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Ember Knight
Name: Ember Knight
Age: 19-Can be changed if necessary.
Occupation: Police officer in training/budding photographer
//STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION//
Age: 19-Can be changed if necessary.
Occupation: Police officer in training/budding photographer
//STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION//
Chyler Blackwood
Name: Chyler Blackwood
Age: 28 -Can change if required
Occupation: FBI agent (special ops unit)
Likes: Lucky leather jacket, singing, sketching, insulting someone at every chance she gets, cookie dough ice cream, her trusty Glock 45's, whisky, red velvet cupcakes, running, training etc...
Dislikes: Sitting around, overbearing people, disrespect, unneeded sarcasm, children, rom coms, sharing (unless she likes you which is extremely rare), a jammed weapon, peppers, needles, the ocean etc...
Bio:
To the every day, innocently curious onlooker who just so happened to gawk in her direction, Chyler's appearance becomes her best means of camouflage since she is almost always perceived as the cliche, 28-year-old brunette who has an unhealthy obsession with the gym and is always eager to find her next glass of amber-tinted liquid branded as whisky. Well...They weren't entirely wrong, the raven-haired woman did have a tendency to find comfort in the gentle burn of alcohol as it rushed down her throat and pooled warmly in her stomach. But needing such a thing as comfort was a rarity for someone like her, consequently leaving that calm-inducing liquid for those scarce occasions only. After all, she did want to morph into a mirror image of her father.
For the first sixteen years, life had generously gifted Chyler with the seemingly 'perfect' family which consisted of your standard, all-American stereotypes. A happily married pair of parents who were both thriving, well-known scientists, a perfect little three story house with a porcelain white picket fence and an only daughter who strived to become just as great as her mother and father who she loved dearly.
But what people did not see was what occurred behind closed curtains and locked doors. At this point in time, Chyler's father, Noah, became completely and utterly immersed in a project he had been constantly tinkering with for the last five years which went by the nickname 'Subject Alpha'. However, her father's desperate attempts to complete such a project always crashed and burned along with his patience and ability to control his temper. So, he resorted to alcohol to dull the overwhelming feeling of constant failure, moulding him into the abusive, depressed, ever absent man he slowly but surely became.
This carried on for two, seemingly neverending years until Chyler was finally old enough to be allowed a means of escape. College. So, with perfect grades and countless other achievements tugged snugly under her belt, the brunette did not hesitate to happily accept the scholarship she had been offered.
As the first year of studying biochemical engineering at college slowly came to an end, the only daughter of the Blackwood family had involuntarily picked up a selected few of her father bad habits. One habit, in particular, most definitely outshone the rest, the overwhelming fear of failure. Everything that Chyler did in her life had to be perfect and if something occurred that dented that need for perfection...There was no telling how she would react.
It was during her second semester of college that she received a call, a call that she had been dreading yet hoping for the last couple of years. Noah, Chyler's father, had shot himself in the early hours of the morning. But that is not what caused her to become so distraught, what did, however? Was the fact that she did not find out until two weeks after it had happened...And that she had missed the funeral thanks to her mother deciding that it was better for her to focus on her studies rather than the death of her own father.
Almost immediately, Chyler's path to success swerved abruptly into one that was similar to her father's. Turning her focus towards the luminous lights of clubs and countless shot glasses filled with intoxicating liquid that she now strangely craved. This vicious cycle repeated itself relentlessly for an entire year until the brunette found herself in a cell after attempting to drive home thoroughly intoxicated. So, she sat in a dark, dank cell, wallowing in self-loathing and awaiting the moment where an officer would tell her that her mother had posted her bail. However, that moment never came and instead the source to Chyler's redemption came to her rescue in a form of a lawyer. As their cautious exchange reeled on, the brunette discovered that this man, who had introduced himself as Paul Henshaw, was not a lawyer. In fact, he worked for the FBI and had worked with her father before his untimely spiral into death.
If that did not shock her enough, Paul's next proposal did. A job offer.
Ten years of gruelling training, in which she thrived in every aspect of, absolutely no alochol and that need for sucess driving her ever forward, Chyler became Paul's right-hand woman, top-ranked field agent, and head of the science department in a black marked section of the FBI. She had even earned a nickname, 'One woman army'...And she most definitely lived up to such a daring title.
No one messed with Chyler Blackwood, ever. But sometimes, just sometimes...The only daughter of the Blackwood family dared someone to try.
Age: 28 -Can change if required
Occupation: FBI agent (special ops unit)
Likes: Lucky leather jacket, singing, sketching, insulting someone at every chance she gets, cookie dough ice cream, her trusty Glock 45's, whisky, red velvet cupcakes, running, training etc...
Dislikes: Sitting around, overbearing people, disrespect, unneeded sarcasm, children, rom coms, sharing (unless she likes you which is extremely rare), a jammed weapon, peppers, needles, the ocean etc...
Bio:
To the every day, innocently curious onlooker who just so happened to gawk in her direction, Chyler's appearance becomes her best means of camouflage since she is almost always perceived as the cliche, 28-year-old brunette who has an unhealthy obsession with the gym and is always eager to find her next glass of amber-tinted liquid branded as whisky. Well...They weren't entirely wrong, the raven-haired woman did have a tendency to find comfort in the gentle burn of alcohol as it rushed down her throat and pooled warmly in her stomach. But needing such a thing as comfort was a rarity for someone like her, consequently leaving that calm-inducing liquid for those scarce occasions only. After all, she did want to morph into a mirror image of her father.
For the first sixteen years, life had generously gifted Chyler with the seemingly 'perfect' family which consisted of your standard, all-American stereotypes. A happily married pair of parents who were both thriving, well-known scientists, a perfect little three story house with a porcelain white picket fence and an only daughter who strived to become just as great as her mother and father who she loved dearly.
But what people did not see was what occurred behind closed curtains and locked doors. At this point in time, Chyler's father, Noah, became completely and utterly immersed in a project he had been constantly tinkering with for the last five years which went by the nickname 'Subject Alpha'. However, her father's desperate attempts to complete such a project always crashed and burned along with his patience and ability to control his temper. So, he resorted to alcohol to dull the overwhelming feeling of constant failure, moulding him into the abusive, depressed, ever absent man he slowly but surely became.
This carried on for two, seemingly neverending years until Chyler was finally old enough to be allowed a means of escape. College. So, with perfect grades and countless other achievements tugged snugly under her belt, the brunette did not hesitate to happily accept the scholarship she had been offered.
As the first year of studying biochemical engineering at college slowly came to an end, the only daughter of the Blackwood family had involuntarily picked up a selected few of her father bad habits. One habit, in particular, most definitely outshone the rest, the overwhelming fear of failure. Everything that Chyler did in her life had to be perfect and if something occurred that dented that need for perfection...There was no telling how she would react.
It was during her second semester of college that she received a call, a call that she had been dreading yet hoping for the last couple of years. Noah, Chyler's father, had shot himself in the early hours of the morning. But that is not what caused her to become so distraught, what did, however? Was the fact that she did not find out until two weeks after it had happened...And that she had missed the funeral thanks to her mother deciding that it was better for her to focus on her studies rather than the death of her own father.
Almost immediately, Chyler's path to success swerved abruptly into one that was similar to her father's. Turning her focus towards the luminous lights of clubs and countless shot glasses filled with intoxicating liquid that she now strangely craved. This vicious cycle repeated itself relentlessly for an entire year until the brunette found herself in a cell after attempting to drive home thoroughly intoxicated. So, she sat in a dark, dank cell, wallowing in self-loathing and awaiting the moment where an officer would tell her that her mother had posted her bail. However, that moment never came and instead the source to Chyler's redemption came to her rescue in a form of a lawyer. As their cautious exchange reeled on, the brunette discovered that this man, who had introduced himself as Paul Henshaw, was not a lawyer. In fact, he worked for the FBI and had worked with her father before his untimely spiral into death.
If that did not shock her enough, Paul's next proposal did. A job offer.
Ten years of gruelling training, in which she thrived in every aspect of, absolutely no alochol and that need for sucess driving her ever forward, Chyler became Paul's right-hand woman, top-ranked field agent, and head of the science department in a black marked section of the FBI. She had even earned a nickname, 'One woman army'...And she most definitely lived up to such a daring title.
No one messed with Chyler Blackwood, ever. But sometimes, just sometimes...The only daughter of the Blackwood family dared someone to try.
Lexa Everfree
Name: Lexa Everfree
Age: 24
Occupation: Rogue Knight
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Likes: Her twin blades, sarcasm, children (surprisingly), a challenge, running, sketching, sparring/training, reading, climbing, strawberries, snow, heights, woodland, adventures, writing, sketching etc...
Dislikes: A broken blade, small spaces, disrespect, sexism, needles, doctors, sharing (unless she's fond of you which is extremely rare), alcohol, rumors, royals, onions etc...
Bio:
Unsurprisingly, life had taken quite a liking to tearing away everything Lexa had held dear, the title of 'The lost air to Everfree' only made it worse. Now you may ask yourself, what is Everfree? Well, better known as the 'lost kingdom', the once peace driven land of Everfree towered high among other well-known empires. And who was this empire run by, you ask? None other than who it was named after one fateful day countless generations ago. The Everfree's.
The family itself was rather large, consisting of a father (the king), a mother (the queen), five strapping young boys and of course, their youngest, only daughter, Alexandra. The fact that she was the youngest among five others not to mention that she was the only girl, Alexandra found herself forced into the shadows of her brothers as they strived and fought to become the next, rightful heir. It was not that big of an age gap, a few years at the most but that seemed to be enough to leave her unacknowledged, unworthy and ignored.
Alexandra's brothers were not kind to her either, acting as though she was part of the family while around their parents...But when the kingdom became blanketed with midnight and shadows littered every corner, their torturous 'games' would begin and reel on until the clock finally chimed past the early hours of the morning. Leaving the only daughter to attempt to articulate a half decent explanation as to why the blues and purples of bruises and broken bones littered her body.
As she hit the tender age of 14 however, her poor excuse of a life was about to crumble effortlessly to the ground. One merry, feastful night in the grand banquet hall, chatter echoed constantly around the room followed by the loud outbursts of laughter ranging from either side of the seemingly neverending oak banquet table. The royal family of course seated at the very front to display power and their future heirs, unaware of the vast amount of loss and bloodshed that was about to be thrust upon them. It all happened so quickly, the large, hall doors swung violently open, enemy guards swarmed the room, the sky becoming littered with hundreds of arrows as they descended into their multiple, screaming targets, leaving the royal family itself until the traumatic end and finally...That end had undeniably arrived, starting with the slow painful swipe of a blade across each of her parent's throats before briefly stopping and glancing between Alexandra and her five brothers. But that night was far from over, one of the guards grinning before grabbing her by the scruff of the neck, forcing the crimson dipped blade into her hand and guiding it into the stomach of each of her older brothers.
And then finally...Everything was quiet, Alexandra still in shock as the blade fell from her grasp and clattered to the ground.
The enemy guards had left swiftly after that, opting to leave the girl on her own to eventually die. But Alexandra did nothing of the sort. Casting her title aside and not bothering to wipe her families blood off of her hands or face as she set about her plan.
It was undeniable, something had snapped within Alexandra that night. And now...She was out for blood.
After ten, long years, forged from blood, sweat and broken bones, the once timid Alexandra had vanished without a trace only to leave a bloodthirsty, cocky, highly skilled killer in its place. Lexa Everfree. Thanks to her gruelling ten years of training, Lexa had managed to hunt down and slaughter every single guard from that night long ago and left her once civil hands practically soaked in the blood of the people she had murdered out of her thirst for revenge.
Now known as the 'ghost' rather than her real name, Lexa keeps to herself and aimlessly roams from land to land with nothing but the twin pair of swords holstered to her back, her daggers securely strapped to each of her thighs and, of course, her warpaint which has now become like a second skin to the now hardened woman.
Lexa, the lost heir to Everfree, had become the very embodiment of darkness itself. And she would not be classed as the victim again.
Age: 24
Occupation: Rogue Knight
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Likes: Her twin blades, sarcasm, children (surprisingly), a challenge, running, sketching, sparring/training, reading, climbing, strawberries, snow, heights, woodland, adventures, writing, sketching etc...
Dislikes: A broken blade, small spaces, disrespect, sexism, needles, doctors, sharing (unless she's fond of you which is extremely rare), alcohol, rumors, royals, onions etc...
Bio:
Unsurprisingly, life had taken quite a liking to tearing away everything Lexa had held dear, the title of 'The lost air to Everfree' only made it worse. Now you may ask yourself, what is Everfree? Well, better known as the 'lost kingdom', the once peace driven land of Everfree towered high among other well-known empires. And who was this empire run by, you ask? None other than who it was named after one fateful day countless generations ago. The Everfree's.
The family itself was rather large, consisting of a father (the king), a mother (the queen), five strapping young boys and of course, their youngest, only daughter, Alexandra. The fact that she was the youngest among five others not to mention that she was the only girl, Alexandra found herself forced into the shadows of her brothers as they strived and fought to become the next, rightful heir. It was not that big of an age gap, a few years at the most but that seemed to be enough to leave her unacknowledged, unworthy and ignored.
Alexandra's brothers were not kind to her either, acting as though she was part of the family while around their parents...But when the kingdom became blanketed with midnight and shadows littered every corner, their torturous 'games' would begin and reel on until the clock finally chimed past the early hours of the morning. Leaving the only daughter to attempt to articulate a half decent explanation as to why the blues and purples of bruises and broken bones littered her body.
As she hit the tender age of 14 however, her poor excuse of a life was about to crumble effortlessly to the ground. One merry, feastful night in the grand banquet hall, chatter echoed constantly around the room followed by the loud outbursts of laughter ranging from either side of the seemingly neverending oak banquet table. The royal family of course seated at the very front to display power and their future heirs, unaware of the vast amount of loss and bloodshed that was about to be thrust upon them. It all happened so quickly, the large, hall doors swung violently open, enemy guards swarmed the room, the sky becoming littered with hundreds of arrows as they descended into their multiple, screaming targets, leaving the royal family itself until the traumatic end and finally...That end had undeniably arrived, starting with the slow painful swipe of a blade across each of her parent's throats before briefly stopping and glancing between Alexandra and her five brothers. But that night was far from over, one of the guards grinning before grabbing her by the scruff of the neck, forcing the crimson dipped blade into her hand and guiding it into the stomach of each of her older brothers.
And then finally...Everything was quiet, Alexandra still in shock as the blade fell from her grasp and clattered to the ground.
The enemy guards had left swiftly after that, opting to leave the girl on her own to eventually die. But Alexandra did nothing of the sort. Casting her title aside and not bothering to wipe her families blood off of her hands or face as she set about her plan.
It was undeniable, something had snapped within Alexandra that night. And now...She was out for blood.
After ten, long years, forged from blood, sweat and broken bones, the once timid Alexandra had vanished without a trace only to leave a bloodthirsty, cocky, highly skilled killer in its place. Lexa Everfree. Thanks to her gruelling ten years of training, Lexa had managed to hunt down and slaughter every single guard from that night long ago and left her once civil hands practically soaked in the blood of the people she had murdered out of her thirst for revenge.
Now known as the 'ghost' rather than her real name, Lexa keeps to herself and aimlessly roams from land to land with nothing but the twin pair of swords holstered to her back, her daggers securely strapped to each of her thighs and, of course, her warpaint which has now become like a second skin to the now hardened woman.
Lexa, the lost heir to Everfree, had become the very embodiment of darkness itself. And she would not be classed as the victim again.