Sora Verus

FILE: Sora Verus & Co.

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Below you will find all of the characters in my arsenal, all of which are mentioned in various different role plays and lore posts.






Edited by Sora Verus

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 Sylvia Buchanan, Director of VSS Group 1 
Aliases: Whisper
Gender: Female
Age: 40
Birthplace: Port Sarim
Appearance: 5ft 5in, 117 lbs; Sylvia has sea-foam green eyes, medium tan skin, and short, wavy black hair that is often pinned up. Sylvia dresses very simple, usually in a black or maroon blouse and pants.
Personality: Sylvia is an extremely calm and quiet person. She tends to keep to herself, although she can be extremely friendly to just about everyone in order to do her job. She is exceptionally intelligent, a good lie detector, and can adapt her personality to the people she’s around, making it difficult for those who are not close to her to see her actual self.
Allegiance: Varrock, the VSS, the Crown
Equipment: Sylvia usually carries two silver daggers she stolen from her father and a small pistol-like gun. Quirks:
- Sylvia is fluent is fluent in the common tongue, Elven, Kharidian, and Fremmenik. Her first language was Karamjan, however she remembers very little of it.
- She is close friends with the Queen.
- Sylvia has a bad knee from a fight which causes her in limp in colder weather.
Sylvia Buchanan, formerly Sylvia Delgado, was born to Reuben Delgado, a counterfeit gem salesman, and Gianna Delgado, who was once an army nurse. As her mother died birthing her, Sylvia’s childhood became a constantly struggle to fulfill two goals - learn how to steal from the wealthy Port Sarim merchants to help feed her and her father and attempt to reduce her father’s disappointment in her. Sylvia spent the majority of her childhood working towards these two goals until, at ten years old, her father scraped together enough money to ship her to Karamja to pay off his debt to a wealthy banana plantation owner. Once at the plantation, Sylvia spent most of her time cleaning the property’s three large houses and assisting the other maids with daily chores. While she was there, she managed to gain the favor of the plantation owner by establishing a network of “spies” to steal produce and important information from neighboring plantations. This lasted until she was 18, when she met James Buchanan, a semi-high ranking officer in the Varrockian Navy. During his seven month stay in Karamja, James and Sylvia fell in love. Two months later, after receiving word his service in Karamja was finished, the two married and Sylvia accepted his offer to come back to Varrock with him and start a new life. Once settled in Varrock, Sylvia became a waitress at the Blue Moon Inn as her husband continued his work with the Navy. However, her simple job as a waitress soon changed when she established another network of her own spies, tasked with exploiting members of the Mafia in Southern Varrock. As a result, the Varrock Secret Service soon gave her a job offer - Director of Group One. She gladly accepted, and later that year, once she turned 25, she had a child, Augustin Buchanan.
Despite being overjoyed at the birth of her son, Sylvia became intensely immersed in her work. A year after his birth, she went on a two month long VSS mission to Catherby. When she returned home, both her husband and her son had left, leaving only a note that James left to inform her he “had to do what was best for his son”. Sylvia has since immersed herself in her VSS work, not seeing her former husband or her child for ten years.
I felt a tinge of nervousness wash over me as the boy, only a year or so older than me, loomed threateningly over my head. The nervousness couldn't stop the words coming out of my mouth, though. "What did you say to me?" I snapped at him, mustering up the sternest look a nine year old girl possibly could. 
"I said," the boy glared down at me as he spoke, "girls can't fight. Stupid. Especially little girls like you." He took his pointer finger and shoved it against my shoulder, rough. The nervousness brewing in my stomach quickly morphed into a burning anger I knew I couldn't control even if I wanted to. 
I'd watched the group of boys from my neighborhood gather in this exact spot to wrestle or take shots at one another for weeks now. I'd gathered that they were all unbelievably shallow and as useless as the washed up sailors who stumbled the docks drunk all day but, more importantly, I'd gathered that they were almost unfathomably bad at fighting. So, after weeks of observing, I'd decided today would be the day to come out of hiding and waltz into the middle of their circle to talk. Someone had to tell them how pathetic the whole operation was. 

And somehow, that decision had led to this moment - me, staring up at the older boy, presumably the leader of the group, and, after he had finished berating me, punching him as hard as I possibly could right in that smug look on his face. And again, and again, and again, as he flailed his arms in front of his face in an attempt to fend off the attacking before ultimately losing his footing and falling to the ground. I expected the other members of his group to be stunned into silence but even as their ring leader fell helplessly to the ground, they continued to jeer at me. The boy shuffled around in the dirt to regain his footing and popped from the ground a safe distance away. He was holding his nose, but that didn't stop the blood from pouring out of it. He growled at me, eyes full of anger and embarrassment. "Crazy bitch," he spat at me. 
"Hows it feel to get the shit beaten out of you by a little girl?" I taunted him. 
He sneered. "Too bad your mom's dead. Someone needs to teach you how to act like a real girl."
I lunged at him again, but before I could get a grip to dig my nails into his skin one of the other boys grabbed my waist and dragged me off of him, throwing me roughly to the ground. As I scrambled to get up, a third boy kicked my stomach and dug his foot into my ribs hard. It was then that I realized the leader must have landed a blow somewhere on my face earlier because, all of a sudden, I could feel blood slowly trickling down into my mouth. I decided there was no better time to cut my losses and stumbled onto my feet, though I was satisfied I'd proven a point. 
In the walk from the docks to the little shambled shack my father and I called home I'd attempted, uselessly, to make the cut on my forehead less noticeable. In the end, I'd simply resorted to taking my hair from it's bun and allowing it to hang loosely on either side of my face. I hoped it'd cover it enough that father wouldn't notice. The scuffs and dirt marks on my face and clothes could be explained away as scavenging, but he'd be relentless about an injury. 
I turned the knob on the door and opened it inwards slowly, but it began to creek nonetheless. Not that it would have mattered - he was sitting in his wooden rocking chair staring at the doorway. Waiting for me, I presumed. "Sylv," he greeted me flatly as I slinked into the room. 

"Dad," I replied, eyes down. 
"You're out late. I hope that means you found something of...." he trailed off, narrowing his eyes at me through the dim lighting. "What happened to your face?" 
I shook my head and continued to gaze at the ground. "Nothing?" I muttered, feigning ignorance. That prompted him to actually get up from his chair and approach me. He loomed over me. Just like the boy. I cautiously glanced upwards at him just in time for him to grab my chin and force me to meet his eyes. "I got in a fight. That's all." I attempted to keep my eyes on the wall just past him.
"With who?" He pushed the hair from my face to inspect the cut. 
"I don't know, just some boy from town." 
"Why'd he hit you?" 
"Well," I blinked nervously, "I hit him first." 
"Why?" His grip on my chin tightened. 
"H-he told me girls can't fight. But I knew he was bad at it. I just wanted him t-" Before I could finish my sentence, I was interrupted by him pulling his hand back and then bringing it down, full force, against my cheek. It hit me so hard I stumbled back until I ran into the door. I gasped, the sting of the blow occurring to me simultaneously with the pain of my body slamming against the hard wood. I grabbed my face, my mouth agape. I remember, mostly, being so shocked that he'd struck me that it felt like my heart would burst through my already aching ribcage. My father was known for being strongly and loudly verbal, but he'd never physically attacked me before. "What was that for?!" I managed to cry out.

"You can't just hit men because you don't like what they say to you, Sylvia." He spoke loudly, though there was no anger in his voice that I could detect - only the deep and haunting tones of disappointment. "They're gonna say whatever they want, and you've godda just take it. The words won't hurt nearly as much as what they'll do to you if you strike them. You want to be beaten and dumped in the harbor? Violated? They won't just hit you back." The words were piercing as they entered my ears. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I simply slid down the wall and onto the floor, hand still to my face. I remember the flames of the numerous candles adorning the room casting his shadow across the adjacent wall ten times larger than he actually was as he silent walked away, shoulders bunched and tense and hands balled into tight fists at his sides. I didn't even move from the spot to get in bed that night, but I was in my bed when I woke the next morning. 

I stood rigidly next to a small hole in the basement of the building where scalding hot stream rose from a natural spring cavern directly below onto a large metal contraption. It was bolted to the floor, a large slab of metal jutting out from the base and sitting directly over the steam. A second metal stab was attached to the top of the base and, via a lever on the rear, the two slabs could be drawn together and used to press fabrics. I gripped the lever, white knuckled, staring stonily at the entrance.

Several minutes later, Delilah had successfully woken the small group of women from their sleep and rounded them into the room. A few glared at me through sleep heavy eyes, grumbling. The loudest grumbler, of course, was Maeve Eleasayd, the entire reason I’d been forced to call this meeting. “What the fuck, Sylvia?” Maeve sighed heavily, “I just got back from an assignment four hours ago. I’d just fallen asleep.”

“I’m aware,” I replied curtly. “This won’t take very long.”

I nodded to two men who had been lingering in the back of the room, other members of my group, and they grabbed Maeve roughly by each of her arms. “What the fuck?” Maeve repeated, struggling against them, but ultimately unable to resist being dragged to the metal steam press. “Get the fuck off of me,” she yelled, “get off!”

I felt a lump in the back of my throat. “Put them in, both of them,” I gestured to her hands, and a second later they were both forcefully hovering in between the top and bottom metal slabs. “Sylvia, w-what the fuck? I haven’t--I haven’t done anything!”

I gripped the lever tighter, staring into the girl’s eyes. “Did I or did I not say that I would not condone any drug use among my girls?”

Maeve breathed rapidly, unable to catch her breath enough to answer the question.

“Did I?” I repeated louder, nearly yelling.

“Y-y-yes, yes, you did.” She stuttered.

“And then you went against me and brought drugs into my base and gave them to the girls, didn’t you?

Maeve glanced at me, panicked, through the sides of her vision. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t, I, I, it was just….” She trailed off, her eyes scanning the room and then desperately falling onto Delilah. “Delilah, please, please, please, Delilah, please help, don’t let her….”

I began to lower the lever, the two metal slabs inching closer to Maeve’s hands. “No, no, no, no!” She screamed, but seconds later the steaming metal slabs clenched down onto both of her hands sending sizzling steam billowing upwards into the room. I stared at the group of horrified girls watching from across the room, the smell of burning flesh beginning to emanate from the metal machine as Maeve’s jumbled words became less decipherable and more a horrible, pained, animalesque scream. I kept her hands trapped in the metal for a maximum of twenty seconds, enough to cause borderline major injury, but it seemed never ending.

Finally, I pulled the lever back up and the men released their grip on Maeve’s arms. Immediately, she stumbled backwards, whimpering incoherently and scrambling past me to the door. She held her hands out in front of her, the skin bubbling and raw and blood dripping onto the floor as she attempted to open it with only her elbows.

“Someone help her to medical,” I growled, rounding the steam press and observing the look of collective fear on the faces of the group. “If any of you had thoughts of doing something utterly idiotic like that, I’d suggest you forget about them right now. There will be no personal use of drugs in Group One period, but especially not amongst you all. And everything, EVERYTHING you do pertaining to an assignment must be run through me first. Nothing happens without my knowing.” I paused momentarily.

“Understood?” Silence. “Well?” I yelled suddenly, to which the group unanimously replied “yes”, or simply nodded vigorously. I gave one single curt nod in acknowledgement, then dismissed them with a wave of my hand. “Off you all go, then.”

As the girls began to quickly file out of the doorway, Delilah approached and then brushed past me, smiling and whispering quietly. “Very good job.”  


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James Buchanan, Captain of The MMVI Varrock 

Aliases: Jay, Captain

Gender: Male

Age: 50

Birthplace: East Varrock 

Appearance: 5.9 ft, 175lbs. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Navy sigil tattoo on right bicep with numerous scars across his body. Decently muscular. Usually wears a captain's outfit consisting of black pants, a white button down shirt, and a red vest. 

Personality: James is generally a very laid back person. He enjoys joking, but tends to be extremely serious and focused when need be. 

Allegiance: Guthix, Varrock, and his son, Augustin. 

EquipmentA long sword and multiple daggers. 

Goals: Maintain his status of "most talented captain in Varrock".


- Second language of Karamjan. 

- James keeps a painting he made of his former wife while still married in his shirt pocket along with a small, faded picture of his son as a baby. 

Social status: Fairly wealthy and respected in the Navy. 

History: TBA




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Maeve Eleasayd, Director of Group Six: Internal Policing and Assassination

Aliases: The Raven

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Birthplace: Goshima

Appearance: 5.5ft, 140lbs. Maeve has blonde hair falling to her shoulder blades with small braids extending from her forehead to the bottom of her hair on her right side. She is fairly lean with darker, tanned skin and a tattoo of the VSS serpent wrapping around her left thigh. She has many piercings, but most often wears her nose piercing. 

Personality: TBA

Allegiance: The Director, the Crown

Equiptment: TBA

Goals: TBA

Quirks: TBA

Social status: TBA

History: TBA 


female assassinportrait #N by Rheann

Second piece of art done by Rheann on Devianart. 

Edited by Sora Verus

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James Felldew, Director of Group Five: Funding Acquisition (Drug Smuggling) & Economic Manipulation 

Aliases: The Merchant 

Gender: Male

Age: 58

Birthplace: Eastern Edgeville 

Appearance: 6.3ft, 175lbs. Short gray hair and hazel eyes. James often appears very serious and uptight. 

Personality: TBA

Allegiance: the Crown, Saradomin, family

Equipment: More often than not James does not carry weapons, though he will keep a small dagger close at hand when necessary. 

Goals: TBA

Quirks: TBA

Social status: Extremely wealthy, in the top 1% of the Kingdom. Runs the official Bank of Varrock. 

History: TBA



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Delilah Grimaldi, Current VSS Group 1 Director

Age:  52

Birthplace: Taverly 

Appearance: 5'5, 112 lbs, collar-bone length silver/gray hair and blue-green eyes. She is most often seen wearing simple black or white blouses and trousers in the summer and long sleeve black turtle neck sweaters in the summer with a brown service issued jacket. 

Personality: Reserved and straightforward, rarely expressing strong emotions around others. Often appears to be cold but, for the most part, tends to be caring and fiercely loyal. 

Allegiance: The Queen, the inner circle of VSS Group 1

Equipment: A small, Service issued flint Dwarven pistol and several small carving/throwing knives tucked into several inner pockets. 

Quirks: Fluent in Morytanian. Prides herself in her flexible moral compass.  

Goals: ???






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Donaphos Qaaqar, Former Al-Kharid Nobility & Current Emir of Menaphos


Gender: Male

Age: 33

Birthplace: Al-Kharid 

Appearance: 6ft 3in, 170lb, brown eyes and long, dark black hair with neatly kept facial hair; darkly tanned. He is slightly muscular but still appears fairly slender.

Personality: Donaphos is very laid back and tends to joke around quite a bit. However, he is sharp tonged when put in a situation he does not like and when he is confronted with people he does not know well. It is often difficult to tell if he is sarcastic or serious.

Allegiance: Dayan, Karrah, the Menaphite Empire 




Jahin Lashgari, Second-in-Command of the Emir's Forces 

Age: 32

Birthplace: Al-Kharid 

Jahin and Donaphos have been best friends their entire lives; since Donaphos rose to power as Emir of Menaphos, Jahin often worries about his safety and hangs around the Grand Pyramid to remain close. 


emperor antonian of qui & maazbati - serpent (brown and gold)  vulgar, light-hearted, intelligent

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Avyanna Ophanim, Court Healer for Spiritual and Mental Guidance


Alias: Anna

Age: 34

Birthplace: A small village between Lumbridge and Draynor

Appearance: 5'4, 110 lbs, with black hair extending to her waist, green eyes, and a somewhat tanner complexion. As is typical for many female graduates of the Wizard's Tower, Avyanna wears a long white dress, cowled at the top and cinched at the waist slightly with a brown belt adorned by a journal and random healing supplies. In addition, she generally wears plain gold earrings and a necklace. 

Personality: Unlike a majority of the castle's inhabitants, Avyanna is regarded as being an extremely calming presence with a high level of empathy for seemingly everyone. She is soft spoken, but apt at delivering advice. Deeply religious in a nontraditional way.

Equipment: None, other than the supply belt. 

Goals: Provide the best care to her high status clients as possible. 

History: TBA. 


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Emrys Karlsen, mother to Somerled Karlsen


Age: 65

Birthplace: Rellekka, outskirks 

Appearance: Shoulder length gray hair, brown eyes - one eye missing from an accident in her middle age, which she covers with a leather eye patch; the remaining eye has a tattoo underneath. She is slim, but still muscular for an older woman, and below average height for a Rellekkan woman. 

Personality: Quiet but caring, wise, and strong willed with strong family values

Equipment: Throwing knives

Goals: Keep her son and teenage granddaughter safe and cared for

History: Emrys worked as a cobbler and seamstress for the town of Rellekka until the birth of her son, Somerled.. Though she still took jobs, her workload decreased significantly and she focused on raising her son and tending to her small farm. 





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Somerlad Karlsen


Age: 39

Birthplace: Rellekka, outskirks 

Appearance: 6', muscular and well-built, brown eyes and black hair with a neatly manicured facial hair. He is most often seen wearing plain black clothes with thick black animal skin and leather cloaks.

Personality: Like his mother, he is quiet, often stoic, but caring and willing to take risks in his business and personal life. Well-spoken and well read, making full use of the Dahl library when possible. Since his father and wife died of the plague, he has taken over the family business of raising dogs and birds, mainly falcons, for the Dahl and Rellekka proper. 

Equipment: An assortment of knives, a bow and arrow for hunting, and a sword when traveling

Goals: Teach his teenage daughter the ways of the family business, ensure his mother can live the remainder of her life comfortably, and eventually cultivate another relationship.

History: Somerland grew up learning the family business of raising animals from his father and assisting his mother with her cobbling jobs as well as their small farm. He traveled south in his teenage years to experience different ways of life, but soon returned to Rellekka and married a childhood crush. Unfortunately, both his wife and father were killed by the plague, and he has spent all of his time since then maintaining the business and watching out for his daughter and mother. 





Tauriel Karlsen 

Age: 19

Birthplace: Rellekka, outskirts 

Appearance: 5'4, small and slim build with green eyes; she often wears minimal eye makeup. Tauriel can most often be seen wearing clothes hand-made by her grandmother - colorful loose dresses, belts, a cloak, and boots.

Personality: Very kind with an affinity for animals rather than humans; she spends most of her time with the animals she and her father raise, even more so since her mother and grandfather died. She is most often seen running errands for her grandmother and father or trailing her father in the town. Only rarely does she carry out conversations with those in Rellekka. 

Equipment: A single dagger

Goals: Help her grandmother with the farm and her work, prepare to take over the business from her father

History: TBA.



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Idunnr Ohlson, half-sister to Orvokki 

Age: 30

Birthplace: Far North

Appearance: 5'8, hazel eyes and long blonde hair which is kept in a braid. Though she is smaller than many far Northern women, she makes up for it with a stocky build. Tattoos across her left eye meant to look like a bear scratch. 

Personality: Cold and apathetic, short temper which shows through violent acts rather than emotional outbursts. 

Equipment: Battle axe and a large sword taken from a southern traveler.

Goals: Emulate the reign of Nikolaj Harvigsen, Queen Sora's biological father, undo the mistakes of Erika Harvigsen

History: TBA



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Orvokki Ohlson, half-sister to Idunnr 


Age: 31

Birthplace: Far North

Appearance: 5'9, hazel eyes and chest length dirty blonde hair. She is less muscular than her half-sister, but nimbler and more talented with a sword. Red tattoos across both eyes meant to mimic blood stain. 

Personality: Brooding, angry, and often silent. Like her half-sister, she has a short temper. Spends much of her time exercising.

Equipment: Sword stolen from southern hunters

Goals: Support and protect her half-sister

History: TBA



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