Lieu:Eblistan Citadel Dungeon
Santé:Pas trop grand physiquement
Inventaire:Draps de prison en caoutchouc

Se tenant contre le mur à côté des barres métalliques de la cellule Tarwin avait les yeux fermés, il n'a pas été dans la cellule depuis très longtemps, quelques jours peut-être et pendant tout ce temps, il n'avait pas déménagé de cet endroit sauf pour s'allonger et aller à l'arrière et faire son... affaires. Il n'avait pas mangé depuis le soir où il a été attrapé et son estomac commençait à se sentir comme il commençait à manger lui-même, néanmoins il a essayé de rester dans les esprits élevés même si cela signifiait qu'il a quelque peu ennuyé ses compagnons de cellule. Ils étaient un groupe étrange mais quand il a été jeté dans il s'est présenté lui-même. "Hé là-bas." Il avait dit avec un sourire. "Je suis Tarwin, c'est super d'entendre que je serai ton jamais pour les prochains jours." Raconter des blagues et des histoires, c'était comment il avait passé la plupart du temps, il leur avait raconté celle sur les trois reines elfiques et l'histoire de la façon dont les nains sont arrivés au monde à travers la grande grotte des vieilles histoires qu'il avait entendues depuis qu'il était petit. Dans les premières heures, l'odeur de la cellule avait été presque insupportable mais il avait réussi à s'y habituer après un petit moment, au moins il ne bâillonnait pas chaque fois qu'il inhalait. Pour la première fois depuis qu'il a été jeté dans la cellule Tarwin a commencé à réfléchir à la façon dont il a fini dans sa situation actuelle, laissant un long soupir qu'il a commencé à se rappeler la nuit de son divertissement.
La puissante et imposante structure de Duranar se tenait devant lui, le coucher du soleil le jetait dans une merveilleuse lueur orange. L'homme s'approcha, et regarda autour de lui pour vérifier que les gardes n'étaient pas autour, car il avait prévu que c'était la phase de transition des quarts et la fenêtre parfaite d'opportunité. En détachant la corde autour de sa taille, il a commencé à fixer le crochet de grappin à l'extrémité avant de le tourner autour et de la jeter aux remparts au-dessus, il s'est accroché et il a serré quelques fois pour s'assurer qu'il était stable avant de commencer son ascension des murs du château. Heureusement, aucun gardien ne passa et le aperçut, grimpant doucement sur le haut du mur, le chercheur de fortune s'élança soigneusement à l'intérieur de la structure elle-même et commença à se faufiler à travers, c'était facile compte tenu de la nature décontractée des gardiens à l'intérieur du bâtiment lui-même. S'en tenant à l'ombre et prenant note de toutes les patrouilles de garde qu'il a repérées, il a rapidement atteint les catacombes restreintes, les rangées et les rangées de livres anciens, rarement touchés et beaucoup laissés abandonnés pendant des décennies. Il s'est promené en sachant qu'il était seul dans le labyrinthe de textes et a finalement trouvé ce qu'il était venu pour, en prenant l'ancien carnet de cartes de son étagère il a filé à travers les pages jusqu'à ce qu'il trouve ce qu'il cherchait une page détaillant l'emplacement d'une longue tour oubliée contenant la vaste richesse d'un roi mort. "Donnez la mienne." Il rit de lui-même et ferma le livre, le mettant dans une petite sacoche autour de son épaule avant de quitter la façon dont il était entré...Malheureusement, il était resté trop longtemps sous terre et l'attendait sur les murs du château à côté de sa corde étaient cinq gardes lourdement armés, il avait tiré son épée et préparé pour un combat, mais il avait été un mouvement inutile comme au moment où il était prêt à charger qu'il avait été défoncé et frappé au-dessus de la tête et frappé inconscient.
Soudain, Tarwin est retourné à la cellule, les yeux s'ouvrent largement au son d'un léger clic. Il s'est concentré sur la demi-elfe féminine devant elle et lui a donné un signe d'approbation et de sourire. "Bon travail." Il a dit, se penchant et parlant assez calme pour qu'elle entende. Depuis qu'il est entré dans la cellule et a vu l'étrange assortiment de personnes et de races différentes qu'il savait qu'il n'allait pas être exécuté, il savait que ce ne serait qu'une question de temps avant que l'un d'eux n'ait trouvé une sortie, et cette moitié de elfe l'avait prouvé bien. Maintenant, c'était juste une question de corps menant la charge pour la liberté, et c'était un elfe qui s'est levé pour le faire se précipiter et faire sauter un garde avec magie. En laissant un peu de joie, il s'en va, gesticulant les autres pour le suivre de la cellule et en s'emparant d'un des sabres de la garde alors qu'il passait le corps, ainsi qu'un ensemble de clés En même temps, il remarque deux autres échappés et se joignent à la course à la liberté, il remarque en particulier qu'une bête enchaînée dans la cellule opposée libère maintenant les autres détenus, plus ils se réjouissent comme on dit. Tarwin courut devant et coupa la lame en coupant un autre garde à travers la poitrine, puis il prit les clés et les utilisa pour ouvrir les autres cellules dans le hall que la créature n'avait pas encore dans le coin, une pause de prison appropriée, tout le monde avait maintenant la chance de se libérer. "Allez! La mort n'attend personne, mais ça ne veut pas dire que tu dois rester ici et attendre la mort! » Il riait un peu, sonnant un peu comme un fou, il suivait le magicien de l'elfe jusqu'à ce qu'il espérait être la liberté.
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K l y m i D r y a d
Female ┊Nymph - Ferinum
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Species description —
Kylmi's particular sub-species is a commonly known sort that dwell within thick foliage and exotic flora; often resembling their particular birth grotte: a natural hovel that has been worn into caves or perches in cliff faces often twined with precarious vines. Betwixt Alseides and Meliads, Klymi's people come in various sorts and origins that, due to their neighboring borders and genetics, has encouraged a sort of breeding that gives seed to hybrid collages of Hamadryads and Ferinums; particular Nymphs bourne from trees and then the feral respectively. Neither branch of Nymph is immortal, only has significant longevity compared to most, but are still capable of dying from fatal conditions. Ferinum genetic sequences are influenced by their environments, having been bred in the thick forests that were laced with the magic stain of the White Stag, it has produced rather distinctive features of various fauna in their kind. Their magic capabilities are propagated from the constant wiles of nature, as per their places of birth and creation, this begets a sort of ever changing essentials and disposition: to be tame and soft as flowers but bridled with thorns of venomous elegance. Not to be mistaken for the Fey,  for they are not as cruel in heart though they often find themselves in swindle with their festiveness and carnal tortures when it comes to robbing the youth from their towns and traditions. The Ferinum though are swayed and seduced by their rather carnal and animal complexions more so, typically carnivorous  this often reflects to their salacious types. Fernium enjoy the splendors of the world, indulging in their passions and vigorous desires: these are often wants, rather than needs, and are particularly selfish and manipulative because of them, along with not caring for distinction among their impromptu lovers.
Noteworthy Abilities / Limitations —
The origins of a Ferinum's magic is often volatile and reflects their natures: white, grey, or black, it will alter and change on the whim of the performer but always falls back to their Dryad origins from their original mothers. Some can be capable of beast manipulation and summoning depending on their genetics and blood. Their powers can be derived from instinct and adaptation, thus they can alter at any point should the desire of the user transition drastically, much like the workings of vegetation and some regenerative abilities. However, much like their feral counterparts, they can be savage, unthinking and predatory. Klymi's magic begets a darker, seductive disposition from years of meddling with mortal affairs and to benefit her entirely, thus she has an assortment of grey and black for a basis and common point.
M A N I P U L A T I O N
This a standard for most Ferinum with Nymph-Dryad origins, to be able to seduce and cajole everyday plant life to their whims. They have the belief and religion that everything has a soul and within that soul is the potential to be swayed, from trees to grass, the capacity within them can be touched and manipulated by their waif bodies and minds. They're bound to the earth and the fauna that thrive in them due to being born among them, and the cause of mana that course through the plants or animals they empire, the vegetation or creature can warp depending on the emotional state of the user. Klymi's manipulative powers are second nature and state of mind, but being limited from the forests will hinder her and her potential. Due to her darker personality, any plant she manipulates is often assuaged with thorns and bruises to a dark green and violet discoloration, any animal she favours will also be effected. This natural affinity is broad in the spectrum of usage, however, Kylmi's personality prevents her from stimulating new growth like her typical white magic blessed sisters.
T H O R N * B L A D E
Much like the name indicates, Kylmi's manipulation can armour one of her arms in a blade of thorns and bark, giving it a sort of resilience and structure of a common blade. This enhances the actual thorns and spines that are fixated on her arms, and because of this her blade is a living extension of her body and pulsates much like her heart.
S L Y V A N
In a stance of defense, Kylmi can submerge herself directly into trees, becoming one with their souls and bound to them psychically but in doing so her vitality is entwined with that of the tree and it takes a considerable amount for her to disentangle herself from the bark. It's often a common fear though for a Nymph of her origin to do this, as with age they can sometimes petrify into sentient trees and be immobile for eternity. As such, Kylmi will only fall back to this in desperation.
L E A F * W H I S T L E
Much like a song, Kylmi has an ability of music much like common Nymphs, her musical inclinations are merely for jovial and carnival circumstances rather than practical prowess. In this she can craft instruments from common plants and with use of magic, can create song from them. Most of her sounds however possess a rather inappropriate, carnal sort of cadence that infect the mind.
H E A R T * O F * T H E * F O R E S T
Despite her darker heart, Kylmi is obligated to protect forests and plants of any kind. Damages done to flora mentally pains her to witness and her kind is forbidden to do any harm to nature. Her magic and soul are meant for the ways of life and renewal, growth and sunlight and she is directly influenced by these very aspects - they can benefit her or impair her drastically. In the much more shadowed part, death is a commonality in the ways of life and this is direct from the feral part in her blood. Being among the forests levels these two sides of her spirit and depending on where she is, her heart can be influenced and manipulated by her environmental surroundings.
F E R A L
Due to the hybrid quality of her blood, Kylmi has a drawback from her animal counterpart. This gives impression of a bestial savagery that effects her mentally and emotionally, falling upon primal urges and morality. She can usually keep this persona in check, however, being shackled or cornered will often spur this side of her.
Background —
Born in the thick wilds of Isildier, Kylmi's mother of origin was a Nymph of the wood known as a Hyleoroi, a sub-branch of Dryhad that acted as guardians and watchers of the wood. Her father was an Alseides from the glens and groves of this enchanted forest, these types were located to the centre of the thicket and often preformed as sentinels to the White Stag who ruled Isildier as a haven. It was often revered as sacred and only permitted to those deemed worthy by the creatures who lived within it, pilgrimages were embarked upon with each excursion aiming to simply come upon the thick browse that served as Isildier's borders. The expanse of the woodland stretched to incredible and tale worthy lengths, brimmed to the tree tops with all sorts and variations of fauna that hadn't been discovered and races like those of the Nymphs and ashen Fey of the Unseelie and Seelie courts. But as stories go, the wild and exotic are often purged and persecuted for their differences and mysteries, the world wishing to expand upon Isildier's greenery.
Kylmi was born in the core of a seemingly endless persecution, the White Stag blessing the children of the unfortunate circumstance and thus influencing their genetic makeup. Here the generation of Nymphs were given a piece of Isildier's heart so that even when their homes were seized and pillaged, a fragment of their origins would follow them always, in the splitting and shares of the wood, the Fey were gifted with the soul and spirit; one for the Unseelie and the opposite for the Seelie. In this, they would continue to honour the depths and secrets of Isildier along with their cousins. But revenge spiked their hearts and warped their souls, particularly the Unseelie when their homes were destroyed completely. And so the creatures of the wood became hopeless vagabonds wondering aimlessly when the taint of mortals came upon and inflicted their essences. This happened many years ago, a near century of old hatred, some petrified upon their fears and sorrows, creating a crude forest known as the Weeping Grove in place of Isildier's once upon a time glory. Here, the trees were mocking faces of gaping agony and endless tortures with gnarled roots and twisted beasts. Nature here was a poisonous retribution and the White Stag became a ghost fixated upon the woes of time and treachery, now an omen of death with his heart, soul and spirit now divided among his subjects.
Kylmi vaguely recalls upon this past, as time and memory tend to elude and evade her due to a long time wondering aimlessly across the world. Her family drifted without care or a true destination, just migrating upon instinct since the Weeping Grove was a grave sight; not a place to really live when you were bourne from the wilds. They didn't have knowledge of where their Fey cousins went, as the courts spread out far and wide into their sub-courts and mingling upon the mortal kind quite easily. For the Nymphs that embarked across the world, it wasn't so easy, they needed a home and a place to thrive and claim new roots, some perished among the way in fatal diseases and rot and some were captured in a cruel intent during this time of war that seemed to stretch beyond borders and mountains and the seas. Others spread to different areas, pulling apart from their families: brothers and sisters departed and so did the fragments of Isildier.
Her first actual clarity of memory is trekking across the South Spires and into the Uchfos Forest where the Eblistan Citadel stood as a tantalizing gem to be explored and calculated. Though her lack of social graces with man left her fumbling and awkward when first greeting the typical occupants of this blossoming kingdom, however Kylmi adapted and perhaps a little too well. She took to the natural, lustful origins of her feral birth and mingling among the common folk with a penchant of acquiring various lovers in her time she spent browsing among the seedier underbelly of Eblistan. Despite the loss of their original home, the Nymphs adapted quite well to their new encampment and share the Uchfos with various others though it compares nothing to the wonders of Isildier: that place now is just a dream; a horrid reminder of what has passed. The Nymphs brought with them their traditions and habits of dance and careless glee, trying to smudge out their rather terrible beginnings. To ask one of the people where they came from is an actual insult to them even. Thus it has earned them a near untrustworthy and shadowy assumption from their sudden appearances in Uchfos and the Citadel, sometimes you can't trust the unknown.
Kylmi doesn't like to reflect on her origins in this and perhaps it is this willing and careless banishment of her roots that sort of darkens her spirit and influences her powers. She believes that memories will only continue to allow the hurt to fester and boil within, and so with near religious fanfare she has long been dipping into the provocative natures in her heart without a flicker of remorse or care.
Reason for Detainment —
It was such a scandal: a merchant's son swindled by the song of a Nymph that was found in his bed in a troubling circumstance. The situation was later just a mere circulating rumour without any sort of backing evidence, however Kylmi's sudden detainment drew a rather curious inquiry. The truth of the matter was the son's rather critical status among the royals, his engagement didn't benefit from the adultery either, and in a attempt to hide the affair, Kylmi was tossed behind bars for being the instigator. So they say; though many would not be surprised considering Kylmi's rather lecherous infamy.