Legends ofAmarna

Warning! The anathema is here.

The doctrine that poisoned the souls of many, that wrought blood against blood, life against life. Aspasia has not been the same, nor will it ever be. As history fades into legend, and legend into myth, so too are the whispers of peace that had once brought each of the races together in harmony. As such a time faded into history, so does the chaos grow - the resentment that breeds loathing - that brings about war.

With the world pitted against each other, each race, equines, canines, and felines taking sides, the question is, which side will you choose?

The Lost Flame

Illoneus Offline

speciesGidran x Thoroughbred
dewdrops 285dd


  • breed Gidran x Thoroughbred
  • height 17hh
  • eye color Red
Illoneus is gold in three shades: a smooth melting of sunset into dubloon into sand, marred only by the dusty chocolate of spots scattered across his body. They run like cheetah spots down his neck, around the outsides of his shoulders, and under the fore of his belly like a trail, then pick up again on his rump before melting into dark appaloosa patterning. Each eye is also surrounded by a chocolate brown spot, which ends just above a chocolate blaze that surrounds his muzzle.

His hooves are a fiery orange to match the midtones of his blazing ginger mane, which fades from a rich red at the roots to a sandy gold at the tips. His eyes are brilliant red. All he was able to take with him from his former home is the set of fine golden chains he wears in his mane and tail, held in place by gold bands clipped tightly into the hair. Two loop from his forelock to just behind his ear; four hook into the top of his tail and loop down in a cascade.
Human Form
  • height 6'2"
Cocky, arrogant, dramatic. Few who meet Illoneus think much else about him. He carries himself with a swagger, sleek and elegant, every hair in its place, every gem set to catch the eye and dazzle thought away. With his focus on fire magic, everything he wears is some shade of red or gold (luxurious materials like silk and brocade, usually) though accented with tasteful blocks of black – he's nothing if not thematic.

With eyes like embers and a cascade of red hair fading to gold falling to mid-back, slender of form but not weak, and with delicately pointed ears, most assume he is an elf though he is, in fact, only a half-blood.

His signature chains, looped into his hair from the roots, appear in both forms – as a human, two hang on one side, four on the other. Other jewellery is interchangeable, but he gravitates towards gold – stacked rings, earrings, and things that dangle and catch the light prettily.

Under the light of the moon, the warding runes etched into his skin by his city's lawkeepers light up and shine pale silver-blue all across his chest and shoulders, down his spine and covering his hands. This is unique to his human form.


Illoneus has an ego – there's no way around it. He's flashy, outgoing, and eager to prove himself to anyone who will watch. He knows very well that he is intelligent, skilled, and one hell of a looker. He is rarely turned away from anything he has decided he wants, and he tends to take that for granted.

Though born and raised in luxury and excess, he is certainly no pampered noble – to the contrary, he is so dedicated to his craft that he will go to any lengths, however messy, to improve himself and his skills.
He has spent most of his young life focused on mastering fire magic. It's as much a part of him as his skin. To have it suddenly ripped away is like losing his sight or a leg. Coping with this loss is as much a challenge to him as sudden amputation of a limb would be.

Since his imprisonment, his outlook on life has severely darkened. Though a great deal of his arrogance remains, what was previously just cynicism has developed into full-blown distrust of everyone around him. All it took was one person whispering in the right ear and suddenly his name is mud – it would be enough to sour anyone's trust.


In a prosperous and peaceful land stood a city ruled by mages. The mages lead the city with a fair and even hand, beloved by all for their grace and nobility. They dedicated themselves to the betterment of all and society flourished... Or so they would have the common folk think.

The mages were, in fact, a highly political, scheming bunch whose great deeds of charity mainly served to promote them amongst themselves. The more good one could do, the more social power one could claim, though this was usually outshone by physical power, as they were nothing if not selfish and power-hungry. It wasn't surprising, then, that one of their number began to claim what he thought was rightfully his. Was he not among the foremost fire-wielders in the city? Was he not as powerful and intelligent as the elders? His ego flared like the flames he wielded, and the people fawned at his feet.

He could choose who and what he wanted and so he did, each night giving himself over to a different desire. Lovers came and went. He spent his wealth as if it were water. He lived a life of luxury and grandeur. There came a day, however, when he began to think there was more to living than the life he had: the day he saw her for the first time.

A woman emerged from amidst his most hated rivals and at first he saw her only as a threat. And yet... her beauty stole his sense and her mind stole his heart. They were an even match – fire on fire, burning wit and egos that clashed but only to bring each other to a brighter blaze. Their love was fast, intense, and beyond the reckoning of her former friends.

But it was not to last.

Illoneus was framed for the use of black magic - an easy enough claim to overcome, until his dearest love testified against him. He watched in horror as she tore his life apart and almost single-handedly had him banished to a dark, damp cell beneath the earth, in a prison meant for the worst of all criminals. He fought back, but they marked him with moonsigns and stripped away his magic before leaving him to rot.

There he sat, chained and broken, for months, until a rogue officer of the law visited. To Illoneus's surprise, the officer helped him escape... or tried to. The escape went badly, and the last Illoneus saw of the officer was the other man opening a hasty portal and shoving Illoneus into it. He fell and fell and fell... and landed in the sea. He had arrived in Aspasia just as the world was consumed by smoke and fire, escaping his prison to, perhaps, land in hell.


Fire - The ability to create and control flame as defense, weapon, tool, and performance.
With his magic inhibited by spells imprinted in his very skin, Illoneus can perform a bare minimum with his fire control.
Sparks: Illoneus can raise a flurry of sparks by stomping his hooves, snapping his fingers, or when he runs.
Fire creation: Using the sparks he conjures, Illoneus is able to raise small flames. At his current level, this is restricted to flames suitable for large candles at the most, but if given the proper materials, he can fan these into a larger blaze.
Fire control: Once he has created or found a source of fire, he can then command it. His control isn't currently very refined and he has to concentrate and be careful not to let it blaze out of hand. He can make it move (though not too far) and can create small shapes with it (for example, a fire bird that flies away from the main flame) but these don't last more than a few seconds.

At this stage, still very much under the sway of his captors, despite their new distance, magic is a huge struggle for him. Much use at all can cause the magic to backfire on him, burning his flesh and creating a true, bone-deep exhaustion. Control is weak at best and he has to be very careful not to light the wrong things on fire, as it can quickly get out of hand and start a blaze he can't control alone.



Illoneus design and art by TrinitySilph
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