My delicious lovelies, sexies, and preciousnesses ; w ;

Physical Characteristics -
Name: Kevin Blot
Nickname: Inkblot, Inkie
Age: 17
Weight: 148
Height: 6 foot
Race: Human, Wanderer
Appearance:
Inkie is tall, his face slightly femenine but not too much. He's got a lanky sort of build, muscled slightly only on his chest and his belly, and then on his calves. He's about 6'', sporting longer-than-thou-average-male-hair that's black with a white highlight going through it. His eyes are large and friendly, a nearly see-through blue, a few freckles underneath them and their long lashes. Defining clothing would be his scarf, black, grey, white, and the same color as his eyes; it wraps around his neck and around his mouth, tied carefully as to never leave the spot. You see, Inkie never takes his scarf off, and he won't let anybody else either.
He's a very cute guy, but it's never gone to his head and one could easily wonder if he's even aware of the fact. Muscle wise his body is a bit more masculine, his stomach tight and his chest fit. Contour, texture and curve wise it's more effeminate. He's a slim, thin guy; his hips and waist curve, and his skin is soft.

Background and Other Info -
History: Inkie was a very sociable child. He loved to talk and he was the sort that would say the most precious things. He was a kind, bright boy. Everyone he met would no doubt have though that his future would be some sort of grand. Maybe he'd be some sort of political figure, or possibly a noble. After all, his parents were nobles, and he had an outstanding education; he would've learned a lot more if only he'd paid more attention during his lessons, but that's a different story.
Childhood was relatively uneventful up until his eighth birthday. Something happened. There's a rumor about a witch, but nobody knows if it's true, and Inkie refuses to tell anyone the story of the event.

He began to wear a scarf. He wouldn't talk to anyone. The peers he once loved and played were most dutifully shunned. His life took a sharp turn down the reclusive path. Inkie shut himself in a study, which was the quaintest, quietest place in the house and therefor much loved by the boy. Books and pens there became his friends and the piano his love, along with the violin and a few obscure magical wind instruments. After a while people forgot what his voice sounded like. Some forgot his name. Over the next two years he seemed to have faded from existence, a truth that bothered him not.

One day he upped and left. Nobody really noticed. His parents did, but by the time they did it was a week too late. Inkie is a wanderer. He still wears his scarf and he still refuses to talk to a soul.

Personality:
~ Silly
~Sarcastic
~ A tad awkward
~ Kind
~ Dreamy
~ Shy, reserved
~ Sensitive
~ Dramatic when trying to get a point across
~ Extremely curious

Weapons:
He's not much of a fighter, and when it does come to combat he relies heavily on his magic. All weapons he uses are creations of his mind.

Abilities/Skills:
Telepathic Comprehension: Inkie can receive and understand thoughts transmitted to him as well as understand the gist of what another person is pondering (the latter being vague and with great difficulty). He cannot, however, output his thoughts or use telepathy himself. This all mostly applies to animals.

Empathy: He can however transmit his emotions to other people and creatures, whether it be what he's feeling or an emotion he's forcing into the mind of another being. Inkie has an immense understanding of what others are feeling, and this is sometimes his only link to being able to comprehend people.

Automatic Writing: Inkie can write on a page without touching the page or the pen. This writing can appear in synchronized fashion on any paper he has prepared for such a use.

Blood shifting/Animal Mimicry: This is one of his only abilities that can be used in a defensive/offensive manner. It requires contact with the creature, upon which he can absorb a portion of their blood. This blood stays within him, whereupon he can activate the blood and it will replace his blood, successfully triggering a shift in form. Memory failure is a common side effect of using this power, as well as his conscious being consumed by that of the animal/person.

Echolocation: Speaks for itself. His echolocation however does not actually have to do with sending out pulses of sound-waves but instead a sort of mental energy wave.

Ecological Empathy: The ability to sense the overall well-being and conditions of one's immediate environment and natural setting

Psionic Energy: This would have to be his most powerful and useful defensive/offensive ability, as he rarely shifts due to the issues he has with his memory afterwards. It is the ability to overload another's mind causing pain, memory loss, lack of consciousness, vegetative state or death after having created a psionic link into that individual's mind. He sends a blast of mental energy into their mind, causing thought overload, emotional overload, and a general overload of power/energy. The effect is a bit like what happens when you send a lightning bolt or other power surge into a computer. With this ability he can also create weapons out of mental energy; a sword, for example. These weapons can only injure mentally and emotionally, not physically. He could, say, thrust it through one's chest but the wound would be in the mind or emotions.

Physical Characteristics -
Name: Orena Le Faux
Nickname: Orange
Age: 16. She looks younger in terms of face and skin, but has the body of a more developed model, at least 17 or 18.
Weight: Some ridiculously small amount. She's practically a spirit after all. Let's go with 115ish?
Height: 5' 6'' ish, though depending on perception one could see her as 5' 5'' or 5' 7''.
Race: Harmonia
Appearance: Bright green eyes and a black ribbon tied around her waist.


Background and Other Info -

History: She doesn't talk about it. It's just something she doesn't do. She's mostly a loner by choice, and even with all the people who're pining to be her "friend" she's successfully managed to remain alone. Orange enjoys company and enjoys talking with people, toying with people; where exactly she came from and why she never sticks around is a mystery, though for now one could easily assume that it's because she enjoys unlimited freedom.

Personality:
~ She's sexy and she knows it. Men are her playthings, and attractive girls aren't exactly discounted either.
~ Might come off as an oblivious, delicate blonde sometime, but she's really, really clever. Don't be fooled, and please don't get too distracted by the boobs.
~ Affectionate
~ Kinda touchy-feely
~ Enjoys observing things, analyzing people
~ More caring than she seems
~ Hard to anger buteasily flustered
~ Brave, quick, witty
~ Extremely curious
~ Wields a burning, often overlooked passion for just about anything she sets her mind to
~ Stubborn
~ Mischievous. Mischievous. Mischievous. Mischievous. Mischievous.

Weapons:
She carries a glowing jack-o-lantern that wields a unique sort of dimensional magic, thought it's very unassuming and sort makes her look like a sexy trick-o-treater.

Abilities/Skills:

Pheromone and Hormone control: This is just what it sounds like. She particularly enjoys tinkering with levels when she's talking to people, as if her natural appearance isn't enough. Reactions greatly amuse her. Orange nearly always keeps a faint cloud of Pheromones surrounding her.

Dimensional summoning: She is a Harmonia, and she summons things from a particular dimension by the use of spells.

Typical magic: She's still practicing magic, and is always on the lookout for new spells she could possibly use.

Physical Characteristics -
Name: Klon Ankho
Nickname: Klon
Age: 17. He's turning 18 "soon" though, which he'll eagerly point out to anybody who asks for his age.
Weight: 98
Height: 4' 8''
Race: Scale of Io? Ankho? Human?
Appearance:
Klon looks nothing like a knight, nor anybody who'd be able to save themselves from being stepped on. He's a petite young man with small hands and equally small shoulders. Standing only at 4' 8'' and weighing a laughable 98 pounds, Klon could very well be the tiniest Scale that ever existed. He is, however, a Scale nonetheless.
His face is clever and defined with sharp features. His chin is slender, his cheekbones high, and his eyes are bright, brows arched slightly as if he's always on a smug alert for something.
His hair follows the tradition of his House; black and shaggy with streaks of color, like macaw feathers. Blue, green, yellow, and red, his eyes being the same colors. In the jungle it helps him to blend in...in society he rather despises it.

Because of his upbringing, Klon has always been a simple sort of guy. Leisurely he'll sport anything comfortable he can get his hands on, which is usually a simple cloth shirt and simpler pants; something a peasant would wear. His Armour though, is much more extravagant. The plates are fashioned like dragons scales, hard able to slither and twist. The result not only makes him look sort of like a confusing, flashing-colored dragon-boy, but allows Klon the agility he needs to win a battle.
His cape is the typical Scales of Io attire.

Background and Other Info -

History:
Once, long ago, Ankho has been great. The warriors were renowned far and wide for their inhuman speed and agility; they learned their ways directly from the animals, and practiced fighting daily in the heat of the jungle, amongst the shadows of the canopy. The Ankho were legendary. They were the rich that sat with the peasants and told jokes over a fire. While they did have their luxuries, there wasn’t much room for extravagant growth in the dead of the jungle, and so they took to the simpler things.


Then there was the man. He came out of nowhere; only the ancient Remember his name. His history is unknown, and likewise his business at the House. While the prowess of the Ankho was unmatched, this being possessed a magic so wild, so bravura, that Ankho was wiped out in less than a day. The house was left in shambles; the simple grandeur was soon left as nothing more than desecrated temple ruins. People more inland from the house could not reach so far back into the Jungle to get to the House; the House had always come to them. A few expeditions were sent out, but nobody could reach it. Nobody found it. Nobody even knew what they were looking for. Overtime the Ankho and their house were completely forgotten. So was Amaranth, the man who had destroyed them. Nobody knew if he’d lived or died, left or stayed. It was said that only his enchanted weapon, The End is Neigh, was left as evidence that he’d been there. A few Ankho who had hidden amongst the trees managed to salvage basic necessities from their destroyed House. And so time moved on. For years. And years. And years…..

Somewhere, sometime, a long while after the destruction, Klon was born. He was raised in the skeleton of a forgotten giant. At first the boy showed no talent or outstanding ability above the other fledgling warriors of what had now become a tribe. If anything, he was actually below the average point. Though Ankho were generally small, he was smaller. Where they were fast, he was slower. When practicing the ways of their agility, Klon was a downright klutz. “It doesn’t feel right”, he’d say. Really, it didn’t. Regardless that the tribe had taught their warriors the same way for ages, this one just couldn’t…do much of anything, really. However, this actually came to the young boy’s benefit. While Klon’s mind had seemed to be disconnected from the ways of the tribe, it had been, somehow, reconnected to a different time; a much earlier time. This was discovered when he started to wander off into the Jungle. After all, if he was no good at class, he might as well not stick around.


Klon found solace in the canopy, and peace within the shadows of the trees. More importantly he found friends. Most importantly, he found Moby. A dying, whimpering mewling had been floating through the jungle one day Klon was skipping; quickly he’d gone to inspect. There lay a Clouded Leopard in a clearing, the sigil of their tribe. There it lay dying. The cat had crumbled onto the ground, a sword penetrating its side. Overcome with awe and sympathy, the boy managed to rush the thing back to the ruins. Course, the cat didn’t go willingly. By the time he got there it was hard to distinguish between who’s blood was who’s, and the fluid had pretty much mixed up all over their wounds. The cat though, and Klon as well, were both saved. To the great surprise of everyone, Moby stayed. The two became friends; Klon kept the sword he’d found in its side for training. Neigh was written on its side, and a shifting enchant made it indispensable.

Where the school for warriors had made no sense to him, Moby did. The boy emulated the cat’s every move and mannerism, practically learning everything he knew straight from beast. Moby actually seemed to take the boy under his “paw”, leading him throughout the Jungle, letting him play in the darkest corners, leap in the highest trees, and fend for himself in the densest of fogs. Klon proceeded to grow up in such a way, later hardened by the death of his Father and the illness of his Mother. He fought out all of his frustrations alone and with Moby, training himself aimlessly in the harshest conditions he could find. The harshest. ‘Twas not uncommon, on a particularly bad day, for Klon to stab himself with Neigh, the name he’d found inscribed on the weapon he’d found. At first it hurt like hell, but after a while he got used to it.

Years later and through various motivations, Klon decided to set out on a Trek through the jungle to find the grand civilization that oral stories had passed on through the generations. And so, he found the rest of Aeneryia. Upon return to the Ruins of Ankho, he related his great discovery to the tribe. The elders, surprised by the truth of the stories, pumped him full of tall tales about the magesty of the city, and especially about the Scales. Thus, logically, he sought to become one.
Klon went back, training harder than ever before on his way there, Moby at his side. When he felt ready enough he entered the Tourney. At first people scoffed at him for his size, and laughed when he claimed to be from someplace called "Ankho". Klon had the last laugh. He passed the tourney with flying colors. Jousting was harder, since everyone was so much heavier than he, but the Meelee was a breeze. Even without Neigh, the kid was outstanding. All that training in the forest...after the fog, clear air was a laughably easy condition to fight in. The light was like a playpen compared to the dark. He could move that much more without trees on his every side, and being on the ground affirmed everything as a cinch.
Eventually he became a Scale; now Klon has been a scale for a day. People still laugh at him because of his height and where he claims to be from, but he's determined to prove himself to them all.

Personality:
~ Reserved at first
~ Simple
~ Hard worker
~ A bit angry
~Curious
~ Sympathetic
~ Restless

Weapons:
Found in the jungle amongst the rubble of the ruined temple that is House Ankho, and enchanted sword was found. The End is Neigh; Neigh for short. It is the most wonderful little sword; no, the most wonderful little dagger. It makes a splendid spear, and a tantalizing lance. Just as elusive and adaptable as its owner, Neigh makes the perfect companion for Klon. Then of course there's Moby, but often he's so busy hiding someplace from people that his usefulness in battle could hardly grant him weapon status.

Abilities/Skills:

EHHHH, he's pretty much a personified Clouded Leopard, so read up on those. He's an AMAZING climber, and he'll climb about anything. He's also extremely fast, agile, and a really good jumper.

~Sometimes he forms a sort of link with Moby where both of their minds become joined, and their moves become mirrored. Other times, mostly by mistake, he'll form the same sort of link with another random animal. Nobody knows how the fuck her does it...not even Klon. He never took any magic classes...