Vin Kastral| 16 | Female | Feathered Ukanuq
"A story is not lost to the ages at a teller's last breath. It just needs to be rediscovered."
Vin is a feathered Ukanuq, and a mutt at that. She has a mixture of many different birds of prey in her genealogy, but the most dominant one would be that of a hawk which is mostly apparent in her facial structure and some parts of her body. Standing at a slightly below average, this feathered being is roughly 5'6" and weighs a mere 120lbs. Most of her body is covered in tan-esque orange feathers that blends into brown tips. And she has talons for feet.
On her head, the area starting just above and between her eyes and rolling back to her shoulder blades, and reaching around her collar is home to a segment of wildly varying lengths of feathers. These feathers keep the same color, but set themselves apart by being speckled with a pattern of quickly alternating hues of orange, white, and browns.
A collection of feathers juts from the sides of her head at controlled lengths forming what could be described as 'ears'. When in reality, they are just feathers similar to what can be found on some raptors. And finally, what many humans would often times describe as wings. Unlike actual wings, these do not cover Vin's arms, and has no substantial bone structure outside of the shoulder blades. Starting near the base of her neck, a cape of long and large feathers drapes down and will nearly brush the ground when she walks. They are layered, shorter ones on top, the longer ones on bottom.
The final main feature of her body is a break in the feathers at the front base of her neck. There is a visible line where the cover of feathers had been disrupted, but not badly enough to reveal skin without moving them. If one were to move the feathers, they would reveal the scarred tissue of a life threatening injury that had turned Vin mute.
And even though a Ukanuq was once an animal, they have ascended high enough to understand modesty. Even if a feathered Ukanuq often has very little on display when naked.
Vin wears a dark ashen blue wrapping on her head that keeps the wild arrangement of feathers to lay down a bit and forced backwards. And a matching cloak draped around her shoulders. It features an amount of excess cloth building up around the neck to help hide the scar, and to give her a bit more utility out of it when needed.
She does not wear much in the way of protection. She wears a pair of leather bracers and a vest on her torso. The vest is a mix of soft and hardened segments. And features plates that only protects her chest. Covering her lower body is a pair of sturdy brown trousers. And finally a pair of gloves.
First A drifter, and now a fighter for the Vigil ; Vin was born to one of the few tribes that willing inhabits the Shattered Plains. Her father, died sometime during her mother’s pregnancy. Her mother, Reeva, is a noteworthy and graceful hunter among the tribe. She was often described to make the act of killing another creature look beautiful as she danced, pranced, and pirouetted through the hunting grounds while letting loose a volley of arrows. So much so… that it is said that her large pet, a dire fang, was there to simply contrast and balance her out with the creature’s natural brutality. The only time a creature had cried during her hunts, was when she allowed her pet the kill instead. It was a great surprise when her child, Vin, inherited so little of her mother’s talent for the hunt.
In fact, Vin was possibly the worst hunter in the tribe. While she did inherit her mother’s grace and acrobatic skill. None of her skills with a bow, tracking, or stealth had actually been passed on. Where her mother could pin a human to a wall by his ear with a single arrow, Vin could barely manage to keep an arrow flying without it tumbling through the air, much less stay on path. But, there was one major defining trait that she had picked up from her mother, which kept her completely from falling in her shadow. She was a deadly killer. Not in the sense of a hunter, but a warrior. Her natural talent for combat matched her mothers perfectly, but in the form of a sword and unarmed combat rather than a bow and arrow.
While under training during her adolescent years, she helped fight off raiding tribes from outside the small community of the Shattered Plains. Garnering an amount of combat experience, and a sense of curiosity for the outside world. When she tagged along her mother’s patrols towards the more dangerous places of the ruins hidden inside the plateaus, she would often find herself lost in wonder as she observed little momentous of the past. Skeletons littering the floor all held their own little stories. The way they fell, their dying position, what they held in their hands… all spoke wonders of what may have happened, or the functions of particular curiosities. Some, as her mother explained, even gave hints and clues to locations the tribe people may not have found otherwise.
This interest soon lead her into joining The Paths of the Scholar. A way of life that pursues knowledge and relics to expand the collection in the archives. The Way of the Drifter was right up her ally. Despite the dangerous, glory-less, arduous, and lonely journey a Drifter is often left with – it makes up with it by the sense of discovery and the thrill of the journey alone to the tribesman that takes up the way of life. And once Vin was near adulthood, she left home with the blessings and the wishes of good luck from her mother.
She traveled for many months, to a few years. Her journey took her too many locations, while suffering just as many violent waylays. Many of which had been well traveled paths. Some maybe only seeing a wayward vagabond or two trying to escape the dangers of the night. And with each place she stopped by, she took her time exploring and recording and downloading information on the Datapad that is given to Drifters for their journey. Eventually, her journey took her to the Rust Sea.
If you were to take three parts of violent racial tension, two parts of dog-eat-dog slums, and one part tetanus pit, and a dash of abduction to slavery and mix it into one big geographical bowl, you’d get a recipe for mean as hell. And that, is what the Rust Sea is to those who knew it well. To outsiders however, not much is known outside of rumors. And many of which is often taken with a grain of salt by those who lived in harsh climates.
Needless to say it was a major mistake for Vin to stay while being completely unware of just how dangerous such a place can be to a naïve tribesman. The Rust Sea had shown a level of aggression and desperation that Vin has never seen before, but she had thought nothing of it. Many of her aggressors were down right pitiful, why would she worry? They’d turn tail and run when she lashed at them with a sword, a fresh wound somewhere on their body. Those that didn’t would fall to the earth and go still, the telltale signs of handiwork often being a limb that was removed or badly damaged in combat before the killing blow.
Her success in the Rust Sea had blinded her from the possibility of the worst happening. And when it crept up on her, the stormy weather had caught her cold. Her stay had inside the depths of the Rust Sea had extended to at least two weeks before she was ambushed by a group of humans. A glance at their clothing, the shit-eating grins they wore, the tools they carried, and hunger in their eyes… they were most definitely Slavers.
They had presented her with an Ultimatum. Surrender and submit, and she gets to live. The other wasn’t spoken… but obviously the stakes were high if she did not accept the first option.
She had heard stories of these kind of people. And no matter which option she took, accepting a collar or death, neither one would be the most immediate results. No… the time between now and then could easily be the worst hours of anyone’s life. Not one to accept a collar, and not one to die so easily – Vin had denied those demands and instead chose to stand her ground.
The fight began, and it was certainly not going very well for Vin. It was not for the lack of skill, but simply for the fact of a number’s advantage and better knowledge of the area. Vin is no fool. She knew it would be a death sentence to fight them all at once, and even worse to get surrounded. She used every little trick she could to try and cull off their numbers. Running and immediately turning to fight the individual who had caught up to her alone. Shoving people off of cliffs. And all around being a nuisance. But it wasn’t enough. And she had taken many injuries in the process. Both from the persuer’s weapons, and from the multiple deep cuts from jagged strips of metal that littered the Rust Sea.
The collective severity of her wounds, and exhaustion soon caught up to her. She began to move sluggishly, and eventually a single trip was the final nail in the coffin. When she struck the ground, she could hardly push herself back up to her feet. This was all that was needed to overcome her.
And like those stories told, before the kiss of the executioner’s blade came the chains that defined what sort of ‘mercy’ awaited. She struggled and kicked to try and get away. But one final act of defiance, grabbing a piece of slag metal with her talons and kicking it into their leader’s face, had immediately earned her a knife being slammed down into her throat.
Lying in a pool of blood, the avian kicked, thrashed, and writhed in agony. A mix of fear, bewilderment, and rage filled her head as her energy began to flee from her. When her body grew still, she stared off into the distance clinging desperately onto her consciousness. Things finally went dark when she saw a shadow loom over.
A few days later, she regained consciousness and found herself in an unfamiliar location. Her throat hurt as much as it did then, but a brush with her fingers revealed that she had been patched up. She kept her life at the cost of her voice, and to a heart crushing realization… her identity as a Drifter when she found that the Datapad had been ruined.
When she made a full recovery, she sought out the rabbit again.. and began to follow him despite his desires. To her… there was a mixed bag of feelings. Mostly debt, but other good hearted things as well. When her companion ship was finally accepted, they had eventually joined the Vigil together.
Close Combat: Back when she was with her tribe, she was trained like many feathered ones to be an avid hunter, and a fearsome killer when it counts. Maybe not in Vin's case. While hunting and archery stuck to her as poorly as glue does to something covered in flour... sword play, unarmed combat, and just general all out aggression was practically second nature to her. And when it comes to fighting, she strongly desires to just
GET IN THERE! Well, contrary to her fast pace in and out fighting style.
Cooking: Even the feathered ones, whom are colloquially known as murder birds, have some softer traits to them. Well, maybe a few of them do. And if it's only a small number, Vin is in that group. After leaving her tribe to pursue her own agenda, and eventually entering a companionship with Irving Whitepaw, she began to look into other skill sets that she would enjoy. Cooking happened to be one of them. At first she was horrible. She could burn a salad, make meat as hard as a rock, burn dough before it could become bread, and some how make soup that was more toxic than cyanide (figuratively speaking on the last bit.) But over time she grew more skilled... and now she can make some interesting dishes without proper materials.
Lore: The reason why she left her tribe alone to become a drifter. She absolutely adores history, past beliefs, lore, and technology. She has developed a second nature to sniff out the story of a scene in derelicts in ruins, from skeletons, discovered notes, logs, and nearby structures. This little skill even helps her find some interesting tech, as a story can often times lead to discovery.
Perception: Not much can escape the eyes of a raptor. Unless it happens to be dark. Then well... she's blind as a deaf bat.
Hardlight Modeling: Spending years using hard-light both as a weapon, and a means to communicate eventually resulted in Vin having a near second nature of shaping things from imagination quickly while using hard light. This skill is mostly used as a form of communication by quickly projecting symbols and images into the air.
Hard light Projectors Lvl III: Salvaged and prepped by Irving Whitepaw, these are small little circular RGB hard light projectors that lines her clothing. The main input device is clipped inside the feathers on her head, and further hidden under the head wraps. The input device reads the user's brain waves and transmit them to the projectors. These projectors form and solidifies a creation based on this input. This device is virtually Vin's only means of communication. In a pinch, it can be used as armor... but due to the brittle nature of phase hard-light it's often a last ditch method to quickly form a plate and soften a devastating blow by letting it shatter and disperse some or most of the energy. However, the creations can be used to produce some simple tools that can perform as long as there is enough structure to it, and the labor is not too rigorous for the material.
Hard-light Sword Lvl III: A militarized use of hard light technology, the hard-light sword is just that. A sword made of hard-light. The blades handle is the actual projector and proves to be quite heavy and durable for its size. The handle is capable of supporting a one and a half hand grip. When activated, the projector creates the blade and guard proper. The blade is durable.. and absurdly sharp. However, steel has one benefit over a hard light blade. It is softer. That is to say that while the hard-light blade is very hard, it is also brittle when compared to steel. Too much stress on the flat of the projection can result in the projection 'shattering'. Steel would simply bend a bit or catch the offender if it was cut into. After the blade shatters, the user is required to re-project the sword. Thus it is more beneficial if the user avoided blade to blade contact by dodging, or minimizing it by parrying. This problem doesn't seem to be too much of an issue on the edges of the blade, the hilt, or a thrust. However, the threat is still there.
Feathered One's Dagger: A dagger that acts as Vin's tribe's diploma for completing their training as hunters. The dagger is actually a durable seven inch drop-point knife. A ring is shaped into the blade's edge at the base, and is large enough to allow a finger or two inside. Half of the ring extends past the edge and remains flat. The pummel of the knife is a small but thick ring. And finally a feather is etched into the side of the blade. On the handle is a red wrap, which symbolizes that the owner is martially talented. And hanging from the pummel ring are a few charms. One from her mother, Reeva - a small charm fashioned out of a fang of a large creature she had slain. And another which symbolized "Pluck", meaning "Keep what you take, earn what you keep." And lastly, one charm to show that she had chosen to follow the path of the 'Drifter' - one who seeks, collects, and protects the past.
Broken Drifter's Datapad: While classified as level 3 technology. It's been reduced to a completely inoperable disaster in the ambush that had nearly stolen Vin's life. It contains data and lore from many months of exploring. Without the proper parts and tools to repair it, it's not worth much more than a glorified paper weight or an object to chunk into someone's face. In other words... just junk. But to her... it is still something worth dying over when there is just barely a fraction of a chance to fix it.
Despite her small size and stature, Vin is a woman that eats and loves her food. You might look at the food in front of her and think that she's being wasteful. Then you'll find yourself staring in awe or horror as she's able to put it all away with minimum effort. It is a wonder how she weighs so little.
She's also a bit of a shit-talker in combat. That has not changed even after she has gone mute.
While Vin isn't very discriminating on the outside. The loss of her voice has made her more on-edge near other races when alone. Part of it is due to the dramatizing experience of human hatred and what would have happened before she was stabbed. And part of it is now due to the inability to make a sound that would likely draw attention. Frequent suspicious activity will make her nervous, and likely to cut someone down immediately if they make a move she does not like.
Shattered Plains
A wild area to the south of the Ventari Expanse. It is a land where the earth begins to rise up and break apart into a massive cluster of plateaus. The gaps between them are large and massive, and any bridges placed are mostly temporary. This land is called the Shattered Planes, and it suffers a regular, yet predictable cycle of super storms. High Storms, as what the local tribes call it, produce severe winds that can sweep away anything that is not secured to the ground, and harsh rains that can pulverize a living creature's bones to dust. Whats more is that internal tunnels and the gorges between plateaus will flood during these times and create dangerous rapids. Fortunately, these storms only appear two to three times a month best.
Strangely, while the geology of the plains is natural - it does have a foundation it was built from. It turns out that the entirety of the shattered plains holds a ruined city within it. Virtually all of the skyscrapers and buildings, collapsed, listing, or other wise are hidden within the plateaus built up from years of rapid erosion and deposition.
There are a few tribes around the area, and they have formed together to build a small but spread out community. One particular tribe is located near a source of history more ancient than what is currently seen. A source of old lore, books, and data banks... as well as relics from a much more distant past. This location is just called "The Archives" and has sprouted a new optional practice within the community. "The Way of the Scholar", is the best translation of the Ukanuqian language.
This practice has three major Branches.
"The Path of the Drifter" Often described to be a lonely, and dangerous life. Few take up the mantle, and glory would not be one of the reasons to do so. These are tribals whom travel and seek out, and collect new additions to add to the collection. They are often provided a datapad to collect lore to be eventually given to the Archives, and will fiercely defend it with their lives. While losing it is only seen as a set back, the owner will often be left dismayed.
"The Path of Librarian" which is a way of life where a tribal takes up the mantel of being a scholar. New and old discoveries are studied by librarians, who records their thoughts, theories, and beliefs.
"The Path of the Custodian" Plainly put, the guardians of the archives. Not only do they care for and maintain the archives, but they will fiercely defend it with their lives. And no mercy will be shown for those who dare threaten the sanctity of the archives.
