning until he has unraveled its every secret.
And then, the whole world is going to know his name.
It was nearing nightfall when Navor finally saw a sign of civilization. He didn't really care what city it was, just that it had a place for him to sleep, and people who needed stuff done. Exhausted from his trek through the mountains, he trudged his way through the front gates. Nobody seemed to pay him much mind, and Navor liked it that way. He preferred to only interact with people when they were giving him a job, paying him for a job, or were part of a job.
Not too long after he entered the city, Navor found a nice inn, and booked himself a room. Although exhausted, he knew he would be spending most of the next day looking for work, and so now was probably the best time to get supplies. He left the inn, hoping there were still shops open this late.
By the time he arrived at the city's commercial district, though, it was already growing quite dark. Navor sighed. Why does the journey through the mountains have to take so damn long? He thought. I should just head back now, get supplies in the morning. No purpose in looking for stuff I know I won't find at this time of night.
Just as he turned to head back to the inn, however, Navor thought he caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye. Looking around, he quickly saw the glints of daggers in dark alleyways all around. Suddenly, he heard a voice from behind him. "Say, don't you know you're not supposed to be out this late? You could get hurt." This got several chuckles from the people hiding out in the alleys. Navor wheeled around, and came face to face with a large man wielding a club almost as big as Navor. The man was obviously some sort of ogre or orc, judging by his size as well as his overall demeanor. In his peripheral vision, Navor began to see some of the man's cronies creeping out of the alleyways. Great, Navor thought, My first night here and I'm already caught up with the local crime gang. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I was just heading back to my inn, so if you'd just let me pass, this whole situation could be avoided." "I don't think you understand what kind of situation you're in here. The only way this is getting resolved is you giving us your valuables, or us taking them off your corpse. After all, there's six of us, and you're all alone." The man laughed, and looked down at Navor smugly.
"It is quite foolish," Navor said calmly, drawing his blade, "that you believe that just because I am by myself, I am alone."
And then, just as the boy in the castle created that wisp of smoke so many years ago, Navor reached inside himself, and drew out that same power. But this time it was more refined, more practiced, with greater purpose. What came from Navor now was not simply a wisp of smoke. Instead, a smoky form that mimicked Navor's own appearance sprung from Navor's chest, slicing through the boss before he had time to react. Navor and his double were a whirlwind of blades, cleaving effortlessly through the lesser gang members. Within a minute, Navor once again stood alone.
As Navor returned to the inn, he saw posted on the inn's window a poster, advertising an event. The "18th Tournament of Champions", seemingly a contest between great warriors. Normally, Navor would have paid such things no mind. But maybe he was feeling extra confident after the night's events. Or maybe the promise of glory stirred something within him, a part of him that even his soul had nearly forgotten. Regardless, he noted down the city the tournament was being held in.
Tomorrow, he began his trek to the Tournament of Champions.
Name: Navor Helsian Age: 32 Occupation: Formerly a knight of the Order of Manifestation, currently a traveling mercenary Skills/Abilities: Navor is highly skilled in combat, and also has the ability to create a near-exact replica of himself that aids him in fights. He controls this copy as he would his own body, and thus it shares all of his battling expertise. Personality: Navor is a very practical, serious person. He battles enemies only once they have proved themselves a threat, preferring to not waste his time fighting those he doesn't have to. He is not much of a people person, usually preferring his own company (sometimes literally).
(Clicking an image will take you to the MTGCS version of the card.)
When Mia died, her creative but somewhat mischievous spirit was bound to her mask. The wearer can embrace this power to perform rather mild feats of creation, mimicry, or mischief, or channel her spirit from within.
I have decided to rewrite my character's story, and I think it came out a lot better.
Prologue - Part 1
Claire grew up as an assistant and adoptive daughter to Samuel Greathook, a local fisherman. Each morning, she would be woken up before sunrise by Samuel for long work days where she would use her hydromancy to help catch large amounts of fish. By the evening, Samuel and her would go to sell what they caught, and use that money they earned to put food on their table for the next day.
However, the plane of Nerotomea is a world that everyone struggles to survive in, and this was no exception for Claire and Samuel. On some days, they would catch only a few fish, and on those days, they wouldn’t have enough money for both of them to eat.
On one evening as they were walking home by the docks, Samuel stopped Claire, and asked her to wait for him as he ran an errand.
“Can’t I help?” Claire asked.
“Heh,” Samuel chuckled, “You are the kindest soul I know. Unfortunately, I’m afraid this isn’t something you can help with. I promise this will be a quick errand.”
“Awww…”
Samuel walked into a dark alley, black fog slowly creeping out of it. While she waited for Samuel to return, she could feel many eyes looking at her, as if they were all planning on robbing or kidnapping her, which was all too common in this world. After what felt like hours, Samuel returned with a large grin on his face.
“C’mon, I want to treat you to some delicious food tonight.”
“Did we earn a lot of money today?”
“We earned an average amount, but the errand I just ran has given us enough to buy food for weeks.”
Claire’s jaw dropped. “Really?!”
Still grinning, Samuel nodded. “Yep! Now c’mon, what do you want to eat tonight?”
A few months go by, and while Claire and Samuel still spent all day every day catching fish, they didn’t have to worry about earning enough to have food for the next day. That is, until Samuel’s debt caught up to him one late evening...
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@theirintheattic Will dm you with info about that soon.
However, it all came crashing down around him as the war made it to his hometown just as he was becoming a young adult. The invasion was ruthless, much more a glorious pillaging by the invading force than it was any sort of battle or military occupation. Kumo tried to fight, tried to protect his family and friends, but in the end he could only watch as each of them was slain one-by-one. He cowered in the arms of his last surviving friend, staring at the axe driven into her chest. She told him to leave, to save himself. Kumo didn't want to leave. She pushed him away. He tried to return to her, but she pushed him away again, and Kumo got the message. Heartbroken and grief-stricken he ran. He ran from his home, from the family he lost, from his dying friend. He had been told to run, but the thought stayed with him all the while: He had failed. He was meant to be a companion, and in his eyes a protector, and he couldn't protect them. The entire time, he could only watch, helpless.
He fled into the wilds. He had hardly ever so much as walked beyond his town boundaries, but now he had nowhere else to go. He had no clue where the nearest unravaged civilization would be. Heck, he had no clue what he would've done when he got there. Thus, he wandered the wilds, trying to fend for himself to little success. It was days until someone found him, shivering and wet from a recent rainstorm, tired and near starvation.
The person who found him was different from any he had really seen. He was armored, but not in any sort of uniform he recognized from the attack on the village. Though Kumo was initially scared, the man spoke with an authority and calmness that lulled Kumo into peace. He told Kumo that he had been destined to find him, that a goddess had sense his plight and wanted him to be saved. Kumo had heard of the gods and godesses, of course, but he had never thought any would ever take interest in him. The knight spoke of Friyena, the goddess of warriors, and of compassion, of doing good for the sake of doing good. He told him that he served her and helped protect and aid all who needed it. He asked Kumo to follow, and Kumo did.
Kumo found himself taken in by the knight, and by extension the order of knights he commanded. He lived with them, traveled with them, and learned from them. They helped and protected others, like Kumo had always wanted to do. They taught him of Friyena, of her teachings and beliefs, and how they served her. Though Friyena had been missing for years at this point, and there had never been any activity from her in his lifetime, they believed in her, believed she may one day return, They knew that now more than ever they needed to uphold her values and virtues.
They were strong, Friyena had helped them be strong. Kumo wanted to be strong, he wanted to never feel as weak and helpless as he did when the knights found him. He devoted himself to Friyena. Though he never told the knights of his past, he made it clear he wanted to train with them, and perhaps one day be a part of them, and so they trained him.
It took many years, but he grew stronger. He learned to fight, to take on enemies far more capable than him, and, eventually, he even found himself fighting alongside the knights, becoming more and more a member of their order. He felt a kinship with these people, one not unlike the bond he had felt with his friends and family as a child, and now he felt confident that if his comrades ever fell into trouble, he could help them.
It was at this point that the announcement came. It came to many people in many lands across Avelaide, from town criers and from whispers in taverns, and for the Knights of Friyena, it came by intricate and formally-written invitation: a Tournament of Champions.
The knights had spoken of the Tournament before. None of them were old enough to have been alive for the last one, but the legends of it were plenty. It had been a grand event in the past, where heroes of all sorts could vie to be champion, Friyena's champion. To be able to fight at the side of the goddess, to serve her will, to meet her directly. There were other accolades and awards of course, but any Knight of Friyena knew those were meaningless. To compete in the Tournament of Champions in of itself was an honor, and to win it would be the greatest accomplishment any knight could achieve. There hadn't been one for over half a century, and yet now there was to be another!
The invitation came from the Rosakel Empire in an effort to bring Freyina back. Kumo was naturally ecstatic. It was a long shot, but maybe, maybe this could be hischance, a chance to give back to the goddess that had given him so much, and perhaps even a chance to see her face-to-face, so he may thank her for saving him all those years ago, regardless of if his rescue was directly her action or the actions of those she inspired. It would be a long journey to reach Southern Eviera, but Kumo knew he was prepared. His order assisted him in getting supplies and preparations for the journey, and after a bit of a tearful goodbye, he set off, the knights telling him they would meet again once his time at the tournament had concluded.
It took Kumo many months to reach the tournament. he traveled across many different lands, seeing many different places and staying with many different people, doing his best to pay back their kindness and uphold Frineya's convictions all the while. He arrived only a short while before the event was scheduled to begin. He approached the registration booth. He was donned in his finest armor, sword at his side and his now-rather-light pack of supplies still on his back. He knew there would be many trials and tribulations ahead of him...
"Is... Is that a dog?"
...and that was going to be one of them.
“Again, duelist,” Kalthor said, “why this tournament? Oh, and if you’re planning on stating your desire to prove yourself to me -”
“I am,” Audhild replied.
“ - I don’t want to hear it,” the lich continued, ignoring the Attyan woman. “I’ve heard it a dozen times already, and you’ve proved yourself twice that. Why are you really entering this? I can’t imagine you’re doing it for altruistic reasons.”
Audhild shrugged. “I’m a duelist. I might as well see if I can stand against the best.”
If the lich still had eyes, Audhild was sure he was rolling them. “I’m sure.” Kalthor sighed. “At least it isn’t proving yourself to me this time,” he grumbled.
He walked over to a box resting on his desk, opened it, and pulled out a ring. Walking back, he said, “If you’re serious about proving yourself to me, take this. It’s enchanted so you can report your progress to me.” Handing Audhild the ring, he added, “Don’t abuse it.”
Audhild looked up at the lich and nodded.
____________________________________________________________________________
Audhild took a breath and opened her eyes. That had been two weeks ago. Now, she was standing on a dock at an Evieran port, about to go to the Tournament, and she was surprisingly nervous. She hadn’t been to anything this large since she was a child, especially not as a participant.
The duelist looked down at the poster she had seen back in Attya. Taking a breath, she walked towards where she was told the Tournament registry station was.
Stats
Name: Audhild
Species: Human
Age: 24
Job: Duelist, weaponmaster
Alignment: Lawful neutral
Home: Wizard’s Landing, Attya
Personality
Audhild is a good-natured, if stiff, woman from Attya. Her family’s second child, she was raised in the Attyan tradition of family duelist. As such, she tends to see things as a series of duels, and reacts as such. Still, she isn’t unkind, preferring to learn from and teach those she faces. Of particular interest to her is the maintenance of dueling weapons. Her father taught her that the quality of a duelist’s weapon reflects the duelist themself, and Audhild took that to heart. She keeps her sword in excellent condition, and subconsciously looks down on opponents who don’t keep their weapons in good condition.
Motive
A challenge, a vacation, and new places to see are all part of why Audhild is fighting in the Tournament. She’s also interested in proving herself to Kalthor, a local lich, in order to gain a place at his court and keep an eye on him. She believes that the Tournament will be the best way to do that, although Kalthor has said he is already impressed with her skills.
Fighting Abilities
Audhild is a master swordswoman, as well as a decent knife-thrower. Still, her strengths lay in close quarters, and ranged attackers could easily get an advantage. Kalthor has given her a protective ring to help against this, as an investment in a potential guard captain.
Edit: Feel free to message me if you want your character to interact with Audhild! I look forward to anyone who does.
"And yet this won't last...."
She could tell. These islands had few enough spots that you didn't see the burgeoning growth of dedicated crops, or the crowded, foul cityways. The spots that did exist kept shrinking, as the population grew, they took more land. The wolves happily running around here would be killed, the trees the birds nested in would be cleared for another plot of farmland, used for fuel or a wagon. Each of the animals here had their lives constantly at risk.
Oritira stood up, gently displacing the fox kit napping on her lap.
"Go to your mother, little one. Hide away before Man gets here. You will be in my prayers."
The kit obeyed, not understanding the despair Oritira felt. Dusting her cloak off, Oritira wandered through the forest, towards a town that she knew was nearby. Her medical supplies were running low, and while it galled her to admit that she was reliant in some way on the society that she saw as ruining the natural world, the advantages that even proper bandages allowed were enough to bring her in.
Going past the town crier, she paused. It was important to keep up on the news, if depressing. Another mill opening, who's owner had probably paid for it to be shouted in the streets. A noble coming to the town to visit. A.... what?
"Yes! The priests of Friyena have declared that the time is ripe for a new one in hopes that she will return! And the hero who wins is assured rewards from the Emperor himself!"
A reward.... from the Emperor? If that reward was a favor that could allow... well a lot! Perhaps a decree or something. Or hell, Friyena might herself be willing to take action. It seems too good.
Alright everyone! This is Oritira, and she's a druid! She's very critical of the expanding of society and is usually very cool towards other people who don't share her passion. I, however, would love to do interactions with other characters, so either pm me here or on discord if you wanna have a scene or multiple. I'll edit this with any questions that you guys want answered too.
"Wh-What? Combat?" The youth finally came to and managed to sputter out a few words.
That puts us at 13 champions so far!
Hareel Groe
Introduction
Harrel Groe was an artificer from Kaladesh. He worked on large-scale constructions such as Skysovereign. He also could manipulate Aether, making him into a respected figure in Ghirapur. He led a huge designer, architect, and technologist team that was given most of the work. However, one day, he accidentally put the wrong plating on a highly important security machine. When it was found out, he lost her position of respect, and was taken down as leader of the group. He was so infuriated that he burned down the construction site, and then was detained and arrested. For the safebeing of the citizens, Hareel was deemed too dangerous to be allowed in public, so he was kept under close supervision.
But one day, he escaped from the detainment area and went rogue. He explored for days and nights, looking for refuge. Finally, he saw a sign saying “Ladies and gentlemen! Warriors and wizards! Beasts and summoners! Angels and demons! I welcome you to the Tournament of Champions 5! Hosted in Avalade” He knew that Avalde was another plane.
An hour later, he hit another stroke of luck. Another sign, this time saying “Planar Bridge containment Area this way” So he went exactly there. When he got there, she was stopped by a group of aetherborn. He was harassed and bullied, so Hareel lost control. His flames spread across Ghirapur, and many people died in the blaze. As authorities were attracted to his position, she hopped into the portal. His memory of Kaladesh lived on through an eternal wound in his left arm…….
Now he is bloodburdened. The past is his future.
I completely missed this until now!
Prologue Part 1 - Origins of the Soul
Deep within the recesses of a faraway castle, a young boy looked up at his teacher. No older than 10 years, he stood in front of the mutilated remains of a training dummy, with an expectant expression of pride on his face."You have done well, my pupil. Martial combat skills seem to come quite naturally to you." She said with a slight smile. "However, this is not all that I have to teach you. Put down your sword, and sit in front of me."
The boy sets his sword on the ground, and takes a seat cross-legged across from his teacher.
"Good. Now, close your eyes. Do you know what knights of our order mean when we say that fighting spirit comes from the soul?"
The boy closes his eyes, and then shakes his head in response to the question. "No, I hear you saying it all the time, but I've never been quite sure what it means."
"That's alright. We've never explained it to you, so that's to be expected. But now, I believe you are ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Ready to learn the true power of our order. To begin, we must start with the soul. The soul is not a physical thing, like the brain or heart, but is rather the place where all of your emotions and experiences, everything that makes you you gathers. The soul is the truest representation of who you are."
The boy nods. "I think I understand."
"However, to us, the soul is not entirely intangible. Clear your mind of all unnecessary thoughts, and look within you. Concentrate only on the things that make you who you are."
The two sit in silence for a few moments before the boy says, "I think I see it. It's like a light, deep in my mind."
The teacher gives her student a look that shows that she is impressed, although perhaps not surprised, although he can't see it. "Very good. You have done better already on your first try than many. But you can go further. Reach out, and try and take hold of that light."
The boy's expression grows more focused, as he puts all of his effort into grabbing the light in his mind. "How do I know when I have it?"
"You'll know. Now, once you have it, draw it out. Focus on bringing any small part of your soul into the physical world. Eventually, you will learn to pick out aspects, such as fighting spirit, but for now, focus on just grabbing the whole thing."
The boy's face scrunches up, as he seems to be concentrating immensely. Finally, a tiny wisp of smoke begins to appear in front of him. The boy opens his eyes, and smiles. He knows he has a long way to go before he masters this new power that has been shown to him. But he, at that moment, resolves to keep training and learning until he has unraveled its every secret.
And then, the whole world is going to know his name.
Prologue Part 2 - Manifest
Many Years Later...It was nearing nightfall when Navor finally saw a sign of civilization. He didn't really care what city it was, just that it had a place for him to sleep, and people who needed stuff done. Exhausted from his trek through the mountains, he trudged his way through the front gates. Nobody seemed to pay him much mind, and Navor liked it that way. He preferred to only interact with people when they were giving him a job, paying him for a job, or were part of a job.
Not too long after he entered the city, Navor found a nice inn, and booked himself a room. Although exhausted, he knew he would be spending most of the next day looking for work, and so now was probably the best time to get supplies. He left the inn, hoping there were still shops open this late.
By the time he arrived at the city's commercial district, though, it was already growing quite dark. Navor sighed. Why does the journey through the mountains have to take so damn long? He thought. I should just head back now, get supplies in the morning. No purpose in looking for stuff I know I won't find at this time of night.
Just as he turned to head back to the inn, however, Navor thought he caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye. Looking around, he quickly saw the glints of daggers in dark alleyways all around.
Suddenly, he heard a voice from behind him. "Say, don't you know you're not supposed to be out this late? You could get hurt." This got several chuckles from the people hiding out in the alleys.
Navor wheeled around, and came face to face with a large man wielding a club almost as big as Navor. The man was obviously some sort of ogre or orc, judging by his size as well as his overall demeanor. In his peripheral vision, Navor began to see some of the man's cronies creeping out of the alleyways.
Great, Navor thought, My first night here and I'm already caught up with the local crime gang.
"Look, I don't want any trouble. I was just heading back to my inn, so if you'd just let me pass, this whole situation could be avoided."
"I don't think you understand what kind of situation you're in here. The only way this is getting resolved is you giving us your valuables, or us taking them off your corpse. After all, there's six of us, and you're all alone." The man laughed, and looked down at Navor smugly.
"It is quite foolish," Navor said calmly, drawing his blade, "that you believe that just because I am by myself, I am alone."
And then, just as the boy in the castle created that wisp of smoke so many years ago, Navor reached inside himself, and drew out that same power. But this time it was more refined, more practiced, with greater purpose. What came from Navor now was not simply a wisp of smoke. Instead, a smoky form that mimicked Navor's own appearance sprung from Navor's chest, slicing through the boss before he had time to react. Navor and his double were a whirlwind of blades, cleaving effortlessly through the lesser gang members. Within a minute, Navor once again stood alone.
As Navor returned to the inn, he saw posted on the inn's window a poster, advertising an event. The "18th Tournament of Champions", seemingly a contest between great warriors. Normally, Navor would have paid such things no mind. But maybe he was feeling extra confident after the night's events. Or maybe the promise of glory stirred something within him, a part of him that even his soul had nearly forgotten. Regardless, he noted down the city the tournament was being held in.
Tomorrow, he began his trek to the Tournament of Champions.
https://mtgcardsmith.com/view/navor-knight-of-manifestation-1
https://mtgcardsmith.com/view/got-your-back-7
Name: Navor Helsian
Age: 32
Occupation: Formerly a knight of the Order of Manifestation, currently a traveling mercenary
Skills/Abilities: Navor is highly skilled in combat, and also has the ability to create a near-exact replica of himself that aids him in fights. He controls this copy as he would his own body, and thus it shares all of his battling expertise.
Personality: Navor is a very practical, serious person. He battles enemies only once they have proved themselves a threat, preferring to not waste his time fighting those he doesn't have to. He is not much of a people person, usually preferring his own company (sometimes literally).
Bonus: Promo Navor!
Akisaki - MTGCS Cards
Bonus Cards
(Clicking an image will take you to the MTGCS version of the card.)When Mia died, her creative but somewhat mischievous spirit was bound to her mask. The wearer can embrace this power to perform rather mild feats of creation, mimicry, or mischief, or channel her spirit from within.
Alkalesh - MTGCS Cards
Bonus Cards
(The grimore is where Nimbu records her successful (cleric + necromancy) spell fusions for later use.)
Grimore redux: "Graveyard to battlefield, I was short on space"
Prologue - Part 1
Claire grew up as an assistant and adoptive daughter to Samuel Greathook, a local fisherman. Each morning, she would be woken up before sunrise by Samuel for long work days where she would use her hydromancy to help catch large amounts of fish. By the evening, Samuel and her would go to sell what they caught, and use that money they earned to put food on their table for the next day.
However, the plane of Nerotomea is a world that everyone struggles to survive in, and this was no exception for Claire and Samuel. On some days, they would catch only a few fish, and on those days, they wouldn’t have enough money for both of them to eat.
On one evening as they were walking home by the docks, Samuel stopped Claire, and asked her to wait for him as he ran an errand.
“Can’t I help?” Claire asked.
“Heh,” Samuel chuckled, “You are the kindest soul I know. Unfortunately, I’m afraid this isn’t something you can help with. I promise this will be a quick errand.”
“Awww…”
Samuel walked into a dark alley, black fog slowly creeping out of it. While she waited for Samuel to return, she could feel many eyes looking at her, as if they were all planning on robbing or kidnapping her, which was all too common in this world. After what felt like hours, Samuel returned with a large grin on his face.
“C’mon, I want to treat you to some delicious food tonight.”
“Did we earn a lot of money today?”
“We earned an average amount, but the errand I just ran has given us enough to buy food for weeks.”
Claire’s jaw dropped. “Really?!”
Still grinning, Samuel nodded. “Yep! Now c’mon, what do you want to eat tonight?”
A few months go by, and while Claire and Samuel still spent all day every day catching fish, they didn’t have to worry about earning enough to have food for the next day. That is, until Samuel’s debt caught up to him one late evening...
End of prologue part 1