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Quite self-explanatory, really. All I ask of you is to create a character that you would have fun roleplaying with, given a few stipulations.

1: humanoids, please.
As much as I wouldn't like to ruin anybody's fun, it becomes increasingly difficult to describe the actions of an inhuman character. As long as your character is remotely comparable to a human, we'll have no issue.

2: be interesting!
Boring and lackluster abilities are not only hard to write for, but also fall flat even when they're written out as actions. For the sake of depth, go ahead and describe the logistics and effects of your abilities to your heart's content! It only makes the game more interesting for the all of us.

3: don't overdo it.
Sometimes blending different character archetypes can be cool! If you want to play as a badass sword-mage, go ahead! What's you shouldn't do, though, is try to create a character that's every color of the rainbow. A lot of the time, these characters will become bland quickly and make the game less fun for both the player and their teammates.

Other than that, go nuts! Go ahead and write up a firestorm!

Format
Name:
Gender:
Weapons: ~Be sure to add brief descriptions of each piece of gear. Spice it up!~

Talent: ~This is where to put any defining abilities or character traits. You only get one, so make it count!~

Physical Description: ~Put those fingers to work! Don't skip a detail, I wanna see it all!~

Notes: ~Anything else worth saying? Put it here!~

So uhh, what exactly is this for?

It's a role playing game, of course.
Character Creation comes first, we worry about the plot later.

Seems like the only oasis for semi-advanced RPs.

As much as I hate to join RPs shrouded in mystery, I have no option.

Name: Altaron the Undercover Gardevoir, "Paladin"
Gender: Male
Weapons:

His main weapon is a mythril one-and-half handed sword, with handle made of silver, and ruby orb. The ruby orb is held by golden frame, and the blade is somewhat sharp on the right side. The left side is dulled from the battle. Most people called it "Spuma Gladii", meaning "Scums' own sword." Altaron calls it "Avici", translated "Revenge". It's slightly misshapen to the right from age and usage, and is abut three feet long. Altaron uses it as a two-handed sword.

Two silver-edged daggers, forged from somewhat green-coloured silver ore, are his back-up weapons, in case he got disarmed, or that he feels furious. Their design is similar to a bowie knife, with runic description written in old Kalos language. "Gal" and "Voei", meaning "Justice" and "Bravery". "Bravery" is created to stab, and "Justice" is made to slash the foes. He mostly uses blunt ends to knock stuff down, and sharp ends only if Altaron hated the foe to the point of a war.

Talent: Innate light manipulation, due to being born as Gardevoir. It is ranging from subtle illumination to blasts of light. For that, he needs to be at least 10 metres from light source. He can't in any way conserve the light he has used, but certainly he can use it beside normal actions without distracting himself. No other innate abilities were documented on Altaron, as they're either 'locked' by the scar or hidden really deep from human eyes.

Physical Description: A steel-colour plume decorates the full mythril helmet. The helmet covers almost entire head except for eyes, and has a spiked empty space. Altaron is not your usual Gardevoir - he hides that really well. Even if he's a shiny one, his full mythril plate mail with spiked breastplates (even if, don't ask how he manages to hide the 'dress/robe/whatever you call it', the usual part of Gardevoirs' body), bracers, leggings and long, and probably unnecessary for Gardevoir, shoes, hides the skin really well. The vest worn by him further hides the strange fact. In fact, Altaron has a deep scar nobody knows about under the frail skin. The eyes are purple, as for his family usual eye colour. Usually wearing a bracelet, remnant of his family glory, adorned with crystal diamonds and runic description. "Itaron" meaning "Heartseeker." The armour was thinned and weakened due to many battles, and it has some cracks. Largest, and the only one showing the form, is hidden deep under the vest. He also wears three rings on the armour, one, of pure gold, called "Vilii" - "Kindness", one of pure silver, called "Alubbi" - "Knowledge", one of pure copper, called "Hetti" - "Knitting". All three have the names engraved.

For a note - he's slightly smaller than average adult - 1 m 63.24 cm.

Notes: The scar was remnant of lost psychic talent, due to his defeat. However, he rather quickly found the way around that. Never try to get his disguise off, as he'll just make you faint at best. Worse, if Altaron takes it as you're knowing too much. He only adapted the name Altaron after he had to disguise himself. He had no name before. The armour was scavenged from the warrior, who died long before Altaron grabbed the armour, thus explaining the state.

Well, humanoid Pokemon are allowed, so here it goes. Hope he would have a good run with his true form unseen. He knows Old English and Kalos language, both old and new. He can speak only Old English like a human. Trying to force Kaloean language would make him sing, a native language of Gardevoir family. A good poet, but only because of his voice.

As in the forests, the rivers,
Many tries to kill, many criers,
Lost the face from the impurity,
Their foes are now very guilty.

Cries of lost family, cries of young,
Will it even stop, will ever the young
knock out horror? You would be not sure,
The cry of Death is so sore.

This is one of many poetries Altaron had done from when he went undercover. Has usual habit of eating unseen. You probably know why.

Ah, and example of my character's medium-to-long-length post, in order:
- Mundane action
- Battle scene

Altaron sat on an old, rotting log. It wasn't necessarily comfortable, but that would do. From all the sides, pine forest. The sitting one was apparently in disdain on something. Curses, once again they fled. A song of hatred filled the air, as the self-proclaimed paladin moaned. Too well had he known his first encounter. He was Gardevoir back then, a Psychic and Light master. He still is the same Gardevoir, but he opted in for hiding himself under name of Altaron and armour made of mythril, found near yet other dead body, with most of the powers of his gone. Had he not lost the battle, family of his could still live, and he could live happily, helping them in various jobs, like curing people. They won't live long, once I catch them... He saw something nearby. A skeleton of a human. The Distortion happened to this guy? The armoured backed a bit off. Even with former magic, he'd not be able to revive the skeleton, and the skeleton was mocking him as if he couldn't save it. Nevermind, it's time I'll be going off. A song has ended as abruptly as it started. He started to venture again, seeking the ones who killed his family, the ones who disabled his magic somewhat.

Suddenly, two glowing eyes were gleaming in the dark forest. Out of nowhere, it leaped at Altaron, clanking against the mythril, making a considerable dent. What the- The 'paladin' noticed that he should try to corner the wolf into a corner. His strategy worked somehow, as wolf was backing off slowly from the big blade, as to try to lure the armoured guy, but it was outsmarted, as it was going right in the corner. From there, it was laughably easy to kill the wolf. Altaron didn't want to kill, though, and decided to simply knock the wolf unconscious, with a hit with a blunt side of the sword. The wolf whined, then fell to the ground, unconscious, but not dead. Altaron rarely killed animals, only when enraged or if the animal would die before being weakened. Often, he simply left them alone.

((Please note that battle scene, as well as mundane action, are only a representative text, a what if I had to type my actions with more than 4 paragraphs. But, description of surroundings have major hints about Altarons' background.))

Dadurumbudum, I'm doing a drum song to bump the topic!

This RP is so underrated it's a crime to leave it alone. I think Aesop Rock might want more people.

Anyway, I need to add something from me.

2 and 3 applies to characters, weapons and powers alike, not just one.

Clarification to 1 - there's much worse examples than flying heads. Like flying snake eye. Yeah, that's much worse, as eye is only an eye, and not a full body.

Or, comparing to reality - bacteria. How would you play as organism with up to 2-5 days lifespan, in addition without anything remarkable?

(I will have my character up in a bit, still describing every detail of his appearance.)

Name: Bramble Greyback, the Thicket King of the Marsh Keep

Gender: Male, with a potent security that would make Hemingway weep.

Weapons:

[list=*]
[li]His main choice of weapon is a Shortsword which he has named Marsh Gas, a name that seemed way cooler back when he had first engraved it into the sword's hilt when it had been forged, but now seemed significantly less cool, because the name only meant something intimidating if you had, in fact, been raised in the Marshes. Most people haven't, so most people would find a sword named Marsh Gas to be comical. The reason that it was called Marsh Gas in the first place was because Bramble had a tendency to catch it on fire, and he can only hope that that fact makes it slightly less comical than it was by name alone. It was a thin blade, made of an odd white colored metal that you just don't come across much nowadays, which came to a wooden, engraved hilt which was wrapped in a thin layer of leather (so the hilt wouldn't aggravate Bramble's many callouses). As mentioned before, the wooden part of the hilt was engraved to have the words Marsh Gas run along it, but when the leather was added for comfort, the hilt now appeared to only say 'sh Gas', which was somehow even less intimidating than its original name. Other than that, the only additional engravings were of ornamental sea monsters from old tales that Bramble didn't pay much attention to. The white blade itself was long, flat, and straight, close to a rapier but flat as to have blades more adept to cutting along the sides.

It's a very light sword, even for its size due to the odd weight of the strong yet not at all brittle nature of the white metal used to create it. Bramble wasn't sure what the type of metal was called, because the sword wasn't made from any type of ore. It was instead forged from a family heirloom that his father had given him that he didn't really like. Which is to say, he didn't really like the heirloom or the father that gave him the heirloom. Well, he hadn't liked the father that gave it to him. Back when the father was alive. You can't go around calling yourself the King of the Marsh Keep if there's still another King walking around, but that's beside the point. The heirloom was a small metal music box that played the old anthem of the Marsh Keep, but Bramble found no use for it, because the old anthem hadn't been used for hundreds of years. No matter the case, it made for good scrap metal. The sword is held in a scabbard filled with gasoline, because Bramble does actually like fighting when his sword is on fire. This doesn't give much of a bonus to fighting other than the possible bonus of intimidation that could come naturally from running at someone with a sword that is on fire. The scabbard is made from iron, and covered in leather matching that of the leather of the hilt, both made from rabbit hide because not many deer live around the marshes so rabbit hide was really the best you could hope for.

A cork is then bound to the top of the scabbard, shaped to close off the top of the scabbard when the sword is removed, because the last thing Bramble would want is for gasoline to spill out onto his nice pants. The cork is made of the wood from a mangrove tree, as they are the most commonly occurring tree in all of the Marshes, which also happens to be the same type of wood used to make the engraved hilt of the sword itself. The cork is also covered in a thin layer of malleable wax, as to form a more watertight seal (again, only should the sword be removed). The wax was made from the boiled down fat of the same rabbit that Bramble had killed to make the leather covering of Marsh Gas's hilt. The rabbits from the Marsh Keep are only dissimilar to regular rabbits in the fact that they are much larger, fattier, and better at swimming. However, they are not at all hostile and are actually very easy to kill, which makes them great game. The scabbard is then fastened to a leather belt, with a prominent buckle that is large, gold, and hopefully intimidating. This is worn around Brambles waist. The buckle is also engraved to be shaped and designed like a fish, similar to the sea monsters engraved on the hilt of his sword. Long ago, his marshes were once a sea, back when they used the old anthem. Now, though, there was little chance of any sea monsters still living in the midsts of the Marsh Keep, but it was a culture that kept its older iconography.[/li]
[li]Also held by the same leather belt is a holster, made from the same Marsh Rabbit leather as the belt, sheath, and hilt covering. This holster holds a pistol, which Bramble has lovingly named Bad Luck, a name slightly more intimidating than Marsh Gas, but that was only because Bramble had acquired the gun under the most unfortunate of circumstances, so the bad luck refers more to him than any enemies that find themselves staring down the barrel of the elegantly fine tuned pistolette. The gun is rather small, serving as a sidearm to Marsh Gas, yet its size has little bearing on its potential. The color of the gun is white, though more yellow tinted than the sword he carries with it, as the gun is not formed from the same metal he had acquired from the hated heirloom but instead from some sort of remarkably strong bone, with mangrove wood and iron embellishments for the handle and trigger. The man he had taken it from said that it was carved from the tooth of one of the elusive sea beasts that lived in the marshes before the land had risen from the water (well, mostly from the water, as the Marsh Keep was still flooded as all marshes are, just not nearly as flooded as, you know, an ocean), though Bramble was never able to prove the validity of this statement because the remains of the sea beasts are very hard to come by these days (if they even existed in the first place) and because the man he had taken the pistol from had died before he could prove that what he said was true. The wooden embellishments of the gun are engraved, though not with depictions of sea monsters. Instead, it was designed with the imagery of stylized mangroves, which led Bramble to assume that the embellishments were made within the last few hundred years, though that didn't help much with pinning down exactly when it was made. The barrel was almost perfect in its cylindrical nature, even though it appears to have been carved (as their isn't much possibility to forge bone in the first place), so whoever made it must have been an impeccable craftsman.

The gun is particularly remarkable in the fact that it doesn't use any particular type of ammo. Instead, he found that it will shoot basically anything that can fit in the pistol's barrel, from pebbles to buckshot to salt, though exactly how it manages to do all of this eludes him, as this ability doesn't seem to be enforced by any of the gun's physical mechanations. If that weren't baffling enough on its own, the gun had an interesting habit of following him. Once, when he had thrown the pistol into the marsh waters about a month after he had received it, he found that five minutes later, it had found itself back in its holster. No matter how much he tried to get rid of it, he could never lose the small gun. Bramble was fairly certain that this counted as a curse, but there wasn't much he could do about it. So he kept a sack of small pebbles (of course also made from rabbit leather) with him should he need to load it again. He found that it could also shoot liquids, but to a less impressive effect. The circumstances which had led to his possession of the gun are circumstances he would rather be kept secret. Not because they embarrassed him, because not much embarrassed him anymore, but because it was an unfortunate loss. Truly, this pistol was nothing but Bad Luck.[/li]
[li]Worn over the belt with the ornamental buckle is a coat, and hidden in the deepest of the inner pocket of the coat is a dagger known as Rabbit's Bane, the naming here being much more straightforward than the rest of his names. He uses it primarily to kill and gut the Marsh Rabbits and the occasional Bog Snake (which are not at all dissimilar to most normal snakes, except, like Marsh Rabbits, they are larger and can swim). A small, iron knife with a curved, almost hooked tip, since, you know, it's made for gutting large animals, Rabbit's Bane rests in Bramble's pocket until he comes to a problem that his sword and pistol can't immediately help with. Or until he needs to gut something. That is also a valid reason for him to get his knife out. Nothing very special about this knife, its blade only about a hand and a half in length and its mangrove wood handle neither engraved nor embellished, with only an iron pin keeping it attached to the blade. Still, it was the first knife he ever had, a gift from a mother he barely knew and a much more welcome gift than any music box playing an ancient tune given by a man blinded by nostalgia of an age he was never a part of, and more importantly, it wasn't made to honor traditions of a world long gone, like the ornamental fish engravings that cover so much of the Marsh Keep's architecture. The Marsh Rabbits came when the marsh itself came, so any knife designed specifically to deal with them has nothing to do with traditions fit for fighting off giant fantastical fish that haven't been seen for centuries. The knife also did something he liked his weapons to do. Intimidate anyone who sees it, since no one wants to fight against a man with a hooked gutting knife.[/li]
[li]The last of his weapons is named Buckshot, and it is one of the only traditions the Marsh Keep from its days of being under the sea that Bramble actually likes. This is because Buckshot is what he has named his cannon. The cannon is not very large, with a barrel only about two arms in length, forged from iron and placed on a small, mangrove wood cart. The cart, having two wheels on each side, is not much larger than the cannon, as that's the only thing it was made to carry. When not on a boat or raft of any sort (which it probably won't be unless Bramble decides to never leave the marshes), the cart is fitted with a harness designed to either be worn by a Swamp Goat (a species not native to the marshes that were imported for their strength comparative to their small size, as larger pack animals like horses or oxen would be too large for the often small houses built on wooden pillars to suspend them over the marsh waters) or the occasional very well trained Marsh Rabbit (though Bramble considers them useful for little more than their meat and hide). The cannon fires iron cannon balls, propelled by gunpowder lit with the same flint Bramble uses to light his sword. If Rabbit's Bane didn't work to intimidate enemies, then bringing a literal cannon with you probably would. Just for clarification, when the cannon is held on the cart, the firing end is pointed away from the goat, for obvious reasons.[/li]
[/list]

Talent: Though it hasn't been a very prestigious seafaring civilization for quite some time, ever since the sea lowered to expose the marshes below, the Marsh Keep still keeps the image of their pillaging ancestors, and while their boats have seen been replaced with more practical rafts, all citizens of the Marsh Keep retain the talent of a Pirate's Image. Through use of this talent, both Bramble's charm and intimidation are unmatched by the likes of most landlubbers. He is usually very likely to be able to convince others of doing what he wants them to do, either through his charasmatic leadership or through terror and that all-so-important intimidation (which he hopes is encapsulated more from his gutting knife and belt buckle than from his occasional cold blooded shows of force). This talent is most easily applicable to those who can understand his language, though can be extended through appearance alone to affect anyone who can clearly note his physical appearance or witness him do something notably impressive or terrifying. Basically a buff on those Charisma rolls, if this were in fact a game that would factor in something at all similar to charisma rolls. Not saying it is. At this point, I can barely say it's a game as much as it is just a collection of character descriptions, but that's all beside the point. The point is it could potentially be extended to an actual mechanic, more than just saying "man that guy looks scary and/or charming." I swear this is a valid talent.

Physical Description: Bramble's appearance follows that of most of those who dwell in the Marsh Keep, raised tough on little more than snake meat and rabbit venison. His skin is a lighter olive, a signature trait of those living in the marshes, though not particularly tanned under the prevailing shade of mangrove and heavy fog that permeates perpetually over the marsh. His hair is dark brown, just barely not black, and while not very long, still longer than most and usually tied back. A thick layer of dark hair covers his arms, legs, chest, and back. His face is clean-shaven, though, due to an old myth from the Marsh Keep that having a beard on a ship (or a raft) was bad luck, mostly because the sailors from long ago thought that sea monsters would grab you by the beard if they had the chance. His eyes are hazel, like his mother's, and his nose is ever so slightly crooked like his father's, so of course he preferred his eyes to his nose. His eyes are marked with what some refer to as "crow's feet" wrinkles, most likely due to the stress that comes with someone giving you literally an entire kingdom you didnt want. As mentioned before, his hands are very calloused due to large amounts of rope work involved with tying things down to his raft and the likes.

While a bit below average hight, he makes up for it in enough flamboyance to hide the fact. Yes, though he despises how many traditions of the Marsh Keep originated from circumstances that have no bearing to the Keep in its current state (which is to say, a collection of wood houses suspended over a marsh rather than a floating city surrounded by a sea full of giant fish monsters), he did like the general attire of his ancestors, because of that whole swashbuckling aesthetic that isn't nearly as necessary when your only boat is a small raft for traversing the ten foot deep marshes. Over an offwhite linen shirt (only off white because of the general uncleanliness that pervades the marshes), he wears a pair of dark brown wool pants, which are held up by the aforementioned leather belt with the ornate buckle. Over the off white shirt he wears a red vest with iron buttons, because if you haven't caught on yet, iron is one metal that the Marsh Keep is in high supply of. On his feet he wears a pair of wool socks into which he tucks his pants, and over his socks he wears a pair of tall, dark leather boots, that come about three quarters of the way to his knees. The boots are embroidered with mangrove trees to math Bad Luck, and are steel toe (or rather, iron toe, as steel is in too high demand). Over his shirt and vest he wears a long peacoat made of Marsh Rabbit leather, with both outer and inner pockets (in one of which he keeps Rabbit's Bane), and atop his head he wears a tricorn made of similar leather, the sides kept up with iron buttons.

Notes: It is said that long ago, the Marsh Keep rested below a deep and expansive ocean, on top of which floated the mythical city belonging to the ancestors of the residents of the Keep. They were a pillaging seafaring group, akin to pirates of the time, but they faced terrors the likes of which the other pirates wouldn't dare to imagine. The sea beasts were said to be monstrous, and most of the civilization in that day was designed only to survive the attacks of these huge fish. Then, the ocean receded. What was left was nothing but marshes, on which the Marsh Keep was built, with wooden stilted houses built suspended over the grimy, yet shallow, waters. Bramble was born into the ruling family of the Keep, though he didn't care for it.

His mother wasn't from the Keep. He shared his mother's opinions regarding how nonsensical it seemed for a kingdom to run on a system of rules and traditions made for living in a floating, sea monster ridden fortress that hasn't existed for hundreds of years. Yet when his mother died, he was left with his father, and when his father died, he was left with the kingdom. In those regards, Bramble was a mostly absent ruler, preferring to tend to his raft and his goat than to the political affairs of his kingdom and its populace, yet the traditions of the town insisted that he be the one that rules. Bramble dreamed of little more than leaving the Keep some day.

On The Line of Greyback
The first accurately recorded ruling King in the Marsh Keep from the line of Greyback was a man by the name of Thicket Rower, a man who changed his last name to Greyback after claiming that he was the only descendant of the legendary Captain Greyback, making him the rightful ruler of the Marsh Keep. He reasoned that since the Marsh Keep rests on land that used to be under the ocean ruled by his direct ancestor, it only made sense that he would be the one ruling the land that lays below that ocean, making him the only rightful King. Captain Greyback himself wasn't actually named Greyback either, as his full birth name was Bushel Gregorius Imperium the Fourteenth of House Harshell of the Western Border of the Great Isle, Son of Sir Bracken Gregorius Phelheim the Second of House Harshell, Descendant through Law of Harshell the Flearidden, Stoker of the Third Kiln on the Western Border of the Great Isle, and as the name implies, being born to this name technically and legally gave him literally nothing but a literal kiln, which he used to smith the sword he used to kill his father (which was incidentally the same sword he used to kill his first sea beast). He changed his name to Captain Greyback, because it connected the image of him madly swinging a sword shirtless on an enemy ship's deck to his name, because (as is the case with Bramble and most in his lineage) his most prominent feature was the copious amount of back hair he had, which turned grey with the rest of his hair when he was only around 20 years of age probably due to the stress that came with killing your own father, stealing a ship, and causing general terror on the high seas. He couldn't have chosen the name Greybeard or anything of the sort, because as previously mentioned, it was considered bad luck to have a beard in sea monster infected waters. Again, though, it should be stated that there is a large chance that Thicket Rower (now Thicket Greyback, King of the Marsh Keep) was not actually descended from Bushel Gregorius Imperium the Fourteenth of House Harshell of the Western Border of the Great Isle, Son of Sir Bracken Gregorius Phelheim the Second of House Harshell, Descendant through Law of Harshell the Flearidden, Stoker of the Third Kiln on the Western Border of the Great Isle (now Captain Greyback) at all, and was just making it all up to gain the support of the citizens of the Marsh Keep based entirely around the fact that he too had a back as hairy as the Pirate Captain of legend. If this was the case, it hardly mattered, because he did in fact gain a large amount of support from the Marsh Keep population, mostly because of his reinstatement of the nostalgic traditions, practices, and principles that had been lost to time after the sea had left. Now, instead of just being a group of people living in some huts on the marshes, the residents of the Marsh Keep were a group of people living in some huts on the marshes with an impressive history and an incredibly feared reputation. With their newfound pride in their heritage and their new King to direct the use of that pride, the Marsh Keep developed into a feared and respected civilization, however odd it may seem to those not privy to its history. And from Thicket came a long line of Kings and Queens, all marrying to members of the Marsh Keep to maintain their illustrious heritage, save Bramble's great-great-great-great-great grandfather, who married a passing trader and was hated because of it, and Bramble's father, Brier Greyback, who married a woman who said she came from a town that still sang the Old Anthem, who died far too soon. The world now is far from that of Captain Greyback, the Great Isle now not even an isle, surrounded by desert. On that dry isle still stands the remains of the Third Kiln of the Western Border, the only proof that any of the tales are true. There is still a lot of speculation that few in the Marsh Keep even think to consider. Was Thicket a descendant of Bushel of House Harshell? Did Captain Greyback really found a floating empire? Where were the remains of that empire? Most pressing of all, where are the remains of those fabled sea monsters? No one knew, but few more than Bramble bothered to think too much about it. Stressing yourself out over questions like that couldn't possibly be healthy. 

Name: Willem von Reyva, Killer of Kings. Known in some countries simply as 'The Assassin', after being seen momentarily while dropping into King Asharvana IV's balcony, moments before the King's murder. In other countries, however, he is given a more specific nickname. These includes ones such as, "Reaper", "Pegasus Assassin", "Black Swan", and "Kingkiller".

Gender: Male, although some scholars of note have speculated that one of the reasons why The Assassin was never caught was because he was actually female, since they were only looking for male suspects. These speculations are explicitly false.

Weapons: Willem Von Reyva's most infamous weapon is his dagger. It is named Vlielijden, which means 'Flying Suffering' after the assassination of the King. The name is the shortened version of "Eeuwig lijden dat uit de lucht komt, vliegt als een adelaar, stralend als de zon", a short, morbid poem in Willem's mother tongue.

           The blade of the steel is made from high carbon steel, a secret recipe which has been kept within a blacksmith family for generations.  The dagger is nearly unbreakable, somehow being far above the typical hardness level of steel. Sharpening the dagger is done with extreme caution and care, as the lifespan of the dagger is reduced every time. The dagger has a titanium spine, decreasing the weight but supporting and cushioning the steel through its slightly softer touch. This spine gives the blade a unique look, as if the dagger is two blades clipped together.

           The dagger is kept in a small sheathe underneath the lower part of his right arm. The sheathe has a simple mechanism built in, with two buttons connected and placed on the inside of his palm. Pressing both of these two buttons at once, softly and noiselessly ejects the dagger into his right hand, making it easy to obtain his weapon of choice without any sudden movements towards his belt. There are also backup buttons on his belt, his left hand, and his chest, reducing the chance of failure significantly.

           The knife's handle, similar to the blade, is undecorated and almost bland. The handle is made from the expensive wood, kingswood – an aptly named wood, somehow by pure coincidence. This wood is then wrapped with leather, which is replaced every one or two years. Just like the rest of the dagger, the handle is treated with the utmost care and respect.

           Perhaps a lesser known weapon that the Reaper uses is his main melee weapon, a sabre. It was Willem's weapon of choice during the War of Rapids, a two-year war that was named for the fact that the majority of its major fights were fought over or near fast running rivers. The war ended inconclusively; however, it was responsible for promoting Willem von Reyva from enlisted common soldier to sergeant in three months, after he guided his leaderless fifty-man squad to not only surviving entirely, but beating an entire battalion of one-hundred men. About a year and a half later, he was promoted to captain – a previously unheard-of promotion – after he led a three-man group of men he had handpicked into the enemy camp and killed all three of the enemy leaders, effectively ending the war. Namely, the victims were Prince Reynold, Lieutenant John Annister, and Lieutenant Phillip Lorsten. The war was fought against Kauāina, a small but ambitious nation nearby.

           The sabre is a simple, utilitarian weapon, having been given to him immediately after his promotion to sergeant. This simplicity, however, hides a simple fact – the blade is razor sharp, and Willem needs no more than that. The blade is made of common steel, and the handle of oak and leather.

           The sabre was named after the war, being given the name Einde-oorlog. This blade is not based on a poem. However, there is a poem with a similar meaning inscribed on the blade of the sabre. The poem goes like so: "De oorlog is niet meer, verheug je, vrede is aangebroken, verheug je."

           Willem's third and final weapon is, interestingly, the leather suit that he wears. Having over forty pockets and pouches throughout – a good many of which are hidden or unused – the leather suit has a solution for nearly every pinch that Willem may find himself in. It includes – but is not limited to – a compass, a small knife, a roll of string, an iron file, tweezers, an hourglass, a matchbox, a charcoal pen, bandages and other spare cloth and some non-expiring food. This has gotten him out of numerous difficult situations, including when he was falsely accused of theft and jailed, when he was poisoned and dropped in a desert, and every time he was injured during a mission.

           The leather suit also provides significant protection from various sources, including heat, cold, slashing, piercing and blunt damage. The leather pants that Willem wears holds his sabre on its belt. The leather suit also includes a pair of modified leather boots, which are designed to cushion falls from significant heights – up to ten metres, more if Willem rolls on impact. The leather suit is painted a darker shade of brown than the usual leather colour, in order to be less visible in dark conditions.
However, unlike the knife and usually the sabre, Willem does not always wear his leather suit. Willem currently lives in a small farming village, Koudorp, near the border between his own country, Koningveld, and the nearby Balad-Watan, King Asharvana IV's country of origin. In such a small village, the leather suit would be unnecessary and would spawn rumours from virtually everyone in town, something that was already in existence, due to his sergeant's sabre.

Talent: Willem's trademark skill is his instant analysis of an enemy, coupled with the ability to take advantage of it – his Analysis. This allows him to instantly find an enemy's weaknesses, strengths, line of sight, and sometimes even their personal quirks. For example, when sneaking up on someone, Willem knows where to stab for the quickest, quietest death. He also has the skill with his blade to strike that spot precisely. This ability also works when fencing. Besides his natural ability when doing so, he can also sense what spots are unprotected, what spots will most effectively put his enemy at a disadvantage, and how to take advantage of these spots. However, this talent works, not only in direct combat, but also out of combat. For example, when sneaking into a building, as soon as Willem catches sight of a guard, he can instantly deduce their line of sight and area of hearing, using just their posture. Or, when talking to someone, he can instantly deduce their attitude towards him – aggressive, passive, neutral, friendly and so on – and can alter his approach towards them to match.

Physical Description: Willem is of average height – 182.3cm – with chin length hair that is rarely taken proper care of, besides basic washing, except before a major event. Contrary to his habits with his hair, though, his beard is carefully clean-shaven, although he sometimes grows up to a light stubble if he is too busy or preoccupied to shave it off. His hair is a dark brown. His common hair colour coupled with his average height makes it easy for him to blend into crowds. Due to the fact that his hair is not well taken care of, it is usually spikey and random, mainly because of his bed head. Often, the only times Willem's hair is neat is when he has been wearing a hood, or before an extremely important occasion, such as when he was promoted to Captain.

           Green eyes that match the evergreen snowy forests in the north of Koningveld, where he was born, are placed on his face. Staring into his eyes is unnerving, as you feel him analyse you, slowly dissecting you. Past that unnerving gaze, though, are deep pools of grief and anger. Few people, however, get that far into an analysis of Willem. Either you're dead before then, or one of you have broken the gaze – and it's usually not Willem.

           His nose is quite long, with a pointy tip. His nostrils are of average size – not small enough to require him to breathe more often, but not big enough to attract attention. Willem's nose has a single scar on it, strangely on the bottom of the nose, near the nostrils. The scar is the remnant of the moment when Willem nearly lost his nose, dodging an upper cut during a knifefight by mere millimetres. The attacker, however, got slightly more than a scratch on his nose immediately afterwards, losing a finger, along with his life, shortly after.

           Willem's lips are often quite chapped, showing the results of regular dehydration from neglecting to drink water. Although it rarely happens, when he smiles genuinely, his entire face lights up, changing his facial expression from grim and jaded – despite his fairly young age – to happy and innocent. However, often when he smiles, his lips simply curl up at the ends, looking more like a wolfish smirk than a smile. His lips are thinner than normal. When he gets nervous, he often chews on the inside of his lip.

           Willem's skin is fair, like the rest of the nation. However, his skin tans easily, meaning that after a day out at work in the fields, he would have quite a different shade of skin from when he first left. This helps with getaway missions, as with a simple day out in the sun, his skin colour can change completely from his normal one. Scars decorate vast portions of his arms, chest, and hands. This shows proof of both the hard work he was subject to as a farmer, as well as the intense training he went through as a soldier. Knife marks, especially, are common, as he learned just about every trick in the book possible with a knife. However, not all of these are self-inflicted. An especially long scar on the left of his right arm recounts the time when he was unable to stop a sliding blow with the crossguard of his sabre, as it scraped past and left him bleeding furiously. Another scar, this one rounder, but every bit as long as the previous one, tells the tale of his first ever battle. Receiving a stab to the stomach from a spear thrust, he had been in the medical bay for a month after that, only surviving with the skin on his teeth.

           The soles of Willem's feet are tough and hard, showing his history of playing barefoot in gravel paths with his friends as a child, as well as marching tens of kilometres every day as a soldier. There is also a large round scar here as well. This one happened when an enemy soldier decided to stab him through the foot with his spear before promptly dying to Willem's own strike. Willem himself had been about to die, when one of his squadmembers rushed over, pulled out the spear, bandaged it with cloth and carried him to the medical bay. Again, he almost died.

           Willem's physique is lithe, but deceptively powerful. The majority of his muscles are centred in his core – near the abdomens – along with his legs, rather than his arms, due to the vast amounts of time he had spent walking, or sneaking crouched, or simply staying in an uncomfortable position for long periods of time.

           Willem's attire during missions consists of five major parts. His cloak, which has a hood attached, his breast plate, his pants, his boots, and his gloves.

           Willem's cloak is made of a dark brown cloth. In dark locations or circumstances, the hood which is attached to the cloak covers his face in shadow, making it extremely useful for stealth missions, where his identity is best kept secret. His cloak is kept on his body through a brooch, which has a simple clip attached to a gemstone. The name of the gemstone is identified, at least to Willem, as he stole the brooch from King Asharvana IV's bedroom, being the only thing he has stolen in his life. If he took the brooch to a gemmologist for identification, he would instantly have a few dozen assassins on his tail, as rumours spread fast in such businesses. The gemstone on the brooch is a deep, dark colour, close to black. However, it has streaks of purple within, which are very noticeable when held up to the sun or another light source. The cloak floats when Willem falls from a distance – as physics would dictate – which is a significant reason for his nicknames, 'Pegasus Assassin' and 'Black Swan'. As Willem grew up in the northern part of Koningveld, temperatures often dropped to subzero faster than anywhere else in the world and rose above subzero after everywhere else already had. Therefore, his cloak and hood are invaluable pieces of clothing, not just to protect his identity, but also for warmth in his home town. Of course, Willem does not use the dark and purple brooch when at home, instead opting for a more common, yet still expensive sapphire brooch. When temperatures get extremely low, Willem hugs the cloak around himself. However, this is a rare occasion, as growing up in the cold countryside of Koudorp, he is resistant to most cold temperatures. This does, though, make him more susceptible to warmer climates, sometimes even making him ditch his beloved cloak and hood for more climate-appropriate clothes.

           Willem's breastplate is made of leather and cloth. The torso is made of leather, wrapping around the back and joining at the front. The two sides are connected at the back but are tied together at the front with thick string. The leather part of the breastplate extends down, protecting up to the upper thighs, at least at the back. A leather shoulder-guard protects the upper arm, with the rest of the arm simply being wrapped in one or two layers of cloth, depending on the weather and temperature. A thin shirt is worn underneath the breastplate, but over the wrapped cloth. This shirt is a dark navy blue, providing some colour to the otherwise earthen-coloured breastplate. The breastplate includes two leather belts worn around the waist. This is where the sabre, the small knife (not Vlielijden), along with some other equipment are stored. The leather that the breastplate is made from is hard, having been boiled and treated. However, as this alone is not strong enough to fend off a direct attack from a bladed weapon, the breastplate also contains metals strips, inserted into the leather. Although it is still not as strong as plate armour or chainmail, it is far lighter than either, making it more suitable for Willem's purposes.

           The pants that Willem wears are not very special. However, they are made from leather which belongs to an aggressive creature which resides in the southern part of the Empire. Aptly named 'Iralupo' – Empirean for 'angry wolf' – it is well known in the Empire for attacking everything on sight. Being a sandy dark yellowish-brown colour, it blends in well with the sandy dunes it usually spends its time on, and fits in fairly well with the shadowy forests where it can rarely be found. Leather from iralupo are rare, as hunters avoid them, their vicious nature and sharp teeth boding ill for any unprepared, or even prepared travellers. However, their leather is also well coveted by nobles and wealthy traders, as it is known for being warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and well-protective all year round. The pants are also practical, having eight pockets and four hidden pouches. The pants are held up with another belt, this one simply to hold up the pants from falling rather than to hold equipment. An interesting part of the pants, however, is one pocket, which is never used by Willem. This pocket holds a pocketbook, inside which is a single now-wilted and flattened wildflower, a gift from his childhood sweetheart, given to him a day before he joined the army and four months before she was killed by a marauding bandit group. The bandit group was wiped out a few months later, in an unrelated incident, when they attempted to bite off more than they could chew and conquer a small citadel. To this day, the flower remains the only gift he keeps all the time for purely sentimental reasons.

           Willem's boots are made of thick cattle's leather. They are the least unique part of his outfit, having been replaced no less than seven times since his joining the army. However, despite being a pair of common boots, they do their job well, keeping his feet safe from thorns, mud, water and accidental knife drops, among many other possible dangers. As Willem has dropped his knife on his boots multiple times, they have likely saved him from losing any of his ten toes. They are also extremely good at kicking, a surprisingly useful feature, as Willem found out after being attacked by four muggers while carrying two hot mugs of tea. Although the boots are a common type, Willem always buys them from the same trader, citing lack of trust in other traders as his reason. However, secretly, he enjoys the company of the trader, as his roles as a leader and assassin require him to maintain a certain level of aloofness. His presence at the trader's is regular enough that the trader puts aside his best pair of boots every six months for Willem. Therefore, despite being a common pair of boots, they are still always the best of that common type.

           The last touch to Willem's outfit is his pair of gloves. Made of cloth, they serve a number of purposes. First, they protect his hands from the elements, keeping them safe and warm. Insulating the warmth and keeping it inside the gloves, they are very useful in cold weather. Secondly, they stop fingerprints from being left on various items. Although they cannot be used for identification, fingerprints still serve as definite proof that some unwanted person had touched the item. Third, although they are made from cloth, rather than a stronger material, such as leather, they provide at least some measure of protection from blades, or perhaps more specifically, bladed weapons. Interestingly, the fingerpads of the gloves are made from leather, to provide a greater measure of grip while keeping the light weight of the cloth.

Notes: The nation of Koningveld is on a supercontinent with many other countries. Of these, the five most powerful are the Empire, Balad-Watan, Koningveld, Rakuyō and Friðþjóð. Out of these nations, Friðþjóð is the only peaceful country, preferring to either completely remain out of international relations, or establish countless trade routes, depending on the dynasty and ruler. All five of these nations are almost equally powerful, with slight fluctuations in rank. By the end of the War of Rapids, the Empire had slightly pulled ahead of the other four countries in terms of military prowess, but Rakuyō still held the most influence over the smaller nations with Friðþjóð having fallen behind, due to their bad leader, Haddur Jarlsson. This state of being with five almost-equally powerful nations results in a constant landscape of political unrest. Believing that this political unrest is the reason for all of the wars, Willem detests and rejects all and any sort of politics. The elimination of war is Willem's primary motive of life, being willing to use almost any methods necessary to do so.