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Accepted Profiles:

Name: Falkonin Kyril
Age: 25
Race: Beastile - Falcon
Location: Jaroahan
Ability: Sneaking, Thieving, lock-picking
Weapons: Roughly twenty small throwing daggers hidden about his clothing and two larger daggers about as long as his fore-arm coated in a thick poison that has given the blades a glowing black aura, with a magical spell cast upon the daggers that makes him immune to their poisons
Occupation: Thief, Assassin
Faction: The predators
Personality: Devious, Secretive
Brief Bio: Falkonin grew up the son of a lock-smith. For his entire childhood he grew up apprenticing under his father learning how to make locks that even magic couldn't surpass, and of course learning how to get past all of those locks. After the human military killed his father and stole all of their possessions, he found his way into the Predators.
Appearance:
Falkonin is short for a beastile, roughly 5'4" and weighs only a hundred pounds due to the light bone density needed to keep him in flight. He wears light weight, simple clothes normally in grayscale and with a hooded tunic.

Gaianame: Rose Adele Zellar
Name: Adeelar 'Dee' Lilia
Age: 24
Race: Eagle Beastile
Abilities: Agility, and a voice like a siren, dancing
Occupation: Bartender and dancer at a local pub
Faction: She doesn't really care.
Height: 5'3" Weight: 98 lbs
Appearance: A slim woman, with large, eagle wings adorning her back. She looks very human otherwise, despite her eagle eyes, wings, and the white feathers that adorn her torso. She usually wears a golden-brown dress that is sleeveless, with unconnected bell sleeves that start at her elbow. Her hair is a mix of brown, gold, and white, like the feathers of an eagle, and falls below her shoulders, stopping at the small of her back. At her waist is a dark brown belt, with two pouches hanging from it. On holds a sketch pad and a pencil, the other contains a beautiful and intricately carved porcelain dagger.
Personality: Calm, innocent, and somewhat sarcastic, with an amazing knowledge of drinks, food, and medicine. Dislikes fighting, but will fight if needed.
Biography: She could have cared less about her past, and never talks about it. When asked, she will recap the last four years, when she started working at a local pub. At first, it was her dancing that got her the job, but she soon revealed her knowledge of many, many drinks, and became one of the best batenders in the pub. She lives above the building itself, with a roomate, a gentle and terribly shy sparrow beastile.
Other: She's terrified of large cats.

Jaroah--Plagued Fist Dojo

Death is a secret, a mystery in this world. No one can know how they are going to die, or when. But once they do, the cold is the only thing they can truly remember….it’s the only thing that clings to us all. You can’t feel you’re loved ones touch, you can’t feel the air coming into you‘re lungs, all you can feel is the cold… I should know, as the only student of “The Plagued Fist Style,” death had come a very big part my life. For me, death is never a secret, no matter how much I wish for it to be…

“*Gasping*........It happened again....” “You had another death dream,huh?” said an eerie voice from across the room. It was my grandfather Plague, wearing a worn masters robe and sash. Smoking from his pipe and stroked his long matted beard. “Do not worry yourself with such dreams, they come less frequently the more you learn to control you’re powers over the dead..” I rolled out of my bed and stretched my arms as high as they can reach. Grandfather Plague then handed me my clothes and a bowl full of…. “Grandfather, what are we eating?” “Maggots…” “Gah, again, we had maggots yesterday.” “Stop complaining and eat…Today is a big day and I want you to keep up you’re strength. Now eat and get dressed..”

Falkonin walked through the door of one of the many bars that he visited throughout the city of Jaroah. As he entered one of the large bouncers was throwing out a large Bear Beastile. Upon entering the building he noticed that it was quite busy, which never bothered him; the more people there were, the easier it was to blend in.

Keeping his hood up he took a stool that didn't seem to fallen apart and sat at the bar, noticing who was bartending that night. "Why hello Adeelar, I'll take the usual, a plate of uncooked Salmon and a glass of Devil Juice." Before she could comment on his already pending bar tab he pulled out a few gold coins from his stolen purse and slid them across the bar. "Theres enough to cover my tab and even a little extra for you."

Jaroah--Town Square

My grandfather and I went into town, after accepting an invitation to a kumate tournament that’s being held in the Soaring Dragon’s dojo, a place blocks away from where we lived. Once every other year, the soaring dragons would hold a tournament to prove to other dojo’s and martial arts masters that they are number one. To me its just one big ego trip with elimination rounds. But they pass it off as an honorable event that all who believe that they are skilled should join. Every year they win their own trophy, and every year, they rub it in everyone’s face, but today is going to be different, at least…That’s what grandfather believes.

I had no intentions on going to this thing myself, but my grandfather has done a lot for me. Teaching me the Plagued Fist style is something that he never wanted me to take lightly, and I respected him and his teachings, for what ever reason....For me to actually learn these deadly techniques, my grandfather had to bring me back from the brink of death. That’s right…In some standards, I’m considered to be undead. Not enough to have worms crawling thru my brain, or my skin rotting off my bones, but just enough to count….But I’ll tell you that part later. “Where here…” My grandfather said. We were surrounded by a crowd of martial-arts fighters, waiting at the front gates of the Soaring Dragon’s dojo. “Take a look to you’re left, then you’re right, then straight ahead. Each one of these fighters will be begging you to end their misery before you even step into the ring… twisted ”

Adeelar's eyes darkened as she listened about his debts. She was not at all disgusted by his way of eating, and instead, rolled her eyes as he mentioned wanting to be here earlier. "Yeah, right. You say that now, but I don't think so," she said calmly as she prepared his drink. She had no hint of laughter in his voice.

"I'll pay off any debts you need, you know that," she told him, turning to him again, and leaning against the bar. Dee lived above the bar for free, because the bar wanted to accommodate their workers at the place of employment, so that they were ready to work at any time. It didn't bother her much anyway. It meant that she hardly spent money. With a smile, Dee listened to the banter at the bar, until someone yelled to her. She perked up, listening to them talk about her dancing. She wasn't going to dance tonight, the stage had been destroyed in a bar fight. A laugh escaped her lips as she listened to that, and smiled.

"Luck's on my side tonight, I suppose," Adeelar said, the smile on her face a wide grin.

Jaroah-Town Square

Before I was being taught the art of plagued fist, I lived with my mother, father, and grandmother. They were mere commoners with a small farm several miles from here. Only refusing to learn the art of necromancing from grandfather did my father managed to lived a normal life. But that was when a group bandits wanted our land for themselves.

It wasn’t long until the bandits totally invaded our farm, and ransacked our home. My family fled without looking back to see if their son was with them. I was found laying in a puddle of my own blood in the meadows. My grandfather came around a day later for a visit, only to finding himself clearing out the bandits with a horde of zombies. Once my grandfather resurrected me, he told me everything that happened.

"What happened to mom and dad...And where's grandmother?",I asked. With a straight face, he told me they left me to die. He took me in and I began learning that which my parents refused to talk about. Grandfather said as a kid, and even in death, I was much stronger then my parents. They were cowards, but I didn’t blame ’em for it. They chose to live a life of peace. My grandfather gave me a second chance at life, a chance to strike back at those who would make other people suffer.

The doors of the Soaring Dragon’s dojo opened, and everyone calmly went inside. It was a very important event, much so, that everyone kept their reserve so that they do not ruin this “honorable” moment with idle chatter and clamoring.

His debt was not due until noon of the next day, but it was not uncommon for the collectors to come early. However, Falkonin would not let them take him captive; and seeing as how he already killed the guards sent to fetch him, a death sentence would be placed on his own head. That meant that the only way he could get out of this bargain would be to kill the man, or bear, behind it all.

Falkonin awoke with the rising of the sun, and he jumped out of the church balcony's window, fluttering his wings enough to catch him from the three story fall to the ground. It would take him a little while to find Coran, a large black bear beastile that was known for his ruthlessness and high standing in the underground markets. Falkonin would have to catch the man outside of his lair in order to kill him without facing death himself. This would not be an easy task.

It was after the sun went down when Falkonin finally noticed the parade of guards surrounding Coran. Falkonin, hidden behind his hood, rounded a corner into an alleyway where he took flight to the rooftops. He grabbed two of his throwing daggers from their hiding place and held them in each hand. It would be no easy shot, but he would have to nail his target with the knives if he was going to carry this off. For that he would need to sink a blade directly into the throat of the giant bear.

It was another hour of jumping roof to roof before he finally had a good chance at the man. The group was heading into a bar and Falkonin had a perfect downward angle at Coran. The first blade flung down and struck the large bear in the shoulder, which caused Coran to look up at the exact moment the second blade came blaring down, sticking straight into the throat of the large bear, sending him toppling backwards as his last breath left his mouth with a splutter of blood. Of course the guards chased him, but with the power of flight, none of them were even near keeping up with him. He was released from his debt, and the way the underground worked, their new leader would have to recognize that. In fact whoever was to take over should respect Falkonin, for he was the one responsible in giving the new leader a promotion.