FEF - Salvatore Vaughan (Xanmyral)

Name: Salvatore Vaughan
Class: Wyvern Knight
Character Specific Skill: Nullify
Affinity: Wind
Personal Fault: Remembrance of a Debt: If this unit is in combat with a priest or any of their promotions, -2 base damage, -10 hit, and -10 evasion.
Personal Skill: Strike first, Strike last: If this unit is in combat with any unit with a range-one melee weapon, +10 critical.
Personal Skill: Hold Nothing Back: If this unit is in combat with anything besides a priest (and any of their promotions), +2 base damage.
Personal Skill: Concerted Assault: While Salvatore is mounted, he gains a +15 to Hit.

Preferred stats: STR, DEF

Special: Wyvern, Dismount

Weapon profs: Sper (A), Hack (A), Lances (C), Axes (C)

Level: 6 (0/100)
Total Level: 25

Progression spent: 330%

HP: 22 (70%)
STR: 7 (70%)
MAG: 0 (0%)
SKL: 5 (50%)
CON: 10 (26 with wyvern)
AID: 9 (25 with wyvern)
LCK: 1 (10%)
DEF: 6 (70%)
RES: 0 (30%)
SPD: 3 (30%)
MOV: 5 (6 with wyvern)

First class lvl2: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF, RES, SPD
First class lvl3: +STR, SKL, RES
First class lvl4: +HP and DEF
First class lvl5: +HP, STR, SPD
First class lvl6: +STR, DEF
First class lvl7: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF, RES and SPD
First class lvl8: +HP, DEF
First class lvl9: +STR, DEF, SPD
First class lvl10: +HP, STR, DEF
First class lvl11: +HP, STR, SKL, LCK, DEF, RES, SPD
First class lvl12: +HP, STR, DEF, RES
First class lvl13: +HP, DEF, RES
First class lvl14: +HP, STR, SKL
First class lvl15: +STR, SKL, SPD
First class lvl16: +HP, LCK, DEF
First class lvl17: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF
First class lvl18: +HP, STR, LCK, DEF, RES
First class lvl19: +HP, SKL, DEF
First class lvl20(final): +HP, SKL, LCK, SPD
Promotion to Wyvern Knight: +3 HP, +4 STR, +5 CON/AID, +4 DEF; MOV 6
Promoted class lvl2: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF
Promoted class lvl3: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF
Promoted class lvl4: +HP, LCK, DEF
Promoted class lvl5: +HP, STR, SKL, DEF
Promoted class lvl6: +HP, DEF

Current stats:

HP: 45 (70%)
STR: 27 (70%)
MAG: 0 (0%)
SKL: 17 (55%)
CON: 15 (31 with wyvern)
AID: 14 (30 with wyvern)
LCK: 6 (10%)
DEF: 28 (70%)
RES: 7 (30%)
SPD: 10 (30%)
MOV: 6 (7 with wyvern)

SUPPORTS:
With Alexander Jorinn (B): +1 DEF, +10 Hit, +5 Eva, +20 Crt
With Olison Eul (B): +10 Hit, +10 Eva, +20 Crt
With Ami Storm (C): +2 Hit, +5 Eva, +5 Crt, +5 DG
With Seyena Ikane (C): +5 Hit, +2 Eva, +10 Crt

[code]Inventory:
Name            Type () RNG MT WT CR Hit QL
Brave Axe       Hack (B) 1  10 16 0  65  --
Heavy Spear     Sper (D)1-2 9  14 0  70  -- [E]
Vulnerary (3/3)
[/code]

Battle Stats (Brave Axe):
AT: 37
Hit: 102
AS: 10
Eva: 26
Crt: 8
DG: 6

Battle Stats (Heavy Spear):
AT: 36
Hit: 107
AS: 10
Eva: 26
Crt: 8
DG: 6

Biography/Psychology:

Short Version:

Grew up in Berbia to nameless guard, fought in pseudo-gang wars as a kid, enlisted as a soldier, did some bad stuff, had a "my god, what have I become" moment. Helped by those he protected during his moment even though he insisted they not help him, told "death can only be repaid with life," given almost hatching Wyvern egg and sent on his way. Fast forward a few years, he's now a mercenary.

Long Version:

Salvatore grew up hardened in the lands of Berbia, the bad side if such a thing could be coined about that place. A land created of war, born in wars to follow, and raised in war for that was all it knew, war is Salvatore. Its in his veins, after all. Born to a low-ranking soldier, a nameless guard from another nation that fled for whatever reason they did not reveal unto their child, from a young age he was expected to make his own way from the crib.

As a child, he fought in the streets with the other children, for whatever reason there was to fight really. Because they weren't from there, because they were different, because they were richer, poorer, or just because they didn't like their face. While the day to day life of a Berbian would go on, war was waged. Fists and rocks flew, sticks left stinging marks, teeth got knocked out, the occasional bone broken. Salvatore wasn't always the one who came out ahead, but as he fought he grew harder and colder in heart, and sharper and hotter in anger. The enemy, as he's come to think of whomever he was facing, can't hit back if they're on the ground whimpering after all.

In the wars of his youth, he learned, as he did from the lessons of his father. His father was a harsh man, caring but harsh. It was thought that in order to survive, one must fight for their life every waking moment. Swift judgement for every error was wrought, as one must be more disciplined than their enemies to survive. Limits were tested, as one must always know their reach better than their enemies do, to have the strength to carry on. Salvatore hated that man in his youth, although now he has a grudging respect and understanding for the lessons he's learned. In order to survive, you can't have a weakness. Your hair can't be too long, its a weakness for the enemy can grab it. So Salvatore keeps his hair short. You can't stand out too much for it attracts attention. So Salvatore always wears a helmet. You can't show emotion for such can be twisted against you. You can't show mercy to your enemies, for they won't show any to you. So Salvatore doesn't show any. You can't hold anything back because if your dying, you can't give anything you've held onto back anymore. So Salvatore leaves nothing for the trip back. You can't have friends, for they can be used against you, turned against you. So Salvatore kept none, held none, had none, only beneficial allies. These were the values he had in life, to never have a weakness, to never hold anything back, to strike with all your might and show no quarter.

But things change. When he grew older, he enlisted immediately, wanting nothing more than to get away, to do all that he knows. It was uneventful, "breaking" up a riot here, "pacifying" workers there, "keeping the peace" as they call it. It was a normal duty detail, some rabble-rousing cult of some dragon or so such, seemed like it would be a simple duty. They got there and there were them all, the priests and monks, the nuns and sisters, standing in front of their church barring way. It was told they were housing fugitives. Something didn't seem right, but Salvatore was disciplined, he didn't question orders. Those that fought back had a fight in them Salvatore never saw before, those that didn't... He never saw such a thing. Men and women who would openly embrace death just to try and forbade entrance, yet never bringing a sword to defend themselves.

But things change. Once all that stood in their way were dispatched, they broke down the door to get at the fugitives, bandits they were told harassing merchants and outlying villages. Inside they only saw frightened stares of women and children, makeshift weapons held at ready in desperation, the frightened braying of those who's lives have yet to be lived, to be shaped. That was the first time Salvatore has truly felt the weight of his armor, his helmet, his sins, his wrongs. A solemnly, almost pleading statue of some draconic creature presiding over the people as if to grant comfort in what seemed to be their last time breathing in the sweet air of life.

But things change. Screams were heard, blood was shed, weapons were broke, and armor was rented. By the end of the carnage, Salvatore stood in front of the doorway, bloodied, bleeding from several new holes and cuts in his body. The rest of his guard, those he had called allies laid dead by the broken bodies of the monks they had killed just prior. He turned to see those he had protected, those who otherwise he might have killed. Confused stares greeted his helmeted face. He didn't expect any different. Salvatore turned to the bodies, broken, and asked for a shovel from those still in the church. More confused stares, but finally one was given after his request being repeated. Graves were dug, one for each monk, for each priest, for each soldier.

Things may change, but war doesn't. But Salvatore wasn't war anymore, although he can still feel it in him, the anger. It was a tool to be used, for him to control and not the other way around as he has realized he had lived up until that point. But what was he to do now though? Salvatore was brought back to attention by those inside, and by his own wounds, although he pleaded with them to not spare him due to his crimes. There he was treated by a priest who had stayed inside, but held at a distance, for death cannot be repaid by death. Only life could. There, a confused Salvatore was handed a heavy burden, a large object wrapped in a cloth, and was sent on his way to, as the priest said, "show that death could only be repaid in life."

Things change, as soon Salvatore set off on his own from then on, no longer under the thumb of his anger, of anyone but himself. The bundle was found to be a large egg, and it hatched the next day into a baby wyvern. Then did Salvatore know what he must do to redeem himself, and he set to raising the wyvern the best he could. He tried not to teach it, Ormm as he's come to call it, the ways of combat but such things are hard in today's time. Salvatore balanced his lessons of combat with those of reflection, more for himself so that he doesn't fall back into his old ways. He still feels the anger burning in him, and as Ormm grew he saw similar in it, he had the feeling that the Wyvern would follow him no matter the path he took. Still the priest's words rang in his head though, death can only be repaid in life. He turned to mercenary work to pay bills, trying to do what he could to help, but sometimes the lure of money was a strong one.

When war was all one knew, all that was in one's veins, it is hard to change. War never changes, but Salvatore has. No longer was he the same man he was before the incident, when he met Ormm, the priest, with what he did. No longer was anger the puppet master, pulling his strings, but he its master. Or so he hopes, for it still burns brightly in his heart and ways of old are hard to work out.