[OOC] Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

[Darog the Badger God]

World of Sacred Arms

The world of Galadia is filled with magic and myth, Adventurers, with great power or little power. Many often travel from nation to nation in search of treasures, most notably, powerful tools called "Arcane Arms" powerful and old that grant the wielder their potential unlocked and fully realised. They have a opposite, almost "Brother" opposite known simply as "Eldritch Arms." While Arcane Arms unlock the hidden magical potential, Eldritch Arms grant their wielder untold magical power but at a great cost, physically metaphorically or symbolically. Galladia and the surrounding nations have only just ended a three century long war, accumulating into peace treaty. What was known as "The Age of Wars and Blood" as ended and paved the path for a new, seemingly lighter age; "The Age of Adventurers." No time of peace lasts forever, and a dark force is stirring, awaiting for its time to rise.

A scribe, a story teller-in training has searched long and hard to join a band of powerful adventurers so he can pen their tales of heroism and bloody battles along side his pet pig, Hammy. You are an adventurer of great worth, even owning your own Arcane Arm, your experience can range from a few years, to centuries, whether you're a "Hardened Stalwart Knight" or a "Happy go lucky Thief", you are seeking an adventure for whatever reason has compelled you to. You have taken a liking to this Scribe's sense of wonder and adventure and have decided to join him

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World Information/Arcane Arms and Eldritch Arms

Arcane Arms: Powerful tools used to unlock the wielder's true magical potential and grant them untold power. While they are common, and sometimes often mistakenly used by those of little to no magical potential, they only show their true power and strength to whomever they deem "worthy" enough to unleash the hidden power within. To the current races, they are a mystery and tools of legend that have been a part of the World's history for as long as the nations have existed, some speculate they are far older and may have had a hand in shaping the world.

Eldritch Arms: If Arcane Arms represent "light" and "good" then Eldritch Arms are often seen as the darker, more twisted twin. An Eldritch Arm is rarely seen without a wielder, preferring to "offer" it's power to anyone who find themselves in times of dire need. They grant their weilder untold power and strength to destroy and eradicate with ease. This comes at a great, heavy price to burden. They share a sortof symbiotic history with the Arcane Arms; wherever one or the other appears, it is not long before it runs into a ounterpart of the opposite.

Galadia: The Nation of Galadia is the largest of the Southern Gaia Continent Nations, and perhaps the more diverse in terms of Terrain, with snowy mountains, Green Plains, a large magical forest and a coast.. Right in the middle lies the Grand Forest known as Sylvala, and often acts as the main connection to the various towns and Kingdoms that have settled within Galadia. Galadia prides itself in its fantastical architecture, the advancement of Magitech, and it's unified King Council, that leads Galadia's affairs. Sylvans are often associated as "Galadians" formally when it comes to politics.

Brumas: Brumas is a nation of tribal warriors and shamans. Situated to the east of Galadia, They are the least hostile out of the three surrounding nations. Their homeland is mostly great stretches of brown and gree plains, with little to no forests. Brumans are often rowdy, loud and ready for a fight and are highly skilled Cavaliers, Archers and Spearmen. They are led by a "Grand Warlord" A powerful individual both physically and mentally. They allow magic to practiced, but under careful and watchful eyes.

Vroncroft: Vroncoft is the northern nation, their region is much harsher and colder than the other three. Vroncroft is often seen as the most hostile of nations, definitely the more militant. Their adament "Anti-magic" stance is infamously known, since the Templar Order has taken control of the nation. They view Eldritch Arms as "abominations of the world" whilst believing that Arcane Arms are the gift of the "One True Lord" to battle and destroy demonic sorcery. They are led by a "King Templar" a title recently coined for the then Knight Commander

Rumbia: Rumbia is more secretive, and arguably the smallest of the nations and situated to the west of Galadia. Considered more magically attuned with the world, they study magic as a path of Enlightenment. They are trained Monks, often seen to be peaceful and non-war like, however, this gives The Rumbians a slight advantage, for they are quite skillfuly talent in the art of combat, and often will fight if cornered or push enough. They are led by an "Emperor" who guides his people on the path of wisdom.

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Races of Galadia

Giants: The titans of Galadia. Giants are enormous humanoids similar to humans in appearance, usually ranging between ten and fifteen feet tall, and with sturdy, muscular builds. Despite their enormous frames, giants are a remarkably calm and noble people, seeing themselves as protectors of the smaller races and upholders of peace and law. This is embodied by the giants of Granwald, the only large settlement of giants in the known world.

Typically giants live in clans and are nomadic; they wander place to place, occasionally settling in abandoned forts and watchtowers to rest before moving on again. Others stay longer, but all giants move on eventually, even if it may take their clan a generation to do so. Some old forts have been home to dozens of giant clans over the years, who may vanish one day only to be replaced by another in the next. Furthermore, giant clans are flexible. Those who wish to leave, whether for personal goals or conflicting interest with the other clan members, are free to do so, and may form their own clan or join another, on the condition they swear fealty to the matriarch or patriarch, the leading individual, of the new clan.

Because of this, Granwald still retains much of its nomadic culture despite being static. It is ruled by its own matriarch, Molivia, and roving clans join the city frequently. The individuals swear fealty to the matriarch during the stay, promising to abide by the rules of her clan and by extension the city, only to reform their old clan once they leave. Most citizens of Granwald live this way, acting only as temporary residents before leaving. The city itself is ever changing, as giants set up camps and temporary structures around the centre of the city, some of the only permanent structures in it. Those who dedicate themselves to Granwald are an entirely different kind of giant, who dedicate themselves to their crafts, and are known as some of the world's most brilliant crafstmen and weaponsmiths. The city guard are knights in armour, having undergone rigorous training and equipped with the finest weapons and armour, contrasting greatly with their berserker cousins who still keep travelling.

While giants are known for their calm, determined, and practical nature, they are not without emotions, and are known to experience bloodrages. When under times of extreme stress, either mental or physical, a giant may enter a bloodrage, in which they cease to experience pain or restraint and act on only the basest of instincts. Most giants possess remarkable mental fortitude and can resist these urges should they arise, and those of particular note can use this to trigger or surpress it at will, transforming into juggernauts on the battlefield at a moment's notice.

Sylvans: Descendants of the world's nature spirits, the sylvans are powerful, if erratic, supernatural creatures that inhabit the world's wilderness. Sylvans come in many forms, from the lofty treants to the cunning goblins and pixies, and are equally varied in their disposition and abilities, united only in a common ancestor and a shared connection to the Sacred Oak, an enormous tree that acts as the heart of the sylvan capital, Sylvala. While their ancestors, nature spirits, were bound to the tree by supernatural forces, sylvans are no longer forced to remain within the confines of the Oak's territory, but the tree still has important spiritual and historical importance to them.

Sylvala encompasses almost all of the network of trees and roots that connect to the Sacred Oak, a hundred thousand miles of seemingly untouched forestland that hides a complex and oftentimes mysterious society of the sylvans. The Sacred Oak is a parent and a guardian, protecting the forestland from harm that might come to it, but Sylvala itself is guided by an individual with a strong connection to the Oak known as the Chosen. The Chosen acts as a link between the tree and the sylvan people.

Because of their varied forms, sylvans have numerous strengths and weaknesses that vary depending on their kind. Treants are physically powerful beyond even that of giants but are patient and wise, and should fate be kind they can live onwards of a thousand years. The sheer variation between sylvans makes listing all of their traits impossible. Goblins are feral and short-tempered, more animal than anything, and can live up to thirty years if their impatience does not end it sooner. By far the most common kind of sylvan is the pixie though; small, winged humanoids that most sylvans believe to be closest to the nature spirits of old. They are playful and inquisitive, highly talented with magic, and if the Sacred Oak stands, immortal.

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Character Sheet

Name:
Age:
Race: (Human, Giant, Sylvan)
Gender:
Appearance:
Bio:
Other:

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: (name, appearance and power/abilities description of your Arm Weapon. History of it is optional.)
Standard Form:
Alternate Form: (Example: if you have a Shield, it may change to an Axe, or something)
Overbreak Form: (Powered up form, gives you a boost too as well as giving you some new abilities)
Unleashed Form: (your Arms true form. I don't need I need to say any more about that )

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Guidelines

- Don't be a dick to people. Don't be a dick to the GM and Co-GM as well.

- This RP is more narrative driven, so please, build up the world if you want, and at least move the plot on your end along whenever can.

- Character Death can happen, but not without reason. If a character dies as part of the story? You will get a chance to create another.

- My word is law! please take my words into consideration on your CS or post if there's a problem that needs to be fixed.

- At first your Arm Weapon will only have two forms; Standard and Alternative. I will talk to you about when your character awakens the other forms. Feel free to discuss your idea with me or my Co-GM as well if you have ideas

- Posts will be expected every two weeks. I may sometimes post once a week, given I get free time to do so. So try to at least post a week after I put up the GM post. if you fail the first time, that's okay, I'll give you a two extended period. Let me know if you can't for whatever reason. I'm super understandable and will mostly allow you to post the next time round :p.

- the most important; HAVE FUN!

[Hellis]

WIP
Name: "H"
Age: 21
Race: Human
Gender:
Appearance:
Bio:
Other:

Eldritch Arm:
"Godslayer"
Standard Form:
Alternate Form: (Example: if you have a Shield, it may change to an Axe, or something)
Overbreak Form: (Powered up form, gives you a boost too as well as giving you some new abilities)
Unleashed Form: (your Arms true form. I don't need I need to say any more about that )

[Conflagration]

Question: I've a character that I made but never got chance to use that I could repurpose quite easily for this, but his backstory is... well it's pretty grim by my standards.

I guess what I'm asking is 'how dark is too dark'?

[Foxxie]

Boop!

@Hellis

Also a boop, for lack of a CS at the moment.

[Dead Cruiser]

Here's my pitch: a centuries-old swordsman bound to an Eldritch Arm that imbues him with immortality. Wanders the world sort of like Yojimbo as a nameless vagabond, though meddles with the affairs of common people when he feels need to.

Now, I didn't see an explicit Japan analogue written up, so I'll refer to my character as a "swordsman" for now, but my original idea had him as basically a ronin.

[Grif of Hearts]

I should probably boop here even though my character is ninety percent done.

Boop.

Oh yeah this is probably a good time to mention that I'm the co-GM here.

Question: I've a character that I made but never got chance to use that I could repurpose quite easily for this, but his backstory is... well it's pretty grim by my standards.

I guess what I'm asking is 'how dark is too dark'?

@Conflagration

It's hard to say, but I'm sure we can make it fit. Send Dargo or I the character concept so we can give it a decent look.

Here's my pitch: a centuries-old swordsman bound to an Eldritch Arm that imbues him with immortality. Wanders the world sort of like Yojimbo as a nameless vagabond, though meddles with the affairs of common people when he feels need to.

Now, I didn't see an explicit Japan analogue written up, so I'll refer to my character as a "swordsman" for now, but my original idea had him as basically a ronin.

@Dead Cruiser

That works. There are lands far off from Galadia where ronin (or at least an equivalent) could come from, and with such a long life there are plenty of opportunities for one to find themselves in Galadia. The idea sounds good!

[Noxious]

I am thinking of making a mixed sylvan/human from Vroncroft, focusing on the winter and cold. I was thinking of making the sylvan side wendigo or ijiraq. A blend cleared by the Templar in an effort to make a more loyal form of the Sylvan for fighting. They were deemed instable and some had to be terminated. After hunting demons and evil for the Templar for years they have less reservations about the girl, but she is still monitored. She's flighty and bipolar. She is a bit of a monster, that fights monsters and sometimes wants to eat them. :) But super sweet and wants her peers to like her. Weak to extreme heat and fearful of fire, maybe. Arcane Arm, possibly also playing off the snow, or playing off the ijiraq abilties (shapeshifting shadow people).

Of course, that is if it is okay with you guys. I'm just toying with ideas.

[Expllo]

Something something character sheet goes here something something

Name: Sticky Dicky
Age: 11
Race: Human
Gender: Male

Appearance: There's nothing interesting to note about Sticky Dicky. He's a small, thin, child with white hair and blue eyes. He wears a bandana in attempt to resemble an ancient war hero, possibly a myth, his mother would read him stories about, named Rambo. He also wears a brown cloak.

Bio: Dicky was born and raised by his mother in a cabin in the woods. His life during that period has nothing interesting to note. He read books mainly, helped his mother with chores around the house, and would occasionally sneak out the house to go play. One day, with a reason unbeknownst to Dicky, possibly due to plot convenience so the mun can make an eleven year old's backstory at least slightly intriguing, "bandits" attacked their home. Killed his mother, took certain items in their home, and left. Dicky managed to stay hidden the whole time. Soon enough would he leave his home, and for the first time, enter the city.
Other:

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: The name and abilities is unknown to Dicky, but this weapon is in the form of a dagger that's black as obsidian.
Alternate Form:
Overbreak Form:
Unleashed Form:

[Hellis]

I'm going to be soooo anime in tihs. So excited.

[Foxseed]

dis wut

Name:
Age:
Race: Human
Gender:
Appearance:
Bio:
Other:

Arcane Arm: Grey Wednesday
Standard Form: Grey Wednesday - Whispers from the High King
Alternate Form: Grey Wednesday - Divine Hunt
Overbreak Form: Grey Wednesday - Marriage of Woe & Tenacity
Unleashed Form: ???

[Conflagration]

Nobody wanting to be the first to post a character? Well, here's my submission!

Open to requests to change - if he is considered under or overpowered. I just had fun with the concepts and this is what I got.

Hider

Name: Lustran

Age: 34

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Narrow faced and cold of expression, Lustran is solidly built yet lythe after many years of living as what can only be described as an outlaw. He has charcoal grey hair which is kept roughly hewn to several inches long, swept back to reveal a face whose expression naturally falls somewhere between a sneer and a snarl.

His eyes are a cold steel-blue, piercing and recessed beneath a prominent brow. His face is slightly gaunt, though this is made more prominent by the surreal hollowness in his expression. Several small scars adorn his face, but none are noteworthy enough to be mentioned specifically.

He wears a brown leather greatcoat, lined with a thin layer of chainmail. The coat is well fitted and of high quality, if very old. It is stitched in many places where the leather has been split or pierced by various means. Beneath this, Lustran wears a fitted doublet of faded black velvet and matching legwear - both of high quality and well cared for, but again somewhat aged. He also wears thick boots and gloves made of rugged leather, with iron accents.

Bio: Cold and disinterested in the affairs of others, to call Lustran the emotional equivalent of a stone wall would be a disservice to walls everywhere. He is a cold hearted outlaw - a mercenary, a wanderer and a brigand through and through, who cares little for anyone beyond using them for his own means. He has no qualms about taking the underhanded route to success and will happily lie, cheat, steal or kill his way to victory. He plays the part of the villain well, as that is what the world has made him.

Intelligent and cunning if not particularly wise, Lustran is more adept at thinking in the moment than planning ahead. He maintains a strong sense of self entitlement and twisted view of justice and retribution. Lustran can be disproportionately cruel with very little motivation.

His history is clouded even to himself - a voluntary move on his part to forget a past he would rather not remember. Now he lives from one day to the next, taking what he can and doing as he wishes.

Other: Lustran has wandered for a long while and performed countless deeds that might be considered far from lawful. He is generally known as a criminal wherever he goes, and has few friends in the lawful world. Having previously ran with a number of bandit groups and less lawful guilds, he does have sone connections in the underworld.

---

Eldritch Arm: 'Valkyrie' is a colossal crossbow that Lustran carries with him at all times. A hulking contraption that by all accounts more closely resembles a small siege weapon than a man-carried one, Valkyrie fires bolts that are closer to javelins or small spears in size. A weapon such as this would be tremendously cumbersome under most situations, though Lustran wields her with speed, precision and grace beyond that of a normal man.

Valkyrie also bears a large iron spike proturding from her front, which is used as a bayonet should the need arise. She bears a lever system to rapidly reload bolts and generally operate more akin to a much smaller, lighter and simpler weapon.

As an Eldritch Weapon, Valkyrie is not without her faults. She feeds on Lustrans positive emotions - directing his anger, indignation and self righteousness back into him to fuel his coldhearted ways and prolong his hatred-filled life. As a side effect of this, he is also unable to feel grief: as grief requires love to occur in the first place.

This symbiotic relationship was well understood by Lustran when he took Valkyrie for his own - it was a sacrifice he made freely and he has never looked back. She may or may not actually be sentient, but Lustran firmly believes that she is and that by making him immune to the pain of loss, she is doing him the most generous favor of all.

In addition to this, the Valkyrie radiates an addictive aura of reliance and comfort on her owner, which grows stronger over time and can make it difficult to even put her down - never mind let her out of his sight. Lustran is never without Valkyrie as a result - and would kill anyone who attempted to take her taken away from him.

Alternate Form: Valkyrie is a very versatile weapon, and as such does not have an alternate form.

Overbreak Form: When empowered, Valkyrie shines with a golden light and becomes much lighter - able to be moved with pinpoint precision. She assists with aiming and compensates for various factors, even aiming herself if Lustran is otherwise incapable of doing so, and will activly choose targets most dangerous to her wielder.

More prevalently, she fires bolts of Eldritch energy rather than physical projectiles while in this enhanced form - no longer punching through armor so much as ignoring it completely. She does not need ammunition in this state, and is instead fuelled by the raw anger and hatred of her wielder - leaving them cold and completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever: free to focus on pure efficiency in battle.

Unleashed Form: Fully unleashed, Valkyrie becomes Valkyrie Borialis - a fully self aware machine of vengeance which radiates the glow of the Aroura as she hurls bolts of lightning-like Eldritch energy with pinpoint precision. She is capable of guiding her own actions even in the hands of someone who has intentions other than hers, and will do all in her power to fulfill the will of her ward.

Valkyrie Borialis draws not only on the emotion of the wielder in this form, but also their very soul. With each shot, a small fragment of their spirit is sundered and fused with the weapon itself - further empowering the weapon and solidifying the bond between the two, while forming increasingly permanent spiritual wounds that entrench the wielders dependency on the weapon.

[Dead Cruiser]

Genbu

Name: "Genbu"

Age: Roughly 400, though he looks to be in his late thirties.

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Genbu is a man of average height and build, but possesses the physique and discipline of a supreme soldier. His features are mostly unremarkable, apart from his obviously foreign heritage, with a sharp chin, crooked nose and a rough, shaggy beard. Interestingly for a warrior, not a single scar mars his face or body. His eyes are dark and deep-set, and his gaze is seemingly unfocused; staring through the world rather than looking at it. Long, black hair is typically tied back in a high ponytail, when not obscured by a straw farmer's hat. Worn, dark robes carrying the sigils of his forgotten clan are his typical attire, though in battle he sometimes dons a patchwork suit of armor: a curious mix between traditional plate armor and the traditional scaled armor of his homeland.

Bio: The man known as "Genbu" was born in a far off land, in a time long since past. His many years have not been kind to his memory, and so he remembers little of his early life. His childhood, parents, and even his birth name are lost to the abyss of time. He remembers having been born into a wealthy and powerful clan of warrior-nobles (the "bushi," sometimes "samurai" in his native tongue) in service of a feudal lord. He was raised as a professional soldier, and proved his skill in battle from an early age. However, the elders of his clan plotted against their master, and his clan was purged as punishment. Whether by luck or fate Genubu survived these purges, and was left as a warrior without a master. Tradition would dictate that such a warrior should commit honorable suicide, but Genbu was an impetuous young man with much to prove, and so set out as knight-errant; an outlaw for hire, called "ronin."

Mercenary work came easily to Genbu, as the destruction of his clan had hardened his heart to other, smaller tragedies. Sometimes employed by feuding nobles, other times by criminal organizations, Genbu's profession was steel and death, and he was skilled in it. It came to be that in one instance he was hired by a village to track down and kill a rampant demon, or "oni," and so ventured into the mountains to slay the monster. Instead of a hideous ogre, he instead found a beautiful woman who pleaded with him to spare her life. A monster all the same to Genbu, he battled her for hours on end, until she eventually gained the upper hand and mortally wounded him with her magic sword. Genbu remembers little of what happened after, but when he regained his senses the demon had disappeared, and he was left with her sword, which had bound itself to his soul.

Cursed with immortality by the Eldritch Arm now in his possession, Genbu wandered the land, honing his skill in arms to become the greatest warrior of all. He mastered secret and mystic styles of combat and swordsmanship taught by ascetic monks and spirits of the land, and his skill was without compare. However, the worst fate that could befall a soldier then swept through his homeland: peace. With the warring lords united under a single emperor, Genbu departed his homeland to find a place where a soldier of his calibre could find employment.

He arrived at a nation called Galadia during a time called the Age of Wars and Blood. Surely there could be no greater opportunity for a warrior, and so he spent more than a century as an unkillable mercenary, owing his allegiance to whoever paid him the most. However, his many years of killing and committing other atrocities wore on him, and he began to feel empty inside. Devoid of peace and meaningful relationships, he began to despair at his endless life. He sunk into a depressed stupor for many decades, wandering in search of anything that could end his miserable existence. He found no solace in this time, though he lost many of his memories and his skills dulled from the superhuman peak at which they once stood. In time his despair lessened, as his mortal anxieties began to fade away. He still wanders the land in search of an honorable death, though he accepts that his time will come as fate decides it, and in the meantime wishes to heal his damaged soul.

Other: Theme

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Genbu is bound to the Eldritch Arm known as Kokorowatari (meaning "the passage across the heart"). Its normal state is that of a traditional curved sword with a single blade, typical of Genbu's homeland. While its length can change dramatically, it naturally takes the shape of an "odaichi," a usually ceremonial sword nearly as long as Genbu is tall. The handle is black leather with red wrappings, and the golden crossguard resembles the face of a snarling demon.

Kokorowatari does not augment Genbu's skills in any particular way; rather, it imbues him with immortality. He does not age, and he is untouched by disease and other illness. His body has remarkable regenerative abilities, to the point where it is seemingly impossible for him to die. Wounds from blades, arrows, fire or other weapons heal moments after being inflicted, and he can even recover lost limbs by reattaching them from where they were severed. That is not to say that he does not feel pain, though after centuries of battle his tolerance is much greater than a common man. Poisons rarely affect him, nor do drugs or other substances. Genbu theorizes that the only ways that he can truly die would be to have his head completely cut off in a single stroke (a fate that he has only nearly, but not completely, suffered), or for his entire body to be incinerated.

Standard Form: As mentioned, Kokorowatari's typical form is that of a typical ceremonial greatsword from Genbu's homeland, though its length can change to suit his needs; varying from a short sword ("wakizashi") to the maximum of its natural length. Even as a seemingly-mundane sword, its craftsmanship is supernatural in its quality; it never dulls, never breaks, and is sharp enough to cut a leaf flowing down a gentle stream.

Alternate Form: Rather than assume the form of another weapon, Kokorowatari can instead split into two identical swords, which can change in length as well.

Overbreak Form: If Genbu achieves a state of sufficient focus and bloodlust, Kokorowatari unleashes its Overbreak form: Kokorowatari no Akuma ("the devil's passage across the heart"). In this state, the blade does not undergo any significant physical changes, though the grip and crossguard fall off, and the blade's length cannot change from its natural state as a massive greatsword. Kokorowatari no Akuma is a blade of demon-killing, and inflicts tremendous damage to supernatural entities with even the slightest wound. As well, Genbu's regenerative abilities are increased dramatically; he recovers from wounds often faster than they can be inflicted to him. Even if he were to lose a limb, a new one would regrow completely from the severance before the old limb hit the ground.

Unleashed Form: Little is known about the true form of this Eldritch Arm, most of all how to unlock it. The Unleashed from is known as Yumewatari ("the passage across the dream"), and takes the shape of a short sword without a grip or crossguard. It is said to be a blade of demon-reviving, though what this means and how it can be used are both mostly unknown. Genbu suspects that it is in this form that the sword was passed down to him, as it healed him from a wound that should have killed him.

[Moonjuice7]

Nicholas Piro

Name: Nicholas Piro
Age: 22
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nicholas has a very scrawny build, probably due to years of malnutrition. He isn't particularly tall, standing at only 5' 7". Nicholas tries his best to avoid attention whenever possible, and his smallish size helps. Despite his preference for anonymity, his striking facial features tend to make him stand out. He has jet black hair, and eyes so blue, they are almost purple. his sharp nose indicates some sort of noble blood in his lineage, though his apparel shows that such lineage has never been recognized. Nicholas wears shabby clothes that blend in with the working class of most cities, but allow a large range of movement. Anything that inhibits his mobility is soon sold or discarded. His biggest luxury is a sturdy cloak that keeps the weather off of him, and can serve to hide his features when needed.

Bio: Nicholas grew up in the slums of a large city. He never knew his father, and his mother died when he was young, leaving him orphaned on the streets. Nicholas's sharp eyes, and sharp mind, let him pick up on some of the dirtier secrets of the city. He learned to pick pockets, and the occasional knick knack from a shopkeeper's shelf. Once he stole enough that he thought he might be able to live comfortably, until a visit from the local gangs left him bruised, battered, and poorer than before. He resented them, but learned his lesson. He stole only enough to get by, never enough to attract the attention of the local gangs again. At least, until he saw it.

Some foppish noble walking around with a beautiful midnight blue opal swirling with shades of blue embedded in a golden bracelet. The gem called out to Nicholas, he knew it would be a big enough deal that he would have to give up what little life he had built for himself, but he couldn't resist. He had to have the gem. So he stole it. When he placed the bracelet upon his wrist, he felt a surge of power rush through him, and he vanished. The invisibility granted by the arcane arm made avoiding the gangs much easier. With time Nicholas studied the gem, and the bracer that the bracelet had become, and learned to control the arm's power. He soon mastered his invisibility, and unlocked the alternate form of Fade, a short, incredibly sharp, single edged blade. He discovered that while wielding the blade, he could turn pieces of himself intangible for a short time. With practice and training, he has learned to turn more of himself intangible and hold it for longer periods of time.

Other: Nicholas has a keen eye, and a sharp mind. He likes to plan things out carefully, so he doesn't get caught up in more than he can handle. He has always been alone, and so has trouble adjusting to groups, often remaining in the background, waiting for his chance to act. He tends to have trouble communicating with others.

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Fade
Standard Form: A golden bracer with a midnight blue opal embedded. It can grant its wearer invisibility.
Alternate Form: A short, single edged blade that allows its wielder, or objects touched by its wielder, to become intangible. The midnight blue opal is embedded in the hilt just below the blade. At his current level of skill Nicholas can only maintain about 25% of his body mass intangible (or objects/creatures touched).
Overbreak Form: Fade's overbreak form takes the appearance of twin bracers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wearer to create illusions. Both bracers appear identical to the standard form, though one of them is an illusion
Unleashed Form: Twin daggers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wielder to create tangible illusions capable of affecting the world around him. Both daggers appear identical, and are real for all intents and purposes.

This is just a basic idea, I'll get real descriptions and backstory uploaded later.

[Noxious]

Nicholas Piro

Name: Nicholas Piro
Age: 22
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jet black hair. sharp features. olive skin. dirty.
Bio:
Other:

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Fade
Standard Form: A bracer that can grant its wearer invisibility
Alternate Form: A dagger that can grant is wielder intangibility. At his current level of skill nicholas can only maintain about 25% of his body mass intangible (or objects/creatures touched).
Overbreak Form: Twin bracers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wearer to create illusions.
Unleashed Form: Twin daggers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wielder to create tangible illusions capable of affecting the world around him.

This is just a basic idea, I'll get real descriptions and backstory uploaded later.

@Moonjuice7

I totally almost went invisibility! *shakes fist* I've moved on though. ;)

I'm going duplication/possession

[Darog the Badger God]

@Conflagration@Dead Cruiser - Both Accepted! I'm liking both characters :D.

@Moonjuice7 Once you add more information, I will gladly look over it.

Everyone else: GET YER BUTTS IN GEAR AND YOUR CSs.

[Ambrosia]

I'm working on a CS right now, but I'm not sure when I'll have it completely done. It should be up sometime today, though.

[Grif of Hearts]

Name: Crash Vega.
Race: Human.
Age: Twenty-six.
Sex: Male

Appearance: Crash Vega is a remarkable figure of a man. His features are distinct with broad shoulders, a heavily muscled frame that just peaks at seven feet tall, strong jaw, and piercing green eyes that sparkle whenever he grins; which is to say always. His hair is long and shaggy, dark brown and reaching down to just below his eyes, and no attempt has been made to manage the thick, tangled mess. A thin layer of stubble runs along his jaw, darkening it slightly, and his skin, darkly tanned and covered in scars from a thousand different wounds, seem to show some faint patterns of unknown origin. Barely visible except up close, they mostly cover his chest, arms, and neck in indistinct shapes, but can be found on his legs and face as well.

Seemingly a stranger to modesty, Crash is happy to show off his muscled torso, a thick grey-green coat worn over his upper body with the buttons left undone, no undershirt worn beneath it, and a thick band of orange material wrapped around his right bicep and tied tightly. Loose green trousers cover his legs, held up by a thick brown leather belt, and end in hefty leather boots capped with iron. Tough leather gloves wrap around his hands, fingerless, and the knuckles covered in iron bands, matching his sturdy, protected boots. A long, orange scarf is worn loosely around his shoulders, over his jacket and looped once around his neck.

History: Crash’s early life is a mystery, even to the conclave elders that raised him. He was orphaned at an extremely young age, only a newborn at the time, brought to the Shenjiang Conclave on the Rumbia border in the middle of a harsh winter by a feminine figure in a green cloak. The cold took her life as she stumbled towards the conclave and the monks, usually secretive and isolated, could not turn away the freezing infant that she clutched tightly in her arms. They took him in as one of their own, knowing not where the woman wished to take the young boy, and hoped to provide him a safe home away from whatever his “mother” wished to take him away from. Crash grew healthy and strong in his new home, weathered from any and all information about his past; he knew he was not like the other children, born in a land far away from the conclave, but it hardly mattered to him. He had a home, so why worry?

His transition into adolescence was defined by the spiritual and physical teachings of the conclave elders. Crash was rash, impulsive, and practices in patience were wasted on him. He struggled to understand their teachings, although not for lack of trying. He was deathly loyal to the conclave that had raised him, but the difference of ideologies made relations strained at times, particularly with his teacher, Zidiah Zher, who was otherwise like a father to him. Crash did, however, excel at their physical training, learning the Shenjiang Conclave’s style of swift, fluid martial arts with ease, and even devoting his time to practicing his own style of slower, heavier martial arts that focused on heavy strikes and debilitating blows; an extremely controversial style among the Shenjiang Conclave, but an effective style regardless.

From an early age Crash showed signs of being more than what he appeared; strong, smart, and resourceful, if rash and impatient, and constantly with strange, recurring dreams. He dreamt of himself, older and stronger than he was now. He dreamt of fire, emerald green and endlessly fierce. He thrust his hand into the fire without thinking, grabbing and wrenching an enormous silver blade free from it. He felt no pain, only power as the green flames rushed up his arm. It moved with him effortlessly, despite his lack of training and the sheer size and weight of the blade, and he brought it over his shoulder. The faint markings that lined his body, almost like pale tattoos, began to glow the same emerald green and then ignited, as he turned to face-

The dream never went further than that, When he first went to the elders they waved it off as nothing more than a dream, but Zidiah suspected something more. By the tenth time they became slightly more suspicious, although none seemed capable of explaining these vivid dreams to Crash. Zidiah insisted that Crash undergo more extensive mental training, suspecting something more, but nothing truly came of it in the end.

So, with no answers, he persuaded himself that they were just that. Dreams.

The conflict with the Iramu giant clan was what first contested the conclave’s views on pacifism. Tensions grew quickly and seemingly out of nowhere, as the giant clan seemed to take interest in the fortress that the Shenjiang Conclave had lived in for generations, while the inhabitants merely wanted to stay and live there peacefully. In an attempt to formally solve the dispute, the giant chieftain, Tia’Iramu, was invited to the conclave to discuss the situation in peace. Tia’Iramu did not arrive, instead usurped by his son, Irga’Iramu, who brought giant berserkers and war tamed beasts the size of buildings with him. Violent and tyrannical, wielding an enormous silver blade with a rusted orange hilt, Irga’Iramu brought hellfire down upon the conclave. Giants broke down the gates, tearing through the conclave’s defences with ease. The monks of the conclave had all trained in martial arts since children, and put up a desperate struggle against their attackers, but what they made up for with skill they lacked in strength and a willingness to kill. Staying true to their strong beliefs on pacifism, the monks only disabled their giant foes rather than killing them, while the giants attacked with wild abandon, making them almost impossible to control.

Perhaps one of the most capable fighters of the conclave, Crash stood at the front lines, defending himself and the conclave with enormously fierce strikes, landing heavy blows on the joints of giants, dropping them with remarkable precision and force. By the time it had taken three monks to tackle one giant he had already dropped two by himself. He fought defensively, until he saw his mentor, Zidiah, stand up against the giant Igra’Iramu and begged for peace. The man was cut down in an instant by the enormous blade the giant wielded.

Something clicked with Crash then. His mentor had fallen, and that sword… it was the sword he had dreamt about, he knew it. Like a man possessed, Crash charged the giant chieftain, a monster over twice his size. He tore through the giant’s personal guard with strikes strong enough to break the bones of even giants, and challenged the chieftain to single combat. Irga’Iramu laughed. What threat could a mere human pose to him?

While the giant laughed, Crash wrenched a dagger from the grip of another fallen giant and dug it deep into Irga’Iramu’s leg, tearing out the calf muscle completely.

The chieftain, while weakened, was still enormously powerful, and the battle between the two was fierce. Irga’Iramu was strong and possessed a mighty magical sword, but Crash was swift, agile, and possessed supernatural strength that only seemed to grow in the presence of the giant king’s sword. In fact, as Crash’s strength grew the chieftain’s faltered, and as the fight came to a close the two seemed equally matched in power. The giant brought his sword over in an enormous overhead swing, planning to crush Crash beneath the weight of the dull blade, but he only met resistance as Crash, arms stretched out above his head, caught the blade. He wrenched it from the hands of the giant as as he did it burst into green flames, engulfing the sword and setting those faint patterns along his skin an emerald green. He leapt high into the sky, the sword high above his head, and drew the blade directly down Irga’Iramu’s body, slaying the tyrant in an instant. His surviving kin fled soon after.

With the giants slain, the monks of the conclave came out of hiding. The sounds of battle had ended, but peace was not restored. Crash had killed in the presence of the conclave, and while many were thankful for forcing the giants back, he had betrayed one of their most sacred oaths. He was banished from the conclave, given only the most basic of equipment to survive and nothing more. Crash saw this as an opportunity. He bid his friends farewell and, along with what small rations the conclave had given him, he took the enormous hulking sword from the slain chieftain that hummed with arcane energy. He decided what he would do now quickly; he would learn to use the sword and find out what it was. It was a Sacred Arm, he was sure, but why did it seem so intrinsically linked to him? He did not know, but he believed he would soon find out. Befitting his new life, Crash forgot his old name and took up a new one, and set out into the great wilds beyond.

Other: Theme.

Sacred Arm: Arcane Arm, Reaver Riot.

Standard form; Titansblade.
In its standard form, Reaver Riot resembles an oversized double-edged straight sword, littered with dents and scratches that make it look less like a powerful arcane weapon and more like a scrapped antique. The Reaver Riot is a sword designed for a giant, and is certainly too large for any ordinary human to use it. Yet, Crash has no trouble hefting the eight-foot long silver blade, and can use the blunt blade equally as a weapon and as a shield, hiding behind the flat of the blade.

The hilt and handle, a hefty piece of rusted orange metal in its own right, possesses two triggers, and three lines run vertically down the blade; one in the centre and two just to the sides of that. Upon pulling the triggers the outer two lines separate, pushing the blade edges outwards and revealing two large cannons hidden within the blade. Another pull of the triggers fire them, launching huge, fist-sized spheres of metal and an eruption of green energy at whatever the blade it pointed at. The cannons have no trigger to retreat into the blade, and Crash usually just opts to bash Reaver Riot against something until they slot back into place.

Alternate form; Broadside Barragers.
The central vertical line hides no secret cannons, but instead shows where two separate weapons seal together. The Reaver Riot can, when forced a little bit, split in half, transforming into two single-edged straight swords that are each wielded in one han. The guns remain fully functional and the swords can be used much more swiftly than they could in their true form, especially when utilising the bladed edge, the hefty blunt side, and the firearms concealed within in tandem.

Overbreak form; Endless Overload.
Removing anything close to what could be considered a limiter, one side of Reaver Riot’s blade breaks away, exposing the raw, volatile arcane converter that channels Crash’s own arcane energy into the sword. The back half remains functional, still allowing the use of the blunt bladed edge and cannon, although Reaver Riot ceases to be able to be split in two. Instead, where a blade once sat at the forward end, a torrent of green arcane energy pours forth like fire, seeming to crystallise where the blade once ended to mimic what was lost. Along with supreme cutting power beyond anything Reaver Riot had before, in this form it can fire powerful blades of green energy to strike at a distance, or singular blasts of energy with a blade thrust.

Unleashed form; Hymnsblade.
No longer is the sword a giant’s weapon crudely used by a human. Arcane Arms unleash the wielder’s magical potential, and a true wielder needs a weapon designed for him and him alone. The rest of the blade sheds away, revealing a large, slender bastard sword made of silver, etched arcane runes running up the edge of the blade that glow white. Green energy engulfs the blade as it does in Overbreak form, but burns with an intensity far greater than before, the flames taking on the rough shape of the huge buster blade it once resembles. While it lacks the crude hitting power of its most basic form its energy generation is exceptional.

[Moonjuice7]

Updated the character sheet in my first post, here it is again for convenience's sake.

Nicholas Piro

Name: Nicholas Piro
Age: 22
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nicholas has a very scrawny build, probably due to years of malnutrition. He isn't particularly tall, standing at only 5' 7". Nicholas tries his best to avoid attention whenever possible, and his smallish size helps. Despite his preference for anonymity, his striking facial features tend to make him stand out. He has jet black hair, and eyes so blue, they are almost purple. his sharp nose indicates some sort of noble blood in his lineage, though his apparel shows that such lineage has never been recognized. Nicholas wears shabby clothes that blend in with the working class of most cities, but allow a large range of movement. Anything that inhibits his mobility is soon sold or discarded. His biggest luxury is a sturdy cloak that keeps the weather off of him, and can serve to hide his features when needed.

Bio: Nicholas grew up in the slums of a large city. He never knew his father, and his mother died when he was young, leaving him orphaned on the streets. Nicholas's sharp eyes, and sharp mind, let him pick up on some of the dirtier secrets of the city. He learned to pick pockets, and the occasional knick knack from a shopkeeper's shelf. Once he stole enough that he thought he might be able to live comfortably, until a visit from the local gangs left him bruised, battered, and poorer than before. He resented them, but learned his lesson. He stole only enough to get by, never enough to attract the attention of the local gangs again. At least, until he saw it.

Some foppish noble walking around with a beautiful midnight blue opal swirling with shades of blue embedded in a golden bracelet. The gem called out to Nicholas, he knew it would be a big enough deal that he would have to give up what little life he had built for himself, but he couldn't resist. He had to have the gem. So he stole it. When he placed the bracelet upon his wrist, he felt a surge of power rush through him, and he vanished. The invisibility granted by the arcane arm made avoiding the gangs much easier. With time Nicholas studied the gem, and the bracer that the bracelet had become, and learned to control the arm's power. He soon mastered his invisibility, and unlocked the alternate form of Fade, a short, incredibly sharp, single edged blade. He discovered that while wielding the blade, he could turn pieces of himself intangible for a short time. With practice and training, he has learned to turn more of himself intangible and hold it for longer periods of time.

Other: Nicholas has a keen eye, and a sharp mind. He likes to plan things out carefully, so he doesn't get caught up in more than he can handle. He has always been alone, and so has trouble adjusting to groups, often remaining in the background, waiting for his chance to act. He tends to have trouble communicating with others.

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Fade
Standard Form: A golden bracer with a midnight blue opal embedded. It can grant its wearer invisibility.
Alternate Form: A short, single edged blade that allows its wielder, or objects touched by its wielder, to become intangible. The midnight blue opal is embedded in the hilt just below the blade. At his current level of skill Nicholas can only maintain about 25% of his body mass intangible (or objects/creatures touched).
Overbreak Form: Fade's overbreak form takes the appearance of twin bracers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wearer to create illusions. Both bracers appear identical to the standard form, though one of them is an illusion
Unleashed Form: Twin daggers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wielder to create tangible illusions capable of affecting the world around him. Both daggers appear identical, and are real for all intents and purposes.

[Noxious]

I have a CS problem. I'm going to start a group. There does not need to be as much information as I am putting into this, but, I truly can not help it. Should be up soon.

edit: okay. shit. sorry. It's a lot.

TACACHE

Tacache Zas Shik'isn

^XXVII
Thirty-three || Human-Sylvan || Female

[+]

.Appearance

Her form was as human as she was; 5’10” with limbs and digits lengthier than average proportions and tipped with claws strong enough to rip a throat out with ease. She appears slightly gaunt, with skin the color and feel of the ice she hails from; eyes reflecting a similar pale coloration with slit pupils that recalled something beastly. No one can be quite sure about the wendigo-human aging process but a youthful demeanor infiltrated all actions and thoughts. Her ears shot from behind snow white hair, pointed and exceptional at their duties. Her lips were pale, contrasting greatly with the blood that always found itself a home during battle; beneath those lips a predators jaw contained elongated and sharp canines and bicuspids. A Templar militaristic tattoo graces her neck, reading her birth name “XXVII.”

.Biography

There was no birth, no mother or father, and no childhood to speak of. It was rare even that she was allowed into existence in the anti-magic state Vroncroft, but even the Templar could be tempted by the promise of military perfection. Thus, the Wendigo Project was initiated, a secret even among the secretive; because according to any known documentation, she did not exist. But, she did. Twenty-seven of thirty, XXVII, an inartistic tattoo presented to the girl upon birth. Perhaps her existence would be legitimized if the program had been a success, but it was anything but. Of the original thirty created in the Wendigo Project there were only four still under the observation and acceptance of the commanders that created them.

Eleven were executed for their inability to control their malevolent nature before the project had reached its tenth year. The remaining subjects were forced to watch; conditioning they called it. She stood there, a nameless face among the others, as they unceremoniously injected the children who resisted control. They couldn’t resist the noxious influx that dissipated their lives though. Afterwards, they were expected to be forgotten, cremated, as if they never existed. The only telltale sign was the growing gaps in numbers. She no longer bunked, ate and sat next to XXVI and XXVIII, instead she was placed by XXI.

None were untouched by the wicked wendigo within, but the survivors learned to keep quiet about it. She herself was plagued with the dreams she never talked about, dreams in which the wendigo calls to her, starving and gluttonous. The fear that welled up from these dreams were not fear of the wendigo, but rather the “conditioning” coming into play. When it’s sickly sweet voice racked across her soul, a part of her, calling for her to come home, all she could do was picture those children. Even now, two decades later, she sees them, small and helpless as they were exterminated.

As their militaristic training continued the perils that became “cause for termination” grew. They were expected to kill, but not to imbibe their kills. They were expected to hunt, but not to press themselves so awkwardly among nature. They were expected to be human monsters, not monster monsters. Eight more were exterminated during their first drills in the outside world. She kept her head down, did as she was told and only escaped at night. She welcomed her wendigo dreams, whispering secrets with her only friend while the world slept.

It wasn’t long after the group had dwindled to eleven before the murmurs among her kin began. She couldn’t allow herself to be tempted; how could they? They had seen the same repercussions as she had, but they foolishly believed that talking was not an offense. Perhaps if it had ended with words they would have been correct, but during the night four of them ran away. The seven remaining were tasked with hunting them down and destroying them. She had hoped it would be difficult, the killing. She expected some pang of consciousness would clasp her hand before she could deliver a final blow; but she felt no guilt, no temptation to desist. She slaughtered two of them like the monster that she was. As she clawed at XVI’s neck, ripping the flesh so that the head could be returned to her masters she noticed the arcane arm. She had every intention of passing it off along with the head, but something stopped her. It stopped her.

Her collection of friends had been doubled.

Killing their own proved too much for her dwindling siblings and three of the remaining seven were removed from the facility. Their fate is unknown, presumed dead. It was abundantly clear the project was a failure and should be terminated. The four remaining genetic abominations would be dispersed to alleviate any blame or suspicion, and were also expected to keep eyes and ears open for the missing three. Other than finding her siblings, which she mentally placed at the bottom of her to-do list, their instructions were to kill demons and enemies of the Templar. For the first time in her life she had been given no strict orders. She had been given a semblance of freedom, though the threat of observation from the Templar was ever present, pushing her down a thin gray line mirroring her existence. She often feared they would find out about the arcane arm that had been gifted to her, but if they did know about it, they made no move to acquire it.

.Other

Terrified of fire, thanks to the wendigo. If you ask a human to stop breathing they can attempt it, but in the end they will gasp for breath. Her fear of fire is similar. She can attempt to force herself into proximity and may even be able to maintain for a short period, but in the end the fear, supplanted as a will to survive, will override.

Soul Wretch

[+]

.Origin; arcane arms

Eons ago there was a being whose fate had been read long before it would come to pass, an existence plotted by ancient gods and scrawled in the burning endurance of gaseous balls far from the reach of prophets. He would be known by a mark that followed the shell from the womb; a paleness and cold touch, an evil. A predestined existence, but when he was born, he didn’t want to be evil. They told him he was and his amassing magical abilities were sure confirmation, but still, the boy struggled with such a destiny. He didn’t feel evil.How could one close off the awe inspiring beauty that surrounded each existence and become the foil to their own wants?

In an effort to summon his own self-acceptance, he began work on a magical talisman. It was an intricate metal skull, formed of blended metals whose origins spanned the cosmos. The metal was fused with the hands of his shell, imperfect things that pressed hot and cold energy into its form. Those same troublesome digits ascribed prophetic inscriptions and unknown rituals that laced the shell of the talisman. A final stone, one meticulously chosen from a century aged death shroud of a virgin oracle, was pressed into the forehead as he prayed to ancient deities for inner sight. The Talisman proved to be an effective amplifier of his magic. He could invade minds and manipulate the fates of others, but still, he could not realign his own to it’s foretold majesty. He died, disgraced, and worse yet, loved.

His aged and spindley fingers wrapped about the talisman, clutching it to his decaying chest, until his race and history had fallen away and been replaced. It was oft told with a tinge of sadness for the boy, but defying fate seemed to her a noble goal, one that whispered late into the night, kindred to her own soul. Of course, it’s just a story and variations do exist. Some say that he was evil and the creation of the arcane arm turned him good, but she favored the first story.

.Activation; arcane arms

The small, yet impossibly tenacious talisman hastily forms a bond with the curator, whispering into their mind in an ancient dialect both exotic and familiar, eerie and comforting. It is assured that each possessor has a different experience with the talisman, and her own was nothing short of revolutionary. It provided companionship when she was alone in the yawning and bleak expanse of the tundra. She would wrap her claw-like nails about her favored friend and her eyes would drift closed while power pulsed from it’s small form, entering and exiting her body with wiles barely contained. It soon blended seamlessly with her own psyche and the magic was used as habitually as a blade for a warrior.

.Cast Out; standard

From the depths of the curator “consciousness” is pulled asunder, creating a duplication of herself that can exist stand alone or possess a soulless body; most commonly the dead. Initially the ability failed to balance the pieces of consciousness in both forms so that one was almost purely wendigo, leaving the other human. This happens infrequently now, but it can still be a gamble.

.Take In; alternate

After Tacache has ingested some form of body matter, quite an easy process for one who hunts with teeth and claws, she can take in the victim. The ability weaves magic through the foreign body matter and chases it back to it’s origin, battering down any defenses and splaying open the chosen mind like a road map for the curator. While reading another being is not an exact science, it requires focus and the being to have some sort of soul force. Occasionally the chosen mind will linger within her own for a short time, which can be quite bothersome, but not deadly.

.Body Heist; overbreak

A sort of melding of the first two abilities, Body Heist allows the curator to cast out a piece of their own "consciousness" into a victim whose body matter has been ingested. Temporarily this gives the curator control of their own body as well as control over the victim. A strong willed individual can put up a mental fight, but the arcane arm suppresses any physical control, so again, this is more bothersome than anything else. It is assumed that lengthy habitation in another shell would be detrimental to the curator’s overall psyche.

.Army of Mine; unleashed

The curators "consciousness" shatters into a multitude of entities capable of inhabiting dead, inanimate objects and/or consumed victims. It is unclear what lasting effects this will have on the curator.

TLDR TACACHE

& Wendigo/human female created by the Templar of Vroncroft
& Afraid of fire
& Arcane Arm called Soul Wretch deals with duplication and possession

[Ambrosia]

Edit: Agh, I just realized that my character's Eldritch Arm is kind of similar to @Noxious's... I can change it, if needed. I've got a few other concepts in my head that I'm sure can make work...

Name: Erielia Mirolin
Age: 19
Race: Human
Gender: Female

|Appearance|
Naturally slim, Erielia has very little physical strength and doesn't bother with trying to build any. With long legs and above-average curves, the she is very proud of her appearance, and frequently uses it to her advantage.

Erielia has always adored long hair, and has refused to cut her blonde locks since she learned how to speak. Because of this, her hair has grown down to the middle of her thighs where it thins out. Her parents have urged her to snip some of it off, but the young woman, being very self-conscious and wary of change, has ignored their advice. Lately, she has been braiding her hair every morning in an effort to keep the length while having it not be so inconvenient.

Through decades of marriage based on beauty and power, her family blessed her with a beautiful visage. With purple, doe-shaped eyes set in a heart-shaped face, most would consider her physically attractive.

She has always been taught to wear more "feminine" clothing - dresses and skirts instead of pants, usually paired with something with a wedge or heel. She seems to enjoy dressing up, but no one knows if that’s because of personal preference or habit.

|Bio|
Born into the very noble Mirolin family, Erielia was raised by her mother, who gave her a fairly strict upbringing. As a young child, her mother organized each and every day and made sure that she always had as many tutors as possible. She worked extremely hard to do well - so she could bask in the praise and attention that would come flooding in. She always loved being noticed; that was the only motivation she ever had to do anything.

Fast forward a few years to when she was around 12 years old, and the girl's younger brother was born. Suddenly, all the attention and praise she used to have was gone. Jealousy and ambition being in her genes, she thought for days on how to gain back everything she had lost - and make sure that her little sibling would never be able to take it away from her.

It was around then that she discovered a beautiful silver and sapphire ring half-hidden in the corner of a well-known jewellery while shopping. The moment she noticed it, she felt a strange, pleasant feeling settling in her mind. The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of the stored clerk, handing him a wad of money with the ring on her finger.

A few days later, the baby boy and his mother were announced dead - both had been murdered by one of the family’s maids. After the death of his wife and son, Erielia’s father began devoting all of his energy to making sure that she stayed safe and happy, spoiling her with money and attention.

Eldritch Arm: Lothuria

Standard Form: In its standard form, Lothuria is a silver ring with two small but bright sapphires imbedded in the middle. This allows the wearer to communicate with surrounding spirits. The wearer can also enlist the help of these spirits. Among other abilities, these spirits can “possess” living things; however, unlike controlling something, they can only do their best to influence something, which makes it hard to “possess” a strong-willed individual.

Alternate Form: Lothuria is turned into an elegant rapier, a weapon preferred by nobles. In addition to Erielia using the weapon for obvious purposes, it also allows spirits to influence stronger-willed things.

Overbreak Form: In this form, Lothuria can ask spirits to influence most things, and even groups of weaker-willed things. It can also control Erielia’s body when pushed; if she exerts herself too much and runs out of energy, Lothuria can take over as it does not feel pain or fatigue. However, this obviously comes with consequences from over-working her body.

Unleashed Form: In its unleashed form, Lothuria gains a physical form through darkness or something’s shadow, making it much more powerful at night. On top of having the abilities that Erielia had when it was in its other forms, it is also tangible, meaning that it can protect Erielia, as well as attack other things.

Other:
In its standard, alternate, and overbreak forms, Lothuria “resides” in the user’s mind, where it can telepathically communicate with the user. In its unleashed form, it comes out of the user’s mind and slips into its physical form.

Since Erielia began using her Eldritch Arm, she has experienced dizziness, nausea, and fainting. Something that happens not as frequently is bouts of madness; the only time that that has happened so far, however, is when she committed her first crime and ended up killing her own mother, who she had adored.