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Name: Dar'Leth "The Doom"
Bio: A mighty Dremorian warrior known for his savagery and ferocity as much as for his mysterious past. Violent, but gracious, he will pick an honorable duel to the death over retreating any day. Dislikes dirty tactics. Known for his destructive tendencies, he avoids easy classification as he is neither a sadist nor a narcissist (qualities that often accompany warriors of equal might).
Description: Tall, but deceptively small built (no extensive muscules or other characteristics indicative of his strength). Wearing medium - heavy dark armor that covers the legs the arms and the main body. Surprisingly, he utilizes weapons with his left hand. The right hand has elongated fingers and fingernails while the other is smaller, allowing for the use of his sword.
Race: Dremorian

Doombreed:
Dremoria is a vast territory consisting of plains, badlands, and a harsh desert on its eastern border. Warriors lie among the top of the social class structure just below lords and guild masters in terms of respect. Dremorians are categorized by their black wings, glossy black fangs which can piece steel, and natural affinity towards fire magic to the extent any Dremorian can wield a bit of it. The Empire is headed by his Grand Majesty Lucius the Devil's Eye with his two sons Desmond and Dante, who are both officers within the military. The land is carved into six regions each headed by a large capital city. The first is Ithradine, the royal throne of Dremoria and its most prosperous region in terms of wealth. Second is Darkus, a center of scientific progresses and innovations mainly involving weaponry. Third is Amaranthine, the most perculiar of the six, this city is where you will find the greatest variety of races within Dremoria not to mention a strong cultural haven. The fourth city is Forenheim, any and all research into magic originates here where mages are without persecution due to the warrior-culture of Dremoria. Fifth is Saleis, this city is actually one large fortress on the border of Dremoria's territory. Lastly is Kalegi, the most heavily populated city and the base of the military's headquarters.

At the moment, you are resting within your regiment's camp under the leadership of Royal Blade Ciaran, an older yet reputable commander. Just recently he had briefed the camp about their mission to suppress a rebel group harboring in the neutral neighbor territory of Valise, who have refused to help in the matter. While you wait for order to move out, a fellow brother-in-amrs approaches bearing sharp scar across his left cheek and clean-shaven beard "Word is passing through the camp that we are soon to leave. I look forward to fighting by your side Dar'Leth if the rumors are half as true." he chuckled lightly, his voice deep in result of his larger build "My apologies, the name is Faral."

Name: Kazu of the Mist
Bio: Kazu's past, expecially his childhood, has not been an easy one. He was shunned from his home in Archelleon at a very young age because of his heritage. Although his mother was a very devout elf, she came to bear the child of a wolf demon. After his mother was stoned to death, Kazu was left in Dral, where it was expected he would be killed. He was however taken in by the dragons, and with the blood of an elf and a wolf demon running through his veins and the teachings of the dragons, Kazu plans to set out to extinguish all evil in the world. But can he escape his own evil? When Kazu becomes enraged or his life is in danger, his inner wolf demon comes out and he tears apart anything in his path. Through the dragons, Kazu has learned to surpress the wolf inside and even control it to a degree, be he still considers it a last resort. In battle, Kazu relies on his speed and intellect to gain victory. His choice of weapon are two swords forged from a rare metal found in Dral. He travels with a young dragon, Nathir, whom he considers to be his only family left. Nathir is still too young to be anything more than a distraction in battle.
Description: Kazu is just under 6 feet in height. Weighing roughly around 170, he has a very sleek look about him. The most prominent features are his eyes and his hair. His hair is a very dull, almost bone white and his eyes are strikingly red. He wears a black sleeveless shirt and dark gray pants that go to his ankles. For shoes, he prefers tight fitting sandals for speed and mobility. Over everything, he always wears his cloak. It is a matte red with a black trim around all of it. It has a tall collar that comes up to his pointed ears and has strange seals all over it. It stays open in the front except for wear he buttons it at the belt. On his back he carries his two swords, one over each shoulder and they cross on his back. When his wolf demon comes out, his grows claws and his teeth come to a point. His eyes also become completely black and a black mist comes off of his entire body.
Race: Elf

I hope this is okay and not too long...

I reply politely, yet with a somewhat cold gaze."The rumors are rarely a sufficient source of information." With a quick smile, I get up and carry on with the conversation. "No apology needed Faral. Seeing as you already know me, I didn't have the pleasure to introduce myself. But it's been a pleasure all the same. At any rate, there will be plenty of time to catch up later. Have you heard anything from command? We are about to move out soon."

Timmy33:
Archelleon is a land of mystical wonders and terrain yet its native elves are extremely spiteful of any and all outsiders. At the heart of their lands lies the World Tree, one of several natural wonders within the world and a incredible source of magic. Hybrids are especially shunned and are often abandoned whether by choice or force. While the many nations are all hurtling towards war, Archelleon has decided to remain neutral. Their leaders is Holy Visir Aethir who strict doctrine has allowed the ancient kingdom to remain a power in the world today. Dral is headed by dragons however there has been a growing population of various other races within their lands. Dragons are one of the last elder races, beings that existed well before the dominant races of today were established and hide a ancient, terrible secret. The rare resource of Dral is its Lusterite, a blackish-purple metal that is light yet sturdy with incredible magicl potential. Cahari is the main capital of Dral and the largest city on the entire continent with a large spire at its center where the leader, Lord Overseer Renzen, resides. Dral is and has always been a neutral member of the world politics and many disputes have been settled in its court. Wolf-demons have a fierce reputation of independence and solidarity which has turned into fear and resentment. They defend their homeland of Fangorn Woods with vicious efficiency that few have ever seen them in combat. While many believe them to be agents of hell themselves, they are in fact just a regular species with demon blood as their ancestry. In this world all life either is derived from divine blood, whether it be demon or angelic, or from the very earth itself. Hybrids of these blood types are often powerful but unstable in some instances.

The rich blue of the sky looms above as fierce rays of the vibrant sun rains down, the air cool yet not leaning in either direction. A perfect day many would say. Nathir walks beside you, his almost pearly white, smooth, leathery hide glistening in the light of the sun. While Nathir already seven decades old, he still has a lot to grow and more often than not acts like a excited child. His head just rises above your own, while in this form it is hard to read his expressions, he is appearing a bit bored "Kazu, do you know where we're going?" he asks looking down at you with a expectant look.

Doombreed:
Faral keeps smiling despite the rather harsh gaze as if amused "Yeah, about that. Ciaran has just begun sending the word to equip and prepare for combat." His tone is highly casual, his body turning to peer at the vicinity in which the rebels are reported to be established "Valise has grown mighty arrogant in the last few days, it is clear the are sending a message by not helping to suppress these rebels. Such a shame too, I hear the women and hot springs of Paradisa are to die for." he heartily laughs as a brown short-haired young man barges into the scene "The lord commander Ciaran had ordered all warriors to report to the field in front of the main tent." he spoke quickly a bit out of breath

Name: Ventyr
Bio: Ventyr is strongly on the side of the Anserians in the war, he agrees with their ideologies and whishes they would win the war. Ventyr had left the care of his parents about 400 years ago and was doing well. He has a successful lair and has a great hunting route. In combat Ventyr uses strategy to trap his enemies, although he hasn't gone up against anything stronger then a deer for food.
Description: Ventyr is a european dragon, that is 4 legs and 2 wings. He is an air dragon and as so an excellent flyer. We is about 8 feet long and 5 tall, with a wingspan of 12 feet. His scales are a light, sky blue and he has a long tail to aid with balance when flying.
Race: European Air Dragon

I give a look up at the sky before answering with a slight smile, "I have no idea Nathir. We are finally out on our own, there isn't anyone to tell us what we can't do!" I exclaim, "First things first though, we aren't going to go very far if we don't get some money in our pockets soon. I say we head for the nearest town and see if we can find a job or two. Something to test our abilities. What do you say?"

"Then let's not waste any time" I say as I move towards the main tent to report. I smile and turn to Faral as I move. "Come Faral. It may be that you'll see the women and the hot springs of Paradisa sooner than expected."

As we move towards the main tent, I ask Faral the question that has been bothering me since I first came here.

"You think it is arrogance, Faral? You think arrogance is what's causing them to stand against us, even if somewhat indirectly? What if change is what drives them? I for one can see where they are coming from. There are many reasons for people to be angry when the Empire comes and meddles with them. When they are forced to suffer humiliating and derogatory treatment at the hands of xenophobic officials. When corruption and power abuse reach their peak in the one of the two largest kingdoms in the region. Or when a warrior is in a higher social class and as such, much more privileged than the rest of the people. When that warrior demands the respect of the people socially inferior to him too, instead of earning it."

As I reach the main tent with Faral, I end my monologue. "We are warriors first and foremost. Which means executing orders is our one and only concern. But don't be fooled Faral. Even high command knows that most warriors need incentives to actually do their job. For some, like me, this incentive is the thrill of battle. For others however, it is the belief in a righteous cause. And the officers have to provide that cause, by any means necessary."

nivlac724:
Anseria is deeply rooted in tradition and decorum with a rigid class system. The nation prides itself in their vast array of knowledge, rivaling that of the Grand Lexicon of Dral. Form and courtesy drives social interactions and political discussion, especially in the golden city of Aethir where the Royal Castle lies. Despite being known guardians of developing nations and kingdoms, Anserians as a whole perceive themselves higher on the food chain than most species yet it is often hidden in subtle sarcasms and indirect insults. The king is Arch Lord Sa'rem who global agenda is unknown to all yet so far he has taken a great interest in stopping the Dremorian threat. Anserians as a species normally have large white wings and their skin is typically pale to the point it appears to dimly glow. The have a natural affinity for light magic and as such have been the leader in many medical advances. It is common for those who are deathly sick to make a pilgrimage to Anseria and wind up cured. Another distinguishing factor is the depths of their religion. They fiercely cling to the old gods in return for various blessings yet the last recorded instance of a god addressing a mortal directly was thousands of years ago and even that has devolved into legend outside of Anseria.

The wind is blowing a little harshly today, fallen leaves drift through the currents of air carrying...the smell of blood. Soon the sharp sounds of metal clashing rings throughout the forest outside your lair followed by a feminine scream of agony and more fighting. The ground itself shakes like a small tremor as the battle continues, the scent of blood becoming stronger as the guttural, twisted sound of agony pierces above the noise, this time of a masculine descent. With the growing tension between both Anseria and Dremoria, bandits and monsters alike have been having field days.

Timmy33:
Nathir seems energized by yours words, also looking up at the sky. "You always know what to do Kazu." he playfully bumps into your side just before his stomach roars like...well like a dragon "Money also mean food." he speaks putting his head down before laughing a little, perking back up "Look, there's a sign post up ahead!" as he said it, there stood a dark oak post in the space between a fork in the road reading 'East: Hadou Village, North-East: Faram Town' "Hadou village and Faram town...I wonder what kingdom we're in" He spoke curiously, the words on the signs were written in a Aetheri dialect, a species normally called 'Faeries'. There has not been a official kingdom for Faeries since the last great war.

Doombreed:
Faral sighs happily as you mention the women "A man can only dream of such sights." he spoke following closely as more warriors filled in behind. The messenger darting off towards other tents but it looked like everyone got the message just fine. Faral does not interrupt you for the entirety of your little speech, his eyes focused ahead with a contemplating look in this hardy features. It seems as though most of the battalion is already standing before the main tent, quietly discussing various thoughts and petty concerns
"It is not our place to ponder these questions Dar'Leth. As you have said, our focus is executing orders. A righteous cause can be any form of twisted words when the souls listening are eager for any direction to throw their pain towards." his lips curved into a relaxed smile "That is the spirit that will secure us a better tomorrow, hopefully I will live to see it." The flaps of the tent shifted as a tall man, face worn with age and fighting, emerged with a cloack draped over his right arm, gray hairs forming stripes through dark black hair "Warriors of Dremoria, brother in arms, and comrades on the field of battle the time has come to eliminate these pathetic rebels to make way for Dremoria's glory. They have been allowed to live for far too long and they will be crush under the spirit of our souls and the weight of our blades. We will surround their camp with our forces and attack from all angles ensuring no escape. Glory and honor await gentlemen." his voice invigorates the men as the march into the forest begins. Faral seems to be wary about this attack, his eyes furrowed as he looks in the direction of the camp "Noting about this seems right." he quietly speaks

Ventyr leaps out of the exit to his lair and begins to spread his wings. Ventyr try to follow the sound of the screams as fast as he can hoping to help whoever is in danger. As a dragon, Ventyr has enhanced senses so it shouldn't be too difficult to find them. Ventyr hopes the threat is dremorian so he can finally help in the war; yet he is fearful that his hunting skills won't be enough if theres a large number of enemies.

"I know. We should keep our eyes open." I say as we move into the forest.

"Hmm...you feel the excitement of the rest of them? Don't they get that something is wrong? Because the rest of the warriors certainly act like they are going to have the fun of their lives. You know, this forest seems the perfect place for an ambush." I say quietly.

Name: Demgo
Bio: His father, Tyran, kicked from Podam, was on the verge of death when he met Liqua, a female dragon. something 10 months later, Demgo is born, but the dragons aren't kind enough to let him stay. Thus, Liqua and Tyran brought Demgo to Dremoria, where he stayed for many years. when he was 14, he was told of is parents, which explained his plant powers and wings, but brought 1 more on: where are they? So he set off to find his parents.
Description: Red wings, Blue scarf, White Shirt and Pants, And a Black helmet which covers his head. (how he sees with it on? i don't know.)
Race:

forgot to say this: Race: 70% Dragon, 30% Levar