- Joined
- Oct 12, 2021
- Messages
- 36
- Reaction score
- 86
- Points
- 38
Character Information
Nearly twenty-two thousand years ago, Sollaq was born into extravagance—his bloodline steeped in honor and tradition, having loyally served the Tona Sona Unity for generations as both trusted stewards and the fearsome Kul-Merai, elite enforcers of the Tohn Sona Unity. Yet even from a young age, it was clear that Sollaq was destined for the skies. Drawn to the stars with an insatiable curiosity, he set his sights not on legacy, but on exploration. His heart belonged to the galaxy. Whether racing through the atmosphere on his crystalon—a sleek, crystal-tech hoverboard—or mastering maneuvers in the revered Tohn-Relaat space-cruisers at the academy, the young Maraya embraced flight with relentless passion. To Sollaq, the known world was merely a launchpad for something far greater.
Decades passed and a family was born, Sollaq's two children were still young, but already carried the spark of their lineage—his unshakable curiosity for the unknown, and their mother's insatiable hunger for knowledge. Even in their earliest years, they would gather around the family hearth, eyes wide as Sollaq spun tales of distant stars and unseen worlds, while their mother patiently guided them through scrolls, star charts, and the wonders of ancient archives. Laughter came easily in their home, echoing through the crystal-lit halls as curiosity bloomed into joy. Theirs was a household built not only on tradition, but on wonder, encouragement, and a deep, unshakable bond. They were explorers not just of space and knowledge, but of each other's hearts. It was in these moments that loyalty to the Empire meant everything, it meant a life, a family, everything outside the turmoil that history was painted with.
One evening during a patrol of the southern territories a thundering explosion shook Sollaq's cruiser, throwing him thousands of feet away from where he was, when he turned the cruiser to eye what had caused it; plumes of smoke rose from the military black-site as demons of all shapes and sizes poured out. Sollaq issued hellfire upon the demons, but one squadron after the other were taken by the ghastly creatures. Soon enough he was a part of the few remaining cruisers, instinctually he turned around to fly off towards his home, he had to ensure his family made it to the vaults. At last, home was in sight. The landing gears deployed as shadowy tendrils rose from the earth, curling around his space-cruiser. He opened the cockpit and sprinted along the hull, launching himself into a desperate leap toward the ground—a leap he often wished he'd never taken.
Staggering through the door with a ragged breath, Sollaq was met by the sight of his family—his wife standing firm, their children clinging to her legs. Her arms were raised, glowing with an ethereal light as she held back the cascade of rubble suspended above them. Magic. The word struck him like a blow. His lungs seized; he couldn't draw breath. Panic gripped him. Magic was heresy across the Empire, the prophesied ruin of the Meriac Empire, a prophecy that was coming true right in front of his eyes. He stared, mind reeling, as dread and doctrine collided in his skull. His hand moved on instinct, drawing his sidearm—a sleek, compact weapon now trembling in his grip, aimed at the woman he loved. Tears blurred his vision. The children screamed, their voices piercing. 'Dad, no!' they cried. But his world had already begun to shatter.
Just as his finger eased down upon the trigger his wife screamed out "Sollaq, all will be for naught if you do this. Our children will die, you will die. Don't you understand?!" She cried out, her voice carrying a weight like no other. A weight that made him crumble to one knee, tears streaming down his face. In the midst of his agony, the Meriac Empire died, though the last feigning attempts at holding order, sirens blared out from overhead. It was official, the apocalypse had begun.
Sollaq couldn't make himself pull the trigger, and sooner or later it was his wife that dragged him from the collapsed state he was in, and hurried herself and her family to the nearest vault. It was crowded, Sollaq and his family an ant amongst thousands of suffering Maraya. There were walls of guardsmen scanning each individual that entered the vault. It wasn't long before their turn came. Sollaq stepped through first—a flash of green lit the space as he passed. He glanced back at his family, offering a nod. His children followed, safe. But his wife hesitated at the threshold, moving slowly, uncertainly.
Then the alarm blared—red lights pulsed. A single gunshot rang out. Then, she collapsed.
Sollaq froze as she looked up at him, her eyes calm even as the light faded. "Magic… magic never failed us, Sollaq, people did," she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips before she was gone. His children screamed. Sollaq reached for his weapon—but a voice echoed in his mind, still and clear: This age is ending. Her memory lives on in them. Protect them.
Rage tore at him. Grief clawed its way through his chest. But he held fast. He turned from the blood and sorrow, and pressed on toward the vaults.
The last thing he remembers was the vault doors closing, the last glimpse of the Meriac Empire, and his children, scared and crying. He knew this in his heart, if they were to awake, things would be different. His children would be safe.
Awaken he did.
Tens of thousands of years later, Sollaq's chamber hissed open with a lifeless gasp. Cold air flooded in as he emerged, frail and disoriented, his vision swimming in shadows. Two unfamiliar Maraya steadied him, their touch foreign despite their shared bloodline. Around him lay a fractured world—some faces stared back at him in stunned recognition, others would never look again, their bodies still and lifeless.
Ignoring the urgent voices of his caretakers, Sollaq staggered toward the nursery, dread tightening with each faltering step. The corridors, once cries of send-offs before the Great Sleep, were now choked with smoke, silence, and scorched metal.
Then he saw it. A massive space-cruiser had torn through the vault like a blade through silk, its shattered hull embedded in the heart of the nursery and the surrounding crystaltech-pods. Where once soft lights had glowed with the promise of renewal, there was now only ruin. The echoes of their final cries still rang in his mind—as if they had just spoken, just said goodbye—and yet they were long gone. Time had passed. Too much time. And he had survived what they had not.
There was only one question on his mind: Why? Why him, why was he cursed to live out his days without everything he had held so close, so long ago, albeit the memories so fresh in his mind. Tears trickled down his cheek as he sunk down, grieving over his children. "My boys," he spoke out, sorrow heavy in his tone. "Everything I had.. Why not me!" he slammed his hand down on the aged metal.
Time would pass, but he would never forget the destruction wrought upon his life by the Meriac Empire, and the family he loved.
He was left in an alien world, but left to do what exactly? He roamed along with the other vaulters, though in what was now frozen over Ellador, he suffered harsh climates. He finally knew what it meant to be hungry, to starve, to hunt, and to battle for his life. Many of the Marayan were killed during these beginning few weeks, coming from everything to having nothing was a harsh reality many of them did not have the integrity to face.
After Ellador, there was an option to go anywhere, Sollaq sought knowledge, to learn about this foreign place. He headed to the Capitol, Regalia, and in his time within the city he realized that everything was lost. The Meriac Empire was his memories, it was the last few documents in each vault, nothing compared to the giga-Empire it was, all-spanning, all intelligent. He was stuck in a medieval age, one which relied on magic more than technology. He needed knowledge, he needed information, he yearned to go back to what was for so long. Though, despite everything, he was still heartbroken. He missed his family more than anything, he missed his children, his wife.
Sollaq's life had decayed into a void of unimaginable sorrow. Grief had hollowed him out, and in that emptiness, despair festered like rot. Despair—the kind that twists reason and corrodes the soul—can drive even the gentlest of beings to monstrous acts.
Outwardly, he lived as any other—a quiet engineer in the service of a wealthy household within Tigrunn, his hands steady, his demeanor calm. But behind the sealed door of his private chamber, a different reality unraveled. Scrawled across the walls in dried, flaking streaks of animal blood were the same six words, repeated again and again like a curse: "Magic never failed us. People did." The phrase echoed endlessly in his mind, each repetition tightening the grip of madness.
Haunted by what he had lost, Sollaq delved into forbidden knowledge. He prowled forgotten ruins and ash-marked vaults, trading pieces of himself for scraps of ancient, blackened texts. His alien skin bore the wear of travel, ritual, and ruin—tattooed in ink and scar by the rites he endured. All for one purpose: to bring back his family. What soul, shattered by grief, wouldn't try?
He studied the necromantic arts until his mind frayed at the edges. He summoned. He shaped. He created. But what rose from the ritual circles were not his loved ones—they were aberrations, mockeries twisted by his longing. One after another, he ended them himself, weeping and screaming as he destroyed what he had wrought. They were too grotesque to live, even by the standards of a man who had long since crossed every threshold of horror.
And still, he kept trying.
By the end, Sollaq's employers were no longer men and women, but twisted bone-things—hellish constructs bound in sinew and sorrow—haunting the crumbling halls of what had once been a proud estate. The mansion itself, cursed by the very hands that once maintained it, pulsed with dark enchantments. Its halls echoed with the mutterings of its former engineer, now a broken necromancer, forever whispering the names of children who were never theirs to mourn.
Rumors of the cursed grounds spread like a sickness across the dying lands, drawing the attention of those attuned to suffering. Long before any living force could intervene, the Hollowed Vampire covens emerged from the shadowed forests. They came not in stealth, but in a morbid procession—a carnival of soul-drinkers gliding across the withered fields, circling the mansion like vultures around a corpse.
The estate, once a monument of wealth and order, had become a ruin, and at its center sat Sollaq—enthroned upon a seat of bones and regret, watching the decay he had birthed unfold before him. The vampires did not mock him. They revered his sorrow.
It was they who whispered the offer.
If he truly wished to bring his family back—truly—then he must strike a pact with the Malefica, the ancient shadow beyond reason. In exchange, he would become a Morisphage, a devourer of spirits. A vessel of terrible promise. And with time… they swore, everything he lost could be returned to him—and more.
Sollaq agreed—and thus began the reign of terror he unleashed upon Tigrunn. Among the Hollowed covens that rose in those bleak days, none were as feared as the Îmbrățișarea Exhumată, The Exhumed Embrace, with Sollaq himself at its helm, a necromancer-king enthroned in sorrow and ruin.
Their dominion spread like a plague along the coastal stretches of the infested Tigrunn, tendrils of power reaching into once-thriving settlements. Conflict soon ignited with the resilient people of Vanren, Targonavy, Ykavin, and Dorvna, whose ancestral lands became battlegrounds for the dead and the defiant. What once was myth had become nightmare, living proof of the cost of bargaining with the Malefica. But such was the cost to bring his family back from the dead.
So many souls have been taken, though Sollaq has yet to see his family returned to him. After decades of pillaging he turns to Regalia so that all may accept the Malefica's love, to ensure another cataclysmic event does not bring terror over Aloria, something Sollaq refuses to let happen again. He travels alone, leaving his coven to continue their conquest southward.
- Full Name: Sollaq, The Knowing Veil.
- The Desprince watches a world wasting away, eaten from within. Sollaq, cursed by the ruin he survived, bears knowledge like a wound, knowing what awaits them behind the veil. He will not let mankind fall again. They must turn to magic, a luxury the Marayan people were too ignorant to behold.
- Heritage / Culture: Vault Maraya.
- Age: 363.
- Though only appears to look in his mid-thirties.
- Gender / Pronouns: All.
- Religion: None.
- Occult: Mortisphage Vampire.
- Character Occupation: Purveyor of information, astrologist, and engineer.
- Eye Color: Bright green.
- Skin Color: Purple.
- Hair: Light Brown.
- Height: 6'4''.
- Body Type: Athletic.
- Additional Features: Once radiant in royal violet, his hue has waned to a ghostly pale. Eyes stained with bright green sorrow, frozen in their gaze—haunted not only by what they've seen, but by all they'll never see again.
- Maraya Mechanics:
- Maraya have small Ichor glands on their hands, which are capable of producing Chrysalis that they can shape into Crystals of any shape or size.
- Maraya can also make music with these Chrysalis Crystals, as they can resonate based on tunes, and produce music autonomously.
- Maraya come from an Ancient world. They can read certain Event hints that may not be obvious to other Races (inquire with DM/Event Hoster for opportunities).
- Maraya can (out of combat) remotely hijack Tech (including Automata) to follow their commands and instructions instead, due to their historical superiority.
- Maraya can (if they can reach melee distance safely) hack into Dragon Sites/Entities and alter their routines to unlock additional functions (consult Event Dm's).
- Vampire Mechanics:
- You can magically hide your teeth and Afflicted eyes. This breaks during feeding. If you have the Shape Shifter Mechanic, using this Mechanic while shifted makes you unable to Combat Roleplay. If someone knows your real name and that you're a Vampire, this Mechanic doesn't work on them.
- You live much longer than the average life span of your heritage. You can live up to three times as long, and you can visually stop aging at a chosen age (must be at least 21). Additionally, you are immune to non-magical diseases and Afflictions.
- You can grant immunity to Vampirism to any person willing to bargain with you. In turn, if the bargained person attacks you, reveals that you are a Vampire, or reveals the deal, they take massive damage (discuss together what this means before making the bargain).
- With OOC consent, you can mind-trick Characters into doing your bidding without establishing full Mind Control over them. These simple verbal commands are undetectable, but cannot be more complicated than a single sentence. This does not count as Mind Control and thus Mechanics that provide immunity do not work.
- You can transform into a Vampire Form, which is a Monstrous form with a unique Vampire-themed design that you can create. This counts as a Disguise and a Monstrous Transformation (illegal in Regalia). You remain in Vampire Form even after reaching 0 HP.
- You can understand and speak all mortal and currently practiced languages from all the corners of the world. This includes magical languages spoken by mortals, or even Elderlaw languages like Dragonspeech.
- You are stronger than the average normal person when it comes to out-of-combat tests of strength. Whether it is in arm wrestling or other power competitions, you can always re-roll once, choosing the highest number. You can also carry much heavier loads than other normal people
- Strength: 7
- Bruiser Stance
- Bruiser Slam
- Bruiser Grit
- Bruiser Riposte
- Bruiser Parry
- Bruiser Shred
- Bruiser Frenzy
- Weapon Throw, Free
- Technique Parry (Melee Point Buy)
- Intelligence: 2
- Tech Resist
- Tech Exhaust
- Constitution: 1.
- Iron Will
- Dexterity: 1
- Sharp Reflexes.
- Arcane: 4
- Arcane Snare
- Arcane Aura
- Arcane Shove
- Arcane Portent
Nearly twenty-two thousand years ago, Sollaq was born into extravagance—his bloodline steeped in honor and tradition, having loyally served the Tona Sona Unity for generations as both trusted stewards and the fearsome Kul-Merai, elite enforcers of the Tohn Sona Unity. Yet even from a young age, it was clear that Sollaq was destined for the skies. Drawn to the stars with an insatiable curiosity, he set his sights not on legacy, but on exploration. His heart belonged to the galaxy. Whether racing through the atmosphere on his crystalon—a sleek, crystal-tech hoverboard—or mastering maneuvers in the revered Tohn-Relaat space-cruisers at the academy, the young Maraya embraced flight with relentless passion. To Sollaq, the known world was merely a launchpad for something far greater.
Decades passed and a family was born, Sollaq's two children were still young, but already carried the spark of their lineage—his unshakable curiosity for the unknown, and their mother's insatiable hunger for knowledge. Even in their earliest years, they would gather around the family hearth, eyes wide as Sollaq spun tales of distant stars and unseen worlds, while their mother patiently guided them through scrolls, star charts, and the wonders of ancient archives. Laughter came easily in their home, echoing through the crystal-lit halls as curiosity bloomed into joy. Theirs was a household built not only on tradition, but on wonder, encouragement, and a deep, unshakable bond. They were explorers not just of space and knowledge, but of each other's hearts. It was in these moments that loyalty to the Empire meant everything, it meant a life, a family, everything outside the turmoil that history was painted with.
One evening during a patrol of the southern territories a thundering explosion shook Sollaq's cruiser, throwing him thousands of feet away from where he was, when he turned the cruiser to eye what had caused it; plumes of smoke rose from the military black-site as demons of all shapes and sizes poured out. Sollaq issued hellfire upon the demons, but one squadron after the other were taken by the ghastly creatures. Soon enough he was a part of the few remaining cruisers, instinctually he turned around to fly off towards his home, he had to ensure his family made it to the vaults. At last, home was in sight. The landing gears deployed as shadowy tendrils rose from the earth, curling around his space-cruiser. He opened the cockpit and sprinted along the hull, launching himself into a desperate leap toward the ground—a leap he often wished he'd never taken.
Staggering through the door with a ragged breath, Sollaq was met by the sight of his family—his wife standing firm, their children clinging to her legs. Her arms were raised, glowing with an ethereal light as she held back the cascade of rubble suspended above them. Magic. The word struck him like a blow. His lungs seized; he couldn't draw breath. Panic gripped him. Magic was heresy across the Empire, the prophesied ruin of the Meriac Empire, a prophecy that was coming true right in front of his eyes. He stared, mind reeling, as dread and doctrine collided in his skull. His hand moved on instinct, drawing his sidearm—a sleek, compact weapon now trembling in his grip, aimed at the woman he loved. Tears blurred his vision. The children screamed, their voices piercing. 'Dad, no!' they cried. But his world had already begun to shatter.
Just as his finger eased down upon the trigger his wife screamed out "Sollaq, all will be for naught if you do this. Our children will die, you will die. Don't you understand?!" She cried out, her voice carrying a weight like no other. A weight that made him crumble to one knee, tears streaming down his face. In the midst of his agony, the Meriac Empire died, though the last feigning attempts at holding order, sirens blared out from overhead. It was official, the apocalypse had begun.
Sollaq couldn't make himself pull the trigger, and sooner or later it was his wife that dragged him from the collapsed state he was in, and hurried herself and her family to the nearest vault. It was crowded, Sollaq and his family an ant amongst thousands of suffering Maraya. There were walls of guardsmen scanning each individual that entered the vault. It wasn't long before their turn came. Sollaq stepped through first—a flash of green lit the space as he passed. He glanced back at his family, offering a nod. His children followed, safe. But his wife hesitated at the threshold, moving slowly, uncertainly.
Then the alarm blared—red lights pulsed. A single gunshot rang out. Then, she collapsed.
Sollaq froze as she looked up at him, her eyes calm even as the light faded. "Magic… magic never failed us, Sollaq, people did," she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips before she was gone. His children screamed. Sollaq reached for his weapon—but a voice echoed in his mind, still and clear: This age is ending. Her memory lives on in them. Protect them.
Rage tore at him. Grief clawed its way through his chest. But he held fast. He turned from the blood and sorrow, and pressed on toward the vaults.
The last thing he remembers was the vault doors closing, the last glimpse of the Meriac Empire, and his children, scared and crying. He knew this in his heart, if they were to awake, things would be different. His children would be safe.
Awaken he did.
Tens of thousands of years later, Sollaq's chamber hissed open with a lifeless gasp. Cold air flooded in as he emerged, frail and disoriented, his vision swimming in shadows. Two unfamiliar Maraya steadied him, their touch foreign despite their shared bloodline. Around him lay a fractured world—some faces stared back at him in stunned recognition, others would never look again, their bodies still and lifeless.
Ignoring the urgent voices of his caretakers, Sollaq staggered toward the nursery, dread tightening with each faltering step. The corridors, once cries of send-offs before the Great Sleep, were now choked with smoke, silence, and scorched metal.
Then he saw it. A massive space-cruiser had torn through the vault like a blade through silk, its shattered hull embedded in the heart of the nursery and the surrounding crystaltech-pods. Where once soft lights had glowed with the promise of renewal, there was now only ruin. The echoes of their final cries still rang in his mind—as if they had just spoken, just said goodbye—and yet they were long gone. Time had passed. Too much time. And he had survived what they had not.
There was only one question on his mind: Why? Why him, why was he cursed to live out his days without everything he had held so close, so long ago, albeit the memories so fresh in his mind. Tears trickled down his cheek as he sunk down, grieving over his children. "My boys," he spoke out, sorrow heavy in his tone. "Everything I had.. Why not me!" he slammed his hand down on the aged metal.
Time would pass, but he would never forget the destruction wrought upon his life by the Meriac Empire, and the family he loved.
He was left in an alien world, but left to do what exactly? He roamed along with the other vaulters, though in what was now frozen over Ellador, he suffered harsh climates. He finally knew what it meant to be hungry, to starve, to hunt, and to battle for his life. Many of the Marayan were killed during these beginning few weeks, coming from everything to having nothing was a harsh reality many of them did not have the integrity to face.
After Ellador, there was an option to go anywhere, Sollaq sought knowledge, to learn about this foreign place. He headed to the Capitol, Regalia, and in his time within the city he realized that everything was lost. The Meriac Empire was his memories, it was the last few documents in each vault, nothing compared to the giga-Empire it was, all-spanning, all intelligent. He was stuck in a medieval age, one which relied on magic more than technology. He needed knowledge, he needed information, he yearned to go back to what was for so long. Though, despite everything, he was still heartbroken. He missed his family more than anything, he missed his children, his wife.
Sollaq's life had decayed into a void of unimaginable sorrow. Grief had hollowed him out, and in that emptiness, despair festered like rot. Despair—the kind that twists reason and corrodes the soul—can drive even the gentlest of beings to monstrous acts.
Outwardly, he lived as any other—a quiet engineer in the service of a wealthy household within Tigrunn, his hands steady, his demeanor calm. But behind the sealed door of his private chamber, a different reality unraveled. Scrawled across the walls in dried, flaking streaks of animal blood were the same six words, repeated again and again like a curse: "Magic never failed us. People did." The phrase echoed endlessly in his mind, each repetition tightening the grip of madness.
Haunted by what he had lost, Sollaq delved into forbidden knowledge. He prowled forgotten ruins and ash-marked vaults, trading pieces of himself for scraps of ancient, blackened texts. His alien skin bore the wear of travel, ritual, and ruin—tattooed in ink and scar by the rites he endured. All for one purpose: to bring back his family. What soul, shattered by grief, wouldn't try?
He studied the necromantic arts until his mind frayed at the edges. He summoned. He shaped. He created. But what rose from the ritual circles were not his loved ones—they were aberrations, mockeries twisted by his longing. One after another, he ended them himself, weeping and screaming as he destroyed what he had wrought. They were too grotesque to live, even by the standards of a man who had long since crossed every threshold of horror.
And still, he kept trying.
By the end, Sollaq's employers were no longer men and women, but twisted bone-things—hellish constructs bound in sinew and sorrow—haunting the crumbling halls of what had once been a proud estate. The mansion itself, cursed by the very hands that once maintained it, pulsed with dark enchantments. Its halls echoed with the mutterings of its former engineer, now a broken necromancer, forever whispering the names of children who were never theirs to mourn.
Rumors of the cursed grounds spread like a sickness across the dying lands, drawing the attention of those attuned to suffering. Long before any living force could intervene, the Hollowed Vampire covens emerged from the shadowed forests. They came not in stealth, but in a morbid procession—a carnival of soul-drinkers gliding across the withered fields, circling the mansion like vultures around a corpse.
The estate, once a monument of wealth and order, had become a ruin, and at its center sat Sollaq—enthroned upon a seat of bones and regret, watching the decay he had birthed unfold before him. The vampires did not mock him. They revered his sorrow.
It was they who whispered the offer.
If he truly wished to bring his family back—truly—then he must strike a pact with the Malefica, the ancient shadow beyond reason. In exchange, he would become a Morisphage, a devourer of spirits. A vessel of terrible promise. And with time… they swore, everything he lost could be returned to him—and more.
Sollaq agreed—and thus began the reign of terror he unleashed upon Tigrunn. Among the Hollowed covens that rose in those bleak days, none were as feared as the Îmbrățișarea Exhumată, The Exhumed Embrace, with Sollaq himself at its helm, a necromancer-king enthroned in sorrow and ruin.
Their dominion spread like a plague along the coastal stretches of the infested Tigrunn, tendrils of power reaching into once-thriving settlements. Conflict soon ignited with the resilient people of Vanren, Targonavy, Ykavin, and Dorvna, whose ancestral lands became battlegrounds for the dead and the defiant. What once was myth had become nightmare, living proof of the cost of bargaining with the Malefica. But such was the cost to bring his family back from the dead.
So many souls have been taken, though Sollaq has yet to see his family returned to him. After decades of pillaging he turns to Regalia so that all may accept the Malefica's love, to ensure another cataclysmic event does not bring terror over Aloria, something Sollaq refuses to let happen again. He travels alone, leaving his coven to continue their conquest southward.
Last edited:
