[CHAR] {Closed}

[icmasticc]

Marcus Roman

M a r c u s R o m a n

Age - Thirty Five || Birthplace - The Outer Ring, Scion || Magic User - No

Physical description

With piercing green eyes and a stone cold expression, Marcus Roman appears as a man hardened to the world around him. He stands just an inch over six feet and with a frame that would neither be large enough to describe him as hulking nor lean enough to label him slender. His torso is tight with muscular definition and scars leading into a "V"-shaped upper back--equally scarred--and broad shoulders. His limbs are proportioned and though his arms and legs aren't especially thick, they are cut with the definition provided by years of service and private jobs. His face has light facial hair and his once full head of hair is now shaved down due to his current situation. Other than scars, Marcus has no defining marks on his body such as tattoos and he elects to wear no jewelry at any time.

Armor

Marcus wears a specially crafted set of light armor that was given to him as a gift. It is composed of thin sheets of plate metal combined with cloth to give him light protection while keeping the weight down so his movement is more free. The blacksmith who made it knew that Marcus was not the kind of person to fight directly.

Stamina Rating

6/6

Weapon(s)

As his main weapon, Marcus carries a double-edged long sword. The blade is 45 inches and is smithed into the hilt with a full tang negating the need for a guard. It is composed of steel and meant for hard combat though, unlike most of the age, Marcus carries the blade and sheath on his back. Also carried on his back is his secondary weapon, a hand-crafted longbow made of finished oak.

Personality

Due to the rather blank and angry looking expression Marcus wears, most assume him to be a man that is cold and short with his words. In his case, Marcus is actually more world-weary than strong and alone. He is a broken man who has seen his share of suffering and tragedy and these experiences have molded and shaped him into more of a realist than the idealist he used to be. His dialogue--though tinged with sarcasm and malicious wit--is often sharp and honest, almost begging others to heed the words and underlying tones behind them. He does not mind the company of others though he does not actively seek it out, but in his time in the military he grew used to working as a team member and relying on others in dangerous situations.

Having said this, deep within, Marcus is not yet ready to share his true self with others. Especially because of his past, he is adept at wearing facades to adapt to the different situations he finds himself in and this act even gains his friends and comrades every once in a while. In truth though, Marcus yearns to one day unleash his true persona and bring himself back from the dark pit of his mind he locked part of himself into.

History

Marcus Roman was born to disgraced parents in the Outer Ring on Scion. At one time, his parents were highly respected scholars within the community of Scion Prime. They were head of a team that was responsible for researching the pre-Catastrophe era and magical poisoning. Though they never made any breakthroughs on the cause or origins of magical poisoning, they did manage to write and archive a good chunk of the books that currently exist on anything pre-Catastrophe. However, it was soon revealed that their work had been stolen from a fellow leading mind and the disgrace came quick and hard. Being proven as frauds, the Roman couple was forced to move into the Outer Ring where they had their first and only child.

To add insult to injury, Marcus was clearly not destined to be a scholar. From an early age he had a hard time making friends and found it easier to pick fights and arguments instead. Being home-schooled by extremely intelligent parents only gave him the ability to rationally plan out his mischievous activities and his bad behavior eventually wrought dire consequences. In one of his stints of rebellion, Marcus was travelling alone in the Ring at the age of twelve. A group of thugs followed and swiftly kidnapped the boy in the broad light of day. His captors sold him to slavers at first who locked him in a home to be a child servant and object of taboo affections. Only two years later, the slavers' home was raided by a band of traveling knights as part of an annexation of the city by the Markovian empire. Upon finding the hidden, dirty, and malnourished child, the knights spared him from death and took him to Markovia where he was quickly thrown into training to eventually become conscripted into military service.

As Marcus grew older, he learned the ways of combat and tactics while serving in the Markovian army. Initially becoming a heavy armored soldier in front line warfare, Marcus was afforded the opportunity to travel the continent and see just how dark and, in his words, fucked up the world had truly become. He saw things he would never forget and did things he would come to regret for the rest of natural born life. After ten years in the army--he officially joined when he turned eighteen--the disillusioned knight deserted while on an emissary trip to Sorei on Eteria. His company left with no knowledge of his betrayal and Marcus decided to put his skills to use as a mercenary who took on jobs from the highest bidder. These jobs morphed into a career of smuggling.

During these criminal years, Marcus met a woman as hardened men often do. Unheard of in this era, she was a blacksmith at the master craftsmen level. The two fell in love rather quickly and though Marcus continued to use his skills to lead a life of crime, his partner supported him back crafting armor and weapons for her soulmate. Of course, smuggling humans is very much frowned upon and it wasn't long until the ICC got wind of his growing reputation and Marcus was caught. He was tried and sentenced to death while his partner's whereabouts became unknown.

Marcus Roman wasted away on death row in the dungeons of Armistice awaiting his execution until he was informed his sentencing had been changed suddenly. Marcus had been ordered by the ICC to be released and placed in a traveling party of individuals who would search for the secret of magical immunity in the wilds of the world. Realizing instantly that the ICC was sentencing him to death by the beasts that roamed the world instead of a swift death by hanging, Marcus tried to decline, but was forced to join. His armor and weapons were returned to him and he was taken to meet the group he'd be travelling with.

Motivation

Though he knows he is not truly free, Marcus only desires to find the woman who was taken from him before he resigns himself to death by the beasts he's been forced to encounter in a quest he deems stupid and ridiculous.

Significant Relations

The blacksmith woman who captured his heart--Varrina.

[agentmanatee]

Erickson

Erickson

Stamina 4/4 - 1000 HP

Name: Erickson of the God Eaters

Age: 32

Physical description: Erickson appears a savage in many ways, in his size and face. Standing at the height of 7'2, there are those who would call him 'giant', but his size is not all there is to him. His face is surprisingly clean shaven, nought but stuble is commonly found, but his hair is kept long, his curly brown hair often dirty from travel, and those who look closely may find bloodstains. His eyes are hazel, the large brown-green orbs carry a piercing gaze, and often his large features appear absent, or angry. His nose is rather crooked, having been broken long ago and healed incorrectly. Aside from this however, he is largely free of scars or other blemishes, and aside from his intimidating sized he could be called handsome. His body itself is far more scarred than his face, and rippling with a strength bellying his size.

Birthplace: Eteria, Orpheus

Magic user: No

Armor: The heavy full plate of the God Eaters (has a shield), In addition the Gore red cloak of the God Eaters as well as red undercoat are added to this. The Golden toothed mouth of the Order is on his cloak and shield

Armor

Stamina rating: 4/4

Weapons: His primary weapon is a rather large and thick Steel longsword, his secondary or back-up weapon is a more ordinarily sized longsword (he carries two in case he loses one, a sheathe on either side of his waist, larger blade on left hip, smaller on the right)

Personality: Erickson seems to many a sullen and serious man, slow to jest or smile and quick to jeer or insult. Many also consider him to not be particularly bright, taking his size as a sign that he is a dullard or halfwit, this is not true. While of only average intelligence he is no fool, and he has a cool head and approaches all things with collected thoughts. It takes alot to anger the giant, but one sure fire way to do it is to show gratuitous weakness. Erickson does not respect men or women who lack strength, physical or otherwise. If a man cannot defend himself, one way or another, he deserves to be taken advantage of(a popular opinion in the God Eaters). Despite all this, he is not evil, he has values and a personal code. For one, he refuses to fight anyone woefully unable to match him and far beneath his ability. He is also a trustworthy man, who has very rarely broken his word for he believes a man's word is all he has, if he cannot be trusted no one will respect, fear or love him. He has a surprising soft spot for cripples, believing the fate visited upon them to be cruel and unfair, as if fate cheated them their strength.

History: The God-Eaters, a name rightly feared throughout Zenith, for they eat beasts and those they deem worthy. Many call them cannibals and brigands, Erickson called them heroes. From a young age he heard of their exploits, their strength, their power. Bornn in Orpheus, Erickson killed his mother when he was born, to large for her to deliver without complication. His father was a cuthroat and a thief, who realized his son had a talent by the time he was 8, his size. By the time Erickson was 12 he was already almost 6 feet tall and still groing. His father tried to hire his son on to several mercenary groups, to convince him to make money this way, but Erickson was undeterred from his dreams. He sought out the God Eaters, finding their great fort and throwing his name in as a recruit. As was tradition, he was thrown into the great fighting pit with several other hopefuls, and told he could not leave until the others were all dead, and eaten. He killed his three fellows and devoured their corpses over a day and a half of gluttonous rage. He was deamed worthy, and made a squire. He traveled this way until the age of twenty, when he was finally Knighted after passing the final test of strength. Since then, he has brought blade and lance to the those the God Eaters are paid to kill, but now a new oppourtunity has arisen.
The ICC begins an expedition, to discover the origin of the God-like beings the Eaters search for. He signed up with them, for he already KNEW the secret, as all God Eaters due, and this expedition may bring an end to his quest when he devours the ones who have attined what the ICC searches for.

EXTRAS: Carries a small bag of bones on his person at all times

Motivation: Erickson is driven by what all God-Eaters are, the dream of devouring one of the magical beings who feels no ill effect from using magic, to ascend to their height. However, Erickson also has a few more grounded hopes, namely to find someone worthy of his respect and love to marry and sire heirs should he fail in his quest as many before him have(he understands this may be difficult with the traditions of the God Eaters being what they are)

Significant relations: Sir Torrent - The Knight who trained him and taught him the ways of the God Eaters

[OneWayOut]

Jessabelle

Stamina 8/8 - 250 HP

| NAME: |

-Jessabelle

| AGE: |

-24

| PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: |

-Jessabelle sports short blonde hair and dark brown eyes that give her an overall soft look. The features of her face are very feminine and it gives her a look of innocence that typically has others lowering her guard around her. Her frame is lean and athletic, and she has just a bit of curve where it counts as well as hidden muscle here and there, mainly in her legs. She stands at an average height of 5'6 (1.7m) and weighs just a bit over 124lbs (54kg). She wears little to no armor, finding that it impedes her movements, as she relies on quick dodges and counters when in battle.

| BIRTHPLACE: |

-Sorei, Eteria

| MAGIC USER: |

-Yes, in moderation.

| ARMOR: |

-No Armor: See Appearance Image

| STAMINA: |

-8/8

| WEAPON: |

-Main:

Bow and Arrows

-Sub:

Twin Daggers

| PERSONALITY: |

-Jessabelle has a demeanor that always comes across as calm, cool, and uncaring. She's not one to outwardly show her feelings. Despite this, Jessabelle has a sharp tongue and has never been afraid to speak her mind in fear of hurting someone’s feelings and she isn’t above tossing a snarky remark or two when/if the situation calls for it. The majority of her repertoire consists of sarcastic comments accompanied by a sardonic smirk or raising of an eyebrow. She has been called cold more than a few times, but only because she has extremely selective empathy, being that she cannot bring herself to understand the ridiculous reasons which cause a great deal of upset and alarm to most people. Crying at the drop of a hat is simply annoying and a waste of the body’s functions in her opinion. As a firm believer of independence, she absolutely loathes damsels in distress. She’s quite determined and headstrong when it comes to accomplishing tasks. Despite all appearances, Jessabelle is not always as mean as she seems, and has a completely different side when she is alone, a more pleasant side that she keeps hidden from many. For her own reasons. She has no problem making... acquaintances as she enjoys the company of others every... once in awhile. She is a fast learner, not usually falling for the same tricks or making the same mistakes twice. She has a high tolerance for pain and is not afraid of anything, death included. She's not reckless, but won't back down from a challenge just because she thinks her opponent has an advantage.

| HISTORY: |

-Jessabelle was born in the wake of the Martial Law that was cast upon Sorei after the walls of the city were torn down. What came of the blood and ashes was a strict lifestyle cast upon the few remaining citizens of the once great Capital. Jessabelle and her sisters grew up having been thrust into the "military" that was derived of petty thieves and mercenaries, and they learned how to steal and track and assassinate from a very young age. There was no child too young to start, and thus the city only continued to be shrouded in death and despair as the people watched family be sent away on dangerous tasks, never to return.

Despite this, Jessabelle and her sisters remained as happy as they could be during this time of change. They were told by their parents that this was what was necessary. It was needed to bring a positive change to the world. While they didn't believe this to be true, they had no other choice but to comply and do what they were told. Perhaps it was the training that caused Jessebelle to slowly drift apart from her sisters, but she never wanted to be a warrior or slay monsters... she always just wanted a normal life. As she got older, her need to break away eventually became too great. Her parents ended up dying, and less than a year later, she was done. One night, she decided to leave the capital and venture to the small town of Orpheius, leaving her family behind with nothing but a farewell letter, detailing where they'd be able to find her. She ended up paying a ridiculously high price to catch a ride with a large group of merchants who were travelling to and from the cities to transport supplies. The trip was long, uncomfortable and dangerous. When she arrived at the small town, she had nothing but the clothes on her back and the will to start fresh. It was a long time before she ever got word from back home. In Orpheius, she got a simple job as a merchants helper, though home was always on her mind. The one and onl letter she'd got from home was from her sisters, saying they were coming to find her.

Jessabelle was reunited with her sisters a few weeks later as they'd somehow managed to make it to the small town, through the same means as she had. For a long time, life was good. Until one night, Jessabelle woke up and her sisters were gone. Their beds were unmade, clothes and other belongings unpacked... it was if they had just vanished overnight. To this day, Jessabelle doesn't know what happened to them, but she is determined to find out. She heard from a traveller of a particular stone that held magical powers. It had the power to guide whoever held it to the place they belonged. Jessabelle took this tale to heart, learning from the merchant that the first step to finding it would be to head to the capital of Azra.

And so she did, bearing nothing but her weapons, wit, and drive to find her family.

| EXTRAS: |

-Motivation: Jessabelle was very close to her four sisters before they vanished one night, seemingly in thin air. She will stop at nothing to find out what happened to them and if they are still alive or dead. She wants her family back. Without her family, she has nothing.

-Significant Relations: Isabelle (27), Annabelle (20), Mirabelle (16) and Clarabelle (9) - These are Jessabelle's four sisters.

[Luminosity]

Fiona

Fiona

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Character Summary

Name: Fiona
Title: Aspirant of the Order of the Burning Light
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Birthplace: Armistice, Azra

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Appearance

Physical Description: Fiona's most obvious features are her fiery, long red hair, and striking blue eyes. Her appearance is quite feminine, her robes closely fitting enough to reveal her shape, but perhaps not enough to show that her musculature is quite toned underneath. She reaches a height of 5'8", and stands with proud, excellent posture, befitting of a warrior of her Order. While she stands as such, it is apparent that she doesn't have quite the same amount of brute strength some of her more battle-oriented brothers and sisters possess.

Clothing/Armor: She wears the white robe of her Order. Her robe is hooded and long sleeved, cut off around mid-thigh level, and closely fitted enough to not obstruct her motions. The robe is fastened by a sturdy belt around her waist, and leather armbands on both upper arms. Beneath her robe, she wears a long sleeved shirt of chainmail for protection, over a thin undershirt. On her lower body she wears leather pants and knee-high boots.

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Inner Workings

Personality: Fiona takes herself and her Order a bit too seriously at times, but then again, she's often the first one to admit this. She's typically serious and focused, preferring not to take anything that opposes her lightly. She's proud of her work and what her Order stands for, even if she isn't particularly proud of herself, or specifically her shortcomings, and she has a tendency to be quite hard on herself, sometimes destructively so. She has a strong desire to prove herself and make a difference in the world. Fiona's strongly attached to the idea that she can somehow make things better, and while it doesn't quite go into the realm of naivete, it comes close. Whether she was born that way or it was simply a result of her teachings, Fiona is both brave and compassionate, and will staunchly defend anything or anyone she believes in. For whatever reason, she isn't overly bothered by the idea of the early death that likely awaits her as a member of the Burning Light.

Motivations: The idea of magical immunity is often regarded as a waste of time by Burning Light warriors, a pointless quest that could be better spent instead helping solve the obvious problems that people face every day. Fiona, however, sees the potential that magical immunity could have for her Order. She's not afraid to stake her reputation or her life on the attempt to find it. After all, she's just an Aspirant, a nobody among her peers. As she sees it, there's very little to lose, and everything to gain.

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Combat & Magic

Weapons: Fiona's primary weapon is her personally crafted longsword, which she wields with two hands. Like all of its type, the sword is strongly enchanted, both to become very difficult to break, and also to absorb the magic that Burning Light warriors wield. Her back up weapon is a short dagger, strapped to her right thigh.

Armor: Her chainmail counts as Light Armor.
Stamina Rating: 6/6

Magic: As is the case with all members of the Order of the Burning Light, Fiona is proficient in two paths of magic: healing, and fire, though she has shown greater skill in healing. Her spells are as follows:

• Healing Light - Fiona channels healing magic through her hands, which will steadily mend wounds through physical contact. The speed and effectiveness of the healing are dependent on how hard she pushes herself. Using too much can cause Fiona to temporarily fall ill, resulting in physical weakness and inability to use magic at least until she rests fully.
• Burning Light - Order members have performed a wide variety of fire spells, with a great range of power and costliness. Fiona's abilities with fire are modest. Her most common flame attack is a simple cone-shaped gout of flame, launched from her palm with about a ten-foot range of effectiveness. She can hold it for a few seconds, but must then relent.
• Sword's Light - A trick nearly all Order members must master. Fiona can channel her fire magic into her enchanted blade, imbuing it with heat that would melt a normal blade. In addition to causing extreme burning pain on contact, the blade will also cut much more easily through armor or toughened hide. This is typically done on a per-strike basis, and not held for the entirety of the fight.

Combat Overview: Fiona is well trained with the sword, as are all her brothers and sisters. She will be the first to admit, however, that combat is not her greatest strength. She lacks the brute force needed to overpower, relying instead on her quickness and her magic for offense. Her armor is light and doesn't slow her much, but also doesn't provide the best protection, especially against heavy blunt attacks. Overall, she's a skilled but largely untested combatant, one that hopes she can survive long enough to improve and expand her skill set.

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Backstory

Personal History: Fiona's origins are similar to many of her brothers and sisters, and nothing remarkable. She was given to the Order of the Burning Light as a young child of no more than four years, and barely remembers her parents. Many of the Order's warriors came to the Temple as such, the children of parents that could not afford to support them and pay the ICC's taxes. More still lost their families from Zenith's many horrible dangers, and had nowhere else to go. Regardless of her family's abandonment of her, Fiona does not regret her youth.

In many ways, coming of age in the Temple was a blessing for Fiona. She had friendship, protection, excellent tutelage, and the support of the people. Some were unwilling to pay the price that came with being in the Order, but Fiona always believed in their ways, and committed herself fully to the path from early on. She studied diligently, improved herself physically, and excelled in her magical training.

After completing her time as a Disciple and forging her sword, Fiona began her service as an Aspirant within the walls of Armistice, as most young Order members do. She tended to the sick and injured, resolved disputes among the common folk, and tended to general peacekeeping duties. Still, nothing was keeping her there if she desired to leave, and indeed, she felt the world beyond calling to her. Her path to the rank of Decanus or higher would not be completed without taking great risk. Thus, she joined up with the group formed by the ICC, to search for the secret of magical immunity. She believes that if nothing else, it will provide her with a strong footing for improving her abilities. If magical immunity is truly possible, Fiona is not so blind as to fail to recognize the recognition that would await her, should she be the member of her Order to bring such a gift to the Light.

Significant Relations: Aspirant Mara (her closest friend, currently in Armistice), Preceptor Remus (her favored teacher as a Disciple).

[DOOM TEA]

Mikhail Rothingham

Name: Mikhail Rothingham
Age: 25

Physical Description:

Like the hooded-order of The Enclave, those who forfeit their studies continue to don the dark-green robes of leather and dyed-wool. The scholar's robes are lightweight, sturdy and allowed for maximum flexibility (carrying arcane tomes and heavy textbooks in plate armor would be silly.) Mikhail's dark brown hair has grayed early aging him considerably, but his warm green eyes portrayed a burdened friendliness. The rest of his features were angular - he had a thin, pointed nose and sharp jaw. His skin was as pale as alabaster, due to years of being cooped up indoors, candlelight and the occasional conjurer's fireball being the only source of light by which to read.

The hood Mikhail wears shows signs of wear and tear, a parting-gift from the Enclave. The enclave robes conceal his underfed build somewhat and make him appear wider than he is. The only personal belonging he carries, besides the morningstar, is a small leather satchel attached to his belt, where he keeps many miniature glass vials, each with a cork stopper. Mikhail, although under no obligation to further his studies into the supernatural beasts whose bones and hides were sent to The Enclave, continues his academic mission.

Although Mikhail's posture is impeccable while standing, he slouches heavily whenever he sits.
Height: 5"10
Weight: 135 lbs

Birthplace: SCION, Scion Prime
(The Enclave)

Stamina: 6/6

Armor & Weapon

Armor: Leather and wool robes and hood, dark green. Offers some protection against the elements.


Weapon: "Nightstar" a morningstar-type mace, used to poke enemies full of holes and force them to bleed out. The morningstar has some weight to it and is not as graceful of a weapon as a sword.


Magic: Has never tried using magic, more interested in magic as a field of study rather than combat.

Personality: Dangerously curious, and always pursuing new knowledge. That being said, he is not a bookworm, and is not a fan of reading dusty, ancient books. He would much rather learn through direct experience and experimentation.

Even his choice of weapon, the spiked-mace, is meant to shed any secrets his enemies might be hiding. Mikhail hopes that by studying the various fluids held within the beasts, he can better understand their weaknesses. Most get along with Mikhail fine enough, as he is hard-headed, but mostly approachable. Mikhail functions best when those on his team are working as a cohesive unit.

History: Mikhail has very little history of which to write. Bound in servitude to The Enclave, since his youth, Mikhail has only recently taken charge of his destiny.

He was abandoned on the doorstep of the monastic order of healers and historians known as the Enclave.
Shortly after being born, his impoverished family offered Mikhail to The Enclave, a common custom among the poorest of Scion. After 25 years in the order, Mikhail has recently quit The Enclave and found himself caught up in the affairs of the ICC's study on Magic.

EXTRAS

[EXTRAS:]
-Tiny Glass Vials: Empty and unfulfilled, these glass vials are enclosed with cork and could, theoretically, be used to study the supernatural beasts plaguing the land.

Motivation: Knowledge and an escape from his past.

Significant Relations:
1. Plianus the Elder, Elder of The Enclave
A stoic historian in his late 80s. Signed the termination papers for Mikhail's departure from The Enclave. An ornery, but wise old man who can trace his lineage back to the original 2 families that laid the foundation for what would become The Enclave. Enjoys writing strongly-worded letters to his dissidents. Old age hasn't slowed him down one bit and his wit is sharper than steel.

2. Mammonodes, Financial-Adviser to ICC.
Mammonodes is a 60-something year old finance-whiz who left Scion Prime to become an adviser to the ICC. Instantly recognized for his aptitude in mathematics and trade, even in adolescence, he was groomed to be adept in all matters of Economics and eventually rose to the rank of Magister. Magisters are essentially the department-heads of various fields of study within The Enclave.

Mammonodes has traveled the world extensively, studying the various systems of trade, barter and mercantilism throughout the realms of man. Mammonodes is one of the Elder's most trusted Magisters, and Plianus genuinely wishes the ICC would utilize the vast knowledge that Mammonodes holds for the benefit of both The Enclave and the ICC.

3. Vladimir, 25, Prin-Magister of Leeching.
After quitting the order, Mikhail was fortunate that his friendship with the Prin-Magister survived and the two still maintain contact via pigeon. During their studies, the two felt a deep brotherly bond and often daydreamed of what it would be like to be a knight.

Vlad is being groomed to take the chair on the council of adepts known as Magisters. Adepts who are scheduled to graduate to the position of Magister are known as Prin-Magisters. The current Magister of Leeching is dying of old age and Vladimir is to be his replacement when he passes.

[wispered]

Quinn Rose

Name: Quinn Rose

Age: 26

Physical description: Quinn stands at a height of 5'4" and is slightly pear shaped being wider of hip than
she is of shoulder. She has a swarthy complexion, with a golden undertone. Her face, a squared off heart-
shape with a chin that would never be called delicate, houses a hawkish nose, pierced through the septum
with an embellished silver hoop. She has thick, squared lips, often set in a crooked and impish grin, and
often cracked from her terrible habit of chewing on them. Large, steely eyes stare out from beneath well-
manicured brows and there is often amusement there. Thick, dark curls cascade down to her rear when she has
them loose, though often they are tied tightly out of her way. Though clearly a woman, delicate she is not.

Birthplace: Rian, Markovia

Magic User: No

Armor: Light, she wears a mix of chain, scale, and leather. Example

Stamina Rating: 6/6

Weapon(s): She wields a two handed spear.

Personality: Life is laughter to Quinn. It is rare she lacks a smile, even if only a wry one. She approaches
life as if everything were a form of amusement and humour is, indeed, a defense mechanism for her. She uses
her irreverance and quipping tongue to foster a sense of warmth, whether she actually feels it toward
another or not. It can be difficult to get close to her because of this, she'll rarely talk seriously about
herself. There is an underlying rage to her laughter that is sometimes hinted at, but never exposed. Quinn
has a love for bright colours, fine food, and other pleasures of life. When given the chance, she can be a
bit hedonistic. She is, however, a responsible individual, a team player. She may not like you, but if she
has to work with you, she will. She is voted most likely to yell until she loses her voice in battle.

History: Quinn was happy growing up. As happy as one can be these days, at least. She had a loving family
and they ate decently most of the time. Well, they weren't starving. Usually. She was the youngest of four
children, and the least leaned upon to provide for the family, having been born ten full years after the
next youngest. She was a bit adrift, often left to amuse herself. It was at this young age that her love of
wandering, exploring, hearing stories, developed. She would spend hours wandering the city, looking for
travellers, eagerly soaking up tales of Other Places. As she grew older, she began to realize that the
world was so much larger than what she knew. Her life was good, but it was simple. There was no challenge
beyond survival and she wasn't content to merely survive, she wanted to thrive, to grow. She did most of
her actual growing up on the road, hard lessons learned the worst way possible. She carries these scars
beneath her smiles. Still, when the opportunity came to not only explore, but to seek out answers that no
one yet had, she was more than thrilled. This was her purpose, and she'd be damned if she missed out on it.

EXTRAS: She chews her lips pretty much all the time.
She wears a strip of lace wrapped about her thigh. It was from her mother's wedding dress. She took it
without permission before leaving home.

Motivation: She wants to be more than she is. Quinn in unsatisfied with simply existing, she seeks to learn,
to experience.

Significant Relations: Her parents and siblings matter a great deal to her. She had a very happy family, and
does try to send word when she can, though at this distance, messages become pricey and difficult.

Other: She stole the spear she's currently using from a caravan she was travelling with for a short while.
It was fancier than the one she had and she'd never stolen anything before.

[JulienJaden]

Nicholas

500 HP - 6/6

A pretty picture

Name: Nicholas

Age: 29

Physical description:
At 6'2'', Nicholas is neither a giant nor a mouse, a man of dark brown hair that is reaching out for his shoulders and is in dire need of a proper cut. His face is always covered with stubbles that hide the tiny cuts and scrapes a life by the sword comes with, making him appear more youthful and soft than he truly is. His dark brown eyes usually look attentive and friendly, adding to an impression that stands in stark contrast to the rest of his appearance and experience.

Nicholas' body is toned and muscular, a man in the form of his life, strong and fit for any challenge, or so he likes to make people think. Unfortunately, it is also covered with scars both small and large and his armor and clothes cover one that stands out among them all.

Birthplace: Sorei, Eteria

Magic User: Yes

Armor: Light

Armor

Not quite what I had in mind but it's as close as I could find it.
- The armor would be plain reinforced steel, none of that decoration.
- The pauldrons would be a little higher and the left arm would be left only have plate on the outside, rather than being covered entirely.
- Add a layer of plate to the legs (to protect them from the front) in your mind.
- Biggest addition: A broad kite shield, more metal than wood.
- Where armor doesn't cover the plain clothes and skin, he wears leather to soften blows and reinforced boots to go with the armor.

Stamina Rating: 6/6

Weapon(s): A bastard sword and a short sword.

Personality:
Nicholas is generally a friendly person who likes to crack jokes at his own expense and that of others, flirt and just generally keep the atmosphere light, sometimes making him appear careless and haughty; however, this impression can be deceptive. He is a good liar who tends to keep his intentions in the dark and doesn't feel comfortable confiding in somebody he doesn't know well, playing the role of the loudmouth to keep people at a certain distance and make them underestimate him.

But when action is called for, the deception ends. Nicholas faces threats head-on and keeps his cool and focus in most situations thanks to years of serving in a military of sorts and working as a mercenary. He defends those he is loyal to with reckless abandon, to the point where he values their life more than his own.

History:
Nicholas was an orphan, a nobody on the streets of Sorei who had to learn very soon that the orphanages were ill-equipped to deal with the sheer numbers of children like him. Times were particularly hard and without fending for himself and bringing home something of value, you usually didn't eat, which meant that you had to be either a good beggar or a good pickpocket. Nicholas became both.

But it wasn't until he joined the military that he actually began to shine. Unlike those who were taken from families, Nicholas had nobody to miss during long nights and had known nothing but hardship before this one; to him, it was a step up, learning how to fight and not having to worry about food as much. He showed talent for fighting with the sword early on, excelling both two-handed and with a shield to aid him; his skill earned him respect from those of his comrades who knew the value of honor or at least pretended to be, but although he had many friends or people he would have described as such, none were as close to his heart as Jessabelle and her sisters.

Isabelle was forced to join almost at the same time as him and they quickly came to like each other; through her, he met Jessabelle, her sisters and parents who treated him as cordially as could possibly be expected in these dark times. As others joined, he helped them, along with the other sisters, to suffer through the worst of it and come out on the other side relatively unscathed. As years passed and they grew up, Nicholas and Isabelle started a relationship and eventually got engaged, but it wasn't meant to last: Shortly after their parents died, he broke the engagement with little explanation and left everything behind.

From then on, he was on the road, living from mercenary work and the occasional spell, traveling and working with many different groups. He wandered from settlement to settlement in Eteria, Scion, and finally Azra. Whether he was looking for a purpose, work, or something else... He really couldn't tell anymore.

Other relevant information:
His left arm (his shield arm) is weaker than his right one and occasionally tremors run through it.
When he removes the glove on his right, one can see a silver ring on his fourth finger.
Other than his combat equipment, he has a backpack with food, water and what few belongings he has.
He has a keen interest in the world before the Catastrophe and reads everything he comes across, no matter how unreliable it is. As a result, he knows some things about ancient history, although not all of what he claims is necessarily true and somtimes, it is hard to tell where his acquired knowledge ends and his own jokes begin.
- Nicholas is a fairly talented pickpocket. -

Motivation: Could it be that this man wants nothing but fame and fortune? Only time will tell...

Significant Relations: Jessabelle and her sisters - first and foremost Isabelle (Nicholas' ex-fiancée)

[Garden Gnome]

Senua

Senua

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Character Summary

Name: Senua
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Birthplace: Sorei, Eteria
Magic User: No
Stamina: 6/6

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Appearance

Physical Description: Senua's most obvious features are her chest-level chocolate-brown hair and her brooding sky-blue eyes. She often wears her hair in a braid down her front. Her face is round, slightly-oval in shape, her nose pert, and her lips a healthy shade of pink. She stands at a height of 5'7" and her posture befitting that of a trained and skilled warrior. Her build is athletic and lean, with a fair share of muscles befitting that of a warrior. Despite being burdened and covered by all the armour, her figure still manages to boasts a fair share of feminine curves, especially around her bosoms. Senua's ivory complexion boasts a hint of golden undertones, and is unblemished of any scars or tattoos.

Clothing/Armor: [Picture]

Senua wears a mixture of leather and chainmail as part of her armour, effectively classifying it as light armour. The top comprises of a white tunic-blouse as her inner clothing followed by a layer of chainmail directly above for extra protective purposes. What comes above is a layer of harden leather that forms into a shape of a vest complete with somewhat ornate looking straps and buckles. An unrestrictive form of a leather corset is worn above a similar set of chainmail to provide protection for her waist and lower torso region. A leather skirt equally underlined by a layer chainmail similarly to what the top has. A belt is also worn on the waist that holds her pouch and dagger sheaths. The skirt is stitched and arranged in layers to allow greater freedom of movement in action, Primely, the reason she had stuck so such light and simple armour as opposed to the heavier-plated variant.

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Inner Workings

Personality: Despite how the woman may appear to look, Senua is not a cold or a mean person by nature. Her brooding eyes often give off a look of arrogance and that of coldness, but she is anything but. She considers herself pragmatic and a realist. An ambitious and determined individual, she is also remarkably industrious and sees life as a storybook, it's empty pages simply waiting to be filled of stories both of tales of adventure and the like. Once she sets goals for herself, she becomes incredibly dedicated to her goals, pretty much almost to the point of stubbornness. Those victories sure smell sweet though, and it is that though that keeps her pushing through when the going gets tough.

She is friendly to a certain degree, but don't expect her to remain so if you cross her or ruffle her feathers. Her sense of humility only stretches to a certain extent as there are still times where can come across as domineering and bossy. However, this isn't so apparent as when combined with her eloquence and natural charm, most people, especially guys don't seem to have a problem with it, not knowing they have been somewhat bewitched by her feminine wiles. She often treats it as the traits and quality of a good leader with bright new ideas, although in most cases, she doesn't really appear to be the leader sort.

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Combat Overview

Weapons: Senua's main weapon is a steel broadsword measuring forty-five inches long. She wields the sword with both hands a vast majority of the time. She also keeps the weapon in a sheath that she carried on her back. Her secondary weapons are a pair of daggers that are sheathed on a belt she wears on her waist. The daggers are usually used together, dual-wielding them as twin weapons of fury. Her weapons are well-made, crafted specially for her by her father, a talented and skilled blacksmith.

Combat Overview: Senua is well-versed in the ways of the sword, the various technique of combat and swordsmanship passed on from her former soldier and blacksmith father. While she may not have any knowledge in the arts of magical knowledge, she is quick, nimble and agile and as her father likes to call it, a natural with the sword.

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Backstory

Personal History: Sorei was not a safe place, not without its walls to shield its inhabitants from the dangers that lurked in the open. With martial law declared on the city, being able to protect oneself was becoming an increasingly important skill one needed to have if they wanted to prolong their time being one of the living. From a young age, Conway, Senua's blacksmith father had seen fit to train his only child in the arts of combat and swordsmanship. Her mother had died in childbirth, and the pair only had each other for company. It was needless to say, that the pair were close. She started with wooden swords when she was young, and eventually progressed onto real swords made of iron and steel. Her talent for swordsmanship was present from a young age, and Conway was immensely proud of his girl. Eventually, the father and daughter was not spared from the fate that awaited most that lived in the city, 'conscripted' into the city's military force that comprised of mercenaries, former soldiers, thugs and bandits. Many of them were made to carry out deplorable activities, and it was only due to their skill and aptitude with their weapons that kept them alive, for teamwork was often unheard of among this hive of scum and villainy.

Despite all this death and unhappiness that went around, Senua was as satisfied and content as she could be, for she had her father, who was like her whole world to her. She was simply happy to have him around. It was not shortly after the twentieth name-day that she lost her father. While out on a monster hunting expedition, Conway had saved his only child from a monster ambush which left him fatally wounded. His life tethered on a thread as she half-carried him home to the city. Unfortunately, his wounds were too serious and critical for anyone to do anything much, and he passed soon after. Her world came tumbling down as she buried her father and attempted to get use to life without her father. With the home she shared with her father, too full of painful memories, Senua decided to leave Sorei for good. She eventually found herself in Armistice, Azra where her future and destiny awaited her.

Significant Relations: N/A

[IcePezz]

Annalynne Winry James

Annalynne Winry James


Name
Annalynne Winry James (Though she’s gone by many in her lifetime)

Age
30

Appearance
Annalynne is quite small in stature, standing at about 5’. She has a bit more weight on her than she should, considering how active she is, but her curves suit her quite well. Not overly muscular, though her body is tone. Her dark auburn hair is usually tied up in braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. When it is not up, her curly locks reach just below her shoulder. Her eyes are an unusual thing of note; one brown, and one green.

Birthplace
Azra - Cirella

Magic
Yes

Armor

Hider

Her feminine figure is usually hidden beneath layers of leather and cloth. A brown leather duster conceals her form and a large cowl reaches over to hide most of her face. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.

Stamina Rating
8/8

Weapons
Main Twin daggers hang at her hip, they aren’t extravagant by any means, with the exception of a single purple gem embedded in each hilt. The gems are enchanted, one to deal extra damage to her enemy, and the other is coated in a deadly poison, one that would slowly eat away at the target.
Secondary Throwing knives line her thigh, each tethered with a red cord.

Personality
Annalynne is a private person. She likes to eat, but she’ll often eat alone. She likes to drink, but there will usually be only one glass on her table. She likes to read, and well, reading is usually a solitary activity anyway. She is not a woman of many words. To her, actions speak much louder, and hold much more weight in the grand scheme of things. Intentions speak upon a person’s mind, their actions however, will tell you precisely what sort of person they are. Her profession, for many years, was to study people, by their actions, their habits, their desires and how they went about obtaining them. So it’s no small wonder why she usually just observes. While she may not say much, she is quite outspoken if there is something she feels strongly about. She mostly keeps to herself, but that is not to say that she is a loner. She understands the value of group effort, just as long as they stay out of her way. “Only the strong survive” was something she grew up hearing constantly. There are always many obstacles when you are the smallest in the group. She had to become creative until eventually, her size became her strength. Determined, headstrong, deadly.

History
Annalynne’s parents were among the wealthier merchants in Cirella. Their business started quite small, her mother was a seamstress and her father was skilled in using magic for small enchantments. Together they had built their empire on fine silks and extraordinary wares. In the height of their success, their business was put under when an unfortunate incident sent Camilla and Joseph James to their graves.

An act that, after investigation, was found to be orchestrated by one of their competitors. Coin and blackmail had kept officials from serving any type of justice. However Annalynne and her brother Edmund would never forget the blood, the butchery, or the sight of their parents being strung up like cattle. Edmund was only 12 at the time, he rushed Annalynne into the cupboard without anyone realizing, explaining to her that he was going to run for help. Upon being unable to find the two children, their attackers decided they would tie up their loose ends by setting the cottage aflame. The fumes of death forced her from hiding and when she emerged, she saw them. Her parents had been strung up in the center of the room, the flames licking at their feet, daring to devour them whole. The frightened five year old ran, afraid of what her own fate would be if she lingered any longer. But before she made it out of the house, she had bumped into Edmund. Shock stricken and dumbfounded, he stood, frozen by fear and loss, his mouth gaping wide as he stared at his parents.

There was something else in his eyes that Annalynne read that day. Perhaps it was guilt? Or perhaps it was the blame that she had placed on him that she was reading. Either way, it would never be something she would forgive him for. She had no idea where he ran to, or what he had actually done when he said he was going to get help. But there he was, and there was no help beside him. No help for days.

They stayed with each other for the next day or so. She did owe him her life, not that a five year old truly understood that concept. They had barely spoken during that time, and Edmund grew distant. And then he just disappeared. No word, no letter, no goodbye or apology. He left his five year old sister to fend for herself. A daughter of a dead wealthy merchant, in a dangerous city, during deadly times.

Not long after, she was picked up by a friend of the family, who had just so happened to have ties with a large underground guild who had agreed that her experiences could prove quite valuable to their cause. And so she was trained, honed into a deadly weapon. She used what knowledge her parents had bestowed upon her, anything she could take from her past, allowing it to forge her into something unique. Someone to be feared. She had vowed to be better; to be stronger, and more importantly, to live. Unfortunately, her life, at this moment, had come with a price. To live meant to serve, to serve meant to do the dirty work that others wouldn’t soil their hands with. Her skills brought her many jobs, some as a spy, others an assassin. She had tried to use her connections to track down her brother, but to no avail, he was never found.

EXTRAS
Motivation Freedom. When the ICC contracted her for her services, she figured if she was able to find what they were looking for, she would be eligible to gain her freedom. Live out a quiet life in the middle of nowhere, away from everything she despised so much. Even if they wouldn’t grant it to her willingly, with the power they had described, she would at least do her best to take it.
Relationships She has cordial business relations with several of the guilds of each city, but nothing intimate or truly favorable.
Other What is a rogue without her tools? - a small strip of rope, lock picking tools, a pocket knife and a few other small oddities

[Slamurai]

Sister Ezheia

Sister Ezheia

Age:
27

Physical description:
Ezheia stands at nearly six feet, with a lithe, but solid build. Years of tutelage within the Order of Burning Light has built up slabs of whipcord muscle, as well as a few scars here and there. The side-affects of her Order membership contrast with a well-defined femininity, and natural attractiveness of her facial structure. Her flesh is a warm pale, and eyes a blue-grey. Her dark hair falls sleek over her head, often tied up for practicality. In all, she appears as an authoritative, yet beautiful figure, representing both the militant and humanitarian sides of the Order.

Birthplace:
Scion

Magic User:
Yes

Armor:
Light



Ezheia dons a light coat of blackened plates, over which she wears the furs of a slain monster. Ezheia and a small contingent of the Order had been sent to investigate attacks on border towns, when they discovered the creature. It was the delivery of the killing blow to this creature and subsequent relief of a hamlet that earned her the rank of Decanus. While light, abnormal properties of the material afford her adequate protection.

Stamina Rating:
6/6

Weapon(s):
Ezheia carries a recurve bow and a falchion into battle. Both are finely-crafted, but have no magical properties of their own. Ezheia can, however, utilize magic to amplify the lethality of her arrows, or her blade. Both are embellished with sigils of the Order and have decorative handiwork fashioned from the horns of monsters.

Personality:
Most of Ezheia's life has been spent under the banner of the Order of Burning Light; as a result, she is a highly-disciplined and vigilant individual. Not one to waste words, Ezheia speaks bluntly and to-the-point, giving her an aura of authority. She is dedicated to the Order's cause, and still regards herself as in its debt, after coming to the aid of Scion's Outer Ring when the authority of Scion Prime could not. Ezheia carries herself with confidence befitting of her stature as a Decanus, which inspires both awe and unease from common folk. Ezheia has a reputation for ruthlessness in her hunt for disorder, and if no alternative prevents itself, will sacrifice few to save many. Regardless of her icy appearance, Ezheia has good intentions at heart, and is intent on eradicating the lingering traces of the Cataclysm wherever they are found.

History:
Ezheia's birthplace is Scion Prime's Outer Ring, the residences set aside for the less-privileged denizens of the capital. As such, her upbringing was less than luxurious and her family had to manage with the contention between the outer and inner city. They got by managing an apothecary clinic, providing service primarily to other low-born clients. Ezheia was kept busy lending a hand to her folks, picking up skills along the way.

Fate had other plans for Ezheia, however. Come one night, Ezheia's section of the Outer Ring was besieged by a warband of monsters, rampaging across the country. Scion's lack of a standing military only fueled the destruction, and most of the denizens were left to the mercy, or lack-thereof, of the creatures. Only the intervention of a local chapter of the Order of Burning Light relieved the Outer Ring from the onslaught. Unfortunately, they arrived too late to save Ezheia's immediate family. Between her parents and two younger siblings, only she remained.

The incident only served to drive the inhabitants of Scion Prime and the Outer Ring further apart; the latter accusing the former of ignoring their plight from the safety of the inner city. Outer Ring inhabitants lobbied for the formation of militias to protect against further attacks, taking their safety into their own hands. The Order remained to help the Outer Ring rebuild and tend to the injured. With nothing to gain by remaining in Scion, Ezheia was taken in by the Order.

Ezheia has come a long way since her training and subsequent induction into the Order of Burning Light. Now a Decanus, Ezheia has stationed herself within Armistice, at the Order's headquarters. Though the details have yet to be revealed, Ezheia plans to accompany and safeguard an Azran caravan; one which hopefully will unravel the secrets of magic and bring order to the Catastrophe's chaos. While the Archon and most of the Order's leadership view magical poisoning as a facet they must live with, Ezheia is not content to sit idle while more and more aspirants lose themselves to the affliction.

~EXTRAS~

Motivation:
The circumstances that led to Ezheia's membership within the Order serve as motivation for fighting to protect those who cannot defend themselves. Ezheia refuses to let the fate of her family befall others, if she can help it, and the political neutrality of the Order ensures that anyone can be saved, regardless of social standing. The balance of power in Scion still unnerves her, however, and she is frustrated with her inability to even the gap between the high and low classes.

Significant Relations:
Ezheia has taken orders directly from the Archon of the Order, and so has some degree of familiarity with him/her. She was tutored primarily by a Preceptor by the name of Thaddeus. He still performs his duty, although has lost much of his youth's vigor.

Other: TBD

[Rockette]

^{"And thus I had come to be, where I knew naught death or salvation; only d e s p a i r. And in the bedlam of our entwined agony;
I also came to know the meaning of Hell and in that malice I found what I had been [m i s s i n g]:
my violation and torture in the hands of my [f a t h e r]."}
_THEME.

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❝ Y t o n e ❞

Twenty-Nine. — Magic User. — Obake, Goro. — 8 / 8.

physical description.

She is often described as a doll, one made for a malicious purpose.

She illustrates harsh mutilation and temperament in the subjugated will of an initiate bound and twined in clusters of penance, sacrifice, and conditioning the colour of pale-silver agony and despair. Stagnation has afforded her with constant suffering that fissures across the alabaster countenance of her Oriental flavour, blemished and flawed by the cusp of ebonette paint that bleeds and smudges into falsified tears and pain down to her wide cheekbones. Habit and ritual has seen her body marred and twisted, laced with ink privileged of Alchemy and granted by dye undone to her by the penetration of blades from her Fathers. And she hastens this maiming of her body with silverite trimmings that puncture her skin in various locations, they are embedded circlets, hooks dug into the flesh, laced and meshed with chain, fringing the body in a display of horrific, and beautiful, torture. It is, or was, a rite of passage; a proven quality in the methods of many tortures and mutilation: flagged, burned, scarred, and violated under the pretenses of ritualistic function. Her body is barely her own, but sanctioned as a macabre temple.

Fine weaves of charcoal and the deepest of blacks descend to the small of her spine, disarrayed and twisted with trinkets and impaled with jeweled sticks of the same colour, dull and unpolished and left to tangle into the thickets of her hair. These are the blessings and gifts of her sires, every bit of finery lacing from lobe to tip in her ears also seen as a gift. Creases and folds found in the corner of her eyes the colour of jaded coins of silver, singular lids bruised and usually half-lidded in her perpetual stupor unless wreathed in pain and lust where the piercing gaze is aflame with magic poison. She is slight and almost fragile looking, delicacy that translates into fluidity and training that leaves silence in her footfalls, and misleading those into complacency when encountered with her likeness. Scarlet decorates the plume of her mouth in a single touch, as if placed by the lightest touch of a finger to bring a touch of rouge to her expressions. She does not boast a tall figure, staunched in height by genetic flavouring and others means to subdue and convince her body to be what others desired.

armour.

Armour is seen to impair her fluidity, as Ytone's figure and stature is not befitting to be donned in chain, plates, or even cured leather embedded with steels and studs to soften blows. Instead, the Gaki have garbed her in dark, browns leathers of a harsh hide that are dulled with a grey-black undertone. To the touch, the thick drapes feel almost like skin, the membrane stitched through with ebony dyes, thick cords that cinch tight around the body. The leathery wardrobe consists of a simplistic design, a top that drapes over the upper portion of her body with wide, short sleeves and a wide collar that peaks up slightly high at the nape of her neck, the garment is sectioned off just at the ridge of her ribs, revealing the scarred plane of her mid-drift. The secondary potion of this leathery assemblage pools down from her hips in the style of robes, sheathing her legs in the thickness and dragging across past her feet embellished in the same amount of scars and leather. Wrappings of the hide cinch tight around numerous locations of her body, usually binding and entirely painful in their tight lacings.

weapons.

The Raksha Blade and her Tessen. — &&

Bequeathed with the epitaph of the previous Padmavati: Rakshara, the blade is a rare diagram of a double-edged alloy, elongated [almost as long as she is tall] into the traditional curvature of a Katana sword with an elaborate hilt and guard that is swathed in a crimson cloth. Each thread bare end of the fabric is interlaced with chimes and weights, fixating it over the ebony and silver laden sheath that is also used to secure the sword to her narrow-ink-riddle hip. In unison with the Raksha, a chain of steel can be attached to the hilt and spirals to the opposite end where her sister weapon, the Tessen, is interlaced. The Tessen is an iron fan, utilized in series of fluid, martial arts that seduce the fan's full potential in parrying blows and capable of puncturing flesh. The vast uses of the Raksha and Tessen are almost limitless, with the support of the chain, the bearer can reach lengths not achievable by short-arm alone.

magic.

The magic practiced under the Gaki pertain to complexity and pain in the private sanctuary of rituals that cripple, decimate, and foil the opposition. There are no whimsical titles to utter in their initiation, no monikers to label the practices under the pretenses of being blessed, powerful, or divine. Magic is a poison, not a wielding might of graceful light or redemption, it festers and boils: this is the power of destruction onto ones' self and their foes.

With webbings of blackened taint spiraling through the depths of her body, Ytone performs rituals of bleeding out the toxins in her body, issuing numerous, weeping lines that span the lengths of her arms and thighs; lacing scars around hips and shoulders every day and night when the magic becomes entirely too painful. The venom always remains, but the agony blindsides the after effects each time to dips into the weaves of mana infestation. The rituals given to her by the Padmavati see to the boiling of skin by touch, her hands weeping a magic taint that poisons and spurs the skin to rot and fester. The Gaki specialize in magic of the skin, their kisses and tongues literal bedlams for ruin.

While they are aware of the cancer that seeps through their pores and twists their forms, the practice still remains to be undone, and Ytone adheres to tradition and utilizes her magic in battle and rituals performed daily — sometimes using another individual in the process. The result always varies, but blood is often a conduit with the finer trimmings of flesh to seal it.

personality.

Her likeness is assumed of a harmless disposition, a soft spoken shell of femininity and habits that illustrate tales of profession. Such is the intention in her impression, to distract away from the cluster of silvery harm that whisper leagues of torture and self-infliction. In reality, Ytone's method of self and personality are psychological degrees of terrifying obsessions and addictions, extremes are achieved by pain, actions, and very little words. Her demented reflection is splintered and cemented with the belief of pragmatism and the lack of a morality compass in unison with this worship begets to a horrific practice towards other individuals. When Ytone speaks, it's in a whisper, a husky cadence that hisses and drags her phrases through shards of glass and bones. She desires no one, she needs naught but her methods of ritual performances and religious practices of pain, her sadistic natures blend seamlessly into her masochistic dependencies, whirring into a sadomasochism disposition that underlies the silence she prefers in the company of others.

Her blind devotion both hampers and protects her, the lack of tolerance for those that conflict with her beliefs literally carved into her mind, thus making her beyond leagues of difficulty to converse with or even be aside her. Her jaded, silver eyes seems to contain a plethora of secrets, whispers, and yearnings that are fogged over by the constant agony of her body and the judgement of the Gaki that have raised her to see only their ambition and truths. The world around them is nothing, it's a blasphemous blemish of depravity that must be purged by terror and torture. Power is desired, power is needed, and the desires of the selfish are foolish and incapable of being achieved; they are nothing. Anything is plausible, there is no wrong, there is only the uniform shades of black and grey that interchange through the world — everything is permitted.

history.

She was not given; she did not choose; she was taken.
Memories have long since been culled from her memorial of the mind, cleansed and purged and cauterizing the lengths of her past to fortify the hopeless will of one initiated into The Gaki. If such happiness and wealth of cheer existed in Obake, she cannot recall, for those taken by the Gaki know no origins or family, they only know their sires and the Padmavati: their matriarch, that is their unholy Mother. Surrounded by children much like her, Ytone was given her name by men and women donned in robes, just a singular utterance that would become their markers for the tombs; one could even call them mere titles and not names at all. As such, there has been many "Ytone's" that have passed through the rites of passage by the Gaki, but none have survived long enough to own the appellation. To be gifted her own name is considered an honour, a gift that is granted with the myriad of tools that she implements to harm herself to this day. She values them all with a near obsession; because it is all she knows.

However, beneath the beautiful tragedy, someone once existed. In Obake, there were few houses, but temples rather that spanned the small settlement from gate to gate, here they worshiped a pantheon of harvest and performed tasks governed by the phases of the moon. While Goro remained a desolate waste land and a reminder of their militia's arrogance, Obake survived by their small community and practices of chaste and religious methods. Oracle girls, maidens, lived in the main houses, and rumoured to be gifted foresight that made them blind in their later years. As such, it was magic that crawled through their pores, infected their sight, poisoned them should they dare look into the weaves of Fate. These tales reached the Padmavati, a woman who desired none else but virgins and pure souls and the Oracles of Obake were perfect for the endeavors that made her ruthless and cruel. Beautiful torment, a marvelous and malicious creature of a woman she was; twined in ink and eyes that bled; her followers hid their faces, only their eyes piercing through the gloom. Obake was seduced and wooed by the vast canyons of promises uttered by The Gaki, useless and empty, but deep and interchanging with their poisonous lies of retribution to cure Goro. We'll fix everything.

Ytone was among the Oracles, her divination not quite reaching the cusp that would begin the initial process of her prophecy, but there was a potential lain bare in the eyes that brimmed with defiance, an interwoven fire of fury if ever the Gaki saw such festering malice. They performed the only solution: to break her. Once the robes were shed and the true forms exposed, the residents taken from Obake were revealed the horrors of their mutilation: the scars, the burns, the piercings of metal that laced some from brow to feet, twined in endless links of chain and twisting skin to painful proportions. Each day, a new scar was lain, every hour, skin was peeled, and every minute was an eternity of suffering. Ytone was thrown into the pit of Nullification, a cavernous base of stone carved deep into the bedrock where Worms of Chyrn invaded the body to bring about the first stages of debasement. Three days: four nights.

A special fate was selected for this Ytone, plucked from the quivering mass of Oracles maidens still lost in the throes of the Worms; the Fathers of the Preta carved the first myriad of scars that would descend and whorl down her spine, the sigils of a cleansing, they said. Her mind fractured, broke, when those hands fell unto her. Splintered remains soon spread, falling into despair, locking down into one point of truth: that this was her Hell. The Preta conditioned their women in certain methods, the performances best remained a secret, for the fate and destiny of those chosen by the Preta was a twisted end indeed. Her body was being bred to become a temple to receive the blessing of a God, she would help bring about the children needed by the Padmavati; and she accepted such a curse. There was no glory, there was no specialty or divine selection, there was nothing but the pain, the terror, the sheer horrors that the Gaki did unto her, and even children. And Ytone willingly accepted this fate, the shell remains of her fury were fractured, and the shell countenance of a doll was left in place.

It was only by the ambition of the Padmavati that temporarily released Ytone from her shackles, burdened with the task of finding truth to the wealth and swell of rumours that had fallen ontp her ears. With eyes twinkling with power and brutality, she commanded that the secrets of immunity be found for her own glory and purpose, that Ytone was to find the beings likened to Gods and partake of their glory in the way she was originally crafted for. And should she come across individuals of particular grace, she was given the fall and chain to bring them back to Goro; to test their prowess and bring the Gaki's power to an even higher fruition. And with only her devotion and blindness of terror did Ytone journey to Armistice with the intention to fulfill the will of their Unholy Mother — for the thirst of the Gaki must be sated, no matter the cost.

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motivation.

Her will, her heart and soul, are not her own. Ytone lacks personal motivation, and lives only to serve the purpose of the Gaki and the Padmavati that have instructed that she learn the methods of immunity and immortality by whichever means necessary.

significant relationships.

T H E G A K I

The Padmavati. —

The Unholy Mother that leads that Gaki as their matriarch. She's both ruthless and beautiful, her body laden with swirls of ink and metal, and her eyes dark like pools of slick oil that bleed against the harsh paleness of her features that have been painted in lines of white ink and black. She personally taught Ytone various rituals and leagues of magic to ensure her success in the endeavors of finding the secrets of immortality and immunity to their own magic. The Padmavati in this generation bears no name other than her rightly deserved title. Her methods are truly dark and twisted, depraved and sometimes described as utterly careless, but there is a harsh intelligence in her practice, painting her even more macabre than the rest of her followers.

The Preta. —

The Preta is a particular contingent of Fathers that select their women by means of power, grace, and appearance. They raised and conditioned Ytone into current self, using means whichever necessary of achievement to ensure her proper abilities. They're also responsible for teaching her means to use her blade and tessen, whilst the Padmavati taught her the means of magic.

other.

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