Haha

𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 - 𝘈𝘳𝘤 𝘐: 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭

@Squashedquatch@Dark Light

There's spots available, but we're trying to avoid duplicate arcana.
Get with me if you're looking to workshop a character.

The Blood of Beasts Feeds The Cherry Blossom - Victorian Horror Fantasy RP Inspired by Bloodborne and Sekiro

I’ll throw my hat into this, I have time.

⥑ Ember to Ashes ⥏ Dark Fantasy/Mythology (Interest Check)

The OOC is up and we're a few posts in, but feel free to see what roles have been taken and jumping in.

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil

Festival of Free Pockets

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“𝗔𝗹𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁! 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗺𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗻𝘀. 𝗧𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀. 𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗣𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗴 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀! 𝗜𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗔𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗹𝗲! 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀?” Ordered like a true dictator. Tomoe stood atop a sizeable stack of emptied wooden crates. Her chest puffed out and her diaphragm filled with oxygen to fuel the aggressive shouting aimed towards the small group of four young street rats.

”What ifs we not able to steals stuffs?” Asked a young brown-haired folk, his bright blue eyes blinked anxiously and his sandals scraped across the dusty floor beneath him.

“𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧! 𝐁𝐮𝐭, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 — 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.” The boisterous confidence of this wish-they-were ringleader probably seemed far more inspiring to her own ears. And then she spun on the wooden soles beneath her feet to face the steady flow of people passing the alleyway by without a care. These musty in-between of the city were great for it, hiding in plain sight.

Then the young thief bounced from her imaginary podium with a hand in each of her pockets. She marched past the small group of misfits and took the lead for them to follow, and they did, until Tomoe reached the edge of that current of people. They were all so fixated on the festivities, most with their eyes trained up towards the spectacles in the sky rather than beneath them. The small entourage dispersed, each kid clad in a small brightly colored kimono and a waxed paper mask. A shit-eating grin slowly spread from cheek to cheek upon Tomoe’s face, happily beaming the crooked pearls between her lips as she followed suit to the rest and entered the crowd.

Like a piece of driftwood she allowed the current to carry her to the larger mass of people. Her vulpine eyes noted every wallet and satchel she passed along her way. Some were intentionally light, locals who knew better would not bring so much to a large gathering like this. But others, especially those who were not so familiar with this city, did not take any precautions. Her small hands deftly found their way into a number of pockets along the way, feinting small innocent bumps and stumbles to dispel any attention. Eventually the ebb and flow would take her to the center of events where the largest crowd gathered.

“𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! . . . 𝐍𝐨-𝐧𝐨-𝐧𝐨…” Tomoe whined out.

Her form shrunk down as he hugged her knees and shook nervously. The big green eyes in her sockets snapped around her, clocking any cautious faces, and more importantly anyone who was concerned. Eventually a young woman pressed through the crowd and hunkered down with Tomoe, her well-done makeup and beautifully maintained raven hair painted her an easy mark. She was the daughter or wife of someone with wealth, most likely, and her arrival caused Tomoe to blossom out with the greatest of dramatics.

”Where is your mother? You shouldn’t be alone in a crowd like this!” The beautiful young woman’s tone was urgent, and her voice was hushed.

“𝐈-𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰? 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞!” This was Tomoe’s most trained act out of her whole arsenal. Her eyes watered and her lower lip pressed out and trembled, practiced routines were the easiest.

The beautifully dressed young woman stared down with sympathy, unaware that this young girl was likely just a few years younger than herself. But still her delicate hand reached out to take the callused grip of Tomoe, and the young thief offered the wealthy woman a little squeeze of gratitude. But as the woman began to lead Tomoe out of the crowd, the wolfish grin crept back onto her lips.

Like taking candy from a baby.

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil

Scuffed Budget Robin Hood

"𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢𝘴."

The vermillion sky is so scary today.

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___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 18 Race Folk Sex Female Height 4’8” • 139cm Weight 84 lbs • 38kg Level 1 Health Points 22 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Bag of Glass Marbles Pouch of Pulverized Chalk Pouch of Pulverized Charcoal Rice Glue Scraps of Pilfered Food Climbing Gear Lockpick Waterskin (Full) ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T A single kunai, tied to strong cord. A pair of tanto, one is intentionally dull. Embossed leather tunic beneath her cloak. Waxwood Armguards. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Points: 12 Might: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Dexterity: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Perception: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Wisdom: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Charisma: 10 + 1 = 11 Constitution: 10 + 1 = 11

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Tomoe is small-framed and frail looking, earning her the title of {Rodent} among the troupe of petty thieves and spies that she originates from. If she was found walking in front of a grown couple, you might mistake her for their child with her youthful expressions and rather large eyes in comparison to the size of her miniature everything else. Her voice peeps out like a shrew, soft, frantic, formulated to dissuade any negative attention that would find its way to her. Tomoe's wardrobe is more of a mixed bag as she has a multitude of outfits to blend in to situations as they arise, but when she given the option, this trickster dons a strange getup of loose cloth, feathers, and furs. This thief is strange and her appearance only magnifies that outlandish exterior. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY "𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘦?" He asked. "𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙗𝙪𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 — 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧." Tomoe was born somewhere and was inevitably left to the elements in Shanjing during her infancy. It was there that she was picked up by a group of thieves that called the port town their home. Her earliest years were relatively wholesome and as a babe the company of criminals spoiled Tomoe rotten. But as time went on she would eventually reach an age where she could fend for herself, and thus she was taught the trade. The docks were bountiful for folk of their lifestyle! Unguarded crates often went missing, and unmanned ships were stripped so bare that the local courtesans would even turn red. But with crime comes backlash, and the wealthier merchants and lawmen who had everything to lose — would come down like a hammer. Guards, militia, anyone who could raise a blade, all were paid a hefty pouch of coin to hunt these thieves down. Empty buildings were burned, hounds were sent down alleyways, and any who sought to hide these criminals were to be tried with the same charges as those guilty. These thieves were known amongst the community of Shanjing, loved by some, hated by others, but coin and interrogation goes a long way if you are reputable to any degree. All of these men and women were found, manacled, soon to be executed or imprisoned regardless of involvement. Some of the youths of this troupe were lucky enough to be traded away, for labor, work of other kinds, a few were even adopted by sympathetic folk. Tomoe was not fated for such things, and though she was picked from the many to be sold to a couple of farmers — the small girl easily slipped away before anything could be set in stone. But now she was alone. She was nobody from nowhere with nothing but the clothes on her back and the dust in her pockets. So she ran.. Far from the town that was all she knew, and away from everything that was once attached to her. In the day hours she would hide squeeze between the cargo of horse carriages and at night she would trust her legs, whipping her legs through tall grass and mud until she would eventually find Bianwei. It was a fair bit more developed than where she'd come from, but Tomoe would soon find that there were more people and even more places to hide. If Shanjing was a forest, Bianwei was a jungle, and the young thief put the knowledge she sponged up to use very quickly. For survival of course! ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Tomoe loves her lifestyle. Some call it kleptomania, she calls it abundance & variety. Who's to say whether she needs that jade inkstone or not, you? She takes it anyway! Her choices are her own, and her stubbornness is without rival, and you can challenge that if you want. Tomoe is also manipulative to a degree. Often she will say things with a twist in order to spur a question, bat her lashes and pout to invoke sympathy, or chide and goad to agitate someone she doesn't like. Her education is incredibly limited, but she knows how to worm her way into someone's mind and play with their emotions. Lastly, she is incredibly driven. Ambition is number one for her, but what those ambitions are?.. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK To witness the Hyakki Yagyō. If inquired about what that entails or why, Tomoe will answer with silence and a smile! ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ☆ No family or clan name! ☆ Works as a spy and information broker! ☆ Picks your pocket. ☆ The dull blade is meant for warnings. ☆ Hates the rain. ☆ Smokes a pipe from time to time.

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil

Scuffed Budget Robin Hood

"𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢𝘴."

The vermillion sky is so scary today.

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___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 18 Race Folk Sex Female Height 4’8” • 139cm Weight 84 lbs • 38kg Level 1 Health Points 22 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Bag of Glass Marbles Pouch of Talcum Powder Pouch of Pulverized Charcoal Rice Glue Scraps of Pilfered Food Climbing Gear Lockpick Waterskin (Full) ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T A single kunai, tied to strong cord. A pair of tanto, one is intentionally dull. Embossed leather tunic beneath her cloak. Waxwood Armguards. ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Points: 12 Might: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Dexterity: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Perception: 10 + 1 + 4 = 15 Wisdom: 10 + 1 + 1 = 12 Charisma: 10 + 1 = 11 Constitution: 10 + 1 = 11

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Tomoe is small-framed and frail looking, earning her the title of {Rodent} among the troupe of petty thieves and spies that she originates from. If she was found walking in front of a grown couple, you might mistake her for their child with her youthful expressions and rather large eyes in comparison to the size of her miniature everything else. Her voice peeps out like a shrew, soft, frantic, formulated to dissuade any negative attention that would find its way to her. Tomoe's wardrobe is more of a mixed bag as she has a multitude of outfits to blend in to situations as they arise, but when she given the option, this trickster dons a strange getup of loose cloth, feathers, and furs. This thief is strange and her appearance only magnifies that outlandish exterior. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY "𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘦?" He asked. "𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙗𝙪𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 — 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧." Tomoe was born somewhere and was inevitably left to the elements in Shanjing during her infancy. It was there that she was picked up by a group of thieves that called the port town their home. Her earliest years were relatively wholesome and as a babe the company of criminals spoiled Tomoe rotten. But as time went on she would eventually reach an age where she could fend for herself, and thus she was taught the trade. The docks were bountiful for folk of their lifestyle! Unguarded crates often went missing, and unmanned ships were stripped so bare that the local courtesans would even turn red. But with crime comes backlash, and the wealthier merchants and lawmen who had everything to lose — would come down like a hammer. Guards, militia, anyone who could raise a blade, all were paid a hefty pouch of coin to hunt these thieves down. Empty buildings were burned, hounds were sent down alleyways, and any who sought to hide these criminals were to be tried with the same charges as those guilty. These thieves were known amongst the community of Shanjing, loved by some, hated by others, but coin and interrogation goes a long way if you are reputable to any degree. All of these men and women were found, manacled, soon to be executed or imprisoned regardless of involvement. Some of the youths of this troupe were lucky enough to be traded away, for labor, work of other kinds, a few were even adopted by sympathetic folk. Tomoe was not fated for such things, and though she was picked from the many to be sold to a couple of farmers — the small girl easily slipped away before anything could be set in stone. But now she was alone. She was nobody from nowhere with nothing but the clothes on her back and the dust in her pockets. So she ran.. Far from the town that was all she knew, and away from everything that was once attached to her. In the day hours she would hide squeeze between the cargo of horse carriages and at night she would trust her legs, whipping her legs through tall grass and mud until she would eventually find Bianwei. It was a fair bit more developed than where she'd come from, but Tomoe would soon find that there were more people and even more places to hide. If Shanjing was a forest, Bianwei was a jungle, and the young thief put the knowledge she sponged up to use very quickly. For survival of course! ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Tomoe loves her lifestyle. Some call it kleptomania, she calls it abundance & variety. Who's to say whether she needs that jade inkstone or not, you? She takes it anyway! Her choices are her own, and her stubbornness is without rival, and you can challenge that if you want. Tomoe is also manipulative to a degree. Often she will say things with a twist in order to spur a question, bat her lashes and pout to invoke sympathy, or chide and goad to agitate someone she doesn't like. Her education is incredibly limited, but she knows how to worm her way into someone's mind and play with their emotions. Lastly, she is incredibly driven. Ambition is number one for her, but what those ambitions are?.. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK To witness the Hyakki Yagyō. If inquired about what that entails or why, Tomoe will answer with silence and a smile! ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ☆ No family or clan name! ☆ Works as a spy and information broker! ☆ Picks your pocket. ☆ The dull blade is meant for warnings. ☆ Hates the rain. ☆ Smokes a pipe from time to time.

A sheet.

𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 - 𝘈𝘳𝘤 𝘐: 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭

Stonehill District
West Gate
_{Evening - - Raining}

Cast: [@Everyone but Yankee], Farfa, Brustle’s Men
Possible Checks: Culture, Commerce, Karma

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The two ogre guards stare down at the bumbling-blabbering outsiders who they had never seen before. The caravan itself was quite familiar, often taking people who wished to leave the city elsewhere and not often bringing them back. The only familiar faces were a demon from money, and a scary goblin, both of which usually traveled in and out of the city without so much as a word. But tonight, the fire haired demon brought company along with them.

”Brud, da’ poopsack are these people?” The orc on the left looked first to his brother on the right, and then down to the smaller folk who approached them.

”No clue, Der.” The slightly shorter ogre on right stated, reaching up a finger beneath his helmet to pick his nose and flick a booger down at the dirt.

A whole entourage approached the ogres, and their common tongue was quite limited as it was. Which made the rather eloquently spoken creature dressed in skins, and skulls, and oh that smell. What was that smell?

”Dis ‘un smells like poop.” States Der, cackling happily as he did so.

Brud set his pale yellow eyes on the small hollow-eyed knight who claimed to be a hero, with an energetic declaration. He grinned and cackled in amusement, bending at both knees to get a closer look and sniffing the air to catch the scent of the fae. ”No heroes in these parts, bug.” The more educated ogre stated directly to Lumen, a sneer now worn proudly with eyes aimed straight at him.

”Are da’ pretty human tastier?” Der asked over to Brud, who now scanner each of the new arrivals. There was quite a lot of humanesque figures here at his door. They were lucky.

”Foreman isn’t too fond of bloodshed at the main gate -- but typically yes.” Brud stated, still squatting down to analyze the squad of wayward /heroes/.. The shorter, smarter ogre seemed to take charge with the situation. Der remained on edge, gripping then handle of his weapon and watching cautiously should anything take a turn for the worse.

”You may enter, but the humans have to empty their pockets.” Brud slowly rose back to a stand. He was confident that his extortion would be effective, because if these folk turned to violence they would have to enter through another gate. And that was not a good idea for strangers.

---

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Dante’s Run
Fito’s Ferry
_{Evening - - Raining}

Cast: @Yankee, Yrga, Comoita Men
Possible Checks: Commerce, Karma

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The orcess huffed and grunted as each of Barb's words met her ears, and her own brown eyes narrowed past youngest Comoita to the tiny fiend that schmoozed more money from him again. “You're not going to make it here with your coinpurse so loose.” her right hand opens and her cheek slaps into the palm, and stared straight to Barbatos with a stiff expression.

“That fat oaf isn't ever busy -- I'm sure there's a patch of wood in his office that bows inward right where his lazy rump sits, I'd bet on it even. But . . .” Yrga bounced her shoulders up into a shrug as interest in such a topic held little interest to her. But Barb did seem very pushy about it, she was even using that tone. A collector such as herself was used to devious types, but Barb did not color himself as such, so she trusted him just a little more than the rest of his ilk.

“I can’t get you in with him, but I do know someone who can.” She grumbles out as her hand slowly drifted behind her and unclasps the satchel fastened right above her ass. The green-skinned digits fiddle around for a few moments before finally she pulls something out and sets it upon the table between herself and Barbatos. Yrga stares down at the roughly hewn iron key, small bite marks present throughout every inch of it.

“That /there/ is a black key. Know what it’s for?” The look of exaggerated glee upon the orc’s face was quite comical, tusks pressing into her lower lip and upturning at the corners. “A door. What door though, maybe Rooster knows —- he is the don’s favorite after all.”

𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 - 𝘈𝘳𝘤 𝘐: 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭

Varathira

Varathira

________________________________________ Varathira Usuthra 27 | MtF Transgender | High Elf _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: The Duchy of Ilynnaes ❏ CASTE: Wanderer, former heiress to a Duchy, willingly abdicated from succession to the chagrin of her parents. ❏ AFFILIATIONS: No relevant formal affiliations. ❏ GOALS: Survive, and feed Zeus his own entrails. Perhaps, someday, grant the common man the ability to destroy Zeus's finest -- an army of otherworldly beings of their own, perhaps? _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Tenacity: Varathira, as one might expect, is typified by her absurd, supernatural tenacity, allowing her to outlast foes far more powerful and skilled than her by literally refusing to die. It's not unheard of after a battle for her to bleed profusely from open wounds for longer than should be possible, or for infections to spread and threaten to kill yet, yet refusing to do so because of the power her arcana has given her. Her ability to precisely direct it, however, is relatively limited, belying her immense potential. ◆Inspirational: Partly thanks to her tenacity, when she wishes to be, Varathira can inspire others to great feats of courage, through supernatural means or otherwise, though she adamantly refuses to outright compel others into action. She has lived a relatively simple life since the destruction of her home, wandering the world inspiring peasants into powerful acts of defiance through speech and sheer force of will. ◆Culinary Master: Thanks to her time spent traveling the world, Varathira is a master of both cooking and brewing, capable of creating dishes and drinks worth being renowned the world over. She usually carries a good few bottles of her finest brew wherever she travels, bartering it for supplies, or sharing it with travelling companions. ◆Brawler: Though she may have been a master swordswoman had Zeus's invasion never come, in the wake of it, Vara has been forced to resort to a more hard-bitten way of fighting. While this means she lacks much in the way of formal training, she can still be potent in a good fight, in no small part due to her impressive strength, stamina, and agility. ◆Silver-tongued: In no small part due to her love of hedonism, Vara has substantial experience and skill in persuading people to do what she wants, or to believe otherwise blatant lies EQUIPMENT: ◆ Various herbs and spices ◆ Several weeks' worth of rations ◆ Several containers of homemade alcohol, including a handful of large containers of gin-type liquor and whiskey ◆ a set of Travel-sized cooking utensils ◆ A small liquor still ◆ A tent, several lengths of silk rope, and other camping supplies

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Although occasionally prone to bouts of melancholy, Varathira can generally be described as a fun-loving party animal, enjoying frequent indulgences of recreational drugs and the company of beautiful women, even with the world as devastated as it is. Even in the worst of times, she remains joyous. That's not to say that she's stupid or ignorant of the state the world is in, however. Nothing motivates her more than her desire to tear Zeus limb from limb and cast him and his siblings into oblivion, in fact. Inwardly, she harbors a deep frustration with her inability to free her people, worried that her ludicrous tenacity alone won't be enough to win the day, or that nothing will remain of her people by the time Zeus is felled or an army that can truly hope to destroy him is marshalled. Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The J U S T I C E Simply put, Varathira's use of her Arcana is blunt, driven mostly by acts of hard-headed defiance, rather than precise trickeries; commanding doors to open or candles to ignite spontaneously, for example. Most notably, she is known to outright refuse to allow serious wounds to kill her, or to inspire her allies toward great feats of courage, though with little actual control or direction. Instead, she provides them the will -- it is up to them to decide how it is used. She is also incredibly resilient to mental manipulation, entering her mind an act akin to digging a tunnel through stone with naught but a pewter spoon, although she is on the way to more precise control over her potential. Minor: N/A

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Combat: •••
Although a capable fighter, Varathira lacks much in the way of formal training, taught how to fight by hard-bitten years on the road rather than by soldiers and generals. She understands little of how war is actually conducted, and about as little of formal fighting techniques; instead, she is best described as a brutal brawler,.effective yet untrained.
Culture: •••••••
Well-traveled and decently well-educated, Varathira has a solid understanding of the world and its people.
Commerce:••
Money, in Varathira's words, is a stupid waste of time. It's a way families like hers control the less fortunate, and she prefers to have as little to do with its proliferation as possible.
Magic:•
Although a potent holder of Justice, Varathira's circumstances have prevented her from truly understanding it, leaving her with an blunt understanding of her Arcana. She's fully willing to learn more, but so far has had barely any time to do so.
Survival:•••
Thanks to her travels, Varathira knows what she needs to survive in the wilds, but lacks knowledge of how to do much more than eke out that incredibly meagre existence.
Karma: ••••••••
Strikingly beautiful, handsome, and practically glowing with joy, Varathira is easy to like at first glance, and is usually friendly enough to play that out. She adores talking with nearly anybody, rarely judges, and spends much of her time in towns flirting and enjoying drink with the local women.

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@Jeddaven

Another pretty elf for the squad of chaotic idiots.
She is welcome and accepted!

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil (At Capacity)

This is spicy.

𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 - 𝘈𝘳𝘤 𝘐: 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭

^{Bantering At Gates of Goeta, There's Much Butter Things We Could Be Doing?!}

@Spin The Wheel@vietmyke@Abstract Proxy@Katakuri

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"Eh- uh- ah- oh- ee- ay, what?"

By all means, this group was quite a mixed bag. The fire-haired demon scanned his eyes across the chaotic group, looking first to the ones who approached the ogres and opening his mouth to speak.. but indecipherable nonsense escapes his maw. The small white-masked figure was already going on about stories of his heroism, the auteur as the eldest presenting human approached with confidence, and the madman? He honestly seemed to be the least of the Farfa's worries. But already was the thread weave that kept that cart ride so peaceful starting to fray. And then his mind would return to the moment, longing for it wander once again so he could be home.. home was so comfortable.

"The plan, is to get inside. Anyone who doesn't look like a human can walk in so long as we don't piss the ogres off. Just--"

The spoiled half-elf's words snapped one of those fraying threads, and you could visibly see it do so as the demon twitched as the Galahad's second question met the demon's ears. A plastic smile spread across his tanned features, squinted cheshire eyes aimed right over to him as he pointed a clawed fingertip towards the once knight and then in the direction of Lumen, Germaine, and the madman near the gate's entrance. A deep breath was drawn in through his nostrils, swelling up in his chest as if he were about to exhume a loud 'Fus ro dah!' but abstained from blowing up on the man with indecipherable infernal language. And instead released a calm and friendly sentence.

"You are quite eloquent with your words Ser Galahad, might you go and speak with the ogres -- try your hand?"

The cheshire eyes would remain, but ever so slowly the smile across his lips would melt into an indifferent stiff expression as the demon's gaze fell first to the youngest human of the group. Farfa burns a very cautious stare upon her before looking to the elf speaking to her, and then to the violet-skinned elf, none of which were helping the situation very much. Both hands floated up to cover his face and a loud sigh muffled by each palm grumbled through.

"And to think that there are members of Barb's family that were turned away by the Order.. only to send... /this/... "

Farfa's hands drip off his face along with streams of water as the rain develops from a light sprinkle into a more consistent shower. The everburning strands of hair atop his head sizzles and hissed as moisture set into the mane of hair atop his head, and his mascara bled down from his eyes to his cheeks. Then he would look to the moon elf and stated rather ambiguously, "Perhaps he will drown us. But I think it may be a little too early for that, they are said to enjoy a one-sided struggle before sending opposition to the grave."

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𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘐𝘚 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘈 𝘉𝘜𝘍𝘍𝘌𝘙 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘛, 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘍𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘛 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘉𝘌 𝘚𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘈𝘠