Character Sheets, Post here before anywhere else.

This is where you are to post your character, before you RP in these lands.

You will need:

• Name:

• Age:

• Gender:

• Clan:

• Home:

• Occupation:

• Appearance:

• Attire:

• Weapons:

• Personality:

• Strengths:

• Weaknesses:

• Abilities:

• Back story:

There will be a list of jobs that are available, a few of these you will need my okay to keep. You may ask me before hand, or I can decide after you have posted. Either way is acceptable.

If your home is an outlying village that is not part of the main city, YOU will have write up the description of your hometown and send it to me, where I will read it, accept it, and post it into the Burning Mountains forum. Remember: All villages are small outside the main city and are limited to the size of a small town.

Name: Shurik Infernia Sidorov

Age: Unknown

Gender: Male

Clan: Arcanthul Saravya

Occupation: Dragoon, Dragon/ Tamer, and Clan Leader

Appearance: Shurik Sidorov was a sight to behold. A man blessed with looks. His short blond hair is normally spiked up and his facial features seem flawless. His smile is both dazzling and frightening, as his four fangs seem slightly larger than most of his clan. His eyes where an off shade of violet and when the light caught them just right they seemed to turn a deep blue or a bright purple. His head stood at a decent 5' 10". He was skinny, like most, but built from battle and training until he collapsed. The man had prided himself on how well he looked and sometimes wandered the clan grounds flaunting what he called himself. This was the appearance of Shurik. Now his looks where scarred. Though many of his features remained similar to his past, the man could never look upon himself the same. Foolish pride was his downfall. The main change to his appearance was not that he lost muscle mass or hair or anything, but he was horribly scarred all over his torso, arms, and had three close scars that began an inch above his left brow and ended an inch below his left eye.

Attire:
Everyday: Shurik Dresses casually when not training or preparing, which is rare. His blond hair is normally kept up in short spikes and his clothing consist of a medieval Tunic, loose fitting with gold and onyx clasps for the Cuffs, and a tight fitting Dragon Scale Vest over top of it. There are also two dragon scale bracers on his arms, covering the fore most of that limb. A pair of loose black cloth pants adorns his legs and drape over his leather boots. A matching set of dragon scale guards is tied around his shins. When he is casually dressed he only carries with him one weapon, a quiver and a bow. He always keeps himself covered and doesn’t like to take anything off in public.

Battle: In battle and in training he wears his custom armor, made for him in the forges where he had grown up. The armor was dinged, scratched, dented, and old but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. The armor itself was black with red and deep purple trimmings. His helm held the same colors and two horns protruded from the top. On some days he even wore this suit as his casual wear, just one more layer to cover up.

Weapons: One Recurve bow with adjustable tension – Proficient Skill, Two Spears – Nothing special, just two spears with basic heads. One is used for throwing and the other is used for Melee. – Expert Skill, and one short sword – Average Skill.

Personality: Shurik is friendly, to a point. He is a flirt, despite of what his thoughts are of himself. He’s also a hopeless romantic when the mood strikes him. He loves to laugh and spend time in the taverns with people and his soldier buddies, but he can only take so much. He has times when he likes to leave and be alone for a day or so, so he lock himself in his quarters and will not come out unless the calls of battle sound, the promise of a challenging training session comes along, His superiors request him, or a woman comes looking for him. It is rare to see him out and about some months and then there are some months when he is never closed in.

Strengths: Nimble, cunning, and a great warrior all around. He is quick minded and sees patterns in his opponent’s attacks, making it very easy for him to counter their next moves with ease. He’s quick on his feet and easily moves in his armor despite the weight. Bred and trained to be a great soldier, a good man, and a true king.

Weaknesses: White Knight Complex: Known to fight for women who are being treated wrongly. Once was thrown out of the local bar for nearly beating a man to death for grabbing a waitress who didn’t like it. Would choose to save people than himself or catch the culprit.
Easily Provoked: Though calm most of the time, he can be provoked into a fight, whither he knows he can win or not. He’s trying to remedy this flaw.

Abilities: The normal fire creation and wind. His Fire is only slightly stronger than his wind allowing him to better control the path and shape of his flames. He’s known to augment his weapons with his own fire for medium periods of time and attack with it.
Jump: Powerful legs allow him to jump higher and father than normal. This is used for gaining altitude to come down upon his opponents from above and attack with his spear.
Fire Arrows: One technique he has been working on for years. It is nowhere near complete. He has come up with the theory that, with training, he could create arrows with his own flames and fire them from his bow. His theory is written and ready for submittal. It states it would take two to do this Tech, but he believes he can do it himself.


Back story: Shurik Sidorov was born into the warrior class. He was a fourth generation Dragoon whose blood could be traced back to the time of the old clan. His father and grandfather served proudly, and he would follow in their footsteps to make them proud. His training started when he was just a small lad. The basic jump was taught to him first and as he gained years in age, his training grew more challenging. Days spent dodging the spears of his father and grandfather where not uncommon for his eight-year-old self. The years continued to progress, training consisted of blocking and dodging both thrown and wielded spears, carrying weights up the steepest inclines, nimbly crossing burning flames. He was pushed harder and farther than anyone else, and in the end his mind was set on his accomplishments. When he hit the age of passage, sixteen, women swooned over him, boys admired him, and he couldn’t have been more proud.

The right of passage for a young dragoon was dangerous. It was the last training the father could do with his son before they must part ways and the son continue his life long lesson. Out into the wilds they went, into the mountains and towards a small cavern known as the Drakish Lair. A cousin of the dragon, Drakes where small corrupt creatures who took pride in killing anything they could reach. Dragons where large and magnificent creatures that the dragoons respected full heartedly, these abominations were small and hearty, still powerful and as deadly as any large creature, but weaker than a true dragon of the same size. This was the final challenge. If completed he would be a true man, a true dragoon. He had to take the life of a drake. With his spear in hand, he accepted the challenge and entered the cave. After only ten minutes of slinking through the dank darkness, he came upon his target and that’s when everything went terribly wrong. He barely has any memory of what happened that day. All he can remember is the feeling of claws digging into his flesh, his own screaming in anguish, and the calls of the drakes.

When he awoke, he was not in the ground. He wasn’t anywhere familiar. His body screamed once more with pain and anguish and slowly it all came back to him. The drakes had been scared away by something and before he blacked out, he remembered a hand at his arm, dragging him from the cavern. His head hurt, his left eye was covered with something, and he could barely move a muscle or muster up the strength to speak. His movements had alerted the nurse who came over with some sort of herb and a soothing voice. “Be still… Your okay now.” He spoke two words and that was it. “What Happened…” he knew the answer to that, but he didn’t know all of it. The nurse obliged him and told him the story. Some sort of wild animal had attacked him and a hunting party had found him huddling in a small alcove in the rocks. ‘I should be dead’ was his only thought before he slipped into unconsciousness.

He grew better, and stronger, from his encounter but it truly was never the same. His father and family now shunned him for his failure. He was placed in an orphanage for two years before he had enough and enlisted into the Clan guard. He may have not had the armor of the dragoon, but in his eyes he was born of the same ilk. He has fought for the clan and lived through many battles. His undying allegiance was to his leader. With proper time he put in for a promotion. Soon, many more battles and proving himself to his superiors, and soon rose to the rank of Head Guard of the Royal Protection Guard.

When hard times fell upon the kingdom, and unrest ruled the minds of its people, Shurik was quick to pounce on the opportunity to better his homeland. He convinced his men to join him and lead a revolt against the old king. The revolt began a bloody civil war between two sides of the city and in the end, Shurik proved to be the better mind. He seized the kingdom, enforced his rule, and Saravya had never had a more gilded age under any other ruler. He tamed the Royal Dragon, Ragnarok, and soon enriched the lives of everyone under his rule. Everything began anew and the people loved their King.

The man, never once knowing his rising was ever going to happen, still has not visited his home town and his past still haunts him to this day.

Name: Caelia Inferna (Sky Fire)
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Clan: Arcanthul Saravya
Home: The Common Housing District, close to the Market Area
Occupation: Healer
Pet: Kiba – A jet black dire wolf with green eyes and a white tip on his left ear

Appearance: The first thing most people will notice about Caelia is her unusual hair. It is jet black, which is not a common hair color in the fire clan, with flaming red streaks in it. Her hair hangs down past her shoulders in a feathery manner. Caelia is a fairly tall woman with an average, slightly muscular build. Her skin is a very pale porcelain color, and her eyes are a deep sky blue with a yellow ring around the center. When she is upset, yellow streaks shoot through her irises like lightning. Being a half-breed, Caelia only bears two bottom fangs instead of the usual four known to Saravyn, and her fangs are not nearly as large as most others.

Attire: Caelia’s usual outfit consists of a light colored, sleeveless tunic (usually grey or white), black, baggy pants and no shoes as her feet are accustomed to the heat. Due to Caelia’s extreme modesty and slight fear of the male species, she is rarely ever seen with more than her face, arms, and feet exposed. Around her neck is an iron pendant necklace in the shape of the Sacred Dragon. This was a gift from her father on the day of her birth.

Weapons: A bow she made during her days in the desert, with arrows she stole from a camp of Septur nomads, and a small dagger she keeps concealed within her tunic.

Personality: Caelia is somewhat shy, especially when meeting new people, but she is very friendly and compassionate. She never hesitates to help someone in need, even if she doesn’t completely trust them. She likes peaceful and quiet things (her favorite time of day is early morning). Caelia tends to have an outsider complex since she is not used to being around many people at once. She tends to have a neutral good alignment with slight chaotic at times.

Strengths: Caelia is very proficient with a bow and arrow. She is a fast runner, able to keep up with her pet wolf, Kiba, easily. Stones or sharp objects do not hinder her since she has walked barefoot almost all her life and is used to such conditions. She is also able to keep a pretty level head in emergencies.

Weaknesses: Caelia’s shyness tends to be her downfall at times because it leads people to believe that she is snooty or stuck-up and makes it hard for her to interact with others. She is also afraid of men, which sometimes impedes her judgment of a situation.

Abilities: Caelia has a natural talent for the healing arts with a vast knowledge of herbs and remedies. Being born half-clan, she retains some traits from both her parents, but her fire abilities are dominant which is what led her to come to the fire clan. She is not able to create a flame, but she can control a fire’s movements. Often she is seen making simple shapes in flames for amusement. Caelia can stir up small breezes as well, which help keep her cool in the fiery city. She is also artistic and has a way with animals, especially wolves.

Back story: Born in the wilderness to a group of trading nomads, parents of two different clans, Caelia was never really accepted by anyone even in her early years. Her people knew something was different about her, from her strange hair and skin color to her mixed talents. Her mother abandoned her one day, leaving her at their campsite to be found by a kind old woman who took her into her home.

On Caelia’s 13th birthday, she began to notice her strange ability to move fire. The woman also noticed and fearfully sent her away to the desert with nothing but a small tent and some food. She quickly realized that she would need a means of getting food, so she made a bow by carving one of her tent poles and stretching a cord across it. Her arrows were stolen from a nomad’s camp. Caelia also learned of many plants that were good for healing wounds and curing illnesses.

During her second year in the desert, Caelia found a small wolf pup cowering under a rock. Seeing that its mother was gone and the poor thing was lost, Caelia named him and raised him as if he were her own. Once the wolf grew, he became a big help in hunting because he could sniff out prey from far off in the distance. Hunting wasn’t the only thing Kiba could help with.

Once, Caelia ran into some traders who captured her. They tied her up and kept her in a tent in their camp. That night, one of the men entered the tent where she was kept and tried to hurt her, but when Kiba burst in snarling, the man thought he was a rampaging dire wolf and left. Though Caelia had been spared, she still developed a terrible fear of men and avoided them at all costs.

After seven years of living on her own in the desert, Caelia was found by a woman who recognized her as the daughter of one of the nomads from her clan. The woman also knew who her father was and told her of a clan of people living high in the mountains who could control fire and wind. She also said that the land was full of dragons like the one on her necklace. Caelia was intrigued by the idea of finally meeting a people with abilities like her own, and asked the woman to show her the way to this new clan.

Name: Sesema (Nickname being Sessa)

Age: 14

Gender: Female

Clan: Arcanthul Saravya

Home: Common Housing District

Occupation: N/A (bottom end of Common)

Appearance/Attire:
For a girl of her age, one would say she was quite “Grown,” but this was all too deceptive. Being raised and practically homeless in the common housing district, Sessa didn't truly have much money to buy more than what she had worn, which, though was skimpy at best, was more than enough to her. Nearly impossibly long black locks were tied up in pigtails which, from their ribbons, hangs and sways freely as they see fit, save the black locks which are cut to jaw length and frame her slim, sharp face. Her right eye is a deep blue while the left is a much brighter shade of the color, both of which rest above sharp, gaunt cheekbones. Her petite nose leads down to thin, peace hils and a small chin.
Tiny shoulders are clad with a jacket whose zipper is broken and stuck at the collar, so below it is exposed a simple bikini top and her ghostly pallid, nearly sickly thin upper body. The sleeves of the jacket are striped down each arm with high cuffs that hold crosses on each. The hood of the jacket is of a similar fashion. The jacket overall is worn and dull, with small holes here and there in the fabric.
Her lower body is clad with a pair of small shorts and a worn belt that keep the shorts steadfast to her tiny body, and long black socks keep the entirety of her legs covered save a five inch space between the shorts and socks. Scuffed black boots with thin steel soles cover her feet and legs up to just a few inches below the knee since they're turned downward and unzipped to it's folded point so as not to constrict.
The only thing that had been given from her before she had been rendered homeless was her father's longsword and a pair of fingerless gloves before he had passed away due to age. She has been homeless for five years, and not once during the time since has the longsword left her. A makeshift sheath even rests upon her back which hangs from her left shoulder to cross to the right him that fits the blade perfectly. Though not properly trained, she has taught herself and, during the times she had wandered out of the main city, she has come back alive. Small, nearly unnoticeable scars claim the creamy flesh of her legs and abdomen though from the scarce fights she had been in save the deep, blackened scars on her right hip and underneath her left breast, but besides those, she is not worse for wear.

Weapons: One black metal one-handed longsword with a chain link at the bottom of the hilt. The hilt has no true handguard.

Personality: Being left homeless for the past five years, Sesema has learned very quickly that trust cannot be earned from her. She is not likely to trust whatsoever, and due to this, normally choose to venture or battle by herself. This gives her a sense of detachment from her home and the people who inhabit it.

Strengths: During battle, Sessa chooses her agility, flexibility, speed, and, for being untrained, surprising precision with her blade. She would rather be able to confuse her enemy than to simply be straightforward. This does sometimes lead to trickery, but having not been trained with discipline, she does this often in order to survive.

Weaknesses: Her lone wolf mentality usually brings her to be unappreciative of help, often feeling as if someone is claiming her to be weak. Also, because she's always out to prove she can be self-reliant, her temper can flare easily when called weak, though the physical portion of this would be true. If she's grabbed ahold of, though, it's normally very difficult to escape since she hasn't learned how to use leverage to her advantage.

Abilities:
For the moment, Sessa is only able to produce small sparks and flares by snapping her thin fingers. When her anger is provoked though, it becomes apparent that her emotions are what fuels her abilities. She has no qualms with scorching someone when she places her hand on them so long as they were the person who had provoked her, and most usually will.
Acrobatics are Sesema's calling. She can tumble, flip, slide, dash, cartwheel, and wall run her way in and out of trouble. This most usually means that she fights where she can use her environment to her advantage in this sense. She loves to use her environment, and will always find ways to do so.

Back story:
Being born into a commoner family whose only income was an adventuring father, Sesema was without much of the necessities that a child needed to grow into a stronger woman. Instead, because of the scarce amount that they could eat and how long it was in between the times her father was able to bring home only a few pieces of gold at a time, there were points where her and her mother had went days without eating unless she reduced herself to childish thievery. This usually included snagging one or two apples from the market and making a mad dash to lose her pursuers before heading home.

This continued until her father was no longer able to raise his sword. This was at the age of nine, when her mother had passed away due to malnutrition and her father's health was declining. This is where her need to steal and to be able to be quick on her feet was strained to the point where it was strained. Sometimes she was caught by guards and locked away for a week or so or, if captured by the merchant, was beaten and forced to retreat home with nothing.

Soon after, though, Sesema's father finally passed away and, leaving her unable to pay for the small home and the only thing to her name her clothes and her father's sword, she was forced onto the streets. This was the start of a very harsh life, being given to the mercy of weather, sickness, starvation, and an even smaller income until the age of fourteen. Now, having given herself to venturing out in order to sustain herself, her independence has brought her to a whole new level of self-preservation. She does not trust easy and has distaste for anyone who pities her. Most of the time, she will knock the money askew and bark “I'm no beggar! You haven't helped before and it surely won't help now!”, but she becomes quickly humbled when she sees the Guard and Soldiers of the city. Being thrown in a cell was a mercy and a godsend from them, and the only place where she was actually known by name. Because of this, one day, she hopes to become a part of Saravya's military. They had a home, clothes, food, and some kind of friendship between them... And she would do whatever she could in order to become a part of it.

Name: Fujin Hazori

Age: 12

Gender: Male

Clan: Arcanthul Saravya

Home: Common Housing District, Sacred temple Orphanage.

Occupation: Young monk, Laundry job.

Appearance: Very young, short white hair from being in complete terror of a burning building at a young age killing his entire family. 4'7" and just under 100 lbs. He looks as if he is getting the scraps of every meal, and some how keeping muscle tone. He has a small brand on his right shoulder with the sign for "Air". Hence his name Fujin.

Attire:A simple black and blue monk garb. Wooden sandles. And prayer beads as a belt.

Weapons: Being so Young he has no weapons. He has a small fan with a marble pendent dangling off of the hilt. This is his totem to enhance his air shifting ability.

Personality: He is a timid boy. He only speaks when spoken too. Being young and have known fear all of his life, he doesn't enjoy loud noises. He will only speak loud enough to be heard. His idea of fun is hanging on the hammock of his temple watching the clouds.

Strengths: His true strength is his will power. He is the only one of the clan to be truly afraid to use fire. He doesn't want to kill. He is always seen shifting wind beside each of his feet. Some say it takes an immense amount of concentration, however Fujin seemed to always be doing it without paying attention. He also is a quick learner of the art of "Tai Chi." He practices it everyday for hours to enhance his magic ability of Air manipulation.

Weaknesses: He has the power to hold a fire the size of a candle. He will never be able to cause massive fires. The biggest he vows to use is an amount enough to light a candle. It is just enough to make a campfire and survive. So his weakness would be not able to cause massive fires from his sacred vows. His weakness to loud voices is a problem at his age, however he will learn to cope with that eventually. He also doesn't seem to want to fight, however he enjoys competing with nerves. So fights usually amount to a big game to him. So he has no fighting tactics at the time of his age.

Abilities: At his age he is able to move the wind with his motions. He cannot cause strong gusts, or even direct wind motion. When he trains his "Tai Chi" he is able to sweep with the wind. This causes the wind to shift along with his motions. He uses his fan to cause a gust of wind that can move small pebbles and dust off the ground.

He has been concentrating on the wind shifting around his feet. This is a circular motion of wind around each of the soles of his feet. They are small circles, although they can be seen clearly on dirt roads. This is his form of training that he started at the age of 10. Doing this has aloud him to alter wind flow with his motions in his fighting ability.

Back story:
At the age of 3, Fujin watched his home burn to the ground killing off his family. He was able to get out, because his father told him to leave and he didn't hear anything after that. Fujin often wondered why his family wasn't able to escape the flame. He had no answers other then that fire was Nature's sin. After that, the monastery took him in and taught him in the ways of inner peace. At the age of 10, in mid meditation during his mantra, Fujin was in deep breathing and his Teacher noticed the wind shifting in the room. He smiled and told Fujin that he had started his way to Air Manipulation. Only two years have passed, and Fujin was able to manipulate wind on the most basic level and shift it around his being slowly. Fujin needed a master who can teach him in more ways to enhance his Tai Chi, along with his mastery of Air Manipulation. He is known as "The Child of Wind." in the orphanage. He has been keeping his vows, and has only used fire to ignite a candle, or a lamp. His way will be that of peace, and bringing no harm to another individual.

Ignis Dominio

Male - 32 years old
Arcanthul Saravya

Occupation: Mercenary;/Dragon Disciple (Rider of Elder Dragon "Sjach" Shadow)


Physical appearance:
    -----Ignis stands a lanky six feet, two inches tall; wider at the shoulders and chest, while thinner at the waist and hips. He maintains a muscular and toned build; though taller than some, and his skin is even paler than most of his kind. He is covered in long, burnt scars; reminiscent of blade wounds, but of a far more natural cause. His eyes are of two different colors; the right one a dark blue, and the left a pale green, while his left index finger is completely black and charred. He wears a suit of dragon-plate armor; each piece a gift from his master for progress towards his goal of attaining true understanding, and the red cape of leather-like scale is actually skin shed from the great beasts belly. Purposefully drenched in the blood of the beast to dye it the sanguine color. The armor was crafted by a master smith somewhere outside of the mountain range, and the cape/cloak was specially crafted for an outrageous price by a travelling merchant.


    -----Ignis has no weapon except his father's old sword, and still it retains the bloody imprint of those felled by it. Though he does not use the blade, it accompanies the suit of armor and the blood red cape well. Making Ignis appear more like a warrior or soldier than the monk-like man he is.

    -----This of course is his attire when approaching the holds of the world, or the inner sanctums of civilization. Where he is often tested by way of wits or wandering fools who beg for fights. While in the wilds; out upon his master's back, he wears a thin dragonscale armor underneath a cloak of black leather. With him there is no weapon but a thin wooden staff of fossilized wood, and his armor offers little protection lest it be against his own fire.

Background:
    -----Ignis; born to Caeris Dominio, and Aphris Dominio, raised as their son and only family within the confines of a vast volcanic network of tunnels, was but a young boy when his father died. When he too was suspected of death.

    -----While his father was away; in an attempt to rally his own control over the flame within, and tame a large black dragon near their home, Ignis followed suit, and was never heard from again. His father was never found; his body burnt to a crisp by the very fires he loved, as he slipped between the cracks in the large dragons lair, and fell to the molten earth below. Ignis however, survived the trek to the dragons keep; his own curiosity the very reason for his survival, and as he witnessed his fathers demise, he was suddenly found by the dragon his parent sought. A large black dragon with massive wings, and a single ruby colored gem upon its forehead. The massive creature saw Ignis as what he was; a child, and instead of leaving him to die, or barring his way out, the flame-bound beast slowly made way back to its hidden lair, and patiently waited for Ignis to follow.

    -----As the years passed; Ignis learning as any young man would about the dangers of his power, and the world he lived in, the dragon of sable taught him without so much as a word. He learned of the flames forceful nature; its unforgiving power, and its unrelenting consumption of what it could feed upon. He learned as the dragon flew; as it breathed its molten essence into the air, and with each passing day he came to understand it. He never tired of the dragons presence; never tried to tame his 'master', and in every waking hour of his life, he was tested.

    -----He was challenged by the dragon daily; fought for life against claw and tooth, and as he learned to press his physical limits forward, he too learned of what he could do with the flames nearby. At first; though beginning at a much later time than most of his kind, Ignis was able to pull a flame from nearby and increase its size but a fraction of an inch. He could barely sustain the flames life; trying with all his might to secure its perfect fuel source, and yet he would fail. Many many times. Before long though; watching and witnessing the grace of the dragon, He began to understand truly what it was to wield the flame, and manipulate it. He learned of its beauty in the night; of its dominance in the bowels of the planet, and as he grew physically, so too did his ability to hold the fire within him.

    -----He was scarred by the dragons talons; tears across his back and face leaving him disfigured, but he did not care. He knew that with each wound; each brush with death in the womb of fire, he grew closer to understanding. To knowing what it was to truly be strong. What it was to be alive, and feel the very pulse of his home within him. He fought through the struggles; breaking off scales from the dragons foreleg; freeing a talon from its clawed hand, and eventually giving the dragon no reason to challenge him, as the days passed over and over him. He could wield the fire fluidly; draw it from the grip of the earth nearby, and fuel it with the spinning winds ever-present there. He could pull a flame inward; focus its burn and increase its heat, while allowing it to feed more viciously on what ever fuel there was. He truly learned how to be as the flame; move with its grace and ferocity, as the dragon kept him on guard, and when the day came that he was awakened without the sound of growls and approaching fire, he knew he had been accepted. He had been tought. He had been made into a man.

    -----Years passed into decades; the boy no longer fearing the dragons attacks, and upon his twenty seventh birthday: Deep in the bowels of the dragons volcanic home, Ignis was given a simple gift. A gift long since forgotten and never thought to exist. His fathers helm of dragon scale, and his armor of black. The small representation of what had been; the knowledge of what growth had occurred, pushed Ignis from the depths of his secret home, and once more into the open airs beyond. He wore the armor with pride; the helm with dignity, and crafted his own cloak to match the heritage he had thought forgotten, as he stepped from the dragons den. He had learned many things over the years; collecting knowledge of the internal pressure of the earth; the searing heat of the magma, and the very air that the flames did feed upon. He had been shown over time just what was needed to master and control the flaring essence of fire, and even before he set foot out into the world beyond, he knew he was ready.

    -----He had been given what no others had before him; a true knowledge of the flame, from the perspective of one who lived within it, and walked upon it effortlessly. His skin had hardened to its heat; welcoming its caress, and his muscles had been filled with the very tension of the blaze beneath the ground. His eyes always give his inner fire away; seeming to dance and sway as he looked upon the lands, and below his garments, the heart of a dragon pounded out every second he was alive.

Further History (Beyond the time-jump)
    -----Having lived and communed with the Elder Black Dragon for such a time as to fully understand the great beast, Ignis grew comfortable with its ways and its inhuman intelligence. He grew envious and jealous of its power, but rather than seek its destruction, he sought its tutelage more and more. He learned all he could from the great creature, and every day spent in the dark depths of the volcanic abode was one where his curiosity would be sated and again rise up. He learned of man and beast, of the outside world, of the stars in the sky, and of all manner of things fiery and burning. He spent what seemed like a full month nonstop, laying in the pit of smoldering ashes, while the dragon slept, and in that time he waited patiently for the beast to but breath a single word to him. Becoming the only disciple of the dragon; of the dragons teachings and its ways, Ignis began feeling as though others would love the knowledge the creature held... but he would not stretch out the findings, and the lore that his master bestowed upon him: Not without permission, and not without proof that the chosen pupil was deserving.

    -----So, for what would have been a blink to the long-slumbering giant, Ignis scowered the lands and searched out any who might deserve the wisdom of the dark guardian of flame. He found prospects, many in fact, but as each stood before the mighty creature, their fear and their lust tore down their facades, and they were lost to the red-hot, boiling and tumultous sea of ever shifting magma deep within the lair. None survived, for none were worthy, and Ignis knew that somewhere out there another would prove deserving, but he had yet to find them. Yet to seek out their presence in the dwindling life stream of the planet.

    -----It would become his goal to find those worthy and bring them to the elder creature for inspection. He sought another student, another discible, another brother of the dragon's flame.


Abilities:
    -----Ignis is a master of the unconventional flames. He can throw fireballs; though any bender of flame can, but his attacks are far more curvaceous and circuitous. Often spinning outward, changing shape, and then rippling inward towards an enemy like a comet. He has learned much from his volcanic teacher and among them is the use of air-flow in manipulating fire. Created or natural... He has a high tolerance to pain and flame; having lived in the very belly of the earth for so long, and having been scarred so many times. His control over the air is more pronounced than most others of his kind; due to the knowledge and understanding of how the tunnels of magma work, and how his dragon 'master' could create such gouts of flame. Though not impressive in appearance, Ignis is capable of devastating attacks with fire and raw heat. Though he is at a complete loss when near no heat source; surrounded by unsufficient fuel for a fire, or when he is too cold.

    -----Training in the fires of the earth; with the truest master of flame itself, Ignis has come to master the ways of its movement, creation, and its destructive force. He can shift molten earth (Given that it doesnt weight too much and only during solo writing or in storylined fights), superheat the air(When a flame or fire is nearby), rapidly extinguish other fires (Not an attack from another fire clan member or wielder), draw inward the breath of a dragon (Pull in heated air and store it while properly mixing the fuel before his mouth), and when ready... He is capable of releasing a potent blast of fire from within his own lungs.

    -----Increasing his training over the last year, he has thus improved upon all forms of control and mastery, excluding his research into electricity, Ignis has grown accustomed to many facets of fire and its power, but has lost all compatability with the electrical current that once leaped from his body.

    -----His final ability; the one he claims to single-handedly hold due to his pain threshold and the teachings of his dragon master, is the art of 'bursting'. An ability to wrap his body in flames or heat; up to and exceeding the temperature a normal body would begin to melt away in (Thanks to his thick skin and his dragon armor). This allows for defensive and offensive maneuvers, but immediately stops him from being able to release any ranged attacks. He is completely vulnerable to anything capable of passing through the fire-shield; though he is not suddenly incapable of dodging or maneuvering, as he is unable to adjust or manipulate other flames/fire around him until the sheathe of heat is gone.... (Storylined or solo only)

    -----The next step for him; the next leap forward in ability, is one he is far more tediously seeking. The ability to create dragons breath. Not fake, not forged, not a look-a-like. The real thing... Something he believes is impossible at the moment, but never ceases to question his dragon master about.

Weaknesses:
    -----Having never ventured far from the humble cavernous abode he called home for so many years, Ignis knows nothing of politics, religion, trade, or the guiles and ways of men. He understands instinct, battle, and strategy beyond all other things, but has little knowledge of how to properly speak to those who whould seek him out. He is a lost cause to most; his appearance giving them the feeling of dread as they look upon him, and he is rarely seen without the accompanying shadow of his dragon master high above. This too... leads to very few ever trusting or speaking to him.

Weapons:
    -----His body, his breath, his thoughts. He utilizes every aspect of his form, his mind, and his breathing techniques while in combat, and they are the weapons he fights with. From fists drenched in liquid-like fire, to a searing fireball set free from his lungs, Ignis is gifted beyond words, but none know the true extent of his training to get there... OR the pain he has suffered to reach such a level. His master has seared him and made him a tool for the fire, and forever shall he walk that path.

((Giant Elder Black Dragon - Thats a weapon right? ))


Home:
    -----Beyond the borders of the normally travelled land. Deep within the confines of a long dormant and dark volcano. Hidden away beyond the reach and prying eyes of those who seek fortune and glory. The small cavern where Ignis lives, is connected via tunnel and flowing magma canal to various other locations, but the only point of entry into the system of maze-like tunnels is through the smoky and elevated opening in the mouth of the volcano itself. This leads him to stay away from home for extended periods of time unless his master is nearby and can lift him to the opening. Though the dragon does so without complaining, sometimes Ignis believes it a blight on the great beast and claims to one day carve out steps to the peak of the fuming mountain... but for that he would need more than a year, and more than himself.[/b][/b]