@Mae@Melo he didnt come to me as easy as ursine/sobeki came to me so he's a bit rough around the edges. but finally, i present: CICERO/MEPHISTO
⍚ Cicero ⥥ Twenty-seven ⥥ Male ⥥ Pansexual ⍚
"The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell."
𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩
[ ⍚ ] A P P E A R A N C E —————————————————————————————
Cicero is a handsome man – something he won’t let anybody forget anytime soon – though he is handsome in the most conventional way. In his appearance, there is nothing inherently unique about him. He’s tan with taut muscles, but is more so lean than muscular – his arms the most muscular part of him. Cicero is remarkably tall, standing at 6’3”, and has a bigger-than-life presence that makes him seem even taller than he is. Just like his long body, Cicero has a long slender neck with a very prominent Adam’s apple that bobs when he delves into a story. He has high cheekbones and a sharp jawbone that makes him look slightly less average than he is. His nose is slightly large with a straight bridge and rounded tip and his eyes are round and big. Cicero does not sleep much, which is evident with the purple bags under his eyes. Cicero’s lips are relatively thin and his mouth is not too wide or narrow – the only thing out of place is the scar running down the left corner from the claw of a startled dog. Cicero keeps his brown hair long, letting it just barely miss his shoulders.
When it comes to his typical clothing, Cicero tends to wear layers. Over a long, thin shirt, he would have a tunic, and over the tunic a robe. He tends to dress in browns and reds and is overly fond of needless decor such as sashes and such. His clothing is usually frayed and worse for wear since he is traveling all the time. He has made a makeshift bag out of a strip of cloth that rests on his hip and is wrapped around his shoulder. He also likes to keep a walking stick for hiking purposes, which he has carved intricate designs on. Cicero's javelins are in a holster strapped to his back.
Cicero’s curse mark is a small turquoise line that encircles his middle finger on his left hand. As the mark progresses, it spreads from one arm and branches down his torso and up his chest, gradually rolling to his middle finger on the right hand.
[ ⍚ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y —————————————————————————————
Despite Cicero’s severe appearance, his personality is more light and humorous. Cicero is the type of man who despises serious topics and would much rather dwell on easier subjects. It is not because Cicero does not like talking about things that are hard to swallow; rather, Cicero cannot find it himself to care about those topics. He follows a simple philosophy that emphasizes the meaninglessness of trying to prevent disasters and horrors. Cicero is of the opinion that whatever happens happens and there’s no way a simple mortal can stop it – only the gods have such control over fate. Because of this, Cicero would much rather laugh and make others laugh in return.
Cicero spends much of his time focused on entertaining others through stories and dramatics in order to distract from the hardships everyone faces. However, his dramatic personality does not end with his storytelling. As a general rule, if Cicero tells you something, then he has exaggerated it way out of proportion – or it might not be the truth, just a silly little lie he has told for kicks. He always makes light of the mood and, if there is a serious atmosphere, will ignore it in favor of driving his jokes home. And does he love his jokes. Almost every word out of his mouth is a joke and if it’s not, then its sarcasm at his conversational partner’s expense. Cicero especially enjoys satirical jokes. With his playful and carefree attitude, Cicero tends to attract children in herds. At any given time, there will be a little anklebiter by him and Cicero works quite well with them. He is by no means a role model, though, and often encourages the little tykes to get into trouble; he might even employ them to play a little prank on someone.
When no one is looking, though, Cicero displays a thoughtful side. If he has no one to engage with, his mind tends to delve into philosophy and it can take a couple of tries to bring him from his thoughts. He likes to ponder the meaning of humanity and reasons for existence. His philosophy has made him quite the cynic; he only believes in the worst of humanity. So, instead of focusing on morals, Cicero prefers hedonism and doing what he likes, living in the beautiful grey on the moral compass.
[ ⍚ ] B I O G R A P H Y —————————————————————————————
Cicero does not remember his life before he was ten. The first memory he has is of him waking up in an icy cold river, hungry and freezing, with blood dripping from his head. Cicero has many theories of what happened, but the one he tends to stick with is that he hit his head. But, if one were to ask him, Cicero would spin an elaborate tale of how he lost his memory.
In order to survive in the wild, Cicero taught himself how to build a shelter and he got by with berries and fish. He was often lonely in the wild, so Cicero would tell stories to keep himself occupied and would talk to the animals around him. Eventually, after living two years on his own, he stumbled upon the Ursidae clan and they took him in. The Ursidae raised him until he was sixteen; he was genial enough and most enjoyed his company. Though, they often got angry at him for meddling with their children, but at the end of the day it was all in good fun. At night, they would implore Cicero to tell a story and Cicero would spin tales with complex characters and use shadow puppets on tanned skin with firelight. The children particularly liked his story about a brave warrior named Cicero that battled shadow monsters and that was how Cicero earned his name.
When he was sixteen, Cicero made the decision to leave the Ursidae clan to travel to the other clans and tell them his stories. Cicero did like the attention, and he flits quite often between the major clans and is well-known by many.
Memories Retained:
𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩
⍚ Mephisto ⥥ The God of Tales, Traditions, and Memory ⥥ Male ⥥ Demiromantic-demisexual ⍚
A legend is lionized lies from ludicrous lives Twining twenties with twittering and twit Drawing distress when drama delightfully dives A story is much better when Mephisto tells it
Birth a boy with bravery and backbone Nourish the newborn by needs and nipple Scrub shortcomings so shine is shown Humor his heart in home and hipple
Tell tales of terror to teach the tyke Cut courage from child with care and coddle Then parade the poltroon with pernach and pike Thick thong from threadbare swith deathly throttle
A story is much better when Mephisto tells it Molding a mousey murine into a mongrel The warrior wrangles with weapons and wit Erasing the earl executed by ensemble
A story is much better when Mephisto tells it
[ ⍚ ] GO D L Y A P P E A R A N C E —————————————————————————————
Behold, Mephisto, God of Tales, Traditions, and Memory. He appears as a solemn god; his face is angular and sharp with his thick lips often pressed into an impassive line. Mephisto’s facial features are more exaggerated and dramatic than subtle and soft. His eyes are almost too large for his face and dark circles outline them underneath. One of his eyes is the color of murky sea water and the other is a smoldering brown. Situated underneath his large eyes, his nose tip is defined and the bridge is a slope. The skin on his face seem stretched taut against his defined cheekbones, though it is not unattractive but rather regal and aristocratic. Almost everything about him seems dignified and princely - even his soothing baritone sounds like that of a king. The only exception to this is the messy mop of black hair on his head, unruly and untamed. Mephisto is one of the attractive gods – though definitely not one of the most attractive. His appeal is not as ethereal or stunning as his fellow gods and goddesses. Mephisto is not quite as outlandish as some of the other gods, either – he could almost pass as a mere mortal. The only thing that prevents him from blending in with the others is his tall, lanky height of seven feet – his hair often brushes the leaves of trees in his full height. His neck also appears to be longer than a mortal’s, almost unnaturally so, and it is often tightly wrapped with metal strips. Mephisto’s skin is a dark tan and firelight tends to mesmerizingly reflect on him, pronouncing the delicate muscles and dips of his body. Turquoise blue markings decorate his entire body in rings and lines, a simple design that stems from his middle fingers on both hands, his big toes on his feet, and his bottom lip. The lines then branch until his body is covered with blue under his clothes.
[ ⍚ ] K N O W N F O R —————————————————————————————
⌘ Legends, fairytales, myths, and history. ⌘ Owls, elephants, and monkeys. ⌘ Hearths, campfires, shadow puppets. ⌘ Starry nights, summer nights, and times around the fire. ⌘ Walnuts, burning wood, and talking.
⌘ Dramatic and humorous. ⌘ Poetic and philosophical. ⌘ Carefree and apathetic. ⌘ Deceitful and creative.
[ ⍚ ] F O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y —————————————————————————————
There was a lost woman in the woods. She did not know where to turn or how to get back to her darling children. Part of her wanted to give up, to lie onto the soft dirt and die in peace. However, the picture of her beautiful children in her mind’s eye kept her moving forward. As the days became months, the woman struggled to remember them – their soft eyes, smiling faces, playful personalities.
Time flowed and she became weaker. At last, she tripped and hit her head on a walnut. A walnut, of all things! As she laid there, with a slight scrape on the middle of her forehead, the woman tried to think of her children’s names. She couldn’t remember them for a long, long moment. She kept thinking of them, trying to pull the names from the tip of her tongue, and it was only when night came that she remembered. Filled with a new determination, the woman picked up the walnut and continued her search for home.
That time forth, when it came time to rest, the woman would build a campfire and talk to the walnut. Every night, she forced herself to remember every detail of her children and recounted it to the walnut. Two years passed and the walnut’s ridges became smooth from being handled so much. At a moment of frustration one night, the lost woman threw the walnut into the campfire.
In the morning, when the woman woke up, a small boy was asleep in the ashes.
She named the boy Mephisto and raised him on her search for her children. During the night, she told him stories to keep herself occupied. She taught him how to make shadow puppets dance against a cave wall and the best storytelling abilities.
They spent the rest of her life like this, telling stories and remembering. Until, one day, she couldn’t get up. Mephisto stayed by her bed side, telling her stories and tales. Mephisto told stories for a year, so enraptured in the tales he was spinning, that it was only when thunder clashed that he knew he was telling myths to a corpse.
Mephisto stood up and walked away.
There is nothing crueler than taking the memory from the god of memory.
Mephisto resisted the dark gods with all the power in his body – he fought with them tooth and nail so he could retain his memory and the stories he had to tell. As he battled with them, his hatred began to grow towards them. When he could not defeat the dark gods, he attempted to run from them and disappear from their sights so he could escape such a cruel fate.
He found residence behind a waterfall, where he rested during the afternoon. However, at night, Mephisto travelled and found three animals: an owl, an elephant, and a monkey. He took the three animals to the lake in which he resided and named them Walnut, Faia, and Treeki. Mephisto blessed the three with the most powerful memories of the animal kingdoms and every night, Mephisto told his tales to them over a campfire.
Mephisto knew the dark gods would find him eventually – he scattered Walnut, Faia, and Treeki before that time could come. When they did come for him, Mephisto fought with them until he was powerless – however, he knew, that even if they took his memories from him, he would find them again.
Walnut, Faia, and Treeki went on to have children and their children had children until all monkeys, owls, and elephants had immense memories. Now, the three wise sentient animals wait behind the waterfall in a stasis, waiting for their master Mephisto to come for them so they can tell him the stories he has forgotten.
𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫
[ ⍚ ] S K I L L S E T —————————————————————————————
Acting: From dramatics in stories, Cicero has become quite good at acting and making it believable.
Perfect Memory: Cicero has perfect memory and can remember most details in a given moment - of course he does have his bouts of forgetfulness like everyone else.
Woodwork: Cicero is good with his hands and his able to carve from wood and make creations from the wood. This can range from furniture to lucky totems to carry. However, Cicero mostly uses it to make puppets for storytime.
Shelter Building: Cicero is adept at gauging his surroundings and building a satisfactory shelter in order to shield himself from the elements.
Javelins: Javelins are his preferred weapon and Cicero can throw it with impeccable accuracy. He can also use them in close-range, though he is considerably more clumsy when it comes to close combat.
Subtle Strength: Despite his lankiness, Cicero has a subtle strength in his body which he uses to throw his javelin and he can further use his strength for close quarters.
[ ⍚ ] A B I L I T I E S —————————————————————————————
Life Force: 0/0
Ability 1: Remember Me "To be forgotten is to be nothing. I refuse to be nothing, to be lost in a sea of destroyed memories. I will leave something to be remembered."
⌘ Monkey See, Monkey Do: When Mephisto sees someone performing a skill they have, he is able to copy their muscle memory and perform the same task. However, he cannot alter what he has learned and cannot copy something that is specific to that person such as a power. Mephisto can only copy that single action and not the entire skillset. ⌘ Owl in an Ivy Bush: Mephisto is able to leave an afterimage of a memory, working almost like an illusion, to act as a decoy or distract the enemy. It tends to confound his enemies and give him time to close in. However, the afterimage cannot do something that Mephisto has not done before in the enemy's memory and cannot interact with the real world. ⌘ An Elephant Never Forgets: Mephisto is able to store his memories in an object so he can retrieve the memories at a later time. If his memory is wiped, Mephisto may retain his memories by collecting them from such an object.
Ability 2: If Memory Serves... "Memories are like clay, to be dried and kneaded and sold. I am the artist."
⌘ Sharing Is Caring: Mephisto is able to absorb the memories of others and receive the knowledge they have through them. He cannot gain knowledge from forgotten memories, but he can take knowledge from suppressed memories. ⌘ Selective Amnesia: Mephisto is able to erase the memories of another person; he can parse through and choose a single memory to lock away. The memory can be unlocked by Mephisto later on. ⌘ Take Roots: Mephisto is able to create memories and implant them into someone's mind. This can be used to manipulate or trick someone. This is usually paired with selective amnesia to prevent contradictory memories - but sometimes he leaves contradicting memories in place in order to create doubt and confusion in the other.
Ability 3: Bedtime Story "The biggest power lies in the ability to create a story with one's own mind. You are only as strong as your imagination."
⌘ Sob Story: Mephisto is able to persuade people to do what he wants through speak. However, it is only persuasion and can be resisted by people with strong will. Since the action taken is also somewhat dependent on the character's personality (e.g. two people persuaded of something might act differently on that information) It's effectiveness would probably be on a case by case basis in terms of: less effective for a large group of people then one or two people. As well as determined by action-specific. ⌘ A Shaggy Dog Story: Mephisto is able to bring stories alive. By telling a story, he can manifest characters in real life and make them do what he wants. By telling a story, he can manifest characters in real life and make them do what he wants. How many characters he summons depends also on the types of beings he summons. For example, he could summon one young dragon, or a small collection of faeries, or a horde of newborn babies. Furthermore, the personality of these creatures and the accuracy of their depiction is dependent wholly on how well written the story itself is. A story written without great care of character will summon creatures of similar robustness. In this way, it is very difficult for a summon brought to life this way to be 100% accurate to it's cast. If a God is summoned, they do so without any of their Moderate-Strong powers, their Weak powers are in some cases lessened, and the accuracy of their personality will usually not hold up under complex scrutiny. This is due to the complex magical nature of accurately protraying gods themselves. However this summoning may be useful to temporarily confuse people, for example. ⌘ Fish Story: The ultimate illusion. Mephisto is able to trap someone in an unending illusion that will eventually result in starvation, dehydration, or exhaustion. There is no escape from it except with the cold fingers of death.
[ ⍚ ] I N V E N T O R Y —————————————————————————————
⌘ Two javelins. ⌘ Thick fur coat. ⌘ Red dyed leather clothes. ⌘ Flint. ⌘ Rope. ⌘ Three handmade puppets.
[ ⍚ ] O T H E R —————————————————————————————
Orange: #EB8C00 Red: #BC4B4B
[ ⍚ ] R E L A T I O N S H I P S —————————————————————————————
Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: REQUIRED This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.
Thinking of making a God of Pacts, Deals and Avarice. The ideas I'm snowballing in my head are really making it to sound like a fun concept. Will probably put something up on that front in a few days.
there seems to already be a goddess named avaris based on greed and thievery
𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩
⍚ Avaris ⥥ Goddess of Thievery and Anonymity ⥥ Female ⥥ Polyamorous Pansexual ⍚ DARK GOD
Hear these words, fellow fleet-footed and sticky-fingered robbers, and remember. Though you may pick as many pockets at the market as your heart desires, or rob someone blind without remorse, those ill-gotten goods are yours only by the mercy of our great patron. We leave a tithe of silver by our treasures to please Her, but we are subject to Her whims. Avaris takes, and takes, and takes.
i'm working on my second god right now, but like undine, i'll give you guys a sneak peek
𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩
⍚ Mephisto ⥥ The God of Tales, Traditions, and Memory ⥥ Male ⥥ Demiromantic-demisexual ⍚
A legend is lionized lies from ludicrous lives Twining twenties with twittering and twit Drawing distress when drama delightfully dives A story is much better when Mephisto tells it
Birth a boy with bravery and backbone Nourish the newborn by needs and nipple Scrub shortcomings so shine is shown Humor his heart in home and hipple
Tell tales of terror to teach the tyke Cut courage from child with care and coddle Then parade the poltroon with pernach and pike Thick thong from threadbare swith deathly throttle
A story is much better when Mephisto tells it Molding a mousey murine into a mongrel The warrior wrangles with weapons and wit Erasing the earl executed by ensemble
[ ⍚ ] A P P E A R A N C E —————————————————————————————
Ursine was born cursed, with the scar of evil laid bare on her face. Her fellow tribesmen told stories about her to their children: “stay away from the girl with a wrong face, she will infect you with devilry when her blind eye meets yours.”
She should have inherited the genes of her mother, smooth skin and flushed. Instead, her soft cheek was rough and misshapen with the twisted indents and ridges of the deformity. Pink lips that may have been able to smile can now only form a bent hellish grin, the tissue so damaged on her left that the lips can barely move except to scowl. The only untouched feature is her sharply pointed nose and the flecks dotting her face.
As a child, her right eye was considered the perfect shape – when the left one was covered – but now the wide wondered eyes are hollow, sunken, purple bruises beneath. The soft hazel color which held sensitivity, like a puppy, was a stark contrast to the eerie, unshaken eye of her other: her blind eye. She is not completely blind in that eye though; she sees the vague outlines of things, dancing darkness and shapes that scare her more than the complete darkness ever could. Ursine doesn’t like seeing, sight is corrupted and grotesque.
Without her scar, Ursine would be pretty – not exceptionally beautiful, but an average attractiveness that felt like home. Her body is willowy and tall, being five feet and nine inches in height. Her figure moves awkwardly, foreign under her skin, and there’s a disjointedness to her movements that speak levels of her insecurity. Yet, it’s endearing in the way a clumsy friend is endearing. Ursine’s thick red hair is twined to frame her face, the thick two braids hanging about her navel. Underneath the snow sunlight, the red hair seems golden and heavenly, but is oily and demented in the dark.
Like most of the Ursidae clansmen, Ursine wears furs and leather in the winter time. She enjoys the comfort that being held in a bear’s skin brings her, the feeling of rightness and origin. Ursine detests the warmer climates though, for she has to shed her bear and wolf fur to wear deer hide and woven fabric. It feels uncomfortable and exposed on her skin. She wears very little jewelry, preferring simple things over material jewels, though she enjoys looking at golden bands and transparent gems.
Ursine was born with a curse: her clansmen say there is an evil hiding in her scar, but in truth, Ursine was born with a very different curse. When Ursine uses her powers, the scar she was born with stretches and replaces her smooth skin. The pathway begins with her face, moving outwards until her scalp and chin are covered, then travels down her neck and shoulders like sticky strawberry jam trickling down her body.
[ ⍚ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y —————————————————————————————
Ursine never had many friends to play with, so she sought other things to occupy her time. She spent the day following her father around as he oversaw his tribesmen’s work; at every chance she had, Ursine asked a question. When she wasn’t badgering her father with how to skin a deer or what food can grow in the winter, Ursine would wander on the outskirts of the encampment. She would scrape bark off of maple trees to see what was underneath, unwisely lick the sap of evergreens, and dissect a skittering bug with the edge of her nail. There was a drive inside of her, a hunger for understanding the world around her, to absorb the knowledge of nature. Her curiosity was powerful and she has overcome fears because she wanted to learn them.
Her curiosity does not end with objects and things. Like a prodding child, Ursine wants to know the inner thoughts of man. Those that are misunderstood are precious knowledge to her and Ursine enjoys their company. Maybe it is because she herself is mistaken for someone she is not and so she treats those she comes across with compassion. Ursine is not only sympathetic, but empathetic: she feels their pain and misery like it is her own. Both of her ears are useless if she is not listening to a companion; she likes listening to others, it helps her see them as a person. Maybe that is why she is so quiet, so she can listen to the people around her.
Compassion can be a blindfold as much as her ears can be an eyeopener. Ursine is an optimist and dislikes the idea that there is evil in the world. In her mind, Ursine only sees good people that may do immoral things to achieve righteousness in the world. It’s naïve of her to think so, dangerously naïve. Because she sees the good in everyone, the unethical can take advantage of her and bend her with lies and betrayal. She is a bearskin on the ground, free for all to walk on and rest – she will bring comfort to those who abuse her. Ursine will never face the dark side of the world, but would rather hide in willful ignorance.
The circumstances in which she ends up in through her innocence have given her a martyr complex. She allows herself to suffer under the hands of others because she believes her suffering will release the suffering of others. By sacrificing herself and self-esteem, Ursine concludes that she will understand more since she has gone through tough times as well. Yet, in the night, Ursine pities herself for having such a duty that she has pushed upon herself. She prays for a god that will ease the hurt of the outsiders so she may be consoled as well.
[ ⍚ ] B I O G R A P H Y —————————————————————————————
Ursine’s mother was beautiful and her father was considered one of the handsomest of the tribe – his position of power as the chieftain certainly affected such judgment, though. Everyone expected Ursine, daughter of Ursus, heiress to the Ursidae Clan, to be just as striking and unique. However, Ursine came out of the womb with a defective eye and a mark that could only mean the work of demons. Being born with such a scar could not mean anything good to the Ursidae Clan.
Ursine was considered a bad omen to the tribe, an accursed charm that would bring misfortune to those around her. Ursus’ brother and wife begged him to leave the child in the forest, feet bound, as a mercy for their tribe. Others suggested that killing her themselves would change their luck completely. Ursus was a strong man who believed in protecting his tribe first and foremost, but his paternal instincts were stronger. He denied their pleas and went to bed, cradling Ursine in his arms.
This was how Ursine grew up; an ominous mark on the clan and a foreboder of ill will. When she walked among her people, they cowered away and made the hand sign to ward off evil. To entertain herself, Ursine shadowed her father – when she was with him, the others wouldn’t dare scowl at her – and explored her surroundings. As she grew older and people became accustomed to her presence, she shadowed them as well and eavesdropped on their conversations.
Eventually, Ursine became a confidant of many of her fellow tribesmen. Tribesmen who thought themselves different, misunderstood, wrong. She sat quietly and listened to their thoughts, consoled them as they cried, and caressed their face until they slept. Publicly, Ursine was disregarded as the tribe’s pariah; but in the night, she was their little blessed secret.
Memories Retained: Ignore for now
𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩
⍚ Sobeki ⥥ Goddess of the Scarred, Predatorial, and the Misunderstood ⥥ Female ⥥ Polyamorous-Asexual ⍚
Do you want to hear a riddle, Sobeki? Of course you do, of course you do. You always loved riddles – mind like a crow. Like a crow, I said. Did you hear me Sobeki? Like a crow. Aha! But the riddle, the riddle, can’t be solved by a crow. Only Sobeki, only Sobeki! Here’s the riddle, are you ready, Sobeki? Of course, you’re ready.
The rich men want it, the wise men know it, the poor all need it, and the kind men show it.
Can you tell me what it is, Sobeki? I need to know what it is, Sobeki. Sobeki, Sobeki, Sobeki. Do you hear me? Tell me the answer to the riddle! I need the answer! The answer, hurry, hurry, hurry. Mind like a crow, Sobeki. Milky, milky, milky. Do you have the answer? I knew you were smart, Sobeki. Smart, smart, smart, smart, smart Sobeki. The answer is love! Love, love, love. I love you, Sobeki. Milky, milky, milky.
[ ⍚ ] GO D L Y A P P E A R A N C E —————————————————————————————
Ashen gray skin that feels like leather on fingertips, clammy and cold to the touch, stretches across a thin frame, clinging to every fissure and fold of bone and muscle. Sobeki’s skin is blemish free, except for the white dip of paint between her brows which shines like snakeskin and feels like the scale of a crocodile. Hair, small cobweb thin wisps, frames her face like dead strands on a corpse. The majority of her locks are snagged in branches and roses gold, tangled around the decorative items until it appears almost as a deliberate artistic chignon du cou. Sobeki has lips that always seem to frown, a flushed pink color dancing at the crevice in which her lips meet. Her lips are situated under a beak-like nose, strong and pointed, regal and intimidating. The most daunting of her appearance is her eyes. Wide, doe-like eyes that are as white as milk; like the eyes of a cataracted dog.
Upon her lithe and graceful frame, Sobeki dresses herself in dull sheening gold that embroiders her dark clothes and wraps around her boney fingers and wrist. Cloth of black and dull gray swathe her full six feet and six inches height. The drag of her robes on the floor disturbs the air and creates a rattling dissonance, a snake slithering on floorboards sound. Her feet are never heard, only that damn sliding sound.
[ ⍚ ] K N O W N F O R —————————————————————————————
҉ Predatory animals, particularly wolves and crows. ҉ Protection for outliers. ҉ Consoling the lonely. ҉ Patron of predatorial animals, misunderstood people, and those with wounds that won't heal.
҉ Blind and highly intelligent. ҉ Gentle and compassionate. ҉ Impassive mask, but an emotional soul. ҉ Trusting and possessing a soft heart.
[ ⍚ ] F O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y —————————————————————————————
Sobeki was not born, she was created, from splinters and scars and blood.
Her creator was many things: a hunter, a woodworker, a miner, and a mortal. His life disappeared before his eyes as he worked until his nailbeds were wet and his skin pruned. Yet, he did not know why he slaved. There was no family for him to feed; there was just him and the howl of wolves, feathers of crows, and whispers of spiders.
The sounds drove him mad, taunted him with their companionship while he suffered in his own silence. He heard their cries of joy when they feasted on a deer, the resounding call of mate to mate, the roars of bears as they played by the brook. He was alone and haunted.
Her creator was not of right mind when he pieced her together, limb by limb.
It was a midsummer night, when the predators woke from slumber and prowled the woods again. They would not stop taunting him with their discordant music, so he left his hut that night with an ax. He slayed every beast he laid his eyes on, splitting their fur and bones with the humble blade of a worn-down ax. He collected the limbs in a rucksack, blood marking his bloody path.
The sounds stopped, but he was still lonely. The creator wanted a wife, to share the last of his years with, and he took the rotting flesh and bones of his prey to create one.
He gave her the torso of a bear, with the legs and arms chopped off and placed in the fire. With the heart of a bear, she would be a ferocious but loving woman. He twined the bodies of spiders and cobweb into thin arms, silver strands streaked with gore. With the arms of spiders she would move elegantly and mesmerizing. He stuffed snakes with the bones of a cougar and affixed them as her legs. She would glide upon this land, unearthly and beautiful. Her head was that of a crow, sewn into the fur of her torso. She would be intelligent, willing to teach him and guide him to enlightenment. Lastly, he plucked the eyes of a wolf – damaged with cataracts – and pushed them into the crow’s sockets. With these eyes, she would never see her dying, repulsive husband.
He named her the most beautiful name he’s ever heard – Sobeki.
Her creator carried her husk around his hut and the woods, talked to her empty shell and fed her the infested meat of her body’s brethren. When he gazed into her eyes, he did not see the emptiness of a doll, but saw a beautiful glowing image that made him cry. At night, he held her rotting amalgamation close to his chest and sobbed her name like a prayer.
She was with him with every step, in body but not in mind.
On his death bed, he held the broken bodies of spiders as he twisted his fingers in hers. Her creator choked back his tears as he stared at his creation, with only love in his heart. With his dying breath, he whispered “Sobeki.”
The milky eyes of a wolf blinked and then closed. For months, they rotted together in silence, until flesh peeled from Sobeki’s bones and fur slipped from her ribcage. Underneath the hideous creation, Sobeki opened her milky eyes once again and standing on her feet, she left.
Sobeki was created from the scars of predators and the misplaced love of an old man. She was always watching him and she understood his pain.
He could shape her with the bones of the dead, attribute her with traits of godliness and beauty, love her with everything he had, but it would not bring back the woman he once loved. Instead, she became a sickly, walking cadaver; a misshapen, repulsive deity not meant to exist.
Sobeki is a kind god, a loving god. She has no wrath, no anger, but patience and understanding. That is what she does for those who are misunderstood: she understands.
In the night, she seeks those who need her – need her in the way her creator needed her. She consoles them, she embraces them, shows them the love that she has to give in the way only she can. Sobeki cannot see the ugly that others see, she cannot judge one of things she is ignorant to, so she holds them as they explain.
Sobeki is not a mother, she is not an avenger – she is a counselor, an advisor. When she presses her hand against a mortal’s chest, she feels the same thump, thump, thump that is in hers. She eases their minds and provides companionship to those who have none.
Sobeki knows of their scars, can feel them in their heart and body, but Sobeki sees more than scars on them. She sees won battles and pain that can be lifted.
Sobeki is a friend, a lover, a guardian.
The gods are discontent with Sobeki. An amalgamation, a jumble of flesh and bones and ungodliness. The Pariahs of Ammit follow her religiously, pray to her in their moments of loneliness, worship a monster who was not meant to be. Sobeki is the error of an old mad man and her touch on the earth is tainted, repulsive.
They cast her away as punishment – penalty for associating her sacrilegious body with their names. Sobeki is sentenced to live in a cave, chained to a rock and stare at the dark walls for as long as they see fit.
But Sobeki is familiar with the darkness and the cold. It is all she has ever known and Sobeki lives quietly for three years in her hole. To punish herself for her wishful thinking, Sobeki subjected herself to three years of meditation without food, drink, or sleep. Sobeki reaches for inner truth until she finds the light in the eyes of her familiars.
Sobeki can see for the first time through the sharp balls of a crow, the wide eyes of a wolf, the eight beads of a spider. Sobeki can see the world and how it is tarnished. Sobeki does not know the tainted. She only knows the sweet embrace of odd ones, the whispered stories of her pariahs, the love she gives and receives.
For a hundred days, Sobeki presses her knees into the rocks and bashes her head against the cave wall. She pushes the unknown from her mind with pain and stupidity until she no longer finds the eyes of her predators, living in blissful ignorance.
Sobeki is starkissed, though she did not expect it. She never met the one who her soul belonged to; perhaps, Sobeki did not want to meet them, either. Sobeki only had love to give to her followers, only sought to please those that are misguided and ostracized. There was no room for a soulmate in her heart when she was giving it to the ones who needed it.
Sobeki was torn from her loves, her followers, when the dark gods cast their damned spell. Bitterness enveloped her heart as her memories slowly faded from her mind. It was wrong of them; some of them were misunderstood, Sobeki saw it as she fell, but she did not care in the least. Not when they tore her from those who needed her most.
Sobeki felt a heartbreak that she never felt before as she melted and folded into another being, a mortal being.
She was too late to give her love to Ammit, but she cannot be late for the pariahs. Sobeki will make her way to them, even if she has to enter that ungodly cave once more. She will find them, in this life and the next.
𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫
[ ⍚ ] S K I L L S E T —————————————————————————————
Eavesdropping: Ursine has spent her whole life eavesdropping on others to learn more about them. She has perfected the art of listening to a conversation while appearing uninterested and deaf to it.
Memory: Ursine was born with eidetic memory. She is able to easily remember events and recall past conversations. While there is much use for this, Ursine typically uses it to comfort those she advises at night.
Sewing: When bored, Ursine has to do something with her hands. Because of this, at a young age, Ursine would help her mother stitch to keep herself busy in the idle moments. Eventually Ursine has become rather good at it and she tends to stitch when she is feeling lonely or angry, as it gives her something to do.
Hunting: Ursine spent much of her time shadowing her father. He took it upon himself to teach her what he knew as she followed him around. One of these things was hunting: he taught her how to track, how to kill her prey, and how to skin them properly to feed the tribe.
Dual Tomahawks: Ursine's preferred weapons are two tomahawks that she carries on her sides. She is deft and agile when using them, able to aim and throw her tomahawks from long distances as well as engage in close combat.
Nimble: Ursine is as easy to catch as a water snake, able to weave and dodge with speed and balance. She is in perfect coordination of her body, when one body part feints, the other strikes.
[ ⍚ ] A B I L I T I E S ————————————————————————————— Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)
Ability 1: Blind Eyes Can See "The misunderstood need someone to care for them. Need someone to mend them and bring them peace. I was too late to bring peace to my creator, to ease his mind of loneliness and demented acts. I wish to save those who society frowns upon, and most importantly, show them how to understand themselves."
҉ The Despair: The misunderstood are inconsolable sometimes, unable to handle their feelings. Sobeki fixes that by inducing another emotion to override the current emotion - it's only a temporary fix, but it is a fix. Through a simple touch, Sobeki can make someone feel a small wisp of happiness that is a light in the dark for them.
҉ The Conviction: To be consoled, to be loved and comfortable, the misunderstood must trust in Sobeki. Sobeki cannot make someone trust her, but she can take the small inkling of trust in their heart and augment it. This makes it easier for her to get close to someone and understand them.
҉ The Mending: The first step to understanding someone is empathizing with them and feeling what they feel. In order to do that, Sobeki is able to emotionally connect to others and quite literally empathize with them.
Ability 2: The Doll of Predators "I must never forget the life that was taken to bring me to the Pariahs of Ammit. They are my makers as much as their murderer is my creator. Even in death, such predators give me their souls."
҉ A Gift of Strength: The predators she was built with give her strength, but only one animal at a time. She can take the ferociousness of a bear, the trickiness of a spider, the intelligence of a crow, the flexibility of a snake, the speed of a cougar, and the instincts of a wolf.
҉ A Lent Mind: Sobeki is able to enter the mind of a predatorial animal. Quite like possessing, Sobeki can see, feel, and touch everything the animal is doing. However, she cannot control the movements or mind of the animal.
҉ A Twisted Will: In times of need, Sobeki can bend the will of predators to her and control them to do her bidding. They can attack her enemy and strike them down, or deliver a message to an old friend. The needs in which they meet is endless.
Ability 3: The Retrogression "I will return to where I belong when my time is gone. If there is a foe that threatens my companions, I will crush them to pieces and watch them descend into my origin."
҉ Excision: As she was made from the stitch of each limb, Sobeki can take the invisible thread out and replace a limb with a new limb of a magical creature. With this limb, Sobeki gains all the powers it once held and can attribute it to herself.
҉ Amalgamation: A recession of body and mind, Sobeki can return to the form in which she was first created with in order to deal the ultimate damage that she can. This form lends her all the skills and abilities of her makers.
҉ Deterioration: The ultimate power and the ace up her sleeve, Sobeki can end her life as she takes a poisonous other with her. By twisting another's hands in hers, Sobeki is able to cause a rapid deterioration of body. The duo begin to rot alive, together, until the end when they perish. It's a suicidal move, but it is the will of her creator, Ammit, that provides her with peace of mind.
[ ⍚ ] I N V E N T O R Y —————————————————————————————
҉ Two tomahawks. ҉ Fur cloak, made from a black bear. ҉ Bag of deer jerky, made herself. ҉ Extra rucksack for meat and herbs gathered. ҉ Clothes made of homemade leather and wolf fur. ҉ Crude homemade rope.
[ ⍚ ] O T H E R ————————————————————————————— Gold: #E6BE8A Silver: #C0C0C0
[ ⍚ ] R E L A T I O N S H I P S —————————————————————————————
Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: YES (X) NO () This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.
Banned
