Girlie1Bomba

Darkness Encroaches: A Gothic Survival-Horror Game

Heya!

I've no idea about any of those games but Lovecraft I get so yeeeeah interested and will wait to see the OoC then :]

The Jericho Road: post-apocalyptic science fantasy

Heya!

Sounds crazier than my ex! That's a good thing... ;DDD

Gunna wait to see the ooc to see if the nitty-gritty RP stuff works for me then.

Ascended Castle: I

Oooohhh... interested!

Will wait for OOC to get more info and see what's good then. :DD

The Deadly 8: Case Corvin

Very interesting premise but not one I'd like to RP. Imma pass but good luck, peeps.

Deadly 8 (Ghost hunting adventure inspired by Killer 7 & Silent Hill)

Heya!

Interested but I'll wait to see the OOC before committing.

World of Telduria [Reboot]

꧁꧂

~The Grand Kingdom of Kron-Nesis

It was an exhausting two weeks of prep and ritual but well worth it.

Her name was Moon. And she was on time.

A well built and quite exquisite female Dark Elf sauntered into the crowds of the 'prized Jewel' of all of Telduria, so she was told. Shoulder length wheat gold hair swished this way and that as her head quickly darted in seemingly too many directions at once. Big bright red eyes took in the hustle and bustle and golden glory that was the Crown of Kron-Nesis. An awe-struck expression held upon the dusky skinned face of Moon, in part playing her role and in part true overstimulation.

How long had it been since she had been here last? Such changes. Such splendour. Such over-indulged excess. The Assassin of the Underhanded should sneer in great distaste with even greater hypocrisy; she was getting paid by such people neck deep in over-indulged excess afterall. But as Moon? No, Moon would be a stranger here in a strange land.

Perhaps she stood out. She was a tall Dark Elf dressed in full Hunter gear and garb, complete with stereotypical bow, arrows, woodland trinkets and facial tattoos. Even the way she moved was more wild and feral when she move through the masses of civilized and cultured folk here. But that was Moon; she would be who she was even outside and away from the comfort of her forests. A small human child wandered up to the blonde elf and just stared. And here was where she found herself at odds with being who she was supposed to be.

A cold hearted assassin would never have their emotions betray them. But this little thing melted that ice in her veins and heart just a bit. Every persona the Assassin took from roots of her very being; it was how she learned to sell her act and actions as someone else. The Assassin never cared for it but Moon? Moon always wanted a daughter. And so Moon could not help but smile at the child, bright red eyes glowing with much warmth and welcome. The tall Hunter lowered herself to eye level with the redheaded and freckle-faced cuteness.

“Toh-bat hannath. Nos ta kawentha, thoshus-mi…” said Moon warmly, no trace of the Assassin in her voice at present, “Hail to you. What is your name, Miss Girl?”

“You have red eyes. Are you evil…?” responded the seven year-old redhead.

A nervous and lingering chuckle fell from Moon’s mouth. “No, child,” said Moon, heavy in Dark Elf accent, “not right now. But… maybe later…?”

“Oh. Okay. But you’re still a stranger…” said the pretty girl levelly.

“Hmmm… let’s fix that. My name is Moonthasa Kolhelena Mi-Valiantis. My Mother is Kolhelena Faselnthan Mi-Valiantis. We are Hunter caste of the extinct Valiantis Clan. Toh-bat hannath. You may call me Moon. What shall I call you, pretty girl?”

“Aye, a pretty girl, I am. Pffff... I know, I know. And I’m En. Me mum is Carol—”

“Enna! Come away from that... that thing! Get over here now!” called out Carol, En’s mum.

“Aye, mum! Comin'! I have to go. Fair tidings, Ms. Moon.” An adorable curtsy did the little redhead give the red-eyed elf before giggling and bounding off back towards Mum.

There should be no pang in her heart, but there was. The seven year-old girl’s name was Enna. The Assassin knew another girl named Enna once upon a time in Bradles Worth. Bright, pink heat rose at her cheeks as she slowly stood to her full six-foot tall height. A wistful smile she held upon her lips as she just merely nodded at the back of the redhead as the girl scampered back to the safety of mum’s arms.

Little did the Assassin know just how much she looked like her birth-father right at this moment. But then again, she did know that to alter her physicality, she needed to tap into her ancestry and bloodline during her rituals and prep. And as her birth-father would have done, she closed her eyes, shrugged with palms up to the heavens above, and let out a small laugh before continuing along her way.

~~~

~The Southern Jewel

The information and instructions given by Gia led her to two more contacts, one of which was another planted member of her brethren Underhanded. She was a burly, medium-height and pretty halfling; the dwarf/human, Tannae. This auburn headed halfling was actually a stationed royal guard and Moon’s pure token into the Southern palace. The two acted as if they had just met but of course they had known each other for near two decades now. And to this day, the Assassins never had the pleasure of bedding each other. Yet.

“Still no? Hmph. Too stubborn as always…” whispered Moon before parting from the Royal Guard.

“Nay. Too straight, love…” whispered Tannae with a small scoffing laugh.

“Given the chance, I will have you ‘bent’ for me…”

“Hmph. Tis known that this here lass is quite… flexible…” a coy wink with a glint in Tannae’s dark eyes.

“Oooohhhh reeeeeally… For the best you stretch first then. Do not want to break you after all…”

“You cannae handle all of this, sister. You will not be able to sit right for weeks…”

Both chuckled softly, resisted the urge to embrace, and merely nodded at each other as they parted ways.

Past the pond and into the grotto she went, senses all upon high alert, yet face placid with lips hinting at a small smile. It was here where she was told to meet with the Grand Marshal. And here she would wait. Matron was rather particular when it came to the Underhanded dealing with those from Kron-Nesis.

For the most part, political intrigue and subterfuge was not this Assassin’s particular specialty but when she was told to do what she was told to do from Matron herself, there was no denying her. That and all of the Underhanded were absolutely loyal and representative for Matron; she had not once led them astray. Unless of course, they deserved it. Failure in Matron’s eyes was only pardoned and forgiven with a stilled heart afterall.

That and she knew that when Gia was involved, Matron would always allow her stars to shine. Gia was always there for her to clean-up after Mercie was done. Gianna was one of the best in the business to execute a cover up. Mercaidi was one of the best in the business to just execute.

Footfalls she could hear coming towards her. Red eyes closed slowly, allowing her to calm her heart and focus in on the cadence and gait of the person coming towards her. Red eyes opened just as slowly. She recognized who was fast approaching. A hint of a smirk pulled up at her lips and hands slid to weapons at her hips as she made ready to greet them.

~~~

The 'meet and greet' went better than expected.

Near a low hung torch she stood now and ignited a rolled parchment and used it to light up her pipe. As she took several puffs to stoke the herbs, flowers, hair and dried blood in the bowl of her pipe, she watched as the parchment became completely engulfed in flame. Red eyes reflected the bright flames and at the last second, she dropped the remaining bit of parchment. She had to ensure the scripture penned upon the scroll was never seen by another pair of eyes ever again.

For ten full minutes she stood, eyes rolled up into her head, trembling everyso often as if only to let an onlooker know that she was still alive. And when she was done, she finally took a strained inhale and fell to her knees. Her only act for the next few minutes was to make soft sobs and gulps of air as she rolled onto her side, a death grip upon her pipe in one clenched fist. The other hand clawed and scratched at the earth as if such action would increase the airflow back into her body.

_{"Tsk-tsk-tsk... looks painful, that does. So. Found what ye seek, love...?"}

A bemused, almost teasing voice, whispered hot breath at her dusky and pointed ear. It was Tannae.

<sub>"Aye. Aye I did. I have seen her. It is done. She has been sighted. Now, please take me to the Grand Marshal, sister."

"Of course. Deep breath then, love. Aaaaaand..."</sub>

Tannae cleared her throat then immediately the Royal Guard snatched Moon and pulled her up by the hair with a very rough yank, "Whacha' think yer doin' out here?! Get y'arse up, girlie!"

"Umph..! I'm lookin' for the encampm-- Urkkk!!" Moon found herself being guided away by a vice grip of a shoulder lock.

"Tis not where I tol'ya t'go! Right then... I'll show ya whacha lookin' for! Let's go, girlie!" A rather solid and no-holding-back kick from a steel tipped boot planted square in Moon's rear end and the Dark Elf let out a genuine yelp.

<sub>"Oi! Unneccessarily over done embellishment, sister...!"

"For the sake of 'authenticity...'! Aaaaaaand oh besides, love... but ya always knew you had that comin' fer yeeeeears!"

"Cur! You're enjoyin' this...?!?! Ooohhhh... you just wait-- Urkkkk!"</sub>

Another swift kick. And oh yes, did Tannae ever enjoy roughing up her pervie Underhanded sister all the way to the Grand Marshal's whereabouts.

~~~

World of Telduria [Reboot]

Heya!

Still live, still here. Just had a looooooot of parties and prep this past couple of weeks. I should have a post up by this weekend.

World of Telduria [Reboot]

Mercaidi Kin'Myla

꧁꧂

of the Shir-Lalancanne

Friends call her Mercie. Guildmembers call her Wicked.

~Titles:

Wicked One of the Underhanded (alter-ego), Dark Star as acrobat/actor, Ghost Watcher as scout.

~Age:

97

~Race:

Mixed blood: Dark Elf, Night Dwarf and human.

~Training:

• Mentored by Eldest sister Pashae as Scout: weather reader, climber, stealth, survival, flora/fauna recognition.
• Mentored by Eldest brother Daestimane as Soul: hunter, tracker, trapper, pathfinder
• Trained by ShamanMother Miir as Spiritualist: rituals, Communing, reading/sign recognition, seeing/soothesaying, Shadows and Mists.
• Mentored by Circus performer Volante the Wicked Serpent as acrobat/actor
• Trained by former Gladiator Noeflitos as swordfighter/dirty tactics
• Mentored by former GuildMother Ashalra as assassin/toxin crafter.
• Trained by Underhanded teammates as 'Guild' member: streetwise/blackmarket/negotiate contracts/appraise goods/craft weapons.

As Wicked One

~Equipment:

• Linferre-Atuol - The StarBlazer Bow – a most prized and powerful item. Once mastered, the user will never again have the need to purchase another arrow ever again. The power of the stars and suns above have been harnessed and a missile of energy will fire forth from the bow. Mercie only will ever use the power in dire situations. For not only is it fatiguing after prolonged use, but she does need anymore reason for others to chase her down, kill her and steal her stuff.
• Shadow Waker Cloak – This is an assassin's dream. The device is actually the upper part with the drawstrings; the flowing cloth can be of any material. Once activated, Mercie may 'fade' in to darkness. The shadows are like commanded waters of the abyss to her. Mercie may ‘swim’ through complete dark in any direction. Also she makes no sound in low light situations. But if activated for too long, ‘things’ from the other side of that liquid abyss notice her and will try to claim her for their own and she will be forever trapped in the dark. She may take up to two others with her… if they dare.
• ‘Wicked One’ light-weight armour – this is her signature look when she dons the persona of Wicked One, the Archer. Once activated, this enchanted armour sprouts like a fast growing flower, covering her entire body, including face. It increases her bulk and height to seem much larger yet weight increases but minimally. Mercie is still allowed quite a lot of motion for the armour is made with light-weight flexible mithril plates that are still strong enough to deflect weapon blows without breaking. And the truth of it is, is that she wears it all the time. It is actually hidden in her bodice. She will only use it when she needs the persona; she wants to protect her alter-ego afterall.
• Four ‘throw-weighted’ daggers
• Durable, utility serrated edged knife used as a off hand weapon.
• Short sword with hidden poison spike in pommel.
• Multiple arrow heads for specialty uses. i.e. Armour piercer, shattering, hollowed for toxin delivery, whistling etc.
• Skull, bone, claw, feather, hair 'trinkets' and other ritual casting devices in her kit.
• Black leather travelling/fighting ensemble: includes jacket, battle skirt, boots and archer gloves.
• Regular clothes, cloak and travelling shoes

~Spell skills:

Communing with spirits of Shadows and Mists. Shadow travel: See Shadow Waker Cloak

~Other skills:

See training above

~Affiliation:

Assassin’s Guild

~Personality

Quiet, Calm yet Intense - Time has burdened her with hard choices and hard living. Gone are the days of blind ambition and pride to prove others wrong. But then again, gone are the big smiles, hearty laughs and random acts of hugging. The mix-blood now rarely says much unless necessary. So jaded is she that she rarely jump scares or gives up a surprised face. A dragon could be roaring in her face and the ground sinking around her and the woman would still keep razor sharp attention upon what she does. Mercie has nerves of steel, a heart of stone, yet eyes of fire. There is a slow burning intensity for such a small thing that even a look from her may sear your soul. But such a look is actually part and parcel of her now; she seems to bore holes in anything she stares at because she is taking in as much info as possible.

Cynical and Clinical- Being used and getting burned so many times has made her never take things at surface level. She always looks for the ‘how’ and ‘why’ answers to things and always questions authority. That is not to say she will not try anything once. She is adventurous enough. In fact, she takes all her various forms of training seriously and has strict training and ritual regiments and each time she does something, she does it by the book: crisp, clean and complete. This tends to lead her to want get things done right; she will do it herself. But when it comes to team play she knows she must relent for she has learned first hand about strength in numbers and benefits of a reliable teammate. Oh, and do note, however, that it is never out of the question for Mercie to get down and dirty. In fact, you best be served to expect to deal with some of her changeups.

Sharp Mind and Keen Senses – Unless she is trancing or executing a ritual, one will rarely find Mercie daydreaming or spacing out. Aloof as she may seem, it does not mean she is ignoring you; undoubtedly, she caught what you said and is just contemplating your words. Again she pays attention to details and her mind is constantly thinking. Mix that In with keen senses and a quiet disposition and you have a trouble sensor. Be prepared for her to suddenly or violently burst into action. Word to the wise then; in those moments when she is absolutely still and in utter silence? Watch those amber eyes. If they are open, it means she is still processing what she has picked up on. If they are closed, it means something is about to happen but lightning fast.

~Quirks

Mercie is quiet and calm with that oh-so-edgelord-me appeal about her, but she also cannot help but sneak in a practical joke or two. Most likely these go undetected since none will expect this from the mix-blood but it is not unknown for her to leave precariously balanced buckets of water above slightly ajar doors. Oh and the sharp tongue-in-cheek comments she lays upon those of authority in the Church? Those spout up everyso often. And do watch out for the faces she makes behind their backs.

Mostly a night owl, if she has to be up early in the day, expect her to be rather gruff and grumpy. Coffee or the like will definitely put you on her good side. Speaking of good side… she can get a bit offput and even insulted by outright rude or disrespectful folk. Expect that mean streak to come rushing out at the offender with blood red rage. And speaking of blood… she is a killer through and through. Do know that if she says she will kill you, this is no joke nor idle threat. She will go out of her way to kill you. If her weapon is out, she means for it to drink before she sheaths it.

~History

She never knew her true birthparents, but the spirits of Mists, to whom she often spoke, hinted to her that her parents were an unlikely pair of halflings. One parent was an offspring of a suberranean Dark Elf and a human slave, and the other, an offspring of a Night Dwarf and a human priestess.

The Spirits had also shown her the youthful faces of human scouts that had found her. They had also shown her as a little screaming bundle of joy amidst a pair of broken and bloodied corpses. They had also shown her receiving judgement before the Shir-Lalancanne elders. The foundling was deemed to be an innocent being worthy to be 'absolved of the evils done by her fore-fathers.'

And so in the Great Valley of the mountain range that bordered Estorna and Vesh, the Shir-Lalancanne Clan named the absolved spawn: Mercaidi Kin’Myla which literally translated as 'The Saved Devil-girl.' Much disdain and contempt was given to such a mixed breed mongrel monster, but as it was, any foundling taken to camp before the Elders must be raised as their own. And so they did raise her, and very, very well one might say. For although Mercie did not have the towering height nor the musclebound body of her brown-skinned Sisters and Brothers that raised her, she had the nimbleness and body awareness of her underground ancestry. She was a natural hider, expert climber and but oh, was she ever deadly accurate with the bow.

The mongrel girl took to Miir, the MotherShaman, as Miir would soon take to the mongrel girl. This foundling was growing at a much slower rate than what the Shir-Lalacanne Clan was used to but Mercie's expertise in ‘Communing,’ the act of whispering to spirits, was eerily surpassing any that had gone before her at her youthful stage of life. Perhaps it was already in her blood to be attuned to spirits but the spirits of the Shadows and Mists took to her rather easily. Too easily in fact.

~~~

Much alarm was raised by the Shamans of the Clan. And so soon enough the MotherShaman decreed that Mercie receive no more Communing training, for further training would only end up in doom for the clan. And thusly, Miir cut herself off from Mercaidi.

Just when she thought they had finally accepted her, this dagger was thrust into her heart. Oh, but too much pride and ambition the youthful Mercie held in heart; that dagger could not kill such things. And so willfully, the mixed-blooded girl furthered her Communing upon a dangerous path; alone. And what she learned was all much too much for any youth. And as the years passed, she finally succumbed to the power she attempted to wield. Being a raw and non-properly attuned Lone Spiritualist, one day held her trance too long, and she was taken on a shadowy trip to ‘the other side.’

When that fateful journey ended, she found herself awakening at the Cave of Ol' Lady Wise Bear, No’Rilee. Mercie had no recollection of what had transpired, but oh, the bodies...

There were 7 in total. And two of them were her beloved brother Daestimane and her beloved sister Pashae. The blood of her clansfolk showered her in misery and shame. And to make matters worse, they had blamed her for such foul murder. Mercaidi did the only thing she could do; she fled her heart and home, never to return again.

~~~

Far from her families home she ran, far away and into the territory of Estorna. For almost 2 decades she laid low, living off the land and earning a mystique as the 'Ghost Watcher'; she who watched out for the weary traveller and protected them from bandit and beast alike. And then came the day that would forever change her life.

The wolves pressed in on the lost traveller and Mercaidi fought them off and shot the wolves dead. The Ghost Watcher had saved the man’s life, but she was badly injured and would no longer be able to fend for herself alone out here. But the man she had saved was none other than famous acrobat and performer Volante the Wicked Serpent. This man would not leave his saviour out here to die alone.

To reciprocate her heroic act, the acrobat took her back to the Circus and they nursed her back to health. And soon enough she took to this travelling life and found she had a knack for doing athletic acting. Mercie graciously allowed Volante to take her under his wing. She blossomed as a performer and so he made her officially part of the travelling Circus of Mirth and Wonder's acrobatic troupe by annointing her The Dark Star. She truly was happy to have a family that wanted her and loved her for who she was and did not judge her because of her bloodline.

~~~

But then came the day Missus Falionis, ‘The Blind Seer’ told her that it was coming. Puzzled and bewildered, Mercie merely shrugged it off. But the sounds of the drums… The beat and pattern was unmistakeable. At first she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her but more and more occurrences of that hypnotic rhythm found her. Most of the time she heard the drums when alone. And loudest when it was dark.

She should have Communed, but alas, that life was behind her and as such, speaking with the spirits was out of the question to her. Big mistake. It finally came calling and found Mercie. It was none other than Ol’ Lady Wise Bear herself, Ro’Nilee. The gigantic ursine beast tore through her dreams like a razor through a sleeping babe’s neck. When all was said and done, Mercie was alone in Shadows and Mist, standing nose to nose with the immense murder machine.

“You will continue to flee and flee and flee, foundling. But the past will not rest. It will still call to you, even if you will not listen. Family after family, run then. A façade for another façade you will see. You came to my dwelling for enlightenment. You did not listen. You did not want to hear my words. I warned you of the trade; you knew the cost of the bargain. And here it is in full. You can no longer run from our pact.

You asked for power greater than the MotherShaman. Well, then here it is in Names: Plaisire, Draevyni and Ki’Drahs. Power greater than your MotherShaman. You will learn who murdered your siblings. You will avenge them. Then you will come home to avenge your betrayals. I will be waiting for you when you are ready, foundling… you will be ready too.”

The slash from the great claws of Ol’ Lady Wise Bear tore off half her face and exposed fully her left eye. Such horrible trauma to her face, oh, yet no onlooker would be any the wiser. It was a spiritual attack, not a physical one. Only in reflection could Mercie see what Ro'Nilee had done to her face; only the mirrors to her soul could see such ugliness.

~~~

Over the next few weeks she mulled it over and finally came to a decision. It was spring when she began packing her things. Once more she would flee. But before she left, Volante, her rival, mentor and friend caught her as she was about to leave her Circus family behind. Only several words she needed to utter; “It’s time to go. Not a single arms length from you and yet I already feel tired of running.” He hugged her then and kissed her forehead. He had already seen the signs; so many had he seen upon the path of the tormented runaway. Volante actually thought she would stay but alas, he was wrong... as he always was. He let her go, but not before dropping a couple of names. She left for good and wandered the years till she found her way to a secluded and complete recluse couple on a homestead in the Vesh borders.

They took her in and for a year she earned her keep as a farmhand. Again, she was loved and well received. That was until the day she mentioned the three names that No’Rilee the Ol’ Wise Bear had said to her. All things changed right then and there. Of course, they knew of the names. But if Mercie wanted to know what those names meant, then she must trust the old couple and follow their every word. Then and only then would she be given the keys to unlock said names.

The training she received was gruelling and pushed her to her limits. Several times, she nearly died by accident or was nearly killed outright. The old couple were not the jolly homesteaders they seemed to be. No, instead the wife was finally revealed as former GuildMother, Arahlsha and the husband was former Gladiator, Noeflitos.

One name would lead to the next they said. And so now they were training her to deal with the first name; Plaisire. As soon as they deemed her ready, she was introduced to a secret membership of assassins known as The Underhanded. These were the masked group that took jobs from those in ‘positions of high prestige and power, yet wanted to keep their hands clean of dirty work.' And so over the years, she earned her keep as an accomplished assassin. So very pleased with her progress, her surrogate parents and patrons bestowed her powerful gifts in recognition of her mastery. From mother Arahlsha, Mercie was bestowed the bow; Linferre Atuoll and the Shadow Waker Cloak of Arahlsha. From father Noeflitos, she received his re-fit warrior armour made of Dwarven mithril. The set was re-fashioned to fit her new persona: The Wicked One, Archer of the Underhanded. These were gifts worthy of 'taking care of their old friend,' Plaisire.

Again the years passed until she finally knew that it was time to move on. She was Communing again, but it did not take speaking with spirits of Shadows and Mists to know that she was on the right path. A single glance Mercie cast into the mirror and she saw the ghostly image of her mauled face staring back at her. It was healing.

It was time to go.

World of Telduria [Reboot]

Lovely. ^^
I'll get the OP up tomorrow after work.

@Zhaliora

Does that mean Mercie Approved to go into the Chara thread?

World of Telduria [Reboot]

Heya!

Here is Mercie. I left out her starting location till I could figure out with whom she would be allied

Mercaidi Kin'Myla

꧁꧂

of the Shir-Lalancanne

Friends call her Mercie. Guildmembers call her Wicked.

~Titles:

Wicked One of the Underhanded (alter-ego), Dark Star as acrobat/actor, Ghost Watcher as scout.

~Age:

97

~Race:

Mixed blood: Dark Elf, Night Dwarf and human.

~Training:

• Mentored by Eldest sister Pashae as Scout: weather reader, climber, stealth, survival, flora/fauna recognition.
• Mentored by Eldest brother Daestimane as Soul: hunter, tracker, trapper, pathfinder
• Trained by ShamanMother Miir as Spiritualist: rituals, Communing, reading/sign recognition, seeing/soothesaying, Shadows and Mists.
• Mentored by Circus performer Volante the Wicked Serpent as acrobat/actor
• Trained by former Gladiator Noeflitos as swordfighter/dirty tactics
• Mentored by former GuildMother Ashalra as assassin/toxin crafter.
• Trained by Underhanded teammates as 'Guild' member: streetwise/blackmarket/negotiate contracts/appraise goods/craft weapons.

As Wicked One

~Equipment:

• Linferre-Atuol - The StarBlazer Bow – a most prized and powerful item. Once mastered, the user will never again have the need to purchase another arrow ever again. The power of the stars and suns above have been harnessed and a missile of energy will fire forth from the bow. Mercie only will ever use the power in dire situations. For not only is it fatiguing after prolonged use, but she does need anymore reason for others to chase her down, kill her and steal her stuff.
• Shadow Waker Cloak – This is an assassin's dream. The device is actually the upper part with the drawstrings; the flowing cloth can be of any material. Once activated, Mercie may 'fade' in to darkness. The shadows are like commanded waters of the abyss to her. Mercie may ‘swim’ through complete dark in any direction. Also she makes no sound in low light situations. But if activated for too long, ‘things’ from the other side of that liquid abyss notice her and will try to claim her for their own and she will be forever trapped in the dark. She may take up to two others with her… if they dare.
• ‘Wicked One’ light-weight armour – this is her signature look when she dons the persona of Wicked One, the Archer. Once activated, this enchanted armour sprouts like a fast growing flower, covering her entire body, including face. It increases her bulk and height to seem much larger yet weight increases but minimally. Mercie is still allowed quite a lot of motion for the armour is made with light-weight flexible mithril plates that are still strong enough to deflect weapon blows without breaking. And the truth of it is, is that she wears it all the time. It is actually hidden in her bodice. She will only use it when she needs the persona; she wants to protect her alter-ego afterall.
• Four ‘throw-weighted’ daggers
• Durable, utility serrated edged knife used as a off hand weapon.
• Short sword with hidden poison spike in pommel.
• Multiple arrow heads for specialty uses. i.e. Armour piercer, shattering, hollowed for toxin delivery, whistling etc.
• Skull, bone, claw, feather, hair 'trinkets' and other ritual casting devices in her kit.
• Black leather travelling/fighting ensemble: includes jacket, battle skirt, boots and archer gloves.
• Regular clothes, cloak and travelling shoes

~Spell skills:

Communing with spirits of Shadows and Mists. Shadow travel: See Shadow Waker Cloak

~Other skills:

See training above

~Affiliation:

Assassin’s Guild

~Personality

Quiet, Calm yet Intense - Time has burdened her with hard choices and hard living. Gone are the days of blind ambition and pride to prove others wrong. But then again, gone are the big smiles, hearty laughs and random acts of hugging. The mix-blood now rarely says much unless necessary. So jaded is she that she rarely jump scares or gives up a surprised face. A dragon could be roaring in her face and the ground sinking around her and the woman would still keep razor sharp attention upon what she does. Mercie has nerves of steel, a heart of stone, yet eyes of fire. There is a slow burning intensity for such a small thing that even a look from her may sear your soul. But such a look is actually part and parcel of her now; she seems to bore holes in anything she stares at because she is taking in as much info as possible.

Cynical and Clinical- Being used and getting burned so many times has made her never take things at surface level. She always looks for the ‘how’ and ‘why’ answers to things and always questions authority. That is not to say she will not try anything once. She is adventurous enough. In fact, she takes all her various forms of training seriously and has strict training and ritual regiments and each time she does something, she does it by the book: crisp, clean and complete. This tends to lead her to want get things done right; she will do it herself. But when it comes to team play she knows she must relent for she has learned first hand about strength in numbers and benefits of a reliable teammate. Oh, and do note, however, that it is never out of the question for Mercie to get down and dirty. In fact, you best be served to expect to deal with some of her changeups.

Sharp Mind and Keen Senses – Unless she is trancing or executing a ritual, one will rarely find Mercie daydreaming or spacing out. Aloof as she may seem, it does not mean she is ignoring you; undoubtedly, she caught what you said and is just contemplating your words. Again she pays attention to details and her mind is constantly thinking. Mix that In with keen senses and a quiet disposition and you have a trouble sensor. Be prepared for her to suddenly or violently burst into action. Word to the wise then; in those moments when she is absolutely still and in utter silence? Watch those amber eyes. If they are open, it means she is still processing what she has picked up on. If they are closed, it means something is about to happen but lightning fast.

~Quirks

Mercie is quiet and calm with that oh-so-edgelord-me appeal about her, but she also cannot help but sneak in a practical joke or two. Most likely these go undetected since none will expect this from the mix-blood but it is not unknown for her to leave precariously balanced buckets of water above slightly ajar doors. Oh and the sharp tongue-in-cheek comments she lays upon those of authority in the Church? Those spout up everyso often. And do watch out for the faces she makes behind their backs.

Mostly a night owl, if she has to be up early in the day, expect her to be rather gruff and grumpy. Coffee or the like will definitely put you on her good side. Speaking of good side… she can get a bit offput and even insulted by outright rude or disrespectful folk. Expect that mean streak to come rushing out at the offender with blood red rage. And speaking of blood… she is a killer through and through. Do know that if she says she will kill you, this is no joke nor idle threat. She will go out of her way to kill you. If her weapon is out, she means for it to drink before she sheaths it.

~History

She never knew her true birthparents, but the spirits of Mists, to whom she often spoke, hinted to her that her parents were an unlikely pair of halflings. One parent was an offspring of a suberranean Dark Elf and a human slave, and the other, an offspring of a Night Dwarf and a human priestess.

The Spirits had also shown her the youthful faces of human scouts that had found her. They had also shown her as a little screaming bundle of joy amidst a pair of broken and bloodied corpses. They had also shown her receiving judgement before the Shir-Lalancanne elders. The foundling was deemed to be an innocent being worthy to be 'absolved of the evils done by her fore-fathers.'

And so in the Great Valley of the mountain range that bordered Estorna and Vesh, the Shir-Lalancanne Clan named the absolved spawn: Mercaidi Kin’Myla which literally translated as 'The Saved Devil-girl.' Much disdain and contempt was given to such a mixed breed mongrel monster, but as it was, any foundling taken to camp before the Elders must be raised as their own. And so they did raise her, and very, very well one might say. For although Mercie did not have the towering height nor the musclebound body of her brown-skinned Sisters and Brothers that raised her, she had the nimbleness and body awareness of her underground ancestry. She was a natural hider, expert climber and but oh, was she ever deadly accurate with the bow.

The mongrel girl took to Miir, the MotherShaman, as Miir would soon take to the mongrel girl. This foundling was growing at a much slower rate than what the Shir-Lalacanne Clan was used to but Mercie's expertise in ‘Communing,’ the act of whispering to spirits, was eerily surpassing any that had gone before her at her youthful stage of life. Perhaps it was already in her blood to be attuned to spirits but the spirits of the Shadows and Mists took to her rather easily. Too easily in fact.

~~~

Much alarm was raised by the Shamans of the Clan. And so soon enough the MotherShaman decreed that Mercie receive no more Communing training, for further training would only end up in doom for the clan. And thusly, Miir cut herself off from Mercaidi.

Just when she thought they had finally accepted her, this dagger was thrust into her heart. Oh, but too much pride and ambition the youthful Mercie held in heart; that dagger could not kill such things. And so willfully, the mixed-blooded girl furthered her Communing upon a dangerous path; alone. And what she learned was all much too much for any youth. And as the years passed, she finally succumbed to the power she attempted to wield. Being a raw and non-properly attuned Lone Spiritualist, one day held her trance too long, and she was taken on a shadowy trip to ‘the other side.’

When that fateful journey ended, she found herself awakening at the Cave of Ol' Lady Wise Bear, No’Rilee. Mercie had no recollection of what had transpired, but oh, the bodies...

There were 7 in total. And two of them were her beloved brother Daestimane and her beloved sister Pashae. The blood of her clansfolk showered her in misery and shame. And to make matters worse, they had blamed her for such foul murder. Mercaidi did the only thing she could do; she fled her heart and home, never to return again.

~~~

Far from her families home she ran, far away and into the territory of Estorna. For almost 2 decades she laid low, living off the land and earning a mystique as the 'Ghost Watcher'; she who watched out for the weary traveller and protected them from bandit and beast alike. And then came the day that would forever change her life.

The wolves pressed in on the lost traveller and Mercaidi fought them off and shot the wolves dead. The Ghost Watcher had saved the man’s life, but she was badly injured and would no longer be able to fend for herself alone out here. But the man she had saved was none other than famous acrobat and performer Volante the Wicked Serpent. This man would not leave his saviour out here to die alone.

To reciprocate her heroic act, the acrobat took her back to the Circus and they nursed her back to health. And soon enough she took to this travelling life and found she had a knack for doing athletic acting. Mercie graciously allowed Volante to take her under his wing. She blossomed as a performer and so he made her officially part of the travelling Circus of Mirth and Wonder's acrobatic troupe by annointing her The Dark Star. She truly was happy to have a family that wanted her and loved her for who she was and did not judge her because of her bloodline.

~~~

But then came the day Missus Falionis, ‘The Blind Seer’ told her that it was coming. Puzzled and bewildered, Mercie merely shrugged it off. But the sounds of the drums… The beat and pattern was unmistakeable. At first she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her but more and more occurrences of that hypnotic rhythm found her. Most of the time she heard the drums when alone. And loudest when it was dark.

She should have Communed, but alas, that life was behind her and as such, speaking with the spirits was out of the question to her. Big mistake. It finally came calling and found Mercie. It was none other than Ol’ Lady Wise Bear herself, Ro’Nilee. The gigantic ursine beast tore through her dreams like a razor through a sleeping babe’s neck. When all was said and done, Mercie was alone in Shadows and Mist, standing nose to nose with the immense murder machine.

“You will continue to flee and flee and flee, foundling. But the past will not rest. It will still call to you, even if you will not listen. Family after family, run then. A façade for another façade you will see. You came to my dwelling for enlightenment. You did not listen. You did not want to hear my words. I warned you of the trade; you knew the cost of the bargain. And here it is in full. You can no longer run from our pact.

You asked for power greater than the MotherShaman. Well, then here it is in Names: Plaisire, Draevyni and Ki’Drahs. Power greater than your MotherShaman. You will learn who murdered your siblings. You will avenge them. Then you will come home to avenge your betrayals. I will be waiting for you when you are ready, foundling… you will be ready too.”

The slash from the great claws of Ol’ Lady Wise Bear tore off half her face and exposed fully her left eye. Such horrible trauma to her face, oh, yet no onlooker would be any the wiser. It was a spiritual attack, not a physical one. Only in reflection could Mercie see what Ro'Nilee had done to her face; only the mirrors to her soul could see such ugliness.

~~~

Over the next few weeks she mulled it over and finally came to a decision. It was spring when she began packing her things. Once more she would flee. But before she left, Volante, her rival, mentor and friend caught her as she was about to leave her Circus family behind. Only several words she needed to utter; “It’s time to go. Not a single arms length from you and yet I already feel tired of running.” He hugged her then and kissed her forehead. He had already seen the signs; so many had he seen upon the path of the tormented runaway. Volante actually thought she would stay but alas, he was wrong... as he always was. He let her go, but not before dropping a couple of names. She left for good and wandered the years till she found her way to a secluded and complete recluse couple on a homestead in the Vesh borders.

They took her in and for a year she earned her keep as a farmhand. Again, she was loved and well received. That was until the day she mentioned the three names that No’Rilee the Ol’ Wise Bear had said to her. All things changed right then and there. Of course, they knew of the names. But if Mercie wanted to know what those names meant, then she must trust the old couple and follow their every word. Then and only then would she be given the keys to unlock said names.

The training she received was gruelling and pushed her to her limits. Several times, she nearly died by accident or was nearly killed outright. The old couple were not the jolly homesteaders they seemed to be. No, instead the wife was finally revealed as former GuildMother, Arahlsha and the husband was former Gladiator, Noeflitos.

One name would lead to the next they said. And so now they were training her to deal with the first name; Plaisire. As soon as they deemed her ready, she was introduced to a secret membership of assassins known as The Underhanded. These were the masked group that took jobs from those in ‘positions of high prestige and power, yet wanted to keep their hands clean of dirty work.' And so over the years, she earned her keep as an accomplished assassin. So very pleased with her progress, her surrogate parents and patrons bestowed her powerful gifts in recognition of her mastery. From mother Arahlsha, Mercie was bestowed the bow; Linferre Atuoll and the Shadow Waker Cloak of Arahlsha. From father Noeflitos, she received his re-fit warrior armour made of Dwarven mithril. The set was re-fashioned to fit her new persona: The Wicked One, Archer of the Underhanded. These were gifts worthy of 'taking care of their old friend,' Plaisire.

Again the years passed until she finally knew that it was time to move on. She was Communing again, but it did not take speaking with spirits of Shadows and Mists to know that she was on the right path. A single glance Mercie cast into the mirror and she saw the ghostly image of her mauled face staring back at her. It was healing.

It was time to go.