Name: Torian Thorne
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Class: Guardian
Appearance: A tall man with long dirty brown hair, tied up into a small ponytail to keep it out of his face, on his head perched a dusty old leather hat. He wears a green iteration of this armour
Along with thick black boots and plenty of bitter stares. A vile is always hanging from his neck.
Personality: Blunt, official, cold. All three make Torian a rather bitter stick in the mud to his allies, and an arrogant racist to mages. Due to his upbringing, Torian developed a strong sense of paranoia to mages, to him they were sin incarnate and were to be treated like an explosion waiting to happen, always looking down on them and takes no shame in admitting he'd be happier putting them in the line of dangers for the world's sake. But thanks to his role in life, he's managed to learn how to keep himself tolerable around mages, preferring to keep his interactions with them to a minimum, conversations short and ignoring deviations. He's professional enough to tolerate a mages's present to carry out his job, as well as even *shiver* help a mage. Discipline and order are beaten into his bones, making him respectful and less arrogant towards allies and superiors.
Magic Item or Ability: Mages are a powerful folk, whether opening pocket dimensions or transforming into unsightly beasts, they possess abilities that put them far ahead of any mortal man, a fight with an experienced mage is a death sentence without careful planning and outstanding numbers. How would you combat that power? You refine your resources. They called their new discovery 'Elemental Crystals', a natural resource developed in the depths of the world, containing the very essence of an element. Used correctly these crystals can be used to unleash to power of an element in short bursts, and for a skilled and creative warrior, that's all you need. It wouldn't overpower Mages, but it would help even the playing field (What do you mean it's hypocritical? It's not magic, it's natural!).
For Torian, he's equipped himself with a short sword (They may pump magic, but they are still made of flesh that can be pierced) strapped to his back and his cane. This cane utilises the power of wind crystals, allowing Torian to make 'concussion blasts' (Building up pressure in the cane and then releasing it) by activating the wind crystals inside the cane top. As well as other elemental crystals stuffed in a pouch he could attempt to use.
Weaknesses: He isn't a mage, he's not well acquainted with magic, just hating it. Meaning some magical abilities can easily take him by surprise. While he is capable without the crystals, it is quite easy to declaw him by breaking his cane or accidentally set off some of the more sensitive crystals in his pouch. He has a deep rooted phobia of lightning, as well as a damaging dependence upon both the words of his superiors and his 'Holy Water'.
Bio: What do I think of mages? Hmpf, such a diverse lot, people say. From all skins, genders and ages. You'd never catch people saying that about other diseases, would you? I do wonder, after they've left their pit of self-pity and loathing, whining about how all the people are so scared of them, do they every think of why? They shoot lightning, breathe fire, grow scales, turn cities to glass... And they expect everyone to simply be fine with it? Magic is dangerous. If being able to tear a hole in reality isn't demonic, I don't know what it. I'm not the only one who can see pass the fog to think clearly, no sane leader would ignore what a threat these vermin were, so they had to keep a contingency in place. So, the big boys upstairs founded the order.
Children born with destiny and glory in their veins, raised to keep the land safe from them. We were Guardians, specially crafted tools to give a punch that even mages didn't know existed yet. In a way, I'd call it religious, our deity was our kingdom, our scripture was our duty. Mages were dangerous, engraved into our very souls, binding us to our mission. Imagine our shock to find how ordinary such a monster could look, was sickening for us to see. They could corrupt us and we wouldn't even know, but we had a safe guard. Our Holy Water, divine in nature, they told us, and boy you'd never forget that first drop caressing your lips. Like liquid heaven burning your throat.
But after that first drop, you had tasted the beauty of the divine, and you couldn't settle for anything less. Every day, you had to take it, every day another drop. You encountered a mage? Another drop. About to fight? Another drop. Bleeding out? Another drop. It was our ward, our shield against corruption. To stop taking it was out of the question, I knew a guy who tried once, for the next week all I could hear was how his insides itched, like something inside was trying to break our through his skin. Poor kid ended up hospitalised. Horrifying stuff.
We're mostly ghosts now, we're there to watch and wait for a mage to slip up. In the few times some bastard made enough of a ruckus to come out, we'd lose a few of us. Still in early stages. For now, we play nice, we play peace maker. When a big threat arises, and o one wants to waste soldiers at the moment. We're sent to negotiate with the mages, because at the end of the day, why send in the army when you can send in an expendable resource?
Additional info: He likes to cook.