Current
The last time I sent my picture to someone... oh wait, I've never done that.
2
likes
11 mos ago
I will never emotionally recover from the knowledge that Fire Emblem Awakening could have been a Pokemon crossover instead of a waifu simulator.
2
likes
11 mos ago
I can't find the brain anywhere inside this fog, chief. I think the brain has evaporated. It has become the fog itself.
11 mos ago
Psst. uBlock Origin doesn't have this "we've detected an ad blocker" problem. They also don't literally let companies pay them off to allow their ads through, like some other ad "blockers" out there.
2
likes
11 mos ago
The ideal number of RPs depends entirely on how active you expect your partners to be, and your own mental bandwidth for keeping track of characters and story threads.
7
likes
Bio
A late twenties/early thirties, they/them something-or-other who's been doing this writing thing on and off since my teens. When I need to blow off some steam, I play the kinds of games that would make the average Dark Souls fan scream with rage. Aside from those two hobbies, I don't make time for much. My roleplaying is probably the most social I'll ever be across the internet, but hopefully that's what you're here for. Time Zone: +9, Korea/Japan/Australia. Hello American night shifters.
Rika was, perhaps, looking just a bit scary at the moment. Between the anxiety of meeting her new colleagues and the suppressed rage she was feeling standing right next to a demon, she had slipped into her possession mode without thinking, wiping almost all trace of emotion from her face and causing her to look like a slightly angrier, goth Detection Doll herself. At Kaeru's comment, she caught herself, relaxing her expression, but only a little given the task at hand. Resisting the urge to apologize and introduce herself, she listened quietly to the leader speak, and exhaled in relief. She wasn't going to be fired; in fact, it sounded as if she'd made the best decision she could have possibly made. Also, though the woman who seemed to be her immediate supervisor spoke sternly, she was straightforward and made things easy to understand, which was something Rika appreciated.
Fifteen Beasts and a single Monster or low-level Devil. Rika couldn't help but think that she could handle this on her own, and was wondering why a whole squad was being sent. Is this why no one was able to come to her rescue when her home was destroyed? —but she would file that thought away for later. Right now, she didn't have the expertise or the guts to criticize the boss, given she almost died in an incident that she also thought she should have been able to handle. Perhaps these things tended to escalate unexpectedly. She also realized in that moment that she didn't know a whole lot about how the DDF handled things. "Emergence Gate" was a new term for her. The Detection Doll was also a thing—an adorable little thing. Her eyes were glued to it as she followed to the vehicle bay, when Natsumi suddenly called out to her.
She was caught off guard a little. She'd tried to casually slip into the group without saying anything, and was a little surprised that nobody seemed to know who she was. She flashed a little smile, relieved to find herself just being paranoid about any office rumors there might be. "Uh, yeah. I've fought a few Monsters before," she said casually, then immediately regretted it. It sounded like she was bragging, she told herself, though her tone didn't sound that way at all. "Uh, I mean Beasts. Distracting them is like a specialty for me, so... yeah. Let me handle the small fry," she hedged. Rika dressed a bit tough, but she sure didn't act like it. There was also the whole, being a foreigner with only one arm, with a barely-usable hand, thing. Rika wondered if her presence here made the DDF look desperate.
It would be a miracle if she wasn't late, Federica thought as she fast-walked down the streets of Tokyo, a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store dangling from the fingers of her single, open hand—remembering how her wheelchair-bound mother had pleaded with her not to leave home and go to work for the DDF. An outside observer would have thought she was leaving the country. It seemed unreasonable at the time and yet, as she continued to walk, she began to realize just how big Tokyo was. It was also busy and full of tourists in this part of town, which was nice since she could more reasonably blend in with the crowd—a rare luxury for her, and well worth the extra noise.
She'd put way too much thought into how she'd introduce herself to the crew. Some thanks for saving her life recently wouldn't be too mushy, hopefully. An apology for the trouble might balance it out and bring the mood back down to neutral. She'd made some homemade cinnamon rolls, but deciding that may be a bit much, had pestered the poor part-timer at the local convenience store bakery for a box so she could act like she'd just picked them up someplace. For whatever reason, saying "I brought these" came with a lot less pressure than "I made these." On the rare occasions that the gloomy-looking Russian girl had been showered with gratitude, it had left her so embarrassed she could just die, so she'd rather avoid that if she could.
There it was: the DDF building. Walking up the steps, she made to struggle with the door using her foot to open it before a friendly receptionist waved at her as she approached. Rika shot her a sheepish, slightly apologetic smile and waited for her to get the door, but she instead pointed to an accessibility button for Rika to push, which she hadn't even noticed. "Woah. Tokyo is amazing..." she thought out loud as the door slowly opened by itself, another feature she was not used to seeing in the sparsely populated district she came from.
"Um. I'm here for my orientation," she said a little slowly, hoping the woman could understand her accent.
"Your orientation is this way," the woman replied in English, gesturing down a nearby hallway.
"Ah, eigo hanashimasen suimasen. Roshiajin desu." she replied automatically. (Ah, I don't speak English sorry. I'm Russian.)
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" the receptionist replied, a little embarrassed. "This way, please. I'll take those to the break room if you don't mind?"
"Oh, thanks... please do," Rika replied, passing the bag to her.
Suddenly, an alarm of some kind went off. Though it was unfamiliar to Rika, it wasn't a fire alarm, that much she knew. For a moment she stood there, considering her options as the receptionist offered apologies she could barely hear. Orientation would indeed have to wait, but Rika had no intention of leaving helpless people waiting to die. Remaining here would be silly, given the circumstances. She could go outside and climb the buildings to get a bird's-eye view, or simply try following emergency vehicles or catching a ride with one, but nobody in this part of Tokyo would know who she was and her particular contract abilities were prone to causing a scene. Instead, she looked around the lobby and nearby hallways, trying to figure out where the toughest-looking people were all running off to.
Suddenly, she saw the towering figure she would later know as Andrea. Jackpot.
"Um, miss?! Please wait in the lobby!" the receptionist called out uselessly as Rika took off with surprising speed.
I hope she doesn't eat all the cinnamon rolls, she thought for some reason. No, wait. I hope I don't get fired! What am I doing?!
Emerging into the meeting room suddenly, she tried her best to look the part of somebody who was supposed to be there. Unfortunately for her at the time, she'd been unable to see through the blood in her eyes when the DDF arrived to rescue her, so she couldn't recognize any of these girls—but of the other three girls currently in the room, her bets were on either the serious-looking black ponytail or the sexy redhead in the bodysuit.
"...Reporting," she managed, looking at the empty space between the two women, hedging her bet. Her tone was a bit too casual, owing to her lack of confidence in that exact moment and trying too hard to make her announcement not sound like a question. She had every intention of coming along. If they asked... her orientation finished up early? No, lying was a bad idea. She'd just hope they wouldn't ask. It would be easier to ask for forgiveness later than to ask for permission now.
Dominus glanced over in the direction of the new arrivals. "Ah, Havokor. It is good to work alongside you again," he said with just a hint of insincerity. The god of conflict and struggle intrigued him somewhat, but his personality sure was something. It would be just a slight exaggeration to say that the two were friendly rivals or brothers in arms, but they at least had a few things in common. Havokor was not soft like the rest of this rabble. "I like the look of this one," he remarked, looking at Shin'Za. "Well done." Cynthia, for her part, bowed in greeting, this time with one arm in front of her and one behind, conveniently placed to be suddenly grabbed by someone.
Cynthia's eyes widened slightly as she glanced down at the girl who'd tripped into her and grabbed her arm for support. Her expression became less stoic by pure instinct upon seeing the short young lady with gentle features, as if she'd reminded her of someone. She seemed like a child in the eyes of the giant reptilian woman, especially when standing right next to her—and Sybil probably felt the same looking up at her, judging by her shy reaction as she scurried away and anxiously blurted out her introductions.
"Hm?! BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Dominus laughed madly at the girl who had tripped into Cynthia, and seemingly nearly forgotten to give her own name. "Cetia, you can't be serious! This little lost lamb is your champion?!" he scoffed. "—and you too, Amaterasu. Sincerely, a child?! At least she appears confident," he observed, shooting another condescending glance at Sybil.
But Cynthia took one step in Sybil's direction and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Well met, little one," she managed to say coherently, looking away from her to hide her fangs and glare daggers at Dominus. Cynthia knew how it felt to be openly mocked in the presence of the powerful, and to desire dearly to be literally anywhere else but where she was, even if that "anywhere" was a battlefield covered in damnable snow and ice. Already, she was putting everyone present on notice that she and her god did not see eye to eye.
Dominus offered only a nod in greeting to Zero. He didn't seem too upset that Genesis could not be present. More importantly, Cynthia was glaring at him. "Hmph. Cynthia. I don't remember giving my permission to let a child herald my arrival. Who invited the lamia girl?" he demanded. Cynthia shrugged, as if to say that details like that didn't matter to her. Ignoring him, she turned to Zero and gave him a bow of greeting. "I, too, do not require... delicate treatment," she said, slowly and carefully choosing words that were easier for her to say. "Call me by my name only," she said to no one in particular.
Dominus, however, was in a mood to get back at Cynthia for her insolence, and so he did not let her get away with being anonymous. "Meet my esteemed champion, Cynthia Schovajsa—princess of the reptilians, and a proud and accomplished soldier who holds the title of War Queen among her people," he boasted, as if all of her accolades were also his own. Cynthia exhaled with an exasperated huff, resisting the temptation to reiterate that she required no title of address.
Similar to the above, shout out to the two who encouraged me in the status bar to punch that create topic button, I think it was @Jonisca and/or @Sorin and maybe one other that I forgot, plenty of people liked their statuses too but it's too late for me to go back and find those. My interest check was posted just 11 days ago now and I've already received 4 responses to it, 2 of which were interested in multiple stories. I might actually have to close the thread soon since I'm writing pretty much constantly which is amazing and way beyond what I expected. Bottom line, post your stuff even if you think it's silly, we are all our own worst critics and could use a few people who disagree.
Suddenly, another gateway opened, inside a marble arch at the end of a nearby stone walkway. Inside was pure white, but it wasn't a light; it was snow. Frigid air burst into the area from within, but nothing and no-one was visible against the whiteout for a few moments. Then, at once, two single-file lines of reptilian lizard people with heads like komodo dragons burst onto the scene, some wearing veils over their faces and bearing the red and black banners of their nation, heralding the arrival of what appeared to be some kind of military parade. They stood silently on each side of the walkway, awaiting the arrival of their god and champion.
It began with an orc king, dressed in like manner to a sultan, carrying a white and blue sword that looked like some kind of holy blade. He was flanked by two masked oni, one with red skin and one with blue, carrying massive spiked war clubs, which they drove into the stone floor twice with every fourth step. Then, a pair of six-armed lamia emerged from the portal, dancing and juggling scimitars, flanked on each side by more orcs and oni beating war drums and shouting. Behind them, a taller reptilian woman with a human face emerged, walking arm-in-arm with a beautiful tengu princess with short black hair who looked nothing short of thrilled to be in that exact place in the parade, waving her free hand around to anyone who looked in her direction. The reptilian woman with long white hair, meanwhile, tried to remain stoic, but her face betrayed just a hint of distaste for the opulence of the proceedings. Unlike the lamia that preceded her, she was dressed for the weather she'd just come from, and had the look of a soldier about her.
"Schovajsa! (Hide yourselves!) Schovajsa! (Hide yourselves!)" the lesser lizardfolk cried, covering and turning their faces away and falling to their knees in a dramatic display that bordered on worship as the white-haired woman passed them. The ones fortunate enough to carry banners simply put one hand over the veils on their faces and solemnly bowed, keeping their flags upright. Behind the pair of royals who seemed to be the center of attention, a smaller lamia girl with only two arms and a smile that could melt the ice caps waved a blue and silver flag around with the kind of energy only a child could. She seemed to be cheerleading for an aquatic nation whose representatives could not be present. At the very end of the parade was Dominus himself, the infamous god of war and likely the one responsible for this entire charade. He was the "go before me" kind of god, choosing to bring up the rear behind his champion rather than lead the vanguard. But, with so many formidable-looking warriors present—who was the champion?
The orc king bowed to the gathering of champions and deities present—but he stood to the side, as did the two fierce-looking oni and dancing lamia, who sheathed their swords with flair and poise. One of them pulled the little lamia girl aside, shushing her excited giggles. The tall woman with the soldier-like bearing stepped to the front of the group, the tengu princess letting go of her arm reluctantly, and the orc king handed the holy sword to her with a nod of respect. She placed it in the empty scabbard at her side with some force, causing a low booming sound like a distant peal of thunder, leaving her audience with a single question: who was this woman, whose appointment as champion of a god of war was supported by multiple nations, and who could convince an orc king to be her sword-bearer?
She kneeled as Dominus approached from behind, and remained there until he planted a hand on her shoulder and bade her in a loud voice:
"Rise, Cynthia."
She obeyed, returning to her feet and bowing to her future comrades and their patron gods with her right arm over her chest. Dominus dismissed the gathering behind her with a wave of his hand as she spoke. "Gokigenyou (Good day) to the morning thtarss and their illuminant oness." The sight of a forked tongue and reptilian fangs greeted the assembly as she spoke, slurring her speech somewhat.
"Hmph. Let your sword speak for you, girl. You've not the gift for pleasantries," Dominus chided.
Cynthia bowed to the others in apology, using her cape for a curtsy, and remained silent as she left the stone walkway, joining the others on the verdant field. Aside from her long, flowing white hair and lack of facial scars, she lacked any delicate features. Her face was severe and stoic, and her eyes slightly wild, especially as they both occasionally glanced in different directions independently of one another as she sized up the group, though it was clearly a habit she was trying to fight. She dressed the part of a solider, but walked with a certain noble bearing that was unmistakable, despite doing so perched on the toes of her bare, dinosaur-like feet, with claws that were covered with caps of bright red wax. She didn't offer to let anyone shake her hand—though with those claws, maybe they were better off.
Race: Reptilian—a long-lived race of demihumans created using the stolen DNA of apex human specimens, and the DNA of their hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial invaders, whose name the demihumans are forced to share. For some, being created by "lizard people" rather than gods is enough reason for prejudice, but with forked tongues, inhumanly sharp eyes, and fangs and claws tough as iron, few humans or even near-human races consider them as friends, relegating them to the company of other beings humans collectively call "monsters." Female reptilians also carry a potent venom that can be used both to kill and to dull pain, making them preferred as soldiers.
Appearance: A rather severe-looking woman of Amazonian height—about 6'10'' (208 cm) when perched on her toes. With a razor-sharp glare and flowing white hair that is longer than most humans are tall, she certainly catches the eye, but is not what most would call beautiful, despite her lack of facial scars. She is a bonafide soldier, preferring war paint to makeup, commanding with intimidation over grace. Still, unlike many of her brethren, she is human enough that, with her clawed arms and feet hidden behind a cape or table, one could almost forget she is a reptilian—until she opens her mouth. For this reason, she is shy with her words, and frequently (and literally) bites her tongue to keep it in check when speaking. Focusing both eyes on the person speaking to her is also a work in progress.
Home World: Cynthia's homeworld of Dominus suffers greatly under its patron god, whom it is named after. The scar-shaped wastelands that mark the front lines of its eternally raging wars can be seen more easily from space than its remaining civilizations—but this was not always so. In times past, when the gods were allowed to wage war freely with each other, Dominus was a thriving global civilization of Spartan-tier warriors with enviable technological means—a truly unassailable fortress of a planet during its golden age.
Then, everything changed. Unable to satisfy his lust for war in this new world order, Dominus turned the denizens of his own world against one another. With his own people dragging each other down in constant civil war, they were overrun by the now-superior reptilians—but Dominus cared little, as long as war continued. Caught in the middle, the newly-hatched hybrids were pressed into service in the war as soon as they were able—and employed by both sides of the conflict, as many eggs were stolen from the reptilians during various rebel incursions. The resulting child soldiers on both sides would eventually band together in the Great Revolt, ultimately choosing humanity over their cold, uncaring parents, who reminded them only of war.
But the promise of an end to conflict proved ephemeral, as the humans held no real place in their hearts for these hybrids, referring to them all with the familiar epithet of "reptilian." The hybrids were driven underground in Traitorous Crusades, fleeing to caves hidden in the mountains of the desert, while the humans migrated ever northward, to where their cold-blooded enemies could not easily reach. The conflict continues; for a spell it may pause, but on and on the war rages, and changes, but does not stop.
Patron Deity: Dominus, god of war. Loathed by nearly all his people, he remains a valued member of Pax Celestia, his reputation among other gods upheld by his long, gilded history of accomplishments... recent events notwithstanding, of course. He is notorious for producing strong Champions and "motivating" them to set out on the most dangerous of missions, laying claim to many victories when other Champions lacked the courage to fight without one of his at their side. They are known to be highly skilled warriors, but it is also well known that his Champions are virtually worked to death and never reach old age. Cynthia, though relatively young for her race, is the oldest Champion Dominus has ever had, and many of her people are gossiping about it, with hushed jokes about her impending "retirement." Sadly, it seems few among the gods are wont to criticize his methods, effective as they are.
His sword, Nefas Dominis, can bend space and command gravity, crushing anything. The armor he wears was forged from the bones of a god of fortresses, whose name has been lost to the history books of mortals. Its wearer cannot be harmed except by weapons made using a process known only to the gods themselves—and even with such a weapon, the armor remains highly effective.
Champion’s Blessing: What else to expect from a god of war but a sword? Named Ninkigal, it grants its wielder power over the earth, and increases one's strength the closer they are to death. The meaning of such a gift seems obvious to all who know Dominus well: "By all means, bury your enemies, but while you're at it, bury yourself too." Like all weapons gifted by Dominus, it is unnaturally durable, but by no means indestructible—mirroring their wielders. Both the mysterious ivory-colored metal and decorative sapphire are said to have been taken from the core of a destroyed planet. When its power is called upon, the jewel emits a sound that, while inaudible to humans, induces an emotional state best described as "impending doom."
Only Champions may use the sword, with all other mortals attempting to wield its true power doomed to be swiftly petrified, their limbs crumbling to dust under its sheer weight. While it's widely considered "bad luck" for Champions to trade their god-given gifts around, any Champion strong enough to lift Ninkigal may technically use it. Only Cynthia may draw upon its powers merely by possessing it, however; others must swing the sword to achieve any desired effect, making controlled use of its powers rather difficult for anyone else.
Inventory: Accustomed to long marches across deserts, up mountains, through rainforest and tundra, Cynthia travels light. Aside from her fancy new sword, her trusty survival knife, flint and steel, a canteen, some old bandages and a compass/pocketwatch round out her kit. Most of her body is covered in scales already, so her armor is light, consisting mostly of leather and just two steel vambraces for deflecting attacks. The inside of her breastplate is lined with magic gemstones that can generate heat, giving just enough cold resistance to not expire from merely walking through snow.
Magic: Magic is Cynthia's biggest weakness, as without her Champion's Blessing, she has none—and no experience using magic without it. Fortunately for her, it turns out that hurling big rocks at her enemies is pretty intuitive, as is building defensive walls in a pinch. Unfortunately, her inexperience is not the only thing holding her back in the magic department; cold-blooded reptilians are especially susceptible to ice attacks, and their keen eyes, accustomed to living underground and hunting at night, do not appreciate bright flashes.
On her homeworld of Dominus, mana works in a very similar way to muscle; the "use it or lose it" rule applies to one's mana pool, making Cynthia's fairly low. Additionally, mana builds up quickly over the course of battle, but gradually ebbs away afterwards, like adrenaline. With the exception of cataclysmically destructive spells, it will generally build up faster than it is consumed, allowing mid-tier spells to be used with impunity, but larger attacks will be late to the party, if they get used at all. Any magic user who can steal mana or bottleneck its flow can cripple Cynthia's deceptive magical capabilities almost instantly, causing her to prefer the sword.
Ninkigal itself almost exclusively commands the earth element. With it, anything from the smallest grain of sand to the tallest mountain can be moved, given enough time to produce the mana for it. The elemental spells give her a lot of control over the field, vastly increasing her options, lending her both offensive and defensive support when needed—as long as she is outdoors. She still has a lot of options indoors, but most of them are bad. Except one: Salt the Earth is a purification spell that can eradicate most basic curses and toxins, including her own venom. The raw physical and magical power of Ninkigal's wielder is also increased, in a function that correlates both to blood loss and adrenaline, the nature of which Cynthia neither understands nor attempts to rely upon.
Skills: Cynthia is well-versed in all things "battlefield survival," including navigation, bushcraft, first aid, CQC, and the use of many weapons, including various forms of swordplay—but only the most primitive of firearms. She is a skilled runner and climber, courtesy of her reptilian claws, and a nigh-unrivaled hunter thanks to her keen reptilian eyes and smell, which can track prey for miles. Once caught, Cynthia's prey is not safe from her stomach, either; she has an iron constitution and can eat almost anything, as long as it contains a less-than-average amount of poison. She's quite hardy in general—even if she loses an arm, it'll grow back in no more than about 20 years. Or 20 hours, if there's a particularly dedicated, magically-trained healer in the house. That might save some time.
Though she is also a competent swimmer, she can only realistically do so in warmer climates. For her, what humans would consider a mild wind chill combined with soaked clothes can be debilitating—frigid waters, a near-guaranteed death sentence. Her venomous bite can be used both to make painkillers for her allies and to quickly paralyze and subdue an unsuspecting opponent. A stealthy ambush is usually required for the latter, as the venomous fangs reside toward the back end of her mouth, requiring a "full bite" for any appreciable effect. The inside of her left forearm is pockmarked with scars from self-bites to abuse the painkilling effect.
Though she possesses many of the skills that typify nobility, few are inclined to respond well to diplomacy when terms are given by a reptilian, especially one whose voice is reminiscent of a goblin with smoker's lung—no matter how well-chosen her words may be (and as quiet as she is, they most assuredly are). For this reason, she's better off playing the role of an advisor than a negotiator, unless the situation demands the use of intimidation, in which she excels. In fact, she excels so much at intimidation that most human-domesticated animals are terrified at the mere sight of her, relegating equestrianism to the confines of her more childish fantasies. Cats, however, while skittish around most humans, are almost magnetically attracted to the lower tones of her gruff accent. Figure that one out.
Personality: Cynthia could be said to have the personality of an igloo. Though she is cold, both outside and in, she aims to be the stablest of all warriors, ever unflappable, slow to anger, and just warmer than the cruelty of man, of the world, and of the war. Under her wing, the weak become strong, and the dull become sharp, while she keeps the worst of the storm at bay. She will come to the aid of others, but will not hold her tongue during the lecture afterwards. Though a divisive figure back home, she is well respected and trusted by her soldiers, and many among them think of her as family but would dare not say it.
Despite her pedigree as a soldier, she is still also a princess (but spare your ears the lecture and don't call her that). Better known by her informal title, Dominessa (War Queen), she is notorious for pushing unending "menial" tasks on her underlings, both to keep the youngest away from the front lines and to spare herself the embarrassment of attempting to competently wield a sewing needle or frying pan in front of others. Many see her as a closed-off person, and keep a modest distance. Place her in the company of orcs and give her some liquor, though, and the gallows humor, war stories and philosophical ramblings come out. That's right: despite her gruff and cold exterior, some semblance of the hyper-intelligence of the ancient reptilians resides within. It's a little-known fact amongst her inner circle that she has, in fact, written two books under an assumed name. She is very secretive about this.
History: When the humans betrayed their temporary hybrid allies, Cynthia's grandmother was their leader, and the hatred and distrust of humans has remained a signature aspect of the family—until now. Unlike her siblings, Cynthia did not grow to hate humans, which has baffled all and offended many. Some called for action against her, but her results in the war spoke for themselves and could not simply be explained away or written off as the falsely attributed accomplishments of others. Cynthia was ruthlessly efficient, but not cruel; her heart full of pride and drive, and not hatred or desperation. The wisdom to rule over her people is reflected in her actions and attitude toward the war, and the soldiers have taken notice. As such, she keeps a healthy distance from the courts, preferring sharpened steel over dull politics.
Unfortunately, her attempts to gain power from the front lines, away from the prying eyes of politicians, did not go unnoticed by Dominus. She holds little admiration for Dominus, as do most, but doesn't have much choice in her appointment as a Champion. Her appointment is just one of several conditions necessary for a very promising accord between multiple non-human factions, an accord which could force the humans to acknowledge the demihuman races' right to exist. Further complicating matters, most of Cynthia's siblings, the go-to alternative choices for a Champion, are more reptilian than human, and Cynthia the reverse—more human than reptilian—a fact that ensures Dominus' choice causes maximum political chaos, and solidifies his offer as one that Cynthia cannot easily refuse.
For the sake of the war back home, then, she decided that it was best to leave on this mission that she, personally, couldn't care less about—if only because she doesn't yet know the details. However, there is little hope that she was chosen as Champion for any other reason than to remove her from Dominus' chessboard. Though descriptions of her attitudes toward humans range from "practical" to "neutral" to "milquetoast," all agree that she is a potential troublemaker, and to cast one's lot with her is to stand directly against the status quo. Many in the family are jeering and wishing her a "happy retirement," and few are praying for her safety—but Cynthia chooses to give only the latter voices space in her mind, as she tries to focus on the struggles in front of her.
Race: Reptilian—a long-lived race of demihumans created using the stolen DNA of apex human specimens, and the DNA of their hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial invaders, whose name the demihumans are forced to share. For some, being created by "lizard people" rather than gods is enough reason for prejudice, but with forked tongues, inhumanly sharp eyes, and fangs and claws tough as iron, few humans or even near-human races consider them as friends, relegating them to the company of other beings humans collectively call "monsters." Female reptilians also carry a potent venom that can be used both to kill and to dull pain, making them preferred as soldiers.
Appearance: A rather severe-looking woman of Amazonian height—about 6'10'' (208 cm) when perched on her toes. With a razor-sharp glare and flowing white hair that is longer than most humans are tall, she certainly catches the eye, but is not what most would call beautiful, despite her lack of facial scars. She is a bonafide soldier, preferring war paint to makeup, commanding with intimidation over grace. Still, unlike many of her brethren, she is human enough that, with her clawed arms and feet hidden behind a cape or table, one could almost forget she is a reptilian—until she opens her mouth. For this reason, she is shy with her words, and frequently (and literally) bites her tongue to keep it in check when speaking. Focusing both eyes on the person speaking to her is also a work in progress.
Home World: Cynthia's home planet of Dominus suffers greatly under its patron god, whom it is named after. The scar-shaped wastelands that mark the front lines of its eternally raging wars can be seen more easily from space than its remaining civilizations—but this was not always so. In times past, Dominus was a thriving global civilization of Spartan-tier warriors with enviable technological means—a truly unassailable fortress of a planet during its golden age.
Then, everything changed. Perhaps, if Dominus had discovered the multiverse sooner, things could have been different. Alas, having conquered the stars, the people of Dominus began to grow soft with no more enemies to fight. Unable to satisfy his lust for war in this new world order, Dominus turned the denizens of his own world against one another. Many nations and even planets would fall to ruin in the ensuing chaos. With his own people dragging each other down in constant civil war, they were eventually overrun by the now-superior reptilians, invaders from another realm entirely—but Dominus cared little, as long as war continued. Caught in the middle, the newly-hatched hybrids were pressed into service in the war as soon as they were able—and employed by both sides of the conflict, as many eggs were stolen from the reptilians during various rebel incursions. The resulting child soldiers on both sides would eventually band together in the Great Revolt, ultimately choosing humanity over their cold, uncaring parents, who reminded them only of war.
But the promise of an end to conflict proved ephemeral, as the humans held no real place in their hearts for these hybrids, referring to them all with the familiar epithet of "reptilian." The hybrids were driven underground in Traitorous Crusades, fleeing to caves hidden in the mountains of the desert, while the humans migrated ever northward, to where their cold-blooded enemies could not easily reach. The conflict continues; for a spell it may pause, but on and on the war rages, and changes, but does not stop.
Patron Deity: Dominus, god of war. Loathed by nearly all his people, he remains a valued member of this new multiversal pantheon, his reputation among other gods upheld by his long, gilded history of accomplishments... recent events notwithstanding, of course. He is notorious for producing strong Champions and "motivating" them to set out on the most dangerous of missions, laying claim to many victories when other Champions lacked the courage to fight without one of his at their side. They are known to be highly skilled warriors, but it is also well known that his Champions are virtually worked to death and never reach old age. Cynthia, though relatively young for her race, is the oldest Champion Dominus has ever had, and many of her people are gossiping about it, with hushed jokes about her impending "retirement." Sadly, it seems few among the gods are wont to criticize his methods, effective as they are.
His sword, Nefas Dominis, can bend space and command gravity, crushing anything. The armor he wears was forged from the bones of a god of fortresses, whose name has been lost to the history books of mortals. Its wearer cannot be harmed except by weapons made using a process known only to the gods themselves—and even with such a weapon, the armor remains highly effective.
Champion’s Blessing: What else to expect from a god of war but a sword? Named Ninkigal, it grants its wielder power over the earth, and increases one's strength the closer they are to death. The meaning of such a gift seems obvious to all who know Dominus well: "By all means, bury your enemies, but while you're at it, bury yourself too." Like all weapons gifted by Dominus, it is unnaturally durable, but by no means indestructible—mirroring their wielders. Both the mysterious ivory-colored metal and decorative sapphire are said to have been taken from the core of a destroyed planet. When its power is called upon, the jewel emits a sound that, while inaudible to humans, induces an emotional state best described as "impending doom."
Only Champions may use the sword, with all other mortals attempting to wield its true power doomed to be swiftly petrified, their limbs crumbling to dust under its sheer weight. While it's widely considered "bad luck" for Champions to trade their god-given gifts around, any Champion strong enough to lift Ninkigal may technically use it. Only Cynthia may draw upon its powers merely by possessing it, however; others must swing the sword to achieve any desired effect, making controlled use of its powers rather difficult for anyone else.
Inventory: Accustomed to long marches across deserts, up mountains, through rainforest and tundra, Cynthia travels light. Aside from her fancy new sword, her trusty survival knife, flint and steel, a canteen, some old bandages and a compass/pocketwatch round out her kit. Most of her body is covered in scales already, so her armor is light, consisting mostly of leather and just two steel vambraces for deflecting attacks. The inside of her breastplate is lined with magic gemstones that can generate heat, giving just enough cold resistance to not expire merely from walking through snow.
Magic: Magic is Cynthia's biggest weakness, as without her Champion's Blessing, she has none—and no experience using magic without it. Fortunately for her, it turns out that hurling big rocks at her enemies is pretty intuitive, as is building defensive walls in a pinch. Unfortunately, her inexperience is not the only thing holding her back in the magic department; cold-blooded reptilians are especially susceptible to ice attacks, and their keen eyes, accustomed to living underground and hunting at night, do not appreciate bright flashes.
In her homeworld, mana works in a very similar way to muscle; the "use it or lose it" rule applies to one's mana pool, making Cynthia's fairly low. Additionally, mana builds up quickly over the course of battle, but gradually ebbs away afterwards, like adrenaline. With the exception of cataclysmically destructive spells, it will generally build up faster than it is consumed, allowing mid-tier spells to be used with impunity, but larger attacks will be late to the party, if they get used at all. Any magic user who can steal mana or bottleneck its flow can cripple Cynthia's deceptive magical capabilities almost instantly, causing her to prefer the sword—which is powerful in its own right, able to smash through concrete walls and cause the ground to shake when slammed into it.
Ninkigal itself almost exclusively commands the earth element. With it, anything from the smallest grain of sand to the tallest mountain can be moved, given enough time to produce the mana for it. The elemental spells give her a lot of control over the field, vastly increasing her options, lending her both offensive and defensive support when needed—as long as she is outdoors. She still has a lot of options indoors, but most of them are bad. Except one: Salt the Earth is a purification spell that can eradicate most basic curses and toxins, including her own venom. The raw physical and magical power of Ninkigal's wielder is also increased, in a function that correlates both to blood loss and adrenaline, the nature of which Cynthia neither understands nor attempts to rely upon.
Skills: Cynthia is well-versed in all things "battlefield survival," including navigation, bushcraft, first aid, CQC, and the use of many weapons, including various forms of swordplay—but only the most primitive of technologies, unfortunately, due to Dominus's sordid history. She is a skilled runner and climber, courtesy of her reptilian claws, and a nigh-unrivaled hunter thanks to her keen reptilian eyes and sense of smell, which can track prey for miles. Once caught, Cynthia's prey is not safe from her stomach, either; she has an iron constitution and can eat almost anything, provided it contains a less-than-average amount of poison. She's quite hardy in general—even if she loses an arm, it'll grow back in no more than about 20 years. Or 20 hours, if there's a particularly dedicated, magically-trained healer in the house. That might save some time.
Though she is also a competent swimmer, she can only realistically do so in warmer climates. For her, what humans would consider a mild wind chill combined with soaked clothes can be debilitating—frigid waters, a near-guaranteed death sentence. Her venomous bite can be used both to make painkillers for her allies and to quickly paralyze and subdue an unsuspecting opponent. A stealthy ambush is usually required for the latter, as the venomous fangs reside toward the back end of her mouth, requiring a "full bite" for any appreciable effect. The inside of her left forearm is pockmarked with scars from self-bites to abuse the painkilling effect.
Though she possesses many of the skills that typify nobility, few are inclined to respond well to diplomacy when terms are given by a reptilian, especially one whose voice is reminiscent of a goblin with smoker's lung—no matter how well-chosen her words may be (and as quiet as she is, they most assuredly are). For this reason, she's better off playing the role of an advisor than a negotiator, unless the situation demands the use of intimidation, in which she excels. In fact, she excels so much at intimidation that most human-domesticated animals are terrified at the mere sight of her, relegating equestrianism to the confines of her more childish fantasies. Cats, however, while skittish around most humans, are almost magnetically attracted to the lower tones of her gruff accent. Figure that one out.
Personality: Cynthia could be said to have the personality of an igloo. Though she is cold, both outside and in, she aims to be the stablest of all warriors, ever unflappable, slow to anger, and just warmer than the cruelty of man, of the world, and of the war. Under her wing, the weak become strong, and the dull become sharp, while she keeps the worst of the storm at bay. She will come to the aid of others, but will not hold her tongue during the lecture afterwards. Though a divisive figure back home, she is well respected and trusted by her soldiers, and many among them think of her as family but would dare not say it.
Despite her pedigree as a soldier, she is still also a princess (but spare your ears the lecture and don't call her that). Better known by her informal title of "War Queen," she is notorious for pushing unending "menial" tasks on her underlings, both to keep the youngest away from the front lines and to spare herself the embarrassment of attempting to competently wield a sewing needle or frying pan in front of others. Many see her as a closed-off person, and keep a modest distance. Place her in the company of orcs and give her some liquor, though, and the gallows humor, war stories and philosophical ramblings come out. That's right: despite her gruff and cold exterior, some semblance of the hyper-intelligence of the ancient reptilians resides within. It's a little-known fact amongst her inner circle that she has, in fact, written two books under an assumed name. She is very secretive about this.
History: When the humans betrayed their temporary hybrid allies, Cynthia's grandmother was their leader, and the hatred and distrust of humans has remained a signature aspect of the family—until now. Unlike her siblings, Cynthia did not grow to hate humans, which has baffled all and offended many. Some called for action against her, but her results in the war spoke for themselves and could not simply be explained away or written off as the falsely attributed accomplishments of others. Cynthia was ruthlessly efficient, but not cruel; her heart full of pride and drive, and not hatred or desperation. The wisdom to rule over her people is reflected in her actions and attitude toward the war, and the soldiers have taken notice. As such, she keeps a healthy distance from the courts, preferring sharpened steel over dull politics.
Unfortunately, her attempts to gain power from the front lines, away from the prying eyes of politicians, did not go unnoticed by Dominus. She holds little admiration for Dominus, as do most, but doesn't have much choice in her appointment as a Champion. Her appointment is just one of several conditions necessary for a very promising accord between multiple non-human factions, an accord which could force the humans to acknowledge the demihuman races' right to exist. Further complicating matters, most of Cynthia's siblings, the go-to alternative choices for a Champion, are more reptilian than human, and Cynthia the reverse—more human than reptilian—a fact that ensures Dominus' choice causes maximum political chaos, and solidifies his offer as one that Cynthia cannot easily refuse.
For the sake of the war back home, then, she decided that it was best to leave on this mission that she, personally, couldn't care less about—if only because she doesn't yet know the details. However, there is little hope that she was chosen as Champion for any other reason than to remove her from Dominus' chessboard. Though descriptions of her attitudes toward humans range from "practical" to "neutral" to "milquetoast," all agree that she is a potential troublemaker, and to cast one's lot with her is to stand directly against the status quo. Many in the family are jeering and wishing her a "happy retirement," and few are praying for her safety—but Cynthia chooses to give only the latter voices space in her mind, as she tries to focus on the struggles in front of her.
So, a question naturally arises as to how our less "fighty" characters made it to the end of a tournament. The tentative answer I'm going to put forward is that they battled in pairs, unless someone has a more sensible idea.
I'll try to find time to update Cynthia's sheet, but I can't promise I'll be back in this thing yet.
A late twenties/early thirties, they/them something-or-other who's been doing this writing thing on and off since my teens. When I need to blow off some steam, I play the kinds of games that would make the average Dark Souls fan scream with rage. Aside from those two hobbies, I don't make time for much. My roleplaying is probably the most social I'll ever be across the internet, but hopefully that's what you're here for. [i]Time Zone: +9, Korea/Japan/Australia. Hello American night shifters.[/i]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">	A late twenties/early thirties, they/them something-or-other who's been doing this writing thing on and off since my teens. When I need to blow off some steam, I play the kinds of games that would make the average Dark Souls fan scream with rage. Aside from those two hobbies, I don't make time for much. My roleplaying is probably the most social I'll ever be across the internet, but hopefully that's what you're here for. <span class="bb-i">Time Zone: +9, Korea/Japan/Australia. Hello American night shifters.</span></div>
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