Emeth

Kurai Majokko

I just want to pop in here real quick and mention that this was planned between me and ERode. They aren't being lame or anything. I'll try to get a post out tonight with some dialogue for Nonsuch and a distress signal for Shatterscape.

Dreams of the Old World (A post apocalyptic 'magical' Adventure)

WIP — Karla, the Living Menagerie

Name: Karla

Age: Unknown

Gender: Female

Height: 5'5'' ~165cm

Weight: 54kg ~119lb

Appearance

Dream — The Menagerie

A strange and shifting space, with the only consistent feature being its collection of creatures, both real and imagined. Sometimes it appears as an ancient and advanced laboratory, with creatures locked away in glass tubes of an indescribable sort. At others, it's a more rustic location, with proper enclosures, sometimes with accessible entrances Karla can use to get close to the critters. Sometimes, the enclosures are easy for the animals to escape from. Sometimes, there are no enclosures at all, with all of its fauna roaming free in an open field still being set up for construction. At the worst of times, it's an endless stretch of untamed wildlands with predators lurking behind every bush, or an indistinguishable black mass of varying body types pressing in on all sides—an inescapable and crushing nightmare come to life, threatening to consume and swallow Karla whole. Sometimes, Karla finds herself in an enclosure, usually with an inmate... but not always. Sometimes, she wonders if she is part of the Menagerie.

Personality/Bio:

Look into Karla's eyes, and you'll see the face of a girl who's used to disappointment. When your ability as a Dreamer results in the constant presence of animal companions, it turns out that civilized society has no place for you to belong. Sure, you might find a few apartment complexes that allow pets, with some caveats. You may even find one or two workplaces in the entire world that allow an emotional support animal—but summoning a common house cat or golden retriever is about as likely as winning the lottery. You'll never find the likes of, say, a starfish, an ostrich, or a whole-ass crocodile under that umbrella, either—and while there are plenty of places full of people "willing to work with animals," what they really mean is that they require their employees to be willing to work with their animals. Nobody is willing to work with hers.

One might think that her place to belong is obviously among other Dreamers, and while that isn't exactly wrong, it's not exactly right, either. Karla has zero control, more or less, over what is summoned, and whether or not she can command it. She's spent most of her life drifting from group to group, hoping to impress enough to earn a day's wage or at least a meal. Knowing that it's only a matter of time until she summons something as useless as a toy dinosaur or as dangerous as a saber-toothed tiger, she never allows herself to get too attached to anyone, least of all her animal companions which are largely responsible for her misery and don't even have the courtesy of sticking around to serve as substitute friends. They all eventually disappear, leaving her alone again. Even her mother abandoned her long ago, and she no longer remembers her family name or how old she is. The only silver lining is that no matter how disobedient her summons may be, the worst they'll do is ignore her. Most of the time she doesn't have to deal with the dangers of traveling alone, and for that, she's grateful.

Having spent all of her days surrounded by animals and most of her nights sleeping in the wilderness, she is pretty much numb to the inherent terrors mother nature holds over most "civilized people." She's used to the various howls and cries, and can easily tell them apart from the otherworldly noises made by nightmares. She has a sense for real danger, knowing when to pack up and go. If she awakens to the sensation of a snake or spider on her skin, she'll quickly go back to sleep. She naturally possesses many survival skills that other Dreamers have to be trained for, as well as some that they aren't, such as—mercifully—how to make soap. Whereas other Dreamers often forget these skills as they rise through the ranks, they are so ingrained in Karla that she'll never lose them. She has that impossibly practical and paradoxical nature of having the eye for details, but the personality type of not sweating the small stuff. She travels light, her greatest luxuries being the handful of multi-tools she's found and repaired while exploring the ruins of the old world—her finest treasures, if you were to ask her.

The Menagerie — Mechanics

D20: Determines the familiar's school of magic. Sub-schools are shown in parentheses.

• 1-2: Fire/Ice (Heat and Cold)
• 3-4: Water/Thunder (Storms and Lightning)
• 5-6: Wind/Earth (Form and Substance)
• 7-8: Light/Shadow (Holy and Profane)
• 9-10: Nature/Artifice (Wood and Metal)
• 11-12: Truth/Illusion (Sight and Sound)
• 13-14: Inertia/Kinesis (Stop and Go)
• 15-16: Time/Space (Sun and Moon)
• 17-18: Blessing/Curse (Life and Death)
• nat19: Divine (Commandment)
• nat20: Primordial (Chaos)

D8: Determines the familiar's level of power, from Tier 0 to Tier 7.

• 1: Tier 0 - An inanimate object. Does nothing at all, but might be of dubious real-world utility. Example: Rubber Duck (Water)
• 2: Tier 1 - The most basic of familiars. Entirely unintelligent and commonly know only utility spells. Example: Will-o'-wisp (Fire)
• 3: Tier 2 - Below-average summons, capable only of following basic commands and casting basic spells. Example: Wight (Shadow)
• 4: Tier 3 - Average summons, capable enough to hold their own without commands. Dog-like intelligence. Example: Dire Wolf (Illusion)
• 5: Tier 4 - Above-average summons, often large and very capable in combat. Typically intelligent. Example: Colossal Squid (Water)
• 6: Tier 5 - Dangerous beasts, often dwarfing Karla in size. Near-human intelligence at a minimum. Example: Sasquatch (Nature)
• 7: Tier 6 - Extremely dangerous to handle, these anthropomorphic creatures humble human intelligence. Example: Wendigo (Ice)
• 8: Tier 7 - Supreme minions suitable for deities. Beyond all human reasoning. The kings of monsters. Example: Conquest (Divine)
• nat20+8: The Tier 7 Lucky Black Cat familiar. Its Primordial Meows are said to cause miracles to happen. Zero obedience.

D4: Determines the creature's first reaction to being summoned.

• 1: Fight Response. Charges Karla, attacks the enemies nearest to her as she runs away.
• 2: Flight Response. Flees from Karla on instinct, attacks random enemies as it flees. (Tier 5 and above defend instead of fleeing.)
• 3: Freeze Response. Does nothing for the first turn it's summoned, but will allow Karla to mount them if applicable.
• 4: Calm Response. Will allow Karla to mount them or issue commands where either is applicable.

D4: When failing an obedience check, perform a random action.

• 1: Physical Attack
• 2: Magical Attack
• 3: Defense/Parry
• 4: Do Nothing

D100: Determines how difficult the creature is to handle, from 0 (totally wild) to 99 (99% obedient)

• Note: Tier 5, 6 and 7 creatures carry an innate obedience penalty of 20, 40 and 60 percent, respectively.

D12: Determines the number of rounds of combat the familiar will remain for, ranging from 1-12.

D6: Determines how many times the summon can use its magic, ranging from 1-6 spells to cast.

Still a WIP since there's no official character sheet yet, but I want it out there before someone else makes a summoner since it's

the most obvious idea anyone could come up with

the best I could do

perfect. Isn't she cute?

Legend of Benkei(Anime, Fantasy/Sci Fi Blend)

The kind of person who joins the family is one who's essentially given up completely, who's so brokenhearted, beaten down, or consumed by desire that his or her own life no longer matters.

@Lugubrious

Marissa is definitely one or two major setbacks from her goal away from teetering on that edge.

Admittedly, most of my characters are dangerous women who have gone or are going to dark places. I'm nothing if not predictable consistent.

Blackguards!

Hey, I stumbled across this in the interest check forum. If y'all have room for one more, I'd love to join! I have an idea for a mastermind character who served the King's brother before he was killed. I'm thinking my character might've been some sort of mage or tactician who was the right-hand man to the original heir.

If there's no room, that's okay! I'm still enjoying just reading about your characters!

@Blayr17

@Red Wizard can correct me if I'm wrong, but one person from the interest check didn't make it, so we might be able to take one more.

Kurai Majokko

---

♬

Nonsuch's reaction seemed to amuse Evil Eye, who began laughing hysterically. If any normal magical girls were watching, they would have judged the pair of them certifiably insane, perhaps rightfully so. Who could say for sure what was going through their minds, as an outside observer? Evil Eye's speed was probably close to 200 kilometers per hour and climbing, swerving between cars while having her back turned from the road ahead of her—one arm slung over the handlebar of her motorcycle, the other over her unconscious partner, in what would otherwise be a romantic embrace were it not so absurd. There was utility in turning back to look directly at Nonsuch of course—her hypnotic gaze would make it difficult for her pursuer to match her movements precisely enough to catch her—but why had she endangered herself so readily to begin with? There had to be more at stake than one light girl and a measly dinner. Did she have something to prove?

It would be useless to ask Evil Eye such questions, of course; her personality was as frustratingly evasive as her driving. If asked she would probably just point out that Nonsuch was equally insane for chasing her down the highway like a spurned lover with an axe to grind and a Hollywood slasher face to match. It was moot, anyway. Only their weapons could speak loudly enough for their thoughts to reach through the roar of the motorcycle. Evil Eye jolted in her seat as her rival's hammer slammed into the pavement, eliciting a confused panic from the drivers behind her as they moved to evade an explosive force they couldn't see. Evil Eye laughed even harder as the girl was covered in the exhaust of her bike, a smell which seemed to persist no matter which way Evil Eye swerved. In fact, her laughing was now impossibly audible, coming from multiple directions. Nonsuch could even hear it echoing from behind her, but surely by now she knew that it wasn't a real sound.

If she kept looking at Evil Eye, visual hallucinations would come next: the horrible image of Evil Eye crying tears of blood, giving life to even more of those vile monsters, enough to engulf Nonsuch and suffocate her to death were every one of them real. Then, there would be multiple bikes to chase. It would be a complete nightmare to contend with—but it wouldn't last for too long. Luckily for her, Evil Eye's destination was fast approaching, and the only way to keep moving forward was to ditch the bike and fly up the mountain, or take the tunnel. In what she would later learn was a foolish gambit, she took the tunnel. With no "eyes in the sky" to help her, she was forced to look away from Nonsuch, and pray the hallucinations she would already be suffering would be enough to keep her from following. "Kindly chase some phantom up the side of the mountain, will you? Can't you see I'm busy trying to kidnap someone?" she said irritably.

As Evil Eye entered the tunnel, she lowered her speed just enough to round a bend, but there was no more traffic to weave through. Suddenly, there was an abrupt blockade. Nonsuch hadn't caught the only drunk driver on the road this night. A flash of genuine panic showed on the girl's face as she did the only thing she could do, slamming the brakes and swerving toward the tiny gap between the leftmost car and the wall. Failing to lose enough speed, she drove right up onto the concrete barricade and began riding along it, holding her handlebar as absolutely still as she could in a delicate balance of trying not to fall off to one side or grind against the wall of the tunnel proper. A look of impotent rage flashed in her eyes as a single errant thought—that she was losing too much speed—tempted her hands to twitch, and her eyes to switch perspectives. A fury unlike any she'd ever mustered before forced her hands to stay steady in a death grip, and her eyes to stay glued to the end of the tunnel that was quickly approaching. As soon as she got out, she could check on Nonsuch and Homura's positions.

She just needed a few more seconds...

Legend of Benkei(Anime, Fantasy/Sci Fi Blend)

Jester Creature Thing

NAME: “Ah, ah, ah! I’m not gonna tell you my real name that fast! Would ruin the surprise, y’know?” (No one really knows their true name, and Jester is very much okay with that. He often introduces himself as “The Jester”, though one of their more common nicknames is “Patch”, thanks to his jester outfit, and their unique jester hat-poncho combo, having many colorful patches on it.)

AGE: “Sorry, but an entertainer never reveals their secrets!” (Like his name, no one really knows how old they are, but judging by their height and mannerisms, many people have guessed that he’s a child or young teen. And Jester always changes the subject whenever their age is brought up, for some reason…)

GENDER: Nonbinary(He/They)

APPEARANCE: (Can I just do a description?) “...Maybe I’ll describe myself another time, if you’re still curious by that point- OH MY GOD, IT’S ONE OF THE DAMNED! EVERYONE, RUN!” (Jester, to be blunt, looks kinda weird. His orange jester hat-poncho covers up the first half of his face, while his black scarf covers up the second. Only the light reflecting off his eyes can be seen regarding them, and they often wear black and orange gloves, so no one has to see his brown and gnarled hands underneath. Besides that, Jester’s appearance is normal clothing for a, well, jester otherwise, wearing a one piece, orange and black jumpsuit and jester shoes. Also, he’s 4’10, so he’s pretty tiny! xD)

WEAPON: “Oh, you mean Fool’s Folly? It’s not a weapon, per say, but it’s really fun to bonk people over the head with it!” (Fool’s Folly, his marotte(the stick jesters usually carry around with them), which has two lit candles encased in super strong, magic glass, with the glass attached to both sides of the marotte. Usually uses it as a weapon or wand; whichever would work best at the moment.)

SKILL: Mirage Barrage: Jester strikes a series of blows on their victim with Fool’s Folly, and then opens up the magic glass though tiny hatchets, blowing out both candles soon after. When the candles light up again(all on their own, mind you), the victim is immediately bombarded by random visual and auditory illusions for two minutes, with no one else being able to see them. This can only happen when Jester’s at full power and when he’s well rested, mind you, and how effective this skill is depends on how much Jester knows about the target, and how creative he can be with that information.

MAGIC BRANCH: Illusion and Enchantment(with Dark Magic being in there somewhere as well, though Jester is only able to do curses at this point)

BIO/FUN FACTS: “So, you wanna know more about me? …How about you first?” (Like with his name, age, and appearance, Jester is very dodgy with his background and motives to join the team, and is usually just all performance and spectacle. He can dance, he can sing(and has a pretty nice singing voice as well), they’re competent at helping the party, they’re a theater kid and likes to mess with his enemies and playfully tease the group…all this, and yet, no one knows why he wants to collect the seven weapons and seal away the Dark One for good, why he’s almost never genuine, or even why he hides his face in the first place! They’re definitely hiding something…but, hey, at least he’s helping them, right? It’s not that big of a deal if he does that!

Jester also has a fun loving and laid back demeanor, and also has their snarky moments. They do make a 180 turn in personality and become timid and jumpy whenever they/the party meet a scientist/go into a laboratory, however.

@Dragonfly 9

I have only one reaction to this

Hider

Fallen far from the tree

NAME: No.639 “Sinmara” D’Silvae

AGE: 26

GENDER: Female

APPEARANCE: Standing at 5’10”, Sinmara is tall and sturdily built, with appreciate muscle and an overall meatiness. Her skin is a rich dark brown, featuring many x-shaped scars of varying recency, and her long hair -white striped with black- is tied up in a chain of voluminous bundles with red cord. Curved red horns extend upward on either side of her head, her brows are thick and rounded but short, and her sharp teeth are often bared in a smile. Her eyes are a yellow-orange, their irises seemingly cracked. Her outfit, a purple suit jacket plus matching slacks, are casually (almost recklessly) worn to accentuate the curves and muscles she’s evidently so proud of, with rolled-up sleeves and braggadocious flame patterns, all held together by a number of black belts, straps, and suspenders. Purple sneakers, helpfully-labeled fighting gloves, and sunglasses all help complete a look that epitomizes what Sinmara herself thinks is really cool, whether or not anyone else agrees with her

PERSONALITY: Most Scions are charismatic, with an emotional intelligence, subtlety, and cunning that allow them to connect with and influence those around them. They are being of enchanting mystique and allure–for the most part. Sinmara is nothing like that. She is boisterous, braggadocious, energetic, competitive, and completely self-confident no matter what. Highly physical, this easily-bored adrenaline-seeker prizes fighting most of all, and being ‘cool’ is not far behind. Such a bumbling idiot, fixated on self-aggrandizement and life’s simple pleasures, is wholly unsuited as one of my Scions. Yet, there’s something about her straightforward, gung-ho wholeheartedness that’s oddly endearing, particularly when she’s vying to earn my approval. Like a puppy. For all her obnoxiousness it’s annoyingly difficult to truly dislike her

Mind: 0/10
Body: 6/10
Agility: 2/10
Craft: 0/10
Magic: 2/10

WEAPON: Heartbreak - Within each Scion beats a Heart of Darkness, and each is able to call forth that Heart of Darkness in tangible form, revealing the eldritch truth at the core of their being, and wielding it as a symbol of their conviction to lay claim to what they desire. As one might expect of Sinmara, her Heartbreak is aggressive, ostentatious, and impractically cool: a demonic-looking chainsaw spear. As her heart quickens, its infernal engine sings ever louder, increasing the chainsaw’s destructive might and turning its teeth red-hot

FIGHTING STYLE: Though Sinmara loves using her chainspear, she loves using her fists even more. Her incredible physical strength serves a wild, untrained, brawling-type style in which she wantonly throws her weight around, seldom stopping to think or plan as she tries to overwhelm her opponents with sheer force. Whether she’s letting loose mighty punches or flashy chainspear moves, her style is as much about showing off as it is actual fighting, and nothing exemplifies this better than her grappling. Even if other techniques might be more effective, she’s more than willing to wrestle instead, going for all sorts of bombastic grabs, throws, holds, and other impractical but impressive moves

SKILL: Fault - A brand of elemental magic twisted by eldritch influence to form something akin to primeval, destructive sorcery. Sinmara can use it to cause ‘cracks’ of amber energy to form on her skin. These cracks can be built up and then spread into other physical matter, either in bursts through strikes or continuously through prolonged contact. These cracks can be detonated through physical contact of sufficient force so long as the striking implement isn’t also cracked. When detonated, the cracks explode, and almost anything can be shattered into pieces as if it were ceramic if it’s cracked enough, including living tissue. Stuff that’s shattered in this way can be put back together as long as the breaks on the pieces still glow orange, which is important for Sinmara because Fault can backfire. She herself can be broken and blown up in this manner, though luckily her individual pieces can keep on living as if nothing was wrong so she can be put back together.

MAGIC BRANCH: Elemental Magic (Earth) / Dark Magic

BIO: In truth, it’s hard to say just how long ago it was that the firmaments above wept upon the Ardmarsuma borderlands a single, ink-black tear. What matters is that that ill-fated blot, hungry and unwholesome, fell at the height of its halcyon days, never imagining that the voracity of mankind might outstrip its own. Surely you’ve heard of that mercantile desert crossroads, its vivid sandstone painted in variegated hues of vermillion, phthalo, and lavender by grace of the mineral wealth within? Long had the people of that arid province cultivated fame and fortune as traders and warriors, making the most of their land’s hidden wealth and its advantageous position as crossroads between neighboring kingdoms. It was here that I first descended, and where I took root in the loose, sandy earth the land turned rich and black, bringing forth forests of living bone, of coral trees that walked, devoured, and deceived. We were glorious then, my brood and I, but we propagated ourselves too greedily. From the shade of their Silver Canopy, Mizalat Kabira, the loveless Ardmarsumites watched our advent in horror. Rallying her neighbors, the queen sent forth her warriors, and the powerful alliance began to slaughter us. Desperate to live, my Dark Young and I fought back against their wanton cruelty, but the faster we spawned, the faster they cut us down. When the sun next rose over the painted desert, only I remained in the heart of my burning grove, withered and spent. In their mindless barbarity they called me the Horn-Cancer, the Goat of the Woods, loathed me, and killed me.

Yet a part of me remained, hidden within the heart of the queen, left so hollow by recent misfortune that a small fragment of my being could creep in. Weak and powerless, for years I could do naught but cling to life, and ruminate on the lesson that I had learned. An outside force, no matter how hungry nor ambitious, could not conquer humanity; they could only be led to defeat themselves. In the decades that followed the queen’s abdication, I slowly merged with my host, gaining strength through the discrete consumption of paupers, alone and invisible, that nobody would miss. When I finally awoke, we were not host and parasite, but a single combined being, starved and ready to devour this world anew. But now, possessed of human intelligence and emotion, I knew better than to come as invader, my banner of annihilation held high. Instead I would come as the Mother, patiently and lovingly accepting the lonely, the outcast, and the despairing, filling their broken hearts with my own and making them my own children. Born anew in my image, they in turn would spread far and wide, not as Dark Young armed with hoof and claw but as Scions offering the wholeness that the shattered men and women of the world so desperately crave. So that they, too, might willingly surrender, and join my ever-growing family.

My children are many-faceted, reflecting the infinite diversity of the human race from which they’re born. Though all bear my telltale horns, no two are alike, each with their own talents and proclivities. Naturally, some turn out better than others. Among the disappointments, few stand out more than number 639, known as Sinmara. I am unaware of her original origins, possibly the tropical, sea-faring nation to the south of Ardmarsuma. Hers was a common story: the loss of a loved one left her broken and despondent, addicted to alcohol and desperate for healing. Number 522, Gruenbaum, found her in her time of need, and through his love the broken woman gave herself up to became one of us. Once she accepted my Heart of Darkness, her body and mind were wholly transformed, given life anew and crowned with the horns of my kindred. Yet Sinmara came out wrong, an enthusiastic and innocent oaf who’d rather fight than flirt, possessed of none of the guile and discretion my Scions require to bring more humans into the fold. Try as she might to win the approval of myself and her fellow Scions, she would win neither hearts nor converts, instead routinely getting into trouble wherever she went and drawing unwelcome attention to us. Deciding that she was hopeless as a Scion, I put her strength to work as a monster hunter, earning money to finance the efforts of my other children, though her nature led to extra headache just as often. When I learned of a new initiative to uncover the legendary weapons, however, I figured that Sinmara might finally come in useful and dispatched her to join on the off-chance that if she did actually get any, they would be of great use to me. Desperate to please her ‘mom’, and eager to fight, Sinmara naturally agreed.

@Lugubrious

I'd say Marissa and Sinmara are sufficiently different! Their fighting styles and overall vibes are total opposites. Even if you took away their signature weapons and magic, a fight between them would be a Ganondorf vs. Captain Falcon situation, I think (and for what it's worth, I think Sinmara would win the straight brawl). That said, we probably don't need any more beefcake melee fighters with these two on board.

Sinmara's origin story is some real food for thought too. Like, what form would Marissa's Heartbreak take, assuming she still has a heart to break? Would she cast away her pride and her humanity for a power boost? Maybe! Good thing Sinmara doesn't seem all that interested in doing her actual job as a Scion. I should probably work on giving Marissa an actual backstory that isn't a writeup of the wounded warrior trope.

Legend of Benkei(Anime, Fantasy/Sci Fi Blend)

A couple things in common between Marissa and my concept make me wonder if I should take a different route lol. While there are differences, both would probably occupy the same role, down to approximate stat distribution and combat flair.

@Lugubrious

Let's see it anyway! Might spark some inspiration.

Legend of Benkei(Anime, Fantasy/Sci Fi Blend)

Something to whet the appetite for now. Mostly finished, pending balance review and maybe some additions to the bio.

WIP

NAME: Marissa

AGE: 24

GENDER: Female

THE RED QUEEN

Mind: ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Body: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♡♡♡
Agility: ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Craft: ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Magic: ♥♥♥♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

JABBERWOCK: A fire-belching axe of macabre make and peerless power. Requires a physical strength roll of 25 or more just to lift the axe and swing it around; requires 55 or more for ignition to use special moves, or to steal it from an inept wielder who cannot use the ignition. Requires a roll of 75 or more to steal it from an adept wielder.

SPECIAL MOVES:

• DOUBLE DOWN: Missed? No problem. Use the ignition to perform a pole-vault and try again.
• SHUFFLE: Really? You missed again? Fire the ignition and slide backwards. Let them eat cake. Er, exhaust.
• STRAIGHT FLUSH: Do the previous move, but hold the axe in place to use it as a flamethrower. You can hold it still, yes?
• ROYAL FLUSH: Do the same move, but backwards. Ride Jabberwock like a witch's broom. Mind the angle you hold it, or you'll fly.
• HIGH ROLL: I told you to mind the angle. For Pete's sake. At least attack on your way down so you don't look so incompetent.
• ROULETTE: Spin to win. Your enemy might make fun of you for turning your back—just spin faster; problem solved.
• SPLIT: By counteracting the leverage with both hands, you can just propel yourself forward. Whatever you do, don't trip and fall.
• ROYAL F#&%-UP: Congratulations, the axe flew away. Unbelievable. I hope it hits you on its way back to you.

MAGIC BRANCHES: Elemental (Fire/Earth) and Enchantment

SIGNATURE SPELLS:

• SACRED HEART: Baptizes the target in ethereal flames, turning their very soul into a living bonfire that smites evil.
• DIAMOND ARMOR: Adds 2d10 to the target's strength rolls. Enhances both body and weapon, for there is no difference.
• HELL'S BELLS: Adds 1d20 to the target's strength rolls. A fire-elemental enchantment that may ignite enemies.
• EARTHSPLITTER: Opens a great chasm in the earth, creating a fresh grave of boiling mud for all who fall in it.

TRUMP CARD - HEARTSNATCHER: Twice per scenario, Marissa can turn any non-ultimate spell that's currently being cast into a Joker card. Doing this cancels the spell, steals it, and stores it in the card for Marissa's use. Each time the Joker card is used, it then teleports into the possession of a random ally or enemy until it eventually ends up in the possession of the target the spell was stolen from, at which point the Joker card is destroyed and the spell is returned to its original owner. There is both a red Joker card and a black Joker card; the red one can steal an elemental or enchantment spell, while the black one steals black magic or illusion spells. Joker cards can be hoarded to deny enemy spellcasting, but they can also be stolen by a pickpocket, so for slower characters like Marissa, sometimes it's better to use them.

BIO/FUN FACTS: A passionate and stubborn woman with a single objective: to destroy the Dark One. Whether having the Seven Legendary Weapons will destroy it or summon it is of no consequence to her; if it's summoned, she will be there to destroy it. Her heart may be considered "pure" in the strictest sense—that she has no personal, selfish motives for seeking out the Seven. In another light, however, it might be seen as an empty void; for Marissa no longer has anything to lose—no name of great repute, no surviving family, and no property besides her great bloodied battleax. This life and this world have taken everything from her, and everything she may add in place of what she's lost will someday be removed, of this she is certain. Even her combat abilities and her life will be taken by time and death.

That doesn't mean she won't try, however. Marissa will greedily claw and grasp at every ounce of power she can acquire in service of her end goal. If the world has decided that might makes right, then those who seek to be right must acquire the means of might. She's honed her body to a razor's edge and accumulated the strongest equipment she can extort skilled craftsmen into making for her. While she's rather skilled at manipulating others, giving her an undeserved air of sharp intellect, her ability to manipulate numbers and objects in her mind is pretty dull. She's also blind in one eye, giving her a lack of depth perception that hinders her coordination. Igniting Jabberwock gives Marissa a much-needed speed boost, but she's otherwise pretty slow when in full armor, and wielding the Jabberwock with her armor removed is about as sensible as doing metalwork in a miniskirt—not that there isn't a chance Marissa would try it. When it comes to magic, Marissa keeps things simple and effective, using it to enhance her weapon and its attacks. She has the raw talent, but lacks the intellect to be truly creative with it. Combining earth and heat to create boiling mud is about as deep as she goes. Perhaps a sharper mind can teach her some new tricks.

Blackguards!

♬

It had been a while since Weaves had seen the sun. How long, she couldn't say.

Once more, she awoke to a pale, ethereal light that was not the moon. Once more, she felt the heavy, full-body embrace of something that was not sleep paralysis. That meant the otherworldly being who was not a Moonwalker was near. In response, the otherworldly being known as "Weaves" faintly stirred, looking around the space that was not her cell. That meant the Warden needed something from her—something that was not related to her more mundane skills. Something that was not related to the upkeep of the Maw—what could it be? Weaves stirred, but was resisted. She offered no further struggle. Patience and serenity were virtues she had in abundance, and she knew what that force meant.

Not yet.

That was what Weaves had told herself back then, when she wanted to run away—the first time she confronted the sun.

A hundred moons? A thousand? How long ago, she couldn't say.

Moonwalkers had only one thing to say regarding the sun. Those touched by its light will be forever bound to it, unable to return to the tribe—banished. Yet the tribe had judged themselves unworthy of her, Weaves had decided. Perhaps the guardian of the woodland creatures would be kinder to her, she had thought. Awaiting its approach over the crest of the hill, she stood paralyzed with anticipation. What did she feel, when that warmth enveloped her skin for the first time? Whether it was comfort or terror, she couldn't say. Yet, it was beautiful.

For a time, Weaves had been content, living in the light. Woodland creatures were terrified of her, and would remain as still as the dead in her presence—but Weaves wished for them to sing, and so she had learned to imitate their stillness. Perhaps stillness had given way to idleness, however. One day, humans had come, and they were not so terrified of her as they should have been. Had she seen something of a mirror of herself in those creatures, confronting their fear of her as she had confronted her fear of the sun? Regardless, mercy had been a mistake. She allowed them to leech off of her land for far too long, these loathsome creatures who offered their newborn babes to a pyre in homage to a god whose name even the ancient Moonwalkers did not know. When they refused to leave, she slaughtered them, as was her right. In reply, their king had sent more. She slaughtered them, too. Then, a much fiercer man came, along with many others, with arms and armor.

The force slowly marched over the crest of the hill, alongside their guardian the sun, whom Weaves had angered. This time, however, she felt no fear—only rage. Again, she slaughtered them all, this time slowly and meticulously. Yet their leader matched her movements, and traded her every blow with one of his own. He had appeared to her as the very embodiment of the sun itself, and no matter how hard she tried she could not kill him. Mutually exhausted, each had let the other escape to fight another day. Perhaps mercy had been a mistake yet again.

Another force slowly marched over the crest of the hill, with the moon as her guardian. Once more, Weaves awaited its approach with anticipation, paralyzed where she stood. What did she feel, when that coldness enveloped her skin for the first time? Whether it was comfort or terror, she couldn't say. For a time, Weaves had been content, living in the light. However, it was time for her to return to darkness.

It has been a while since Weaves has seen the sun. Does she miss its warmth? She couldn't say. Yet, it was beautiful.

Weaves watched the half-giant rage against his restraints. She couldn't understand his useless struggle. What did he hope to gain by making all that noise? Patience, the Warden responded—rightfully so—allowing the man to stand up in his place. Then, she regarded the others in the room. Weaves supposed that was her cue to stand. She had no reason to keep the Warden waiting. She'd fulfilled the promises she made.

The creature, cloaked in darkness, had appeared to have been standing already, at the appropriate height for a human female. Yet, a pair of thin legs materialized from the dank fog that enveloped the ground and hoisted the figure into the air. With a slightly sickening crunch, it straightened its back, such that it towered over all present, even the Warden. It held an appropriately long staff in its right hand, sharpened in a taper off to one side like a piece of bamboo. Its blank eyes returned no light. Neither red nor yellow pierced the dark room as it gazed down upon the others. Its leering was not seen, but felt as a cold chill, enhanced by the mournful wail of its voice.

☾Upon whose blood does the light of this moon reflect?☽ Weaves inquired of the Warden, sure of only one thing.

The Warden had given her a needle with which to weave terror.

Kurai Majokko

@Emeth I am assuming that our characters have some sort of agreed-upon signal if Evil Eye needs the help of Shatterscape

@Villamvihar

Sure. She can have all her Mogalls simultaneously make a nails-on-chalkboard type sound and freak the whole club out.