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Ezralora
Supernova
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2018
- Location
- Somewhere in Limbo at the moment.
Powers are... well a thing. Amazing i know that's what a lot of people thought once they woke up, had accidents or just generally got curious and began to manifest superhuman abilities. It was in a way magical, heroes began to take to the streets beating back crime to an almost stand still... Until ambition began to clutch at the hearts of those with power. Villains began to rise up to combat the heroes, the heroes got organised became defenders of the countries of the world, separate from the governments of the world and policed by each other all united under the want to make sure the world remains in a state of peace.
That was until the Villains of the world clicked and moved under the shadow of the one with the biggest ambition. A man known now as the Ruler. There was a battle that left the world scarred and even now all these years after the event the Earth still heaves from the blows dealt that day. The heroes inevitably fell, and the Ruler divided the world up amongst his followers, those that were most loyal to him form the ruling body of the world now. Those with powers, though known off are still outnumbered by the population but what they lack in numbers they make up for in power. Over the years the Ruler began to make himself into a deity like figure. Working hard that with every year that passes the memories of what was before his time grey dimmer and dimmer.
The world now under the grip of the Ruler seeks out those with abilities to bring into his fold and keep his rule as long as possible. Many rumours have begun to spread of the Ruler's feats, that he doesn't age, that he can't be killed. All of this just further stomping down on the will to rebel and rise up. However, the descendants of those heroes long ago still live. Those with a sense of justice that are just lacking in the experience to combat such a large foe. Those with the memories of how the world use to be, but this begins to ask the question what happens if they take down the Ruler? How will the world change will it be for the better or the worse. Only one way to find out and that's through the actions of these souls.
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Name: Kavardra Hemwick
Age: 23
Occupation: Vagabond, Performer, Professional Liar, Hero.
Gender: Male
Appearance: Kavadra is a man that looks older than he should, he has lines around his eyes from tiredness that generally makes him seem devoid of the youth that should be pumping through him at this age. His skin is white, but stained in parts from constant exposures to dirt, though along his muscled arms are a criss cross of silver like scars that can be found all over his arms and hands. His physique is muscled and athletic rather than buff up. Just enough to make sure he can do what he needs to do, and just too little to avoid having people's eyes drawn to him. His tired eyes are sea green, often reminding people of the oceans when the sun shines on them just right upon the beaches. They go well with his flaming red hair that goes to just above his shoulders. This is probably his most distinguishing trait and makes it harder for him to blend into crowds.
Kavardra tends to dress in a once white, now grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up with a faded waistcoat and a patched trousers and coat often seemingly giving him a bit of a colourful yet jester like appearance at times. His coat has been fitted with numerous pockets but is usually used to house his thick leather bound book, that is also attached to his belt. He is very protective of this book, some rumours coming that it contains the information of the time before the ruler. His trousers tend to be pinstriped with equal amounts of patches put into them through overuse and wear and tear. The only thing that seems dusty but in the prime condition are the boots he wears, which is a miracle considering the amount he travels. In short his clothing tends to be just enough wear to blend in and just enough him, so if people are looking for him they can spot him. He would wear a tie but he claims he hasn't found one that is quite his style yet.
Power: Names
Names is a rather bizarre power, it allows Kavardra to work towards finding out the true names and names of people and objects without having to explicitly ask a person. If he knows the true name of something he can influence it to a varying degree depending upon his practice and relationship of the name. He has to verbally speak the name in order to activate his power, for example if he wished to influence a fire he'd have to speak the true name of fire in order to gain influence of it. Same for a person. If he doesn't know, or is unable to speak he cannot use his power. Also he is only human and has a limited memory span for all the names he knows.
Fun Facts: He has been publicly executed twice, and imprisoned... until he recently broke out and fled to the other side of the continent.
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It had been two years since Kavardra taken his last breath of fresh air before he was sent into the cells where he was held. The cells hadn't agreed with him, where once he had looked more lively and jolly, happy go lucky and ready to save the day. Now he looked tired, drained. The sunlight exposing the work that had been done to him in his time away from civilisation. At first it was strange getting use to it, almost as if he had been missing a step. In the few months he was allowed to be himself he had gradually picked up on the step he missed, having to cover miles upon miles of land. He had always been a trouble maker as was evident by a steady reputation the flame haired young man had began to build around himself. The world around them just seemed wrong and constrained, and he was one of those that wished for change and unlike most was willing to work towards it. Spurring people into action with impossible deeds and lies that he turned to truths... eventually.
He even knew that there was a few times that he had been quote on quote killed only to turn back up a week or so later with a smile on his face and a welcome back with his fellow comrades in the war against the Ruler. That however had changed, the last time they tried to pull a stunt it had turned south quicker than a dog snuffs up food. The deaths were high and the people captured and taken away were less but also a heavy blow. Kavardra was unsure of how many people were still willing to do what he and the crew had managed... No doubt the Ruler and his gang of leaders made an example of them.
Kavardra was one of those gifted with powers. He unlike some had been born with them and that had been his ticket to an easy life if he chose to take it. The best education, the best life one could ask for and then working under the Ruler's regime above the normal people. The sheep being guarded by the wolves... but that life... eventually grew sour. He had found out about heroes and how they opposed evil and somewhere deep in his mind the word evil connected just oh so nicely with the Ruler and so he formed a crew with his childhood friend and like minded people... Until thing well and truly fucked up.
He brushed a nervous hand through his wild flaming red hair, before clearing his throat as he came to an old statue that he was sure had once served as a memorial for someone long ago. The name had been scratched out, but the date was just barely visible. Somewhere in the early twentieth century... Nearly two hundred years ago.
Kvaradra placed his cold hands into the folds of his colourful coat as he swirled around, the many strips that made up the tails of the coat flaring out, briefly exposing the blue fabric on the inside and a variety of symbols woven into it. The park was quiet at this time, most people had rushed back to their homes, the large blocks of apartments getting taller with each decade, and those that stayed out were in the pub. The only people who would be out at this time with business would be the Noble families and their Powered people, sons of noble's, bodyguards. All the people that wouldn't want to be seen under the harsh light of day. Kavardra had grown to like the night, it made him appear more lively and hid what the cells had done to him.
"Where are you all..." he questioned, as he watched his breath rise into the cool night sky, the stars now visible clearly in the sky as over the years light pollution had cut down. It was a breathtaking sight. With a deft movement he plucked a wind up pocket watch from his waist coat and checked the time. 9:56pm. In just four minutes he would see who was left, see who he had to work with. In just four small- Oh would you look at that, three minutes now. Slipping the pocket watch back into his waist coat, he closed his colourful coat with a mixture of buttons and more secure buttons. If there was anything this coat was, it was his; his and very warm.
That was until the Villains of the world clicked and moved under the shadow of the one with the biggest ambition. A man known now as the Ruler. There was a battle that left the world scarred and even now all these years after the event the Earth still heaves from the blows dealt that day. The heroes inevitably fell, and the Ruler divided the world up amongst his followers, those that were most loyal to him form the ruling body of the world now. Those with powers, though known off are still outnumbered by the population but what they lack in numbers they make up for in power. Over the years the Ruler began to make himself into a deity like figure. Working hard that with every year that passes the memories of what was before his time grey dimmer and dimmer.
The world now under the grip of the Ruler seeks out those with abilities to bring into his fold and keep his rule as long as possible. Many rumours have begun to spread of the Ruler's feats, that he doesn't age, that he can't be killed. All of this just further stomping down on the will to rebel and rise up. However, the descendants of those heroes long ago still live. Those with a sense of justice that are just lacking in the experience to combat such a large foe. Those with the memories of how the world use to be, but this begins to ask the question what happens if they take down the Ruler? How will the world change will it be for the better or the worse. Only one way to find out and that's through the actions of these souls.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Kavardra Hemwick
Age: 23
Occupation: Vagabond, Performer, Professional Liar, Hero.
Gender: Male
Appearance: Kavadra is a man that looks older than he should, he has lines around his eyes from tiredness that generally makes him seem devoid of the youth that should be pumping through him at this age. His skin is white, but stained in parts from constant exposures to dirt, though along his muscled arms are a criss cross of silver like scars that can be found all over his arms and hands. His physique is muscled and athletic rather than buff up. Just enough to make sure he can do what he needs to do, and just too little to avoid having people's eyes drawn to him. His tired eyes are sea green, often reminding people of the oceans when the sun shines on them just right upon the beaches. They go well with his flaming red hair that goes to just above his shoulders. This is probably his most distinguishing trait and makes it harder for him to blend into crowds.
Kavardra tends to dress in a once white, now grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up with a faded waistcoat and a patched trousers and coat often seemingly giving him a bit of a colourful yet jester like appearance at times. His coat has been fitted with numerous pockets but is usually used to house his thick leather bound book, that is also attached to his belt. He is very protective of this book, some rumours coming that it contains the information of the time before the ruler. His trousers tend to be pinstriped with equal amounts of patches put into them through overuse and wear and tear. The only thing that seems dusty but in the prime condition are the boots he wears, which is a miracle considering the amount he travels. In short his clothing tends to be just enough wear to blend in and just enough him, so if people are looking for him they can spot him. He would wear a tie but he claims he hasn't found one that is quite his style yet.
Power: Names
Names is a rather bizarre power, it allows Kavardra to work towards finding out the true names and names of people and objects without having to explicitly ask a person. If he knows the true name of something he can influence it to a varying degree depending upon his practice and relationship of the name. He has to verbally speak the name in order to activate his power, for example if he wished to influence a fire he'd have to speak the true name of fire in order to gain influence of it. Same for a person. If he doesn't know, or is unable to speak he cannot use his power. Also he is only human and has a limited memory span for all the names he knows.
Fun Facts: He has been publicly executed twice, and imprisoned... until he recently broke out and fled to the other side of the continent.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had been two years since Kavardra taken his last breath of fresh air before he was sent into the cells where he was held. The cells hadn't agreed with him, where once he had looked more lively and jolly, happy go lucky and ready to save the day. Now he looked tired, drained. The sunlight exposing the work that had been done to him in his time away from civilisation. At first it was strange getting use to it, almost as if he had been missing a step. In the few months he was allowed to be himself he had gradually picked up on the step he missed, having to cover miles upon miles of land. He had always been a trouble maker as was evident by a steady reputation the flame haired young man had began to build around himself. The world around them just seemed wrong and constrained, and he was one of those that wished for change and unlike most was willing to work towards it. Spurring people into action with impossible deeds and lies that he turned to truths... eventually.
He even knew that there was a few times that he had been quote on quote killed only to turn back up a week or so later with a smile on his face and a welcome back with his fellow comrades in the war against the Ruler. That however had changed, the last time they tried to pull a stunt it had turned south quicker than a dog snuffs up food. The deaths were high and the people captured and taken away were less but also a heavy blow. Kavardra was unsure of how many people were still willing to do what he and the crew had managed... No doubt the Ruler and his gang of leaders made an example of them.
Kavardra was one of those gifted with powers. He unlike some had been born with them and that had been his ticket to an easy life if he chose to take it. The best education, the best life one could ask for and then working under the Ruler's regime above the normal people. The sheep being guarded by the wolves... but that life... eventually grew sour. He had found out about heroes and how they opposed evil and somewhere deep in his mind the word evil connected just oh so nicely with the Ruler and so he formed a crew with his childhood friend and like minded people... Until thing well and truly fucked up.
He brushed a nervous hand through his wild flaming red hair, before clearing his throat as he came to an old statue that he was sure had once served as a memorial for someone long ago. The name had been scratched out, but the date was just barely visible. Somewhere in the early twentieth century... Nearly two hundred years ago.
Kvaradra placed his cold hands into the folds of his colourful coat as he swirled around, the many strips that made up the tails of the coat flaring out, briefly exposing the blue fabric on the inside and a variety of symbols woven into it. The park was quiet at this time, most people had rushed back to their homes, the large blocks of apartments getting taller with each decade, and those that stayed out were in the pub. The only people who would be out at this time with business would be the Noble families and their Powered people, sons of noble's, bodyguards. All the people that wouldn't want to be seen under the harsh light of day. Kavardra had grown to like the night, it made him appear more lively and hid what the cells had done to him.
"Where are you all..." he questioned, as he watched his breath rise into the cool night sky, the stars now visible clearly in the sky as over the years light pollution had cut down. It was a breathtaking sight. With a deft movement he plucked a wind up pocket watch from his waist coat and checked the time. 9:56pm. In just four minutes he would see who was left, see who he had to work with. In just four small- Oh would you look at that, three minutes now. Slipping the pocket watch back into his waist coat, he closed his colourful coat with a mixture of buttons and more secure buttons. If there was anything this coat was, it was his; his and very warm.
