[CHAR] Reborn: Coming of Calamity

[ERode]

_{5'5 ✠ 111 lbs ✠ Human ✠ Female}

φҽɾʂօղąӀìէվ

Ahmya is a nice girl. What more is there to say? She's a nice girl who never had anything that'd develop something cynical or cold-hearted in her, nor anything to inspire ferocity and ambition. Beloved in her childhood and free from bullying in her school years, she grew up content, with no real need to wish for too much. Her childhood dream was that of marriage to a handsome prince. Her youthful goals was stress-free office work that could provide a decent income. Perhaps a bit on the side of a realist, Ahmya always understood that she was better as a follower than a leader, and doesn't really want to be troubled with difficult, intense, or dangerous things. She finds it hard to get into competitions as well, though sometimes a sufficiently cute reward would bait her into getting into that sorta stuff. Cute things are nice, after all, from little dogs to fat cats to pretty bouquets to fancy little cakes. Even Ahmya can work up the will to step out of her comfort zone if her Cuteness Meter is filled up.

Not, of course, that it helps her at all in actually performing well.

Ⱥքքҽąɾąղçҽ

Ahmya is beautiful. Not in her proportions or her face, nor in how she dresses or acts. Rather, it is the purity of her soul that shines so brilliantly, enough so that her mere presence is soothing to others. Her movements are average, her height is average, her physical assets are average, but still, an innate charisma is present in her poise, in how her smile is at times helpless and hopeful, in how she treats everything as if they were as fragile as glass. Her vulnerability is clear, her selflessness present in each thoughtful movement. That is how she shines, in a world that seeks to snuff her out.

That is how she burns, in a world so lightless, so dreadful.

βӀҽʂʂìղց | Ͳհҽ Ɛʍքվɾҽąղ Ⱥɾҍìէҽɾ

The Mantle of the Saint, the Crown of the Pure Soul, the Vestements of Divine Mandate.

The Blessing of the Empyrean Arbiter is one that grants many boons, all rolled together to serve the function of a highly proficient supporter. Proof of this Blessing is founded in the Banner of Conquest, a metaphysical relic that the Arbiter's Blessed is able to call forth at will. Upon manifestation, various gifts are granted, such as a massive capacity for mana, resistance to all magical attacks outside of those of a divine or demonic nature, immunity to any negative magical effects, proficiency and knowledge of the demonic, the ability to speak the Universal Language, as well as access to a variety of abilities, many of which have yet to be unlocked. Below are the two that Ahmya starts with.

Sէìցʍąէą

The Arbiter can inscribe an emblem upon willing targets, setting them as an ‘Ally’. Once inscribed, Allies can telepathically communicate with each other, sharing all five senses when necessary, and their locations are always known by the Arbiter, barring anti-divination abilities or other indirect methods of interference. The more active Stigmatas are inscribed, the more quickly the Arbiter grows in strength.

Sąղçէմʍ

By planting the Banner of Conquest into the ground, the Arbiter can consecrate and isolate an area of her choosing, creating a battlefield where escape through physical means is impossible. In this quarantined arena, the Arbiter can teleport Allies to any location within, instinctively understand their physical, mental, and spiritual state, as well as improve their physical and magical state by draining her own health and mana. Furthermore, status effects can be transferred from Allies onto the Arbiter as well. Healing spells that would normally require physical contact can be performed onto Allies regardless of distance, while Buffing spells that are normally single-target can affect all Allies simultaneously.

ȺҍìӀìէìҽʂ

If all things go well, Ahmya will never have to be physically challenged. Currently, she looks about as strong as she is, which is to say she's weak.

Ɱąցìç

A variety of passive effects manifest from her magic, the boon of an otherworldly force. Ahmya has incredible health and mana regeneration, to the point where it’d be hard to kill her without instantly crushing her head, as well as a smattering of supportive spells, offering buffs and barrier creation in normal circumstances.

Ɛզմìքʍҽղէ

Ahmya wears holy vestments, woven of fabrics tough enough to dissuade the sharpened blade, dispel magics cast by a foul heart, and shelter her from the duresses of the environment. Unfortunately for the last part, her clothes aren't so modest as to make such protection from nature truly effective.

Ahmya does not carry any weapons.

[Cu Chulainn]

The Very Blessed

Name: Cinder Chaisum

Race: Human

Personality: A warm young man whose life is dedicated to the hospitality of others, Cinder just couldn't help himself when it comes to offering his hand wherever aide is needed. While he treats everyone with a degree of warmth, it's those he truly considers "friends" that he would do anything for. Another one of Cinder's notable traits is his strong belief in the good nature of others, as he believes that even those of wicked hearts deserve kindness. This optimism isn't blind however, as Cinder has learned that such rotten people are capable of doing dastardly things in his past life. Still, this doesn't stop Cinder from looking for any redeeming qualities of even the most lowly of beings, as he's always looking to nurture and forgive such people.

Appearance: Cinder is a slim, somewhat athletic youth standing at 5'4". The cleric speaks with a high, boyish tone and always sports an eager look on his face no matter what he's doing. He dresses rather modestly as he believes in function over form. The best way to describe Cinder's fashion sense would be akin to the sort of person in an RPG who wears the best gear at hand despite the different components all coming from different sets. Still, the rainbow of colors he tends to wear only add volume to Cinder's vibrant nature.

Blessings:

「Beast Authority」

A divine gift that grants control over a fixed number of entities classified as "monsters" or "beasts". Taking the shape of a belt containing three crystalline orbs (referred to unofficially as Crystronic Creature Container, or "CCC"), this blessing allows its wielder to capture beasts, trapping them within the orb and keeping them in a state of semi-permanent stasis. Capturing beasts depends largely on the target's power level, with stronger monsters needing to be severely weakened before a successful capture can be performed. A beast's ego can also affect the capture rate, as beasts with intelligence levels comparable to a human are much harder to capture.

Once captured, a contract is made between the monster and the wielder, granting the wielder a form of control over the captured beast. Until the contract is broken, the beast is forced to follow the wielder's orders. However, beasts with stronger egos are able to resist this control somewhat. A form of understanding must be reached in order for a monster to follow the wielder's direction more accurately. As such, the true strength of this blessing comes from the wielder's relationship with their captured monsters

The blessing raises the beast's existence into more idealized form of itself. In most cases, it simply allows the beast to thrive better in combat. Even abilities that are once thought impossible to normal variations of these monsters becomes achievable through the use of this blessing, though the strength of these new abilities depends solely on the beast's bond with the wielder. If the friendship between the wielder and the captured monster is especially strong, "evolution" may occur. A creature may evolve multiple times, but monsters that are already strong (being closer to their idealized form) are less capable of achieving evolution.

Abilities: Despite having a sword, Cinder's combat ability can be compared to a common foot-soldier due to his training as a cleric. He is especially trained in maneuvering through the chaos of a battlefield in order to provide healing to his allies. That said, Cinder sports the physique of a standard human of this world, if not one accustomed to traveling across vast distances.

Magic: As a cleric to the Goddess of Hearth, Family, and Community, Cinder has access to various protective and supportive magics. One such spell creates a magical ward that protects a target from hostile creatures so long as they don't perform hostile actions themselves. Cinder is also capable of casting rituals that can aide his allies in travel, such as cooking up feasts and warming bedrolls.

Equipment: Cinder is currently equipped with a standard longsword for protection. He also wears a set of adventurer's clothes of various elemental resistances designed for traveling through many environments as well as the holy symbol of his goddess pinned to a bandolier, much like a badge or patch.

[Yankee]

Orsender the Oni

Name: Oli- Orsender
Race: Oni
Gender: Male

Personality:
"Orsen" is rough, a little rude, and wants nothing more to test the limits of his body in all things. Eating, fighting, sex - it may as well all be new to him. He doesn't trust easily and tends to keep to himself - or at least, that's what he was like. Now, having been reborn, he has grown a little haughty and believes he was personally given a second life by God, Satan, or whatever. He could go anywhere, do anything, be himself... sort of. He definitely wasn't an oni in his prior life. Still, he feels free and wants to revel in his new freedom. The rebirth has made him ecstatic about being alive again, when once he could barely stand it. Although he is still mostly rough around the edges when it comes to social interaction and trust in others, he may yet learn something of it during this journey.

Appearance:
Standing at an imposing 6 foot 8 inches (210 cm), Orsender is a a mass of muscle with a fluffy, über-soft mop of silver hair on his head. He is an oni, and he does have a single horn that matches his grayish skin color on his forehead where his hairline begins - but it is tiny and usually well covered by his hair. He won't tell you his weight, because that is apparently rude. His shoe size is beyond human you know what that means. He usually wears loose fitting clothes, making it hard to tell how ripped his new body is. It is very ripped. His voice is a deep baritone and his eyes are bright and alive with youthful hope, despite his menacing appearance. When he smiles, sharp fangs can be seen. Actually, he's kind of handsome...?

Backstory:

Hider

"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know?"

Blessings:

「Demonic Overcoat」

The power bestowed upon Orsender when he was reborn, operating under the assumption that some dark God willed him back to life. The Overcoat takes the form of a black magic aura that enshrouds Orsen completely in a psuedo-cocoon. It takes a few moments to activate once the cocoon is formed, and the shell can be broken by a particularly strong magical attack, but if left alone then Orsen will come bursting out with an extreme power boost. The dark magic puffs his body up even larger than it already is, mana courses through his bulging veins and powering up his physical strength to titanic heights. His speed is much improved due to the pure leg muscles enhanced with magic. Even his thinking process speeds up as his brain is wrapped in a demonic aura. Physically, he doesn't change much at first. The longer he 'wears' the Overcoat, the better chance there is for it to change his body. All the changes are temporary, but are very physical while the coat is active. If he needs to reach a flying enemy, he will grow wings. If he needs to dive beneath the water, he'll grow gills. He can grow tails, extra arms, larger fangs, spikes, magic-resistant scales, etc. His small oni horn also grows in length the longer the coat is active, and serves as a timer. Since the dark aura wraps around his brain, prolonged use of the blessing can lead to permanent damage. At a certain point of prolonged use, Orsen will be unable to deactivate the Overcoat himself - in that case, knocking him out will end it's effects immediately.

Abilities:
Orsender is a man with little besides the merits of his body. His arms and legs are adorned with sturdy armor, as they are his main weapons. He does have a sword - or at least, he came to with a sword nearby - but he doesn't seem to be trained to use it all that well. He uses it more like an axe or club, just wildly swinging. Still, the force of one of his swings is enough to cleave right through most mortals' bodies. His strength is devastating. He prefers using his arms to swat, punch and grapple opponents. Particularly, he has a mighty choke hold he loves to employ. Despite his titan like strength and physique, he can be a little squeamish around gore - another reason he mostly prefers hand-to-hand combat.

Magic:
Orsen is not very skilled in the ways of magic, despite his blessing being entirely magic-based. The most he can do is conjure a dark flame with the snap of his fingers - and it offers less light than a normal torch so it doesn't have much uses besides lighting a quick camp fire.

Equipment:
+ Steel bracers, grieves and boots. Intricately carved with an unknown language. Decipherable? Perhaps. Not by Orsen though.
+ A steel sword of similar make, also similarly inscribed. It is extremely heavy, but Orsen can wield it with ease.
+ Standard, loose fitting traveling clothes and scarf.

Bonus Info//memory

- Orsender has an understanding of his tribe's dialect. While the dialects of the Oni are similar, they are nonetheless fragmented enough to cause difficulties. Still, enough remains to hold a conversation with most Oni. He is also able to speak and understand most of the common human tongue.
- Despite being unable to recall any specifics, the means of which to survive in the woods are second nature to Orsender. Even if he can't recall the names, he is still able to identify the usage of woodland plants and survivalism comes second nature to him.
- Orsender can only understand a single symbol on his blade: return.

A Shattered Tribe

The rustling of summer grass. The cool hymn of night winds punctuated by steps crushing the underbrush. The sounds of nature were corrupted by that indelible cracking. It wasn't like the breaking of wood or bone. The only way to describe it was different. No one was meant to hear this sound.

"[Mother,]" you whispered from behind a fallen tree, your childish voice quivering. The steps stopped. Quickly, you hushed yourself with your small hands covering your mouth. Your eyes shut as hard as you could force them. That brutal cracking increased, rushing towards your small figure. Silence. You could only hear the sounds of a summer night. Was it safe now? Was it fine? You slowly opened one eye. Both quickly shot open. All of the color of the figure before you had been drained out. Its eyes had been gouged out, only to be replaced by an oozing black. Its neck stretched across the trunk to stare at you. Deep cracks penetrated its skin as though it was a shattered clay pot. It was mother.

Quickly, you shot up from your slumber. The fur blankets that had covered you had been thrown across the yurt. Frigid air washed over your skin as your hands reached to hold your head. You struggled to catch your breath. It was that dream again. It felt like it appeared every other day. Not a week went by that you could enjoy sleep because of it. A familiar womanly voice interrupted the night's silence.

"D▊d ▊ou s▊ee▊ w▊ll?" She said. A tall figure wearing thick furs entered your tent. She wasn't like you. She was hornless. Her face was sympathetic towards your night terrors, as usual. It was ▊▊▊▊▊▊. Her sword was still safely sheathed on her hip. Really, why did she still carry that sword around with her? There wasn't anything up there with you, save for goats, bears, and evergreens. Ah... But wasn't it ceremonial? She taught you those words inscribed on her blade. ▊▊▊▊▊▊ ▊▊▊ ▊▊▊▊▊ ▊▊ ▊▊▊▊▊▊▊ return. With a chuckle, she opened the flap of your tent.

"▊ea▊▊iful, i▊ it no▊?"

Bright green lights danced in the air, concealing the stars that they covered. Like a river in the sky, it gently flowed high above the mountains. This was her home, but she didn't think about it that way.

She always called it "our home".

[Haha]

ᴬ ᴺ ᴺ ᴬ ᴸ ᴱ ᴱ

____________________________

𝙂 𝙚 𝙣 𝙚 𝙧 𝙖 𝙡 𝙄 𝙣 𝙛 𝙤

𝙍 𝙖 𝙘 𝙚 — 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛-𝘿𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙛

𝙋 𝙚 𝙧 𝙨 𝙤 𝙣 𝙖 𝙡 𝙞 𝙩 𝙮 — ^{Nal is a difficult girl. Since an early age she has been known to have a domineering personality, often being called bossy or oppressive. It could be said that she is overwhelming, her strong personality struggled to blend well with others and more often than not she would take offense when those around her would try to pry that power from her cold-hearted hands. Yes, she is a control freak, in every sense of the word - perhaps it was a complex developed early in life, or maybe she was born this way, but regardless of the reason she just needs to have some hand in everything that affects her. She does not go with the flow, she spits in the flow’s face and tells it to rot in the pits of Gehenna for all she cared! Anyway, she is also quite knowledgable - not genius level intellect but she graduated with high marks, and even got a full tuition scholarship right out of high school. Her passions lied in writing more than anything, and wished to be journalist before her untimely death.}

𝙃 𝙚 𝙧 𝙎 𝙩 𝙤 𝙧 𝙮 —

Text Wall

<sup>Ah, Miami - enough sunlight to afflict an entire population with a health case of silliness cancer. It’s also known for its lively areas full of clubs, the bustling street life, beautiful beaches, great food, and lastly but of the most importance to you the reader “the crime”. Annalee was born in West End, which, was by no means an area filled with gang violence and drug deals like some other areas - but it was an area with money. Nal’s father was a Vietnamese Chef by trade, not a pseudo-chef, that hard working man went to culinary school late and everything. He wasn’t famous, but he made a name for himself in the area, and his restaurant “Pho-netic” even had a few articles written about it to some decent recognition. Papa was smart and took full advantage of the spotlight and marketed his restaurant well, targeted mostly the younger demographic by putting things like Gamecubes inside the restaurant.

Nal loved her dad, she loved her mom too - but her dad was such a cool and memorable character in her life that he really stood out way more. He pushed her since a young age to do her best and never settle, which he intended to be more of driving force for his daughter’s success but really it just gave her anxiety. Like two anvils placed upon each shoulder, Nal felt the weight of expectations, though most of that load was created by her own psyche - she still cracked a bit under this pressure and it turned the girl bitter towards any who she deemed would drag her down. She remembered how happy her father was when being interviewed by reporters and panelists, and even though they just wanted information on his establishment they made sure to positively embellish their trip every time. One lied about how long it took papa to prepare the broth for the Pho, one said that he was born in Hanoi. But nonetheless, he enjoyed the attention and the publicity they offered his establishment.

Nal’s dream throughout her school life was to become like those people, strangely, and she would strive for that goal without anyone’s influence or opinion drawing her away. She even developed a complex on interviewing people, which in her high school would be hated by many. She was nosy, controlling, and annoyingly persistent, which in combination with her front in the school newspaper, was a recipe for disaster at her school. She wasn’t quite “bullied” rather, she was a useful asset that could be used when people needed help - you would simply need to extinguish all control to her during a school project and she would happily take the full brunt of work upon herself or delegate you when needed. But she was outcasted, never invited to social gatherings, and often forgotten by many despite her contributions to the school itself. It wasn’t til after high school that her life would take a dark turn. It was a cold February day ~ everywhere else on the planet except Florida. Nal had been walking home from college since it was only a thirty-to-forty minute trip on foot. On her way she would bump into an old classmate clad in a black hoodie, pants, and some off-white shoes. Thinking nothing of the interaction she made small talk with the former acquainted before continuing on her way - which, I said she was bright but the young man’s demeanor did not tip the naive Nal’s self preservation off in the slightest. He held a grudge about something, staked her down in the dark, and stabbed her in the light and left her to die. What a quick - uneventful death.</sup>

𝙋 𝙝 𝙮 𝙨 𝙞 𝙘 𝙖 𝙡 𝙏 𝙧 𝙖 𝙞 𝙩 𝙨 — ^{Annalee does not remember being this short in her past life, she stands at a lowly 4’6” and she doesn’t think there’s any time left to grow in this body. Her figure is petite but not childish, or not too childish it seems. Complexion and facial structure would be a creamy peach skin tone upon a feminine face that is quite rounded and cute with pinkish cheeks and button nose. She’s seemingly human, but also has traces of dwarven DNA running through her it seems by her size and sturdiness. But luckily, that human face remained cute - refined - no wait that’s just a facade she’s definitely unhinged. But she holds herself with dignity, her light-brown hair is neatly brushed and a service hat is tautly places stop her head. She wears a cute little uniform getup in shades of red-purple shades and white. Along with this outfit is silky white gloves neatly placed upon her hands, which she fixes and readjusts all the time - she never wore gloves before this reincarnation thing. Also, strapped at her waist is a book on each side, one is black and ruined and looks pretty edgy - the other is a simple brown leather tome with a purple gem fashioned to its face.}

____________________________

𝘼𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 & 𝙄𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮

ʙ ʟ ᴇ s s ɪ ɴ ɢ — ^{The Book of Belial}

Master of Lies

Structure • The fundamentals of this tome’s abilities lies within the art of deception. Once held by the demon lord dubbed “The Grand Deceiver” it is capable of the highest tiers of illusory magic unseen and unheard of for generations. What this entails is complete control over one’s perception upon the object the spell has targeted, limited purely by the users mana factoring into the duration in which it lasts. The true strength of the Blessing lies in the difficult to detect its deception, even some of greatest mages throughout the kingdoms would be fooled by the Deceiver’s lies, though high-tier users of old magic may be able to sense something amuck.

Practicality • While it is the blessing endowed upon her by the entity that brought Nal to this world, that does not mean that this gift can be used thoughtlessly. Nal was brought into this setting with decent mana reserves within her body - but she is not some ungodly bank of mana that others may be. The Book fo Belial is incredibly taxing on her to utilize, and as such - it is only to be used in emergencies or predicaments in which Nal feels the need to whip out her trump card is absolutely necessary. The Book of Belial does indeed hold a number of other spells that she can not yet read or utilize like שתיקה, and שכל נפש.

s ᴘ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴄ ʀ ᴀ ғ ᴛ — ^{Tenebris Magia}

AnnalsofAnnalee

Accumulative Knowledge • This is an archaic enchantment that has been placed upon the book of Tenebris Magia. The spell works like a backlog of different enemies and creatures it’s owner has encountered, as information is gathered on these subjects it is stored within the aether or the magic itself and the spell grows stronger. This is then utilized by drawing the ability on an enemy that Nal has experienced in the past - the spell remembers their strengths & weaknesses and upon activation can actually further expose them. For instance, if she were to have come across a Green Slime which was fully resistant to all magics but fire, the book would cause a combustion. The offensive use of Accumulative Knowledge is not that great, but it is a strong support skill.

Encumbering Will • This dark magic is one that is scaled by the user’s ego. Manifest Will is the offensive aura created out of a mage’s will - and as this is case by case, the effects vary from person to person. Nal’s spell takes the form of “Encumbering Will” and as the spell is cast, a pulse of muddied grey mana is exhumed from her being within a large radius and those hit by the incantation will fall under some - or all of these effects. Most creatures, weak and strong, would feel a strong sense of annoyance - nearly enough to cause man and creature alike to groan or complain. Some would feel a sense of overbearing weight on their shoulders, stress on the body so extreme that it would feel draining to even move, others only slightly enough to feel tension through their body. But for those of an extremely weak will, dread, loss of purpose, and severe depression would sink in to their mind.

Menos um Tenebria • The spell Nal will typically default to for offensive use in and out of combat is Menos um Tenebria, translating from the spell book to “Instructions of Darkness” - the incantation for this combative spell is strange in that it channeled from the pages over time as Nal reads from them and the longer the channeling lasts the stronger the spell is. The effects of said spell are basically the creation of violet projectiles of mana produced from the book that are fired constantly towards the enemy. They start out small and weak - being roughly the size of a baseball when starting, but grow over the spells length causing them to grow more dangerous and larger.

ᴍ ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ɪ ᴀ ʟ ᴀ ʀ ᴛ s — ^{Combat Scholar}

Literally Uses a Book

The combative skills of this scholar are actually quite unusual - though, even more strange is the effectiveness. Nal uses her spellbook collaboratively with her bare hands in melee combat. The two tomes will unlatch themselves from her waist and begin to float to life rotating around her, they can be used in a number of ways including literally flinging themselves at an opponent - even having pages tear from the books and floating about to disorient her opponent. As for her actual physical combative skills, the small girl is much stronger than she looks. The small figure hides the sturdiness of dwarven blood, her blows range from open palmed strikes to devastating fists, her stance is grounded and stable, her advance is slow and unstoppable. Despite not being burdened by armaments, Nal's speed is not the greatest and thus she prefers to fight defensively and not move around too much.

[Vertigo]

S A Y A K O *

* or just Saya for short; honestly, either one feels just as foreign to her

R a c e:

Oni

P e r s o n a l i t y:

Saya is not quite what one would expect from an oni. In fact, in many ways, she's the exact opposite, having retained large chunks of her personality from the life prior. Calm and reserved, she prefers to keep to herself and observe any given situation - or person, as the case may be - from afar until she can figure out the best way to approach it. Saya seems to consider every word carefully before letting it pass her lips, and has a tendency for needless formalities - much as she dislikes them, in truth. Somewhat of a pessimist, the list of things she genuinely likes is tragically short, and she isn't the warmest of persons out there. She isn't sure why, but it almost feels as though she's unused to both giving or receiving affection. Regardless, she will always try to solve any given problem with diplomacy first, provided she doesn't just try to ignore it in the first place. Her desire not to get involved with trouble runs deep, and she's become quite adept at simply 'not noticing' things she doesn't like.

However, with her new life, new body and new, strange blood running in her veins, Saya's calm, patient nature has started to show cracks here and there. While she used to keep all unpleasant feelings bottled up inside, where they could not cause any discord or trouble for her or the people around her, she's found it to be much more... difficult than she remembers nowadays. That is to say, when her feelings reach a fever pitch, they burst out violently - followed by literal flames. This has presented her with a dilemma; either she has to let her grievances show at the moment of experiencing them, or she must risk them boiling over and exploding all over the place at random. Neither option sounds all too pleasing, and she's yet to figure out which is the less of two evils.

A p p e a r a n c e:

Though she would prefer otherwise, it is her horns that people tend to take note of first. Long, sharp and distracting,, they protrude forth from her brow towards the sky. They're reddish brown in colour, and gain a deep red glow whenever she utilizes her magical prowess. They're also what cause people to make assumptions about her, and they make sleeping inconvenient at best, a hazard at worst. She hates them.

Apart from that, Saya isn't really all that memorable as far as appearances go. She's somewhat on the taller side, standing firmly at 5'7'' with a lithe build ideal for a martial artist. Which is weird, because something tells her she wasn't quite as physically active in her past life. She's somewhat curvy, though not really eye-catchingly so, and muscle makes her clock in at a heavier weight than one would expect. She has red eyes that seem to always be judging you or yours, and like her horns, they, too, flare up when she uses her fire magic. Her skin is pale and her hair paler, cascading down her back in long, white locks. She doesn't remember her hair having been this long either, and has some trouble keeping it out of her way.

When it comes to first impressions, Saya doesn't necessarily leave a lasting one. You'll probably notice the horns, assume she's a savage warrior from a tribe to the east -- and then quickly find yourself taken aback by her stiff speech and mannerisms. She'll probably get angry about it at some point and self-combust, and then you go right back to the savage assumption again. That is, unless you've forgotten she exists by that point. Despite everything, she blends into the background pretty easily, to a point she'd be pretty adept at surprise attacks. Is that another skill of hers?

B l e s s i n g - way of a million blades

Saya's blessing takes the form of a wakizashi, found on her hip upon spawning. Though unassuming in appearance, it is magical in nature and holds the capability to become whatever weapon its wielder wishes - provided they have witnessed the desired form before. That is to say, it cannot become an imaginary thing, or one of the world prior, nor something its wielder has only heard spoken of. Furthermore, it will only mimic the physical traits of whatever it transforms into, and cannot, for example, copy the magical traits of another weapon. There is no limit as to how often the wakizashi can change form, allowing for a number of combination attacks; from the stab of a spear to a few quick slashes and then a finishing blow by an axe.

While the wakizashi is the physical manifestation of Saya's blessing, there is another, purely magical component that accompanies it. After all, what would a weaponmaster be without knowledge of their craft? The first time Saya holds any weapon in her hands, she intrinsically understands how to use it - as if she had done so her entire life. She can wield her weapon as an extension of her body, and instinct can guide her where her mind cannot. This allows her to challenge a variety of opponents she would normally find herself instantly felled by. It also allows her to adapt to a variety of different fighting styles, going from a rogue-like stealth with a dagger to powering her way through enemies with a hammer.

At present, having just spawned, she only knows how to operate her wakizashi in its base form - as a simple short blade.

A b i l i t i e s - perfect flow

Though Saya doesn't remember having ever fought before, her body seems to know its way around a fight. Her movement in battle seem practiced and nimble, she isn't prone to exhaustion and the switch from one fighting style to the next seem impossibly smooth - eventually. Right now, all she can do is display some impressive side-stepping abilities and stab you with her tiny little sword over and over again.

M a g i c - dancing pyre

Unrelated to her prowess with the blade, Saya seems to have a strong affinity for certain type of magic. Namely, fire magic. However, her control of it is shaky at best, as it seems to be strictly tied to her emotions. Whenever excited, startled, angry, or experiencing other such sudden, strong emotion, fire bursts into life within her. Her weapon, being an extension of herself, can utilize these flames in all of its forms, from fire arrows to a burning blade - but Saya herself doesn't have much control of it, at least at present. Luckily, the flames don't burn her or her clothes, though her other belongings aren't quite as lucky. She probably should not be tasked with carrying any important papers anytime soon.

Whether she has potential for other similar types of magic, such as lightning, remains to be seen. More pressingly, she just wants to learn to control what she has access to now.

E q u i p m e n t - from one, many

Saya's only equipment, in addition to the clothes on her back, is her wakizashi. For some reason, she feels compelled to give it a name.