Olon Serail
07-12-11, 12:50 PM
((Just Following Deatia, hope everything is all well and good))
Name: Olon Serail
Titles: The Star Forger, The Divine Weaponer, The Concerillium artificer, Holder of Dawn and Twilight.
Age: Almost a thousand years old, the Celestrian race has an extremely long lifespan.
Gender: Male
Race: Celestrian
Hair Color: Platinum Blond to the point of silver.
Eye Color: Sky Blue
Height: 6’6”
Weight: 231
*Occupation: Former Angelic Warrior turned Mercenary.
*Personality: Olon is swathed in an aura of self-assurance and authority. Having once been one of the highest members of Celestrian society, some might say his overwhelming confidence and command is arrogance in disguise. Despite this viewpoint, Olon is a patient and compassionate individual, much preferring to create then to destroy.
Appearance: A sudden hush fell across the gathering crowd, their eyes gazing upwards as a mixture of fear and hope fell among the masses. Descending from above them was a figure of legends, its six pure white and sleek wings guiding it towards the onlookers. The figure connected to these wings was of such complexion he seemed as though he was carved of the purest marble, his proportions evenly balanced. There was little covering him, a simple battle skirt of leather covering his lower regions for what little protection the Celestian felt it needed, as well as for the modesty of the people around him. His body was wiry yet well built, a blacksmiths strength contained in a dancers form. In his hands he held a spear and a sword, each shone in the light with a peculiar sheen, like the sun over the water when the sunbeams dance across the surface in scintillating patterns. His long platinum blond hair cascaded down past his shoulders, its unrestrained beauty framing the proud face of Olon, his sky blue eyes striking those that it met with the upmost confidence.
History:
Celestria – The Rift
Six Years Ago
Deatia’s feet slid apart, her back hunching forward slightly as she brought her shield up and drew War Queller behind her.
“Why are you here, Olon?” she breathed, her customarily peaceful and melodic voice cracking with a hint of irritation.
“To stop this before anyone else gets hurt,” the six-winged Celestrian replied, a mixture of emotions wafting through his tenor, firm, yet filled with sorrow.
Deatia’s grip on her shield tightened. She bared her teeth, hissing an indistinguishable curse, watching as the warriors of both the Throne and the Legion began to distance themselves from the circular dais the two most powerful and skilled Celestrians stood upon.
“To think the Throne would go so far,” Deatia remarked, speaking more to herself as she narrowed her stance, her large, feathery black wings flaring outward. “Go back to your forge, Olon.”
“I can’t stand by while my creations are rent asunder,” he said, striding half a step forward as he spoke. “Please, but down your sword before more lives are destroyed.”
Huffing, the Shield Guardian held her ground. “You know better then to ask me that.”
“Don’t you realize what they’ll do to you if you don’t surrender?” Olon pleaded, a flash of anger darkening his sky blue eyes.
“Torture, even death, is nothing compared to what they have already done to me now,” Deatia murmured in response, swallowing the knot in her throat and drawing in a large sum of air before expelling it outward in a heavy, defiant sigh. “Olon, leave. Go back. I don’t want to fight you, because if I do, I will kill you.”
Olon kept quiet for several moments, closing his eyes and nodding. “Then I see I have no choice.”
They two Celestrian’s exploded into action, flying toward one another with speed unmatched by nearly any of their kindred. Bursts of light flared into being with every parry, block, and use of power. The tension was almost tangible, the anger, sadness, and passion choking. They sprang back from one another, only to reunite in a flurry of deafening attacks, inflicting only minor wounds in the process.
Several minutes passed before Deatia and Olon separated from one another, drawing in labored breaths as they secured their footing and measured their opponent.
“Your sword, its breaking,” Olon observed between mouthfuls of air.
Deatia’s stark sapphire eyes flickered over War Queller, turning back toward her age-old friend an instant later. “Don’t concern yourself with my sword.”
The Shield Guardian was moving before the last word left her lips, colliding with Olon and driving him toward the Rift, which for a few moments longer would continue to connect the realm of Celestria to that of a plane known as Althanas.
The six-winged Celestrian struck not Deatia, but her weapon, timing it so that Ozlen, the Spear of Twilight, pierced through the fragile blade of her longsword, shattering the once peaceful concept that it was. His spear continued upward, cutting across the Shield Guardian’s left cheek and dragging higher to rend the sight from that eye. At that very same instant, Olon pushed against the shield belonging to his beloved friend, shoving her backward with enough force that she was flung back through the Rift, the shards of War Queller passing through the tear between realities after her an instant before it closed.
Amist the cheers of victory from the armies of the Throne and the cries of despair and anger from the warriors of the Legion, Olon wept.
*~*
Celestria
Six Months later
Olon sat staring at the great forge that he operated. A master of the art of Concerillium, the forging of concepts into material reality, this was Olon’s pride in work. Yet now the six winged Celestrian felt no desire to create, no will to weave the fabric of ideas into form.
Six Months ago he sent his dearest friend through the rift between plains in the hope it would end the war, but it only made things worse. Without their leader, the Legion had begun to lose the same ideals it had and developed a far more vicious intent for the Throne, their original mandate of defending the plane of Althanis from the Thrones invading army’s a side note in their new mission of overthrowing the Throne itself.
The Star Forger refused to craft since the day he sent Deatia through the tear between realities’, disillusioned by the promises of the throne that if he acted to stop her they would spare the guardians life and the war reaching a final conclusion. Now he sat in a cold forge, thinking, and waiting for when the next time the rift would open in less than five years from now. He had made a grave mistake, one that he intended to fix.
Althanis
Present Day
Olon has managed to cross over between Celestria and Althanis and found Deatia, though her memory is lost. Pleaging to help restore her lost memories, Olon travels with her in the hopes of being able to help his friend and be forgiven for what he has done. Due to the rigors of the travel between planes and the more strict ‘realitys’ of Althanis, Olon has lost almost all of his power, but is slowly beginning to gain it back.
Skills:
Clelestrian Blacksmith: In the Celestrian home plane, Olon was what many would consider a blacksmith. Through the power of the Concerillium, He literally forged concepts and ideas into new forms and shape. He could take the words of a song and turn it into a sword or the breath of the air and create a shield. While his skills are nowhere near as powerful or far reaching, he has a masterful understanding of the forging and creation of objects in Althanis, mostly weapons and armor. With this skill also comes the understanding of far more abstract concepts such as time and space, as well as the workings of most arcane arts, though he himself cannot use them.
Warrior of the Forge: With his ability to create weapons, Olon knows how to use them as well. Ranging from swords, flails, and any other close range weapon to Bows, cross bows, and ballista’s, Olon is equally adept with the use of close and ranged weapons. He is comfortable with the use of armor and shields, though excludes them for his choice of weapons and maneuverability. Even if found without a weapon, he is proficient in hand to hand combat, allowing him to hold off his enemy should the need arrive. Olon is also ambidextrous, a necessary skill for his choice of weapons, the sword and short spear.
Abilities:
Celestrian Traits: By their nature, Celestrians are often quicker, stronger, and more durable than that of humans and other such things. However, the transition between the Celestrian Plane of Existence and Althanis has greatly reduced the full potential of these traits. Nevertheless, the average Celestrian is often more skilled then an human warrior.
Olon’s traits of a Celestrian has been reduced due to the transition between the planes, and while he is no stronger than an average human black smith, his constitution, Dexterity and Reflexes are far superior. His Strength and constitution is about 1.2x’s then average, while his dexterity and reflexes are about 1.5x’s faster than average.
Wings: As a member of the Celestrian race, Olon has wings that once allowed him perfect flight, each of his six feathered appendages working to allow immediate turns midflight and hovering, as well as increased speed and agility. Since the transition between the planes, while no less impressive, the wings are not as potent as they used to be. Much of their strength has gone, and true flight is extremely limited, but their majesty and elegance have remained. His three pairs of wings are of different wingspans, the top pair being a 13ft wingspan, the middle segment being a 10ft spread, and the bottom pair being an 8ft wingspan. They now provide his body with the skill to make quick turns in combat, as well as distractions in combat like a cloak, as well as the ability to surf along the air for short periods of time.
Essentially, Olon’s wings are no stronger than an average human arm, though their sleek forms are quite capable of providing lift for his body. True flight can be achieved for about fifteen seconds, but after that Olon requires a few hours of rest before he can attempt to fly with his wings again. It is possible for him to glide, but even then he can only do this for about five minutes before succumbing to the stress of his wings. In combat, they allow for quick turns, increasing his already impressive reflexes by another .2 degrees, giving a grand total of 1.7x’s faster human reflexes. If the wings are incapacitated for whatever reason, this will reduce his reflexes and make flight impossible and gliding difficult.
Lore of Fire: Once Olon was a master of the Celestrian forge, able to create things out of concepts and have mastery over the forces that aided in creation. One of these concepts/elements was the divine flame, which while Olon no longer has access to its full power, he still has some measure of influence over the element itself. Able to create and manipulate fire, Olon can hurl fire at his enemies or bend it to whatever almost any form he desires.
Olon is capable of creating and controlling about a 25 ft radius of flame, with a range of about the same area. He is capable of creating sudden radius bursts of fire as well as directing it in a fireball type attack, as well as shaping or directing to do almost anything he wants within this range of influence. The flames themselves are no hotter than an average campfire, about 932°F, but still provide a decent amount of burn. However, utilizing this power requires a decent amount of concentration, as well as causing incredible stress upon Olon, for he is working against the very nature of reality by making fire act in ways it wouldn’t normally do so. The longest he can maintain a single flame before losing control it about 30 seconds, and is probably capable of only creating blasts of flame three times before becoming completely exhausted both physically and mentally.
Equipment:
Alium, Sword of the Dawn: Forged from the first ray of a sunrise, shaped with the strike of seven-hundred and seventy seven lightning strikes and cooled in a temporal maelstrom, Alium was once a sword of legend that had no peer in Celestrian society. However, after the transfer between the planes, all the power it once had has fled. Composed of Serellium, a metal equivalent to steel, The blade catch’s the light so that it refracts along it like the noon sun on the water. Upon closer inspection, there are silvery runes that run up and down the blade in the Celestrian language, speaking of the power that no lies dormant within the metal.
*For Now, Alium is treated as an ordinary steel Celestrian longsword, More akin with the human claymore with a blade of 5 feet long and a hilt adding another foot for a total of 6 feet in size due to the races naturally large stature, the power that the weapon once had contained deep within, unlocking only with further levels of experience.*
Ozlen, Spear of Twilight: Forged from the velvet of the purple sky at twilight, shaped with the melody of the spring rain, and cooled in the stillness of the void, Ozlen was the twin weapon to Alium, its equal in power and legend. However, much like its sister, Ozlen has also lost all of its power. Made from Serellium, A metal equivalent to steel, this short spear in entirety composed of the metal, from shaft to point, the light that hits it glimmering along the blade like a sun rippling in a pond. Curling along the edge of the spear and intertwining along the shaft like twin snakes is the silvery script of the Celestrian race, speaking of the power that lies dorment within the weapon.
*Like Alium, Ozlen is treated as a completely steel Celestrian short spear, about 6 feet in length. Its power will be unlocked with further levels of experience*
Battle Skirt: An Ordinary leather battle skirt, this is the only form of armor that Olon bothers to wear, mostly out of respect of modesty for the many races of Althanis. Along it runs several pouches for food and other mundane materials.
Name: Olon Serail
Titles: The Star Forger, The Divine Weaponer, The Concerillium artificer, Holder of Dawn and Twilight.
Age: Almost a thousand years old, the Celestrian race has an extremely long lifespan.
Gender: Male
Race: Celestrian
Hair Color: Platinum Blond to the point of silver.
Eye Color: Sky Blue
Height: 6’6”
Weight: 231
*Occupation: Former Angelic Warrior turned Mercenary.
*Personality: Olon is swathed in an aura of self-assurance and authority. Having once been one of the highest members of Celestrian society, some might say his overwhelming confidence and command is arrogance in disguise. Despite this viewpoint, Olon is a patient and compassionate individual, much preferring to create then to destroy.
Appearance: A sudden hush fell across the gathering crowd, their eyes gazing upwards as a mixture of fear and hope fell among the masses. Descending from above them was a figure of legends, its six pure white and sleek wings guiding it towards the onlookers. The figure connected to these wings was of such complexion he seemed as though he was carved of the purest marble, his proportions evenly balanced. There was little covering him, a simple battle skirt of leather covering his lower regions for what little protection the Celestian felt it needed, as well as for the modesty of the people around him. His body was wiry yet well built, a blacksmiths strength contained in a dancers form. In his hands he held a spear and a sword, each shone in the light with a peculiar sheen, like the sun over the water when the sunbeams dance across the surface in scintillating patterns. His long platinum blond hair cascaded down past his shoulders, its unrestrained beauty framing the proud face of Olon, his sky blue eyes striking those that it met with the upmost confidence.
History:
Celestria – The Rift
Six Years Ago
Deatia’s feet slid apart, her back hunching forward slightly as she brought her shield up and drew War Queller behind her.
“Why are you here, Olon?” she breathed, her customarily peaceful and melodic voice cracking with a hint of irritation.
“To stop this before anyone else gets hurt,” the six-winged Celestrian replied, a mixture of emotions wafting through his tenor, firm, yet filled with sorrow.
Deatia’s grip on her shield tightened. She bared her teeth, hissing an indistinguishable curse, watching as the warriors of both the Throne and the Legion began to distance themselves from the circular dais the two most powerful and skilled Celestrians stood upon.
“To think the Throne would go so far,” Deatia remarked, speaking more to herself as she narrowed her stance, her large, feathery black wings flaring outward. “Go back to your forge, Olon.”
“I can’t stand by while my creations are rent asunder,” he said, striding half a step forward as he spoke. “Please, but down your sword before more lives are destroyed.”
Huffing, the Shield Guardian held her ground. “You know better then to ask me that.”
“Don’t you realize what they’ll do to you if you don’t surrender?” Olon pleaded, a flash of anger darkening his sky blue eyes.
“Torture, even death, is nothing compared to what they have already done to me now,” Deatia murmured in response, swallowing the knot in her throat and drawing in a large sum of air before expelling it outward in a heavy, defiant sigh. “Olon, leave. Go back. I don’t want to fight you, because if I do, I will kill you.”
Olon kept quiet for several moments, closing his eyes and nodding. “Then I see I have no choice.”
They two Celestrian’s exploded into action, flying toward one another with speed unmatched by nearly any of their kindred. Bursts of light flared into being with every parry, block, and use of power. The tension was almost tangible, the anger, sadness, and passion choking. They sprang back from one another, only to reunite in a flurry of deafening attacks, inflicting only minor wounds in the process.
Several minutes passed before Deatia and Olon separated from one another, drawing in labored breaths as they secured their footing and measured their opponent.
“Your sword, its breaking,” Olon observed between mouthfuls of air.
Deatia’s stark sapphire eyes flickered over War Queller, turning back toward her age-old friend an instant later. “Don’t concern yourself with my sword.”
The Shield Guardian was moving before the last word left her lips, colliding with Olon and driving him toward the Rift, which for a few moments longer would continue to connect the realm of Celestria to that of a plane known as Althanas.
The six-winged Celestrian struck not Deatia, but her weapon, timing it so that Ozlen, the Spear of Twilight, pierced through the fragile blade of her longsword, shattering the once peaceful concept that it was. His spear continued upward, cutting across the Shield Guardian’s left cheek and dragging higher to rend the sight from that eye. At that very same instant, Olon pushed against the shield belonging to his beloved friend, shoving her backward with enough force that she was flung back through the Rift, the shards of War Queller passing through the tear between realities after her an instant before it closed.
Amist the cheers of victory from the armies of the Throne and the cries of despair and anger from the warriors of the Legion, Olon wept.
*~*
Celestria
Six Months later
Olon sat staring at the great forge that he operated. A master of the art of Concerillium, the forging of concepts into material reality, this was Olon’s pride in work. Yet now the six winged Celestrian felt no desire to create, no will to weave the fabric of ideas into form.
Six Months ago he sent his dearest friend through the rift between plains in the hope it would end the war, but it only made things worse. Without their leader, the Legion had begun to lose the same ideals it had and developed a far more vicious intent for the Throne, their original mandate of defending the plane of Althanis from the Thrones invading army’s a side note in their new mission of overthrowing the Throne itself.
The Star Forger refused to craft since the day he sent Deatia through the tear between realities’, disillusioned by the promises of the throne that if he acted to stop her they would spare the guardians life and the war reaching a final conclusion. Now he sat in a cold forge, thinking, and waiting for when the next time the rift would open in less than five years from now. He had made a grave mistake, one that he intended to fix.
Althanis
Present Day
Olon has managed to cross over between Celestria and Althanis and found Deatia, though her memory is lost. Pleaging to help restore her lost memories, Olon travels with her in the hopes of being able to help his friend and be forgiven for what he has done. Due to the rigors of the travel between planes and the more strict ‘realitys’ of Althanis, Olon has lost almost all of his power, but is slowly beginning to gain it back.
Skills:
Clelestrian Blacksmith: In the Celestrian home plane, Olon was what many would consider a blacksmith. Through the power of the Concerillium, He literally forged concepts and ideas into new forms and shape. He could take the words of a song and turn it into a sword or the breath of the air and create a shield. While his skills are nowhere near as powerful or far reaching, he has a masterful understanding of the forging and creation of objects in Althanis, mostly weapons and armor. With this skill also comes the understanding of far more abstract concepts such as time and space, as well as the workings of most arcane arts, though he himself cannot use them.
Warrior of the Forge: With his ability to create weapons, Olon knows how to use them as well. Ranging from swords, flails, and any other close range weapon to Bows, cross bows, and ballista’s, Olon is equally adept with the use of close and ranged weapons. He is comfortable with the use of armor and shields, though excludes them for his choice of weapons and maneuverability. Even if found without a weapon, he is proficient in hand to hand combat, allowing him to hold off his enemy should the need arrive. Olon is also ambidextrous, a necessary skill for his choice of weapons, the sword and short spear.
Abilities:
Celestrian Traits: By their nature, Celestrians are often quicker, stronger, and more durable than that of humans and other such things. However, the transition between the Celestrian Plane of Existence and Althanis has greatly reduced the full potential of these traits. Nevertheless, the average Celestrian is often more skilled then an human warrior.
Olon’s traits of a Celestrian has been reduced due to the transition between the planes, and while he is no stronger than an average human black smith, his constitution, Dexterity and Reflexes are far superior. His Strength and constitution is about 1.2x’s then average, while his dexterity and reflexes are about 1.5x’s faster than average.
Wings: As a member of the Celestrian race, Olon has wings that once allowed him perfect flight, each of his six feathered appendages working to allow immediate turns midflight and hovering, as well as increased speed and agility. Since the transition between the planes, while no less impressive, the wings are not as potent as they used to be. Much of their strength has gone, and true flight is extremely limited, but their majesty and elegance have remained. His three pairs of wings are of different wingspans, the top pair being a 13ft wingspan, the middle segment being a 10ft spread, and the bottom pair being an 8ft wingspan. They now provide his body with the skill to make quick turns in combat, as well as distractions in combat like a cloak, as well as the ability to surf along the air for short periods of time.
Essentially, Olon’s wings are no stronger than an average human arm, though their sleek forms are quite capable of providing lift for his body. True flight can be achieved for about fifteen seconds, but after that Olon requires a few hours of rest before he can attempt to fly with his wings again. It is possible for him to glide, but even then he can only do this for about five minutes before succumbing to the stress of his wings. In combat, they allow for quick turns, increasing his already impressive reflexes by another .2 degrees, giving a grand total of 1.7x’s faster human reflexes. If the wings are incapacitated for whatever reason, this will reduce his reflexes and make flight impossible and gliding difficult.
Lore of Fire: Once Olon was a master of the Celestrian forge, able to create things out of concepts and have mastery over the forces that aided in creation. One of these concepts/elements was the divine flame, which while Olon no longer has access to its full power, he still has some measure of influence over the element itself. Able to create and manipulate fire, Olon can hurl fire at his enemies or bend it to whatever almost any form he desires.
Olon is capable of creating and controlling about a 25 ft radius of flame, with a range of about the same area. He is capable of creating sudden radius bursts of fire as well as directing it in a fireball type attack, as well as shaping or directing to do almost anything he wants within this range of influence. The flames themselves are no hotter than an average campfire, about 932°F, but still provide a decent amount of burn. However, utilizing this power requires a decent amount of concentration, as well as causing incredible stress upon Olon, for he is working against the very nature of reality by making fire act in ways it wouldn’t normally do so. The longest he can maintain a single flame before losing control it about 30 seconds, and is probably capable of only creating blasts of flame three times before becoming completely exhausted both physically and mentally.
Equipment:
Alium, Sword of the Dawn: Forged from the first ray of a sunrise, shaped with the strike of seven-hundred and seventy seven lightning strikes and cooled in a temporal maelstrom, Alium was once a sword of legend that had no peer in Celestrian society. However, after the transfer between the planes, all the power it once had has fled. Composed of Serellium, a metal equivalent to steel, The blade catch’s the light so that it refracts along it like the noon sun on the water. Upon closer inspection, there are silvery runes that run up and down the blade in the Celestrian language, speaking of the power that no lies dormant within the metal.
*For Now, Alium is treated as an ordinary steel Celestrian longsword, More akin with the human claymore with a blade of 5 feet long and a hilt adding another foot for a total of 6 feet in size due to the races naturally large stature, the power that the weapon once had contained deep within, unlocking only with further levels of experience.*
Ozlen, Spear of Twilight: Forged from the velvet of the purple sky at twilight, shaped with the melody of the spring rain, and cooled in the stillness of the void, Ozlen was the twin weapon to Alium, its equal in power and legend. However, much like its sister, Ozlen has also lost all of its power. Made from Serellium, A metal equivalent to steel, this short spear in entirety composed of the metal, from shaft to point, the light that hits it glimmering along the blade like a sun rippling in a pond. Curling along the edge of the spear and intertwining along the shaft like twin snakes is the silvery script of the Celestrian race, speaking of the power that lies dorment within the weapon.
*Like Alium, Ozlen is treated as a completely steel Celestrian short spear, about 6 feet in length. Its power will be unlocked with further levels of experience*
Battle Skirt: An Ordinary leather battle skirt, this is the only form of armor that Olon bothers to wear, mostly out of respect of modesty for the many races of Althanis. Along it runs several pouches for food and other mundane materials.