"Life is just a game. And I have every intention to cheat.
Age: 26 Time spent alive: 32
Gender: Male
Seeming: Wizened
Court: Spring
Appearance: Mask: A handsome rogue, a dashing cheater. Jack is a handsome, young, blond man. His body is defined and slim without being too thin or soft. His light blue eyes have a gleam in them that makes girl weak and his opponents in a cardgame sweat. His skin is pale, his hair stylishly longer and the suits he wears look expensive and hand tailored.
Mien: His true form resembles that of a playing card so much that it begs a lot of questions. Did the fae model their cards after the human ones? The other way around? Or is the answer simply beyond reason? His skin is completely white and even and he seems to have edges.
History: Born under the name of Jack Cunningham in a small harbour town in Louisiana, Jack had a quite interesting life. His father was an alcoholic and womanizer who toured the world as a sailor. His mother, Brandy, was a beautiful and smart woman, nearly 20 years younger than her husband. Since his father was always on the sea Jack was mostly raised by his mother. She instilled a love of life in him, even when her husband would come home in the middle of the night, smelling of perfume and whiskey she would smile. His father was not a bad man, he just lived a day at the time and never planned on having a family. "You have to take the cards how they are dealt son. Or you can cheat.", he said to the boy on his 16 birthday. Two days later he was dead, liver failure.
The next year Jack got one of the vices of his father. Women. He was already handsome, confident and charming. When he got bored with the small town he kissed his mother goodbye and left on a ship like his father. He travelled by sea to Morocco, spend some time in Marrakech and Spain, then travelled back to america. On this travel he also picked up his second vice, gambling. He fell in love with the thrill of blackjack and the strategy of poker. When the ship docked in New York he decided he had enough of the sea and wend aboard with just a few dollars and a change of clothes.
In New York he spend the next few years, conning people out of their money and doing a variety of other things, he even modeled for a brief time. When he made a name for himself in the poker scene he was invited to a tournament in Vegas. This should have been the best time of the life of the 23 year old man. A day before the flight he was playing in an illegal establishment when a weird looking pale man challenged him to a game of chance. If he won Jack would get half a million in cash, if the stranger would win he would get Jack's soul. Since Jack thought it was some kind of con or joke and he was in a good mood he agreed. The stranger flipped the coin and Jack lost. Sure Jack was disappointed but he did not really care since he did not believe in a soul.
That same night he did not wake up in his hotel but in Arcadia, he found himself on a gigantic table owned by some fae he only knew as "The thin white Duke". Dozens of poor humans were captives here and Jack was used as a playing card in a gigantic game of cards. The rules were sometimes strict, sometimes nonexistent. Sometimes Jack had to move himself or he would get punished, other times he was not allowed to move for long periods of time. He noticed how the strange world was changing him. When at the beginning he thought it was a nightmare he quickly realized that this was a horrible reality. His memories of the time are weak and he can't even quite recall how he managed to flee but he is still scarred by his time in Arcadia.
Now back in New York he promised himself to catch up on all the time he lost, he had a new array of abilities and looked like he did not age one day. He quickly got a new identity and began to continue where he left of. He would life to the fullest!
Personality: Jack has a devil-may-care attitude. He is fun loving and easy going, always the life of the party and a great entertainer with enough charisma to make you smile even after you realize he conned you for half your money.
Skills: Jack is a talented orator and conman. He could probably sell fire to the devil. He also is has a masterful ability for card tricks and sleight of hand, he is able to cheat in a completely surveilled casino and steal the watch of someone while talking to him. He also has some knowledge in lockpicking but not to much. In recent years he took several classes in Judo after one of his cons went wrong, he is good enough to defend himself.
Supernatural Powers: Jack will win against you when playing cards. And that is not by chance, he has a supernatural understanding of all games of chance, strategy or both. He can tell how a coin will land 10/10 times. He also can use his cards to influence the world, the king could tell him where the mayor or president is for example. He also is supernaturally lucky. Things just tend to happen in his favor...
Weaknesses: Jack supernaturally cannot turn down a game of chance. His confidence also often leads to difficult situations and he fails to take anything serious.
Notable possessions: A deck of playing cards. A silver coin. A lockpick. A hand tailored black suit and hat with a red shirt. A phone. A pack of smokes.
Mask:Peter is a gargantuan man, towering over most men at a staggering 7'4. His entire body carries the story of pain and hard labour, from his tanned, leathery skin to the rippling muscles that lay underneath them. Even streaks of soot and dust seem to pepper his body and clothes, inevitably returning to his person no matter how many times he scrubs them off. Normally this combination of features would make him a fairly intimidating figure, however pity seems to be the most common. Wicked scars cover his body, mostly old burns that cover his arms, legs, and parts of his chest, and claw wounds from fending off underground beasties marking his shoulders and stomach. However the the real monsters are the ones on his back. A ragged mess of ugly scars that could have only come from a whip. With nothing to be said about the destroyed hole that would have held his left eye.
Mien:Dropping the mask is as explosive as it is terrifying. His flesh blackens and becomes cracked, a inner flame corrupting his flesh into a blasted wasteland. The empty eye socket that once held his left eye is filled with a roaring flame while his right eye becomes painfully bloodshot and wild eyed. Finally spikes of iron push up from beneath his flesh, covering his right arm in black shards.
History: It could be said that Peter never really lived before he was spirited away, just barely ten years old at the time. However he was happy, he had a father he looked up to, a mother who loved him with all her heart, with a new addition to the family on the way. Peter couldn't have been happier, and with a hike to Mount St. Helens on the way, how could anything go wrong?
Naturally everything went wrong when, while walking near the mountain a decent sized earthquake caused the fury of hell to be unleashed on earth. Mount St. Helens exploded, the weakened earth and stone causing an avalanche of superheated ash and stone charging down the mountain side. To this day the sound haunts Peter, along with the look on his mother's face as a long, clawed arm reached through a crack in the ground and yanked her only son through before being incinerated.
Peter's trip through the hedge was particularly violent as the True Fae who stole him, Bergentrückung, cared very little for his new toy's wellbeing. Half mad and beyond scared by the time Peter was taken to Bergentrückung's domain, Peter was soon strapped down into a table and... examined. If one horribly thing could be said about Fae medicine, is that it is tragically effective. After his master was satisfied with poking through his guts Peter was sewn back up, slapped with a salve that healed everything up, and tossed into the mines with everyone else.
The work was hard, with Peter going to sleep with bloody and broken hands more than anything else for the first few years but the worst of it came from the other Ogres. They ignored Peter at best or took out their own pain on him at worst, with the only exception of Geraldine. Geraldine was a relative newcomer, like Peter, and she did everything in her power to protect him from the horrors of the mine. Unfortunately, she never did have much power. More often than not she got in between the aggressors and Peter before taking the beating for him. And so it went on, Peter growing stronger and his body twisting to better accommodate his labours while Geraldine grew weaker.
Geraldine was always a little weaker than everyone else, not physically, but emotionally... or maybe she was stronger, peter was never sure. Nonetheless she never gave into the heartlessness, tucking away the bit of you that feels pain and compassion so that she could bare with the weight of everything. So it's no surprise that one day, she just gave up. After a particularly hard beating and... other things, Geraldine just decided she had had enough and let go. Right before she passed she apologized to Peter before handing him an old, trashed ring that she had been keeping a secret. Peter was inconsolable, years of pain, anger, and frustration bubbling over into a sobbing wreck that quickly changed into a screaming rage.
Before he even knew what he was doing Peter had tackled one of the bastards and began to rip him apart. Flesh, blood, and bone flew across the Ogre pit as Peter dug into his work. Then he went after another, and another. By the time Bergentrückung found out what was happening Peter had killed five of the seven bastards, and he was decidedly not happy. No one broke his toys but him.
He placed Peter into his personal chamber where in he tortured Peter for months. Disassembled and put back together, made into kindling for his cauldron, and his personal favorite, being forced to drink molten gold. By the time Bergentrückung had felt that Peter had learned his lesson Peter had lost two things, his eye and any scrap of the young boy who first came here. For the next seven years Peter fostered a deep, seething hatred for not only Bergentrückung but for the metals and jewels he was constantly digging up. It grew until finally, Peter did something about it.
One day, as Bergentrückung made his rounds around his forge, Peter had snuck behind a great vat of molten gold and waited. When "The King Under the Mountain" came to inspect his ingots Peter pushed with ever ounce of his might into tipping the vat over. The pain was indescribable, his flesh searing as he strained. It worked and the cry of pain is a sound that Peter will savor for the rest of his days, the feeling of a giant hand crushing his ribs is something he's less eager to remember. As it turns out, it's much harder to kill a True Fae than it is an Ogre.
Screaming with the fury of Mount St. Helens herself, Bergentrückung smashed Peter into the rock before taking him outside and throwing him like a stone. Peter landed like a comet into the Hedge. He most certainly would have died if not for the actions of a more benign Hobgoblin finding his broken body. They nursed him back to health and even gave him an exit, all Peter had to do in return was sign a contract for one "Favor" that the Hobgoblin would come collect sometime in the future. Peter knew not to trust the thing completely, but he didn't have much of a choice.
Since then he has been bumming around Oregon, lost in a world he doesn't recognize. However it hasn't been all bad, in fact he's ecstatic. Sure he's always worried about something coming to get him but he's doing that while being Free. It isn't easy, it isn't hardly fair, but he's alive and he's free.
Personality: The easiest way to describe peter would be a child with every ounce of innocence beaten out of them. He was forced to grow up fast and has been deprived of even the barest minimum of intimacy and compassion, with no higher knowledge than that of a ten year old. However this isn't always a terribly thing.
Despite everything Peter was able to retain his sense of wonder. He would stand awestruck when he found a cluster of glowing fungus in the mines, or try to catch a small insect out of curiosity. Even now, the level of technology is mind boggling compared to what was around during the 70's and anything new he learns is another crazy miracle in his eyes. Ultimately his escape has installed an optimism that has been missing for a really long time.
Skills: Earthbreaker: part of Peter's duties under Burgentruckung was the excavation of his endless mines in search of coal, gems, and precious metals. Because of this he can spot the weaknesses in any stone structure with ease.
Bonecracker:A common danger in the mines are the many types of beasts that like to make their homes in the earth and, since no tools were given, Peter and those like him were forced to adopt a fighting style that involved blows that would cripple and agonize their foe.
Supernatural Powers: Compared to many other Changelings Peter is pretty tame. He is incredibly strong, even by Ogre standards, and his skin resistant all but the hottest flames. His sense of hearing and smell is highly developed, even his remaining eye is highly adapted to low light vision. However he does have one, more supernatural ability. When sufficiently angry Peter tends to catch on fire, a cloak of searing flames that does little harm to Peter but should he get his hands on you, well... hope you like the smell of bacon.
Weaknesses: -Ekrixphobia, or the fear of explosions. Anything louder than a small firework can set it off and every time it does he is ripped back to that ten year old boy, facing a wall of ash and fire. Peter begins to sweat, hyperventilate, and dry heave as he tries to run in the opposite direction of the blast. However he can also fly into primal rage, Fight taking over flight and discerning friend or foe becomes difficult in the haze though this is much more rare.
-Seeing jewels and precious metals inspire an intense desire to destroy them and Peter gets antsy when he can't act on it.
-Extreme light sensitivity, with bright lights giving him migraines and little to no vision.
Possessions: -Geraldine's Ring, a crude, tarnished gold ring that is the only exception to Peter's hatred of precious metals.
-Gargoyles, A pair of sunglasses that were given to him soon after he returned to Earth. They do a good job on hiding his facial scarring.
Other: Peter is basically illiterate, his ability to read having atrophied in the constant struggle in the Ogre pits. Though given some time he'll be able to pick it up again.
Technically Peter is dead, one of the 57 casualties of the Mount St. Helens eruption.
Her Mein form resembles the shape of a human, with willowy arms and legs that look too fragile for swimming. But built for swimming they are. Webbing links between her fingers and toes, aiding in moving through the water. Her legs are long, with fins on the outside of each calf. Her skin is white in color with hues of green and blue shimmering the length of her body. Patches of scales can be found on her hips, thighs and along her back. Her eyes are wide and lacking a pupil. They shine like a felines eyes would and a second eyelid lies behind the outer eyelid, to help protect her eyes from trying out. Out of the water or in it, she is agile and quick on her feet. The soles are tough so she could walk across rocks without batting an eye. Resting inside her mouth is a set of sharpened teeth. There is also a second set that pop down, curving inward like a sharks. The perfect instrument for latching onto prey and dragging it down in the dark depths.
Standing at a mere 5'0, Kairi's Mask resembles a petite and fragile woman. Short and silky white hair hangs to chin-length and deep blue eyes are set into an oval face. Her skin is pale, but with a healthy glow to her cheeks. Her preferred style of clothing are sweaters and skirts with leggings and occasionally shorts and jeans.
Kairi Monroe
21 | Born 1996
Female
Fairest
Courtless
From a young age, Kairi showed an exceptional talent for singing. What started as singing contests in school evolved into singing in musicals and eventually she was invited to sing on a stage. Her voice was enchanting, mesmerizing humans...and Fae...A passing Fae heard her voice and decided he wanted it all to himself. He stalked her for several weeks and one night, he made his move. She had been laying in bed that night and heard a beautiful sound. She wasn't sure if it was someone singing or playing an instrument but it had her climbing from her bed and padding towards the window. Small lights danced across the yard and being a young child, Kairi didn't hesitate to sneak down the stairs and slip out the back door. She danced around the lights and when they began moving towards the small wood that bordered the back of her house, she followed along. Once her feet crossed the line of shadows, the Fae grabbed the back of her nightgown and hauled her away through the Hedge. She was frightened, screaming and crying out for her parents as the sharp thorns tore at her skin and clothing. Eventually the pain made her black out and when she awoke, she was in a glass tank and her body was not how she remembered it. With her new body, she explored her prison. It was large, taking up one whole wall of the ballroom the tank resided in. It was large enough to swim several laps and had an assortment of coral and other rocks and sponges laid out in a sort of bed. It was several days after her capture that she saw her first glimpse of her captor.
He was tall and exceedingly beautiful. His hair spilled like moonlight down his back and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut fingers should any hand touch them. But it was his eyes that hide his darkness. They were a dark blue and filled with malice and greed. It sent shivers of fear down her spine when she meet his gaze. Those first few days he did nothing but stand in front of her tank and stare at her. She was fed fish, kept alive so she was forced to chase it around the tank and kill it. At first she refused, having never killed anything before but eventually hunger won out and she ate the freshly killed fish with tears flowing from her eyes into the water around her. Two weeks after she had been captured, the purpose for why he had kidnapped her was made apparent. Fae filled the room, all equally beautiful and dressed lavishly. They circled her tank, admiring her and praising her captor for such a rare find. Kairi tried to hide in the crevasses in the rocks but her captor would drop in fish with sharp teeth that nipped at her and chased her towards the glass. She was ordered from the tank and made to stand on a raised platform. He demanded she sing. When she didn't comply the first few times he demanded, he grabbed something sharp and prodded her with it, each time more aggressive than the last until finally she started to sing. Time slipped away and she wasn't sure if days, months, or years had passed. Her memories of her mortal life faded away but she clung to her name, whispering it to herself over and over again in the dead of night. She never learned her captors name and she never wanted to. He hosted many parties and at each one she was made to sing. Eventually she realized that she was no better than a trophy, an item for her captor to flaunt in the face of others. She could see the jealousy in their eyes each time they heard her songs.
After a time, she began to notice her songs take on a different quality. After she was put back into the tank one night after a party and after her captor had partaken more than his usual amount of alcohol, she felt the need to sing. Once she started, her song seemed to entrance her captor. His eyes turned glassy and he began walking towards her, body jerking like that of a puppet. He climbed to the top of the tank and practically fell inside. Once his body was submerged in the water, she struck with the swiftness of a shark. Her teeth latched onto his neck and his scream was a stream of bubbles that trailed to the surface. She tore at him with her teeth and didn't stop until his flailing subsided and his body bobbed lifelessly. She climbed from the tank, thankful that the servants had been sent to their sleeping quarters for the night. She grabbed a pack and piled in as much as she could carry before she took flight from the house. Guests at the parties loved to talk and they often spoke freely, as if they had forgotten she was there. So she knew where the nearest gate was and made her way there as silently as she could. She slipped through and back into the human world. Her human life had been forgotten and so she stumbled around for several days without a home. She had managed to snag from clothes in her flight from her prison so at least she wasn't walking around naked.
She wandered from place place, homeless shelter to homeless shelter. She managed to secure a job as a waitress and eventually made enough money to move in with another girl looking for a roommate. She never told anyone of her time in Arcadia and her lack of memory from her life before was explained away as amnesia. She eventually found a more secure job in a herbal shop. Her ability over plant-life helps aids her in recognizing which plant is which and helping keep them healthy. Her boss simply believes she has a green thumb.
Conversation was very hard to come by in Arcadia. In fact, if she wasn't singing, Kairi had been forbidden to speak. A long time living in silence weighs down on a person and Kairi found it very hard to break her silence when she came to the human world. At first, it took her several moments just to utter one sentence. Everyone thought her amnesia was to blame and her roommate had even suggested for Kairi to attend speech therapy. With practice, her words stopped sounding halted but Kairi still prefers to converse through gestures and her roommate, who is an interpretor, even taught Kairi sign language. And even if her time in Arcadia was behind her, it still left its marks on her. She is unable to attend parties, it dredges up too many flashbacks. The one party her roommate dragged her to resulted in Kairi having a panic attack. She's wary of shadows and she has a habit of moving around a room with her back constantly hovering by a wall. All she can really remember of her capture was that she had been grabbed from behind so she is very paranoid about facing her back to a door or open room or window. And even now, try as hard as she might to be human, if she is frightened or angry, an instinctual desire rises up inside her, a desire thats prompts her to latch down with her teeth and drag her victim down so she can tear at them to defend herself. She has done a good job so far at fighting this desire but it gets harder and harder to do each time.
~ Cooking. She is not nearly at the level of a five-star chief but she has enough skills to manage not to give herself food poisoning.
~ Swimming. Spending most of her remembered life in a tank had some advantages. She is an excellent swimmer and fairly speedy when in the water.
~ Drawing. She isn't Picasso but she finds that drawing her horrible time in Arcadia helps keeps the nightmares away. Her roommate has seen a few of her drawings and simply thinks that Kairi has an active imagination.
~ Siren's Song. Works best on human males. Greatly affects the weak-minded and mentally impaired (Such as drunkards).
~ Spell Song. Through the use of her voice, Kairi can sing spells that affect plant-life. Using a seed, she can make a flower grow with her voice.
~ Fire. It dries her skin out and makes it difficult for her to breath when she is too close to a fire.
~ Seafood. She absolutely refuses to go near them, dead or alive. Eating any results in her becoming physically ill.
~ If she loses her voice, is gagged/muffled, or subjected to any other means that affect her voice, then neither of her abilities will be very strong. Her Siren's Song will not work at all and her Spell Song will be very ineffective.
~ Her Siren's Song will not work if the person it is being directed at is deaf, has earplugs in, etc.
~ Her Spell Song needs to be specific. If the words are too broad in subject, the spell will backfire.
~ Driver's License
~ Sketch book and pencil case
~ A few pairs of clothes
~ A necklace made from iron
~ A small dagger made of iron that she keeps hidden on her person at all times
Alright. The sheets are in, and while everyone did some really great work, I unfortunately have had to make an executive decision about who gets a spot. @XxLyraxX and @Pathfinder, you're in, and with that we are unfortunately full. I very much appreciate the work that everyone else has put in, but sadly I promised myself I would only take five, and five is the number we are at.
IC will hopefully go up later tomorrow, or I guess it's technically today, but that's just because I stay up too late. I still need to finish rewriting my CS, the beginning of which I've posted, and then hopefully I'll be able to get us started.
I'm very excited to RP with you all, and I hope everyone has a fun time! Well, maybe not fun, because a lot of Changeling stuff is pretty fucked up, but you know what I mean.
Lol. Oh well, was working on my profile since I'm the first one to post, though I was slow to complete it, but guess it's already at capacity. But I gladly understand that a good story cannot have too many writers.
Btw watch out for the "omg my character cannot die, is so smart, so good at fighting so savvy so EVERYTHING" character. I've been around long enough to recognize a mary sue when I see one and nothing stinks up a good plot (which this is) like ol mary.
Hey @Sisyphus, something told me I'd exceed the deadline considering I stumbled into the RP a few days later than others, but since I spent the last couple of days working on the CS in between RL stuff, I figured I might as well submit it in the event there is an opening in the future (or you decide to add another) :)
Name: Bryn TreVayne
Age: b.1981, apparent age is 25 (retained when she was taken to Arcadia) but more likely in her mid-late thirties
Gender: Female
Seeming: Elemental (Woodblood) - crafted from the very essence of her mortal and Fae being.
Court: None at this time...
Appearance: Standing tall and lean at almost six-foot-one, Bryn’s Mask changed drastically from her shorter and thinner mortal self from whence she was pulled from years ago. She'd retained, for the most part, her identifiable facial features, light brown skin, and dreaded locks of dark hair that now seemed to be more on the wiry side from her “woodblood” Fae form. Very rarely, if at all, does she wear shoes, as they cause discomfort and possibly wounds, as though the very roots of her true nature scream out for freedom.
Her Mien, a literal “walking tree” of sorts, slightly taller in stature than the mortal shroud she now wore in her homeworld, with thick corded branches, vines, and various sweet smelling flora which adorned her feminine shaped frame. Her long hair, made of deep emerald vines twisted and contorted around her head and draped over her angled shoulders, slowly ripple independently or perhaps when certain emotions present themselves.
Until I can find a suitable image, I'll keep it to the description...
”Where words fail, music speaks”
The dark-haired girl stared intently at the quote scribbled along the top of the promotional poster hanging just outside the Boston Symphony Hall on Massachusetts Ave, that portrayed one of her favorite violinists. Not just a favorite, but a mentor of sorts, an inspiration and reminder of how much greater her talent would need to be in order to make it to the top one day. To be admired by others rather than simply passed by on the street like a nobody. Although contrary to these fleeting thoughts, Bryn was never much of a social person, nor did she enjoy being in any kind of spotlight. In fact, she hated it. Mostly self-taught, her musical talents were above average, and she found the violin to be a most pleasant instrument in her grasp, as each note and melody produced a vast mixture of emotions that she could relate to on many levels. In the grand scheme of things, however, the girl didn’t need to be on top, but rather sought affirmation that she hadn’t wasted her years plucking at the strings of a tool which didn’t produce some kind of enjoyment for herself, or for others. Bryn was still an artist, and the perfectionist side never seemed to allow her to move to the next level, no matter how hard she worked.
An artist had to eat, right? And so came the small venues here and there throughout Boston, as well as paintings she’d created in her spare time that connected to the music she wrote. Bryn made a decent living from the meager earnings her artist talents produced, and to an extent, she’d become content with the lifestyle and “romanticized” living of a young bohemian Boston-born artist. As time passed, she’d fallen in love and married, eventually had two kids, and did her best to carve out a life with a new family, all the while continuing to pursue a more lucrative musical career.
Yet, little did she know that on any given Saturday afternoon while taking her young children for a stroll through Boston Commons, her life would be drastically altered forever.
As she approached the large brick laden tunnel she’d crossed through dozens of times in the past, a young dark-haired woman about Bryn’s height and weight, barefoot and dressed in a flowy lavender sundress that looked strangely familiar, stood at the very opening. The stranger held in one hand a dark wood violin, encrusted with small shimmery gems, and in the other, a deep brown lacquered bow with a series of beads at the base. As Bryn approached, still pushing the doublewide stroller with her twin infant girls, she slowed her pace to a crawl, noticing for the first time that the woman’s facial features resembled her own! The stranger, void of any real expression, cocked her head slightly to one side and lifted the stringed instrument to her chin, where she began to play a low key and rather morbid sonata.
At first glance, Bryn was stunned, unable to vomit out a single word in protest, and certainly had no idea what was going on as this seemingly average “clone” continued to play a tune which held the young woman’s attention against her own free will. Was this a dream? A dream within a dream? Bryn hadn’t realized that time around her began to slow to a standstill and it was only her, the two children, and the other moving in real time. Curiosity took hold, as the music called to her, chiding her to approach the stranger. As she passed the front of the stroller, the girl noticed that both her kid were asleep, which hadn’t been an unusual occurrence during their afternoon walks. Her attention then pulled back toward the other until they were both within arms length, and the stranger ceased her playing, but rather holding the instrument out for Bryn to take, which she did without much hesitation to her own surprise. The violin felt heavenly within her grasp, a surge of excitement and wonder that she hadn’t felt in a long time surged through her, and she immediately closed her eyes and began playing music she’d never played before. Musical compositions that were on a level she’d never reached before, and yet there she was, playing them effortlessly and for that small moment in time, the world she’d been born into and raised up in was forgotten as the music enraptured her very being.
And then an abrupt push from the clone -the Fetch as is later realized- that plunges the girl into another realm altogether, with the last visions of her two sleeping children and their new “mother” at their side, smiling wryly and waving as the portal closes behind the now lost young woman...
An undetermined amount of time had passed, and even as Bryn opened her eyes from what seemed as though it were a long slumber, she was greeted by a lush and beautifully maintained garden, one of which seemed vaguely familiar. Even the scent that permeated throughout brought her joy and comfort, a place she hoped to never leave again. Her mind told her to rise up, as though she were actually laying down, yet it occurred to her that she was standing all along. Even moreso, the young woman felt as though she’d been here before...many times, in fact. Bryn tried to walk as she’d done every day of life, but she was stuck, rooted into one place and as her stiff neck turned and pivoted her head toward her legs, the realization struck her like a thousand blades to the heart. What replaced her lower body was the massive trunk of a tree, it’s roots spread in every direction, going deep into the ground to soak up the water and nutrients it offered. Her arms and hands, thick twisted branches and vines that took the shape of what was once human appendages of flesh and bone. Even what she could see of her upper body, was covered in bark and more corded and woven vines that made up the rest of her body. She brought a shaking limp up to her face, and without being able to see her own visage, knew that it was less than what it was, but still a shadow of it’s former self. She was what one would consider a Dryad from folklore, a hauntingly beautiful creature made up of an array of wood, thorny vines, various flowering plants, and the blackest of soil to bind it all together.
The girl wanted to scream in protest to whatever had happened, her mind raced and thoughts carried her back into time, countless years to the point of her first being pushed through the gateway and into the darkened Hedge. The massive Ogre who carried her nearly unconscious body through the thorny pathways into Arcadia, where he’d kept her for many days in a workshop full of sculptures made of every kind of element you could imagine. Bryn grew weaker as the days passed, still in her human form that slowly felt as though it were fading away, as though her flesh slipping away from the skeleton that held her up. The Ogre -her Keeper- had bled most of what was left in her body into a pot, adding it to the strange brew that was simmering day after day within the morbid workshop he considered his home. As the last vestiges of life drained away into whatever concoction the beast had, Bryn died, but only her body faded away. Her true essence, her soul if you will, carried on into the wooden golem that she now inhabited, its structure, once just a base design, twisted and formed into a closer image of what her mortal form had once been. Just more…tree-like.
Time passed, and the Ogre continued on with his new bondservant, treating her as less than equal but paying little attention to her other than being a mere tool for his trade or an exquisite “show piece” for his vast architectural landscapes and gardens. It was then, surprisingly, and after several years of hard labor, that the Ogre presented Bryn with a beautifully crafted violin that had a rich, deep red color soaked into the wood itself. The beast never forgot the girl’s true potential and gift of music, and he wished to take advantage of yet another aspect of the Changeling's rebirth into the land of Fae: Magic.
Learning to play this newly crafted instrument all over again as a reborn Woodblood was challenging but the girl was determined to bring back the one thing that truly kept her happy and at peace. She brought herself up to speed in no time, playing tunes she'd remembered from her mortality and learned new songs by simply listening to the environment all around her. The Ogre’s work flourished with each harmony, and many of his sculpted pieces came to life as a result of the magic that flowed through the red violin. The instrument was a part of Bryn, and she, a part of the instrument.
Forever inseparable. Or so she thought.
Many cycles later, in a fit of rage, the Ogre ripped the instrument from his slave’s grip in a single violent stroke, taking with it pieces of her wooden limbs that slowly regenerated. The violin body cracked, and strings broken away from the tuning bolts, an emotion erupted in the girl that has never been there before. Where fear and subjugation had been the dominant factor, they were quickly replaced by a heated anger that unleashed in a flurry of attacks against her keeper. The first of many, gouging the beast's eyes out with the sharpened ends of her fingers, causing the branches to grow and penetrate into the creature's brain matter until it reacted by swatting her arm away, snapping it in half and leaving the wooden shanks lodged in his head.
Bryn shrieked as she’d lost her forearm, but knowing full well it would regenerate with time, but at that moment she only wanted to flee and create as much distance between her and the Ogre as possible. So she scooped up the broken violin and ran, using the time that her Keeper was blinded and distracted to hide in the thick of the dark forests, a place she knew would allow her sanctuary, if even for a little while.
And so the two worlds collided once again.
Up ahead, canvassed by large trees and flanked by two pillars of layered stone and glass, a tall but narrow rip in the fabric of Arcadia revealed the mortal realm, a world where Bryn knew she'd belong to many years past. Slivers of memory came back as she gazed into the gateway, keeping focus on what lied beyond, and using what little she could remember about the portals to make a possible escape. At that moment, however, fear and doubt once again rose up and kept her petrified. She wanted to run, to escape the unknown years of slavery and reclaim what was once hers on the other side of the gateway. But what did await her? The girl could hear voices in the distance, and she'd realized that it was now or never to cross. With a deep breath and a renewed sense of purpose, Bryn bolted toward the portal and leapt through the narrow passage just before the glamour which held it open dissipated and the spot where the gateway appeared returned to its original state.
Most of what happened next seemed to be a blur, memories of the transition from Arcadia to the mortal world again hit her hard. Her body took on the Mask of a rather close approximation of her former self, but still different, with certain aspects of her true form, her Mien, seeping through the magical disguise she wore to protect her identity. She'd landed in a place that was foreign to her, a city that had never been her home before, and was far from where she'd started. What's more, she knew she had to escape to the mortal realm, yet she could not recall who or what she had prior to being taken all those years ago. Did she have family? Was there a home for her to go back to?
The basics of survival were still with her, and little by little, she discovered that the Fae magic coursed through her veins even in the strange new city. Her arm, the one damaged during her escape from the Ogre, formed properly but was still not fully functional, and felt weak compared to the rest of her body. A small price to pay she supposed, but hopefully something that could be rectified as her journey begins in New York City.
Personality: With the heart of an artist and the grace and temperament of one who allows classical music to influence her very being, Bryn does her best to keep the dread of her captivity at bay with the beauty and harmony created through her own musical works. Meditation and focus is also a significant part of her life that she kept from her mortal days, surrounding herself with the beauty of the outdoors as she allows her body to recharge. Due to her Fae nature, she also has an empathetic connection to the flora, sensing it’s own emotions, which in turn, influences her own well-being, whether good or bad.
Skills: Primarily a professional-level violinist and painting enthusiast, her magically imbued violin has a chance to animate objects and artwork that are otherwise inanimate.
Supernatural Powers: Redwood violin she plays -one carried over from Arcadia- is imbued with her own Fae & mortal blood, causing it's music to bring certain plant life, and to a certain degree, inanimate objects. Her skin is tougher than most, a sort of “bark skin” that will activate seamlessly when under duress as a defense mechanism. Empathic connection with flora, can feel their emotions, which can empower or perhaps disable her depending on the severity.
Weaknesses: Due to her nature, her Mask’s skin can become rather dry or cracked in appearance and she may become weakened physically and mentally unless she is properly hydrated with water throughout the day. Because of this drawback, Bryn has been known to spend time in areas that have a higher degree of moisture, especially during the colder, dryer months.
Note: Certain waters -whether bathed in or ingested- imbued with magical properties allow her to heal from wounds or general ailments at an accelerated rate.
Possessions: Violin, crafted from her own Fae blood, wood, and hair (bow string)
The IC is now live, and we are good to go! I know it looks like there aren't any posts, but that's because I did that 0th post thing. Trust me, it's there. Let me know if y'all have any questions, and happy posting!
Oh, and to answer whoever asked this earlier, yes, the other World of Darkness creatures do exist in this setting that we're using. We'll see whether or not they'll show up, but Vampires / Werewolves / Mages / Prometheans / Hunters / Demons do exist. Maybe Mummies and Beasts, too. We'll play it by ear.
@Sisyphus I don't think I'll be able to get a post up today or tomorrow. Maybe Monday or Tuesday. I'm exhausted from moving boxes over to the new house. And the movers never showed up today so tomorrow we have to move the furniture ourselves.
@Medjedovic My son is big and clumsy when nervous, lets keep this lighthearted feel go for as long as we can before we all start barfing up our trauma.
