Name: Olivia Herondale
Gender: F
Age: 25
Appearance:
credits to the artistRace: Human
Abilities/Equipment: Longsword, years of training under her father, Captain Herondale of the Fort Steel City Guard, supernatural durability she is unaware of
Bio: When Oliva Herondale was five years old, her sister was murdered at the age of twelve on her way home from school. Despite every effort taken by the city guard and investigators, no closure was ever given to the grieving Herondale family. The day after they buried her sister, Oliva’s father took her to the training yard where he trained new city guards, and he began to train her. He wouldn’t leave his other little girl defenseless if he could help it. From then on, Olivia became who she is today.
Olivia grew up rough-housing in the streets and picking fights with all the young boys that were vying to get in her father’s good graces through her, though it was a pointless quest anyways. Her father grew cold and distant, stern and always telling Olivia she wasn’t good enough, she needed to work harder, and so she did. Her talent to fight with both her hands and a sword were quickly discovered, and honed, but still never good enough. Her father announced at the dinner table on her twelfth birthday, five mugs into a barrel of ale, that one day she would take over the City Guard from him, and he knew she would be an even better captain than he ever was. Oliva took those words to heart, drunken as they were, and strived to live up to them in everything she did. All she wanted to do was make him proud, even if he’d never admit it sober.
The night of her twelfth birthday, long after her parents had gone to bed, an apparition appeared in her room. Olivia sat with wide eyes as she beheld the ghostly form of her older sister Alice, who was panting and grabbing at her throat, though nothing was there. Alice was back in ghostly form, and only wanted Olivia to know it.
From then on, life continued, Olivia’s steps haunted by the ghost of her sister. Alice was chatty, as she’d always been, and they tried to figure out what was going on to no avail. Soon enough, giving up their quest for answers, Alice returned quietly to her studies of medicine and history, haunting the family library while everyone was away, and Olivia continued with her training. Training of course translated to kicking the asses of all the trainees, and beating even full-fledged city guards under the bus. Boys vied for her attention but she gave them black eyes instead of kisses.
On her 18th birthday, Olivia was officially inducted into the City Guard, and for another seven years, life was great. Alice was mopey, and complained a lot, but Olivia was finally getting to do what she’d spent her life working up to. She was a city guard, protecting the citizens of Ft. Steel, defending the King and his family, and living up to her family name. Eventually though, the issue of her ghost came to a head.
Alice was sad. Extremely so, and though Olivia was always glad to have her sister back in her life, she knew Alice didn’t belong on this plane. Alice had realized it too, and together they sought out books on ghosts. With no luck, Olivia interrogated a priest, but he was no use either. Clearly, their answers lay not in the Human Kingdom. Olivia told her father that she wanted to travel, and though he seemed disappointed, he said he understood. And so, Olivia packed a bag and Alice tagged along as they left Ft. Steel for the first time in their lives to try and get Alice to the other side.
Extra: If you even look at Olivia Herondale the wrong way, expect her fist in your face.
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Name: Alice Herondale
Gender: F
Age: 32/Looks 12
Appearance:
credits to the artistRace: Ghost
Abilities/Equipment: Invisibility, minor possession of inanimate objects, able to phase through solid objects. Extensive medicinal and historical knowledge
Bio: Alice’s living memories are fuzzy, the last living thing she remembers is walking home from school, the clang of armor as a metal covered hand grabbed her and dragged her into an alley, and then a brief, never-ending and all-encompassing darkness. All of eternity and no time at all seemed to pass, and then she was awake in Olivia’s room with no recollection of what happened. One thing was for sure though, Alice Herondale was dead and now a ghost.
She wanted to see her parents, to show them she was there, but feared the repercussions of revealing herself, so she settled on watching them through a picture frame, or from the jug of wine on the table at dinner. Sometimes she tagged along to watch Olivia practice, but mostly she hung around the library and continued her studies of medicine and history, as she had wanted to be the first woman doctor when she was alive. She learned a lot, and as she reached an age of mental maturity, despite a perpetually twelve-year-old body, she began to sneak into the schools and universities, and apothecaries to study and watch and learn. And she did. She became a walking encyclopedia of medicinal knowledge that her brawns for brains sister had a great need of, and often.
Despite all this, Alice hated being in the living world. She felt empty, restless, and foreign in a world where people ate, slept, and breathed. She began to research ghosts and their history, but most of what she found was hearsay and talk. There was no true information on how to help a ghost move on from the world of the living. Olivia understood, to a degree, and swore to help her sister, though Alice had a nagging feeling it was more to get Alice out of her life than anything. After a disappointing conversation with a priest, it was decided their best course of action was to venture into the worlds of magic and try and find something, anything, to help.
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Name: Astar Galuchin
Gender: M
Age: 330
Appearance:
credits to the artistRace: Pureblood Elf
Abilities/Equipment: Water magic as healing, magic that waxes and wanes with the moon
Bio: Astar was born heralded by a storm that rained for 3 days and 3 nights, on the day 3 years after the war between humans and non-humans began. His mother delivered him into the world alone, her husband on the warfront, and died alone two days later, leaving young Astar in a large and empty castle just a babe as war raged around the world. Until his father could come home, five years later, he was raised by his uncle.
Astar was a boisterous and excitable young child, getting into mischief and running amuck in Hetter-Head as he grew up. His father was sullen, and unreachable, and ruled his last 200 years in quiet grief for his wife. Astar was never able to connect with his father, something he felt great sorrow for, but with no want from his father to remedy that, he quietly waited until it was his time to ascend the throne.
In his father’s twilight years, he lost control of himself. Astar was concerned, and tried to help, but after nearly being banished for trying to do so, he could only watch as his father deteriorated. The old king brought in necromancers and magic users and monsters from all over the kingdoms in a desperate need for something he would not speak of, but eventually, he faded into the afterlife.
The day his father died, Astar fell ill in bed and slept for 3 weeks, and when he woke, he was not the same. It was as though a heavy fog had been placed over him, and thoughts became difficult and near impossible. He moved through the castle in a dazed state, half awake, half asleep, and oftentimes he could not help but fall asleep where he stood, where he sat, no matter the situation. He became a shell of himself over time, and rules quietly from within the castle. At times, he had energy at night, where he would take time to bask in a moonlit garden, before succumbing to the fog once more.
After his coronation, and the fog consumed him, Astar grew very lonely. He wished for someone to rule by his side, but no one came, no one dared approach him but his uncle. He would be unsure, and saddened by these situations, but alas, all he is, is tired.
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