Character Cast

Belseleth Howl

(Nicknames: Bel, Seth, Sel, Howl)

Age

26 years

Gender

Male

Appearance

He is tall and skinny. He has a rectangular build. He is one straight lean stick with no curves. He tends to stand rather straight. His hair is a very light blond and medium thickness. He keeps his hair short on the sides, and longer on the top. It is pretty straight and flat without any body, and often flops limply. He never does anything with it, because he doesn't care about his appearance. He has a thin angular face. His face is a diamond shape, and high prominent cheek bones. He has a light sprinkle of freckles over his nose and cheeks.

He has light skin, which often reddens and burns in the sunlight. He has a high thin bridge with a bit of an aquiline appearance, and his nose is on the small side. His eyebrows are oblong and medium. Since they are a light color, they do not stand out well from the rest of his face. Above his brows his forehead is beginning to collect wrinkles from frowning and worrying. His face profile is pretty flat and straight, but it curves outward slightly. His eyes are placed in a moderate place and not bulging out of his head or set in deeply. They are a light gray blue color.

His face tends to be grim, and shows off disgust or annoyance the best. Alongside his mouth are the beginnings of lines, which are supposed to be smile lines. His mouth his medium, but his lips are thin. He has long spidery fingers. He keeps his fingernails short and clean. His ears are medium in size, but they slightly stick out. He has long skinny bony feet. He has a long leg to torso ratio, and his arms dangle by his sides. He is used to keeping clean. He has a medium to not much hair on his legs and arms. Since they are light blond, they are hard to see, and not very apparrant.

Personality

He has a very solemn, severe, harsh demeanor. He uses it to hide his emotions under a very very very deep covering. As a logical person, emotions have no place, and they mess logic up. It confuses him, when he thinks one way, but his emotions tell him to do another. He seems to be calm, because he normally maintains a very quiet and still posture. However, his temper bursts forth, and is quite violent comparing to other people. He can go from tranquil to almost tearing people's heads off. He is quite intelligent, and he has the ability to be acerbic. He is very out of place in a group setting. He can begin to feel overwhelmed.

He often settles in to become quiet and harshly judges everyone who comes by. He doesn't think that he's a very nice person, so he's suspicious of anyone who is nice to him. He expects that everyone is trying to make him look bad, and he hates being humiliated. He doesn't like to be nice to others, so he doesn't understand why someone would want to be nice, especially to him. He almost never tries to get involved unless someone makes him, or he is desperately bored.

As a healer, everyone else must come first. Sometimes he is a little resentful, because he wonders what would happen, if something happened to him, but most of the time, he doesn't argue with the way it works. He realizes that not everyone is thinking about him. He is intelligent, even if he is a slow methodical thinker, and not the fastest on his toes. He doesn't care about what others think, including most loved ones, as long as it doesn't restrict where he is allowed to be. He understands societies defintion of justice, but unless something unjust happens to him, he doesn't care about enforcing it.

If you gain his respect, you gain his loyalty. He's not afraid to be challenging, and he's in the habit of being argumentative. He prefers to be by himself, so he doesn't have to deal with everyone's stupidity, and he doesn't have to pretend to be a nice or polite. Normally, he keeps his thoughts and opinions to himself, but they can be unleashed, if he is given any opening, or loses any control. He holds nothing back until he gets a grip on himself. It's normally all or nothing.

Howl is only impulsive, when he has an unusual excess of emotions. It makes him become unpredictable. This is one of the reasons he keeps his emotions tampered down. When he's not explosive, he's good at planning. Howl likes predictabilty, and knowing what's going to happen. He isn't good at analzying motives, because he would have to understand emotion. Emotion confuses him, and he doesn't know how to deal with it, or understand it.

Emotions give information away about himself, and he doesn't like that. Emotions also cause him to mess up on the field. It causes him to get nervous, if he has lost one person, and he moves on to someone else who needs him. He wants to maintain information which gives power to himself. Howl prefers to be passive, and let things pass by without acting. He doesn't understand why he would want to get involved in something that is not his problem. However, his work demands action, and he doesn't want to waste his skill, even though he often uses his position to experiment. He avoids asking for help, because he prefers to be independent, and he doesn't trust others. Howl is more curious than he appears, but he tries not to give any hint. Howl is very persistent, and once you get him to commit, it's easy. It is hard to pin him down, because he often doesn't think people are worth his time.

Likes

Howl wouldn't mind being a hermit. He thrives on being alone, and recharges. When he is alone he doesn't have to struggle with violent extremes of emotion. He does very well in the cold, and needs cold to survive. He has a strong mind, and he is good at thinking. He prefers to be logical. He doesn't like being out of control, and one of the best ways to combat that is to be prepared. He tries to be observant, so he can make conclusions, and plan ahead. He likes to study everyone in an attempt to understand them. He doesn't allow others to push him around, nor do his feelings get hurt easily. He likes his mind to be sharp crisp and clear. Only coldness can do that. He enjoys looking around at nature, and appreciating it, since he doesn't like people. He has really strong concentration, and he accidentally blocks everyone else out.

Dislikes

He is afraid that others will be able to control him. He appreciates independence. He knows that knowledge gives others power over him. He doesn't grasp emotions very well. They are confusing things outside of logic. He finds the bond with his rider frightening, and not comforting since he prerfers to stand alone. They are some random entity who can intrude into his personal feelings and thoughts, whenever they wish. He can tell that they aren't completely dependable, even if they are the other half of him. His emotions can explode unexpectedly. He puts a lot of stress on himself, and he hates failure. He is the one who gives the most goals for himself, and he is the harshest judge.

Being sick causes Howl to act like a bratty baby. He loses a lot of self control, and he complains loudly, whines, and makes a general nuissance of himself.

He is known to awkwardly stare, as he tries to figure out what the person is like. When he gets in the zone, he doesn't treat others like people beings, and he treats them more like unstable experiments.

Howl has excellent control over his emotions, as it is a matter of life or death, when he is healing someone or on the battle field. However, emotions are really hard to control, so the harder they are pushed away, the more violent they are, when they finally pop out.

Team work

He's observant, but he often interprets what he sees wrong, or he doesn't understand at all.

heat, sun, he gets burnt

He has a hard time watching everyone in a large group setting. He gets overwhelmed deciding who to concentrate on.

Backstory

During a raid, when he was a baby, he was taken from Sythlus. Before he became a slave, a healer took him under his wing, and raised him like his own. The war with Sythlus is off and on, and he was recruited as a teenager-young man. They taught him how to use weapons. He would stop and help his fallen comrades, and they realized he had more use as a healer, and he was too valuable to lose.

Beliefs

He is familiar with the gods of his people, but he doesn't believe that men of science should believe in them.

Abilities

Medical knowledge

Sword

Spear

Basic archery for hunting

Other

Possibly still a WIP

Name

Kialaan

Age

Unknown, though she is fairly young for a god

Gender

Female

Appearance

Kialaan is a beautiful woman, unsurprising, given her status as a goddes, with a deep tan, warm skin tone. She is tall and slender, albeit with a still well-defined shape, sculpted by years of acting as a war goddes and picking fights with people that irritate her. She has a quite small chest, thin waist, and somewhat wider hips, with long, well-muscled legs. Her entire body is quite well-toned, with fine muscle as another result of her frequent workout schedule. She has more muscle definition in her legs than arms, and a toned stomach. Her shoulders, arms, and hands are also slender, with long, graceful fingers. She is tall, standing at around 5’8”, and weighs 125 pounds.

Kialaan has long, curly, copper red hair that reaches to about the middle of her back, and frames her face quite well. Her general face shape is angular, with prominent cheekbones, and her eyes are bright green and almond-shaped, usually lined with rather a lot of black eyeliner, and she has thick, arched brows that give her an aggressive look. She has a small mouth, with rounded lips and dimples. Her nose is straight, but slightly downturned. Freckles dot her face, especially frequent on her nose and cheeks, but covering most of her body to some extent. She has white teeth, although they’re somewhat crooked.

Personality

Kialaan is a surprisingly intelligent young woman, who enjoys various scholarly pursuits, although her sass and impulsiveness may make it seem as though she is not so. Her looks, confidence, and flirtatious nature make her attractive at surface level to many people, though her relationships rarely last, due to her tendency to pick fights, argue, and refuse to commit to anything long-term. The same applies to most of her platonic relationships, and she makes enemies faster than friends.

Her impulsivity is rather a divisive trait, as some find her exciting and fun, while others find her frustrating and flighty. Ironically, despite that reputation she has for not committing to anything, she’s very hard-headed, and if she really enjoys something, she will stick to it stubbornly, and she is known to be very ambitious in her goals.

Kialaan does not do well with authority, and she has a tendency to argue with her superiors, as well as anyone else who believes they have the ability to control her. She has quite the temper as well, which doesn’t help, and she loves to mock people with sarcasm and insults. Throughout her life, she has been involved in a fair few fist fights, usually ones that she has started. She is extremely petty, and relishes in making those she doesn’t like miserable, and takes joy in revenge. Fights, chaos, trouble. She loves all of it.

Likes

Music - dance - athletics - fighting - arguments - heat - parties - excitement

Dislikes

Sitting still - quiet - cold - calm situations - boredom

Backstory

A child of the light goddess, Kialan has spent millennia hopping around, creating chaos, and generally enjoying being an unhelpful, chaotic force for gods and mortals alike. She’s only taken a side in this war due to a spat with one of her fellow gods.

Beliefs

Well, she’s actually one of the gods, so…

Abilities

Fire manipulation is her most useful ability, and while she may have more abilities, she doesn’t know how to use them very well. She does heal somewhat quickly, though it is not immediate. In addition, she is quite skilled with a number of different weapons and surprisingly clever.

Other

As a goddess, she is represented by a dragon, and she is most often associated with both creation and destruction to an extent, namely the balance of fire giving as much as it takes, as well as passion, though the interpretations vary on whether that is a romantic passion or the passionate hatred that adversaries on the battlefield might feel for one another.

Because of Belseleth's atheism, his medical knowledge tended to be a little more advanced than others. Those who were priests didn't continue to search and know. Sometimes they did, trying to learn more about their god, but Belseleth had a different approach. The priests didn't experiment with different surgeries trying to save their patients, because sometimes their gods demanded patience from them. According to Belseleth, they foolishly obeyed. He jumped in and tried to help as much as possible, and it was surprising how much his assistence was rejected. As he tried to put distance between himself and the injured, his guards dashed after him.

The front lines were brutal and loud. They were often bringing in screaming wounded soldiers. As priesthood was even more sacred and arduous than plain medical training, there were too few priests to deal with all of the pain and blood. He keeled over slightly, beginning to feel overwhelmed, and ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it. He hated being untidy, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to flatten it back on his head. He began to rub his temples with his eyes closed, trying to ease the pain. Even though he was a heretic by their standards, they seemed to consider him harmless.

They didn't realize that he had been trained to do more than just sit back and claim he could do the job of a priest. They refused to let him show that he really was capable. It would be an abomination. Little did he know that today had been the worst lost for this section of the army. The higher ups were looking for someone to paste the blame on, and they couldn't go much higher. They knew it was their crappy planning crumbling a part, but they couldn't let their soliders lose faith in them. Whose bright idea was it to let a heretic to remain in the army? Who had incorrectly read the battlefield?

Neither of these mattered, and these questions would not be raised, if enough rage was held against Belseleth. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, as a high ranking officer, came by and jerked him to his feet. Most of the time, they preferred to ignore him. They didn't want to encourage his claims, and hoped eventually, he would give up and shut up. Only a natural born Sythlus could become a priest. There was no hope for his claim to be valid. He was the natural one to fall upon. His brow furrowed annoyed, but he hid most of his anger at the crude treatment. What did he want? He had finally learned to keep his mouth shut.

"This heretic is our problem!" the officer yelled at the crowd, "he does not practice our ways, and the gods think we are harboring him. He must be punished so equality will be restored!" Just as they had suspected, the less educated motely crowd of superstitious footsoldiers took up the cry.

"The heretic is our problem!" the crowd chanted.

Belseleth realized this situation was quite dire, and he didn't have an escape plan. He had nowhere to go, but he was going ot have to hoof it on the spur of the moment. No one had any sympathy. At least not enough to count and help. He could see the officer now standing off to the side sweating profusively. He was trying to compose himself, just in case someone noticed him, while wiping his forehead, and thanking his lucky stars. He had been ordered by someone a rank or so above him to create this chaos, so that no one would no who to blame. He was lucky that it was working, and he had managed to pull it off, or someone would be pissed. Perhaps some of the lower ranks would have actually recognized what had happened.

"Let's have a little fun with this heretic. We give him a headstart, and then we pursue him. You know what we do to heretics," the officer came back out into the public view. Apparently, people liked to reserve the worst punishments for the unbelievers. Turning toward Belseleth, he began listing how this was going to work,"You have a twelve hour headstart, and then the footsoldiers will go after you. After that the calvary shall pursue you. Go!" he ordered him.

Zilch, nothing. That's what he was starting off with, and he began to walk away. He didn't want them to know that he was trembling inside, or give them the satisfaction, that he was afraid this was going to be the end of him, and he didn't know how to survive in this land. He supposed he should be thankful it wasn't his own, sweltering, water lacking land, but he had no idea how he would manage.

He was slightly curious why Belseleth wasn't running. Any normal man, who knew he had only twelve hours on foot, would at least be speeding for the first hour or until they felt safe, or way out of sight, before they slowed down. He wouldn't be getting too far at that speed, and he would only get one good burst of speed at the very beginning while he was still fresh. The officer had been impulsive. What if the enemy attacked? Chasing this worthless heretic would be time consuming, and waste resources. He was going to have to rearrange this more elegantly. Perhaps the heretic would even escape, because he had messed up. He had twelve hours to figure it out. He knew the higher ranks wouldn't be helping him. He had dug his own ditch. He would have to take responsibility.

His belly was already beginning to rumble, distracting him from his thoughts. Although his captors hadn't tried to be overtly cruel to him, they didn't want to waste unnecessary food on someone they deemed so useless, and a contradiction to the way they lived. He was given the healthy minimum, so he didn't have any extra fat to rely on. Since he had some theories about what the proper diet would be like, he ate all that he was given, believing that if he ate less, he would become weaker. Even though he could miss some important social cues, he knew they wouldn't be serving out special orders to him.

Unlike most prisoners, who would have been forced to dig trenches or other hard unsavory labor, so they paid their food and keep, due to his unusual heretic status, nobody wanted to work near him. Thanks to the priest's energetic condemning preaching, everyone was afraid that they would become infected by the heretic, and shunned by their friends and family, as it was considered the proper punishment. Talking to anyone who was a heretic, or who willing interacted with the heretic were considered rebels who were condoning the path the heretic had taken away from their gods. It also meant his endurance wasn't built up, so he wouldn't be getting far.

His chest was heaving, trying to suck in air. He hadn't been in this much discomfort in a while. What would be worse? Exericse or lack of food. Both could kill in excess, but he had a feeling that the lack of food would get to him first. The lack of exercise could also kill him, since it meant he hadn't put enough distance between himself and the war camp. Breathing was sickening, and he wanted to let his lengthy skinny body keel over. Once he was out of sight, he had sped up a little, but he had not been able to hold the new pace for long. While he had decided to pick up the pace for a short while, he almost tripped over the same log that Kialaan had fallen over.

Since he was no woodsman, he had not noticed the blood, even though it would probably take someone pretty oblivious to not notice the tracks. Seth had his blinders on, trying to escape, and he was one of those people. His eyes widened, and his arms flailed. He had decided to let himself fall, since he had tripped, and he wanted to rest, but once he spotted the still woman, he didn't want to fall on the gory body. He stepped on the hem of her dress before he managed to regain his equilibrum.

His scientific brain began to click. What a rare find? With this corpse, he could practice his medical skills. Even survival might take up most of the backseat, when he had this right in front of him. Would he be able to accurately figure out how long she had been dead? Could he guess what horrific deeds had been done to this body? His piercing eyes narrowed, as he tried to not miss a detail, forgetting that he was on the run. He stood over to the side with his gaze unwavering. It seemed too odd to sit down next to the body, but it would make things more convenient.

After a few minutes of studying, he came to the conclusion, that she hadn't been messed with as much as he had originally believed. Mainly, the stab wound. He practiced feeling for a pulse, and realized that she was still alive. The pulse was there, weak and fluttering. He dragged his hands down his face, and sighed. He had just made his hands and face even more dirty and unclean than before. Shaking his fists in the air, he muttered under his breath, "Damn!" For some reason, he was used to keeping his cursing secret, so he always did it under his breath. Perhaps it was a trick he learned, when he was amd at someone, so they didn't realize what he was doing, and punish him.

She had been so still. He had been certain at first glance that she was recently departed. If that didn't beat all? What was he going to do with her? Suddenly, the blinders were lifted, and nerves crawled in his stomach, becoming a writhing mess, yet he stilled perfectly. He closed his eyes, trying to block out distractions, and soaked up the silence. How much time had passed? How would he care for her, heal her, and make sure she survived? Would hse be punished, because she had interacted with him? How would he escape? He had a choice. This could be his one last great act of science.

But wait...was it worth trying to heal her? She was so close to death. She could still die at any moment. He had been wanting the corpse instead of a live one. He had been wanting to practice a few things that wouldn't be wise on someone who was alive. He also wasn't bound by an oath to do no harm. He had managed to avoid the oath during the time that he was given his status as an skilled healer. He had the training, but he might not have the proper heart for it. He reminded himself that even if he did consider himself heartless, he still didn't go around letting people die. This could be his grand challenge. He might even be able to get answers to some of his previously made hypothesis. On the other hand, perhaps, if they found him, she might be willing to vouch that he had actually healed her. Either that or they would be more wild to throw him in the brig for heresy. Every moment he waited lessened her chances. He set to work.

Leaf mulch was so dirty, it hurt him to consider using that to stop the bleeding. He had no idea what the consequences would be for using dirt. Luckily, from where he was from, fire was one of the things they learned how to create. If only he had a blade he could heat, so he could cauterize wounds. That would be much better than dirt. He also had no way to boil water. Why was she not dead? The stab to the stomach should have spilled toxic stomach juices everywhere, and she should be gone by now. If the stomach wasn't pierced, she could survive for quite a while before she finally died of bloodloss, but it had pierced her stomach. She should be dead. What kind of odd occurence was this?

As it began to get darker, Seth blinked owlishly. Why had he not thought of this before? Where were her attackers? He may have to deal with them eventually. This was the thanks he got for trying to be helpful. He had no way to gather food here. If she ever regained consiousness, he would ask her what the best wild food sources were. He didn't want to go try to find water, because he was sure he would become lost, and would never be able to find her again. His clothing was mostly rags, but he had used some of it to clean her wounds. It was only slightly better than the handful of moss he had scraped off a tree. She would be sure to die of infection at this rate.

What a waste of time!

Kialaan felt as though she was floating on the very edges of consciousness. The wounds left by her attackers threatened to drag her from the realm of the living, but she held stubbornly onto life. Her magically enhanced body struggled to heal her wounds, being too weak to repair them in an instant like some of her older fellow gods. Still, it kept her from dying from that final wound, if only just.

She became aware of pressure against her injuries as she finally managed to cross the threshold into consciousness. Her eyes felt too heavy to open, but she was dimly aware of her surroundings. The air was cold, and the hard earth beneath her miserably uncomfortable, though nothing compared to the searing pain in her stomach. She had watched a thousand battles, fought her fellow gods hundreds of times, but no injury sustained had ever been quite this agonizing. Her mortal form lacked the strength of the divine, and was easily injured by human weapons. Such a thing meant that pain, once a distant annoyance, sat at the very forefront of her mind. Was this what it felt like for those she toyed with on the battlefield? Whose deaths and bloodshed she had laughed at and used for petty arguments or her own amusement?

Kialaan refused to die like a mortal toy of the gods. She forced her eyes open and took in a sharp breath before she quickly examined her surroundings. The sky above her was nearly black by now, covered mostly by clouds, but with few spots where one could see the stars peeking through. How long had she been unconscious, she wondered, though that was hardly the most important question right now. Right now, she needed to know where her attackers were, whether they were coming back, and how close she was to the nearest town, or anywhere that she could safely tend to her injuries.

She turned her head slightly and noticed the figure next to her. In the darkness, she could not see the face, and as such, assumed the worst. Another bandit, back to ensure she died, some disgusting ruffian here to rob her corpse, or perhaps one of the other myriad of awful things bad mortals did to people who could not fight back. She scrambled to her feet —or, tried to, rather, as the second she attempted to move, she was hit with another pang of burning pain from her injured stomach. All she really managed to do was cause herself more suffering and slightly shift her position.

“Get away from me...” She gasped out, though there was no power behind her words, and her voice sounded like that of a scared girl, not an ancient, powerful being. “I’m not worth anything to you...I haven’t got any money...” She felt weak. She couldn’t fight like this, her power wasn’t working, and she was entirely at the mercy of a mortal of all things.

He turned a little, so that he could peer over her. His heart stopepd as her eyes snapped open. Were her eyes rolling around in her head, or was she actually beginning to wake up? He flinched, as she tried to escape. Her quick movements were quite startling. He hadn't considered that she would be ready to fly at a moment's notice once she woke up. "Ma'am," his voice was a calm monotone, and he held out his hands in front of him, trying to show her that he had no weapon on him. He tilted his torse, so that he was facing her, but he didn't make a move in her direction. Her fright was understandable, even though he hadn't thought that far into the future.

After serving as a surgeon during battle, he should be more accustomed to being surprised by terrorized patients. Even though he had been startled, he quickly recovered, and began using old protocol and routines, as they had taught him how to deal with these kinds of people. "Please don't go any farther. I understand that you are frightened. I have seen that some horrid fate has befallen you, but I have not harmed you," he looked up thoughtfully, before adding,"...I don't think. There aren't too many people around here, and I am one of the few who would actually be willing to help you. The soldiers aren't particularly friendly, and you don't want to get caught and stuck there."

He couldn't say that he hadn't meant to. While he wouldn't deliberately hurt her, it hadn't bothered him, while he thought she wasn't alive. Trying to coax her to obey him was quite the persuasive work out. "It would really be better for your healing, if you didn't move around so violently. Your mud caking is going to crack." He continued to talk, hoping that his voice would help reassure her, that he meant no harm. Normally, he preferred not to speak, but around normal humans, they seemed to find speech comforting. He didn't want her wounds opening further if that were possible. "You were so close to dead, for a moment there, I thought you were really gone," he began to spout off information, that might be relevant. He had to try to conceal his diappointment, that she had actually been alive. "It was great practice. Perhaps, I will save someone else, someday, because I helped to care for you," he tried to flood his voice with peppy hope.

"It was really quite inconsiderate of you to fall down right in my pathway," his brow wrinkled disapprovingly. "I could have hurt something, and then where would we both be. You weren't very well hidden." He cocked his head staring at her, "Where is your assailant? I'd prefer to avoid'em if possible." She seemed to be doing awfully well for someone who had had a near brush with death, and he kept on staring at her, trying to figure out her secret. "I really did think you were dead. I thought it was impossible that I'd be able to help. Do you know why you are still alive?" His gaze became intense, curious. He always became more alive, when he thought he had the chance of a new discovery. His face became slightly disapproving, even though he worked hard to maintain pleasantness to at least neutrality. A happy positive face aided healing, while a grouchy one could slow it down.

The sooner she was better, the sooner he could move on to the next person, or figure out how he was going to survive, or move on to the next phase. She seemed so frightened and young. She appeared to be younger than he was. How had she gotten alone out here by herself? Obviously, nothing good could come of it. "You have lots of worth," his eyes had a strange glint. If she didn't know how he was, it would be hard to determine exactly what he meant. "There is no place to use your money, so I doubt it would be helpful," he sniffed disdainfully.

He didn't want to add that he was a fugitive, so going anywhere near a place where he could use the currency was totally pointless. Even if he technically had physical power over her, he wasn't so crude and insecure to where he felt the need to lord it over her like some males. Telling her that he was a fugitive might feel like he was evening out the playing field for her, but she had told him nothing that could help with anything, so he didn't feel obliged to spill or tip the at present unequal power. "Is there something I can do for you? You might need water, but it could kill you, since I don't have any easy way to keep it clean." His smile became slightly bashful. An even more rare and unusual facial expression.

"Ohhh, yeah, I forgot introductions. My name is Seth. It's short for the rest of my name. And you are?" He was trying to maintain normalcy, which was actually harder than he had originally believed. He kept on trying to figure out what he would do, if she managed to take off running. Chasing her might only antagonize. "Oh..another important thing. I hope you are a native around here. I am becoming quite hungry, you might even describe me as famished. I didn't learn how to survive in the wild much less other biomes. I would love your help! I'm sure your belly is beginning to growl about now, so if you could direct me toward some food, you would be doing everyone a favor."