Lasrever

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Spoilers: This is probably not the last time someone will want to stab Dwyn. Until character development, anyway.

In the meantime, I might start counting.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Definitely didn't have to panic-edit my post because Erode posted right before me. Nope.

Dwyn really doesn't like you guys. But she's honestly kind of obnoxious, so everyone wins there.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Dwyn

Dwyn's eyes widened with shock, shock that quickly turned to self-righteous fury as the book made contact with the water. Adjusting her grip on the halberd in preparation for something to lunge out of the waters, the woman spent a good few seconds staring at the water before sighing in relief. Of course there wasn't a threat - the nameless teammate had simply been indulging some childish fantasy. Ignoring that she'd wholeheartedly believed in the creature's presence, she looked at him disdainfully. "Now that we've established your overactive imagination, can we--"

Cutting herself off as the light shifted. It seemed that she was going to stay silent, until Aiv's shameful and frankly outright blasphemous display. Never mind, she'd forgotten. She was surrounded by unholy, unrighteous, ignoble--

"Imbeciles." She muttered, loudly enough for every one of them to hear her. With that out of her system, Dwyn turned her back on Aiv, towards the source of the shifting light, the broken sentences. Should it have been a roar or otherwise monstrous sound, she'd have charged into battle happily, knowing as she did that righteousness would prevail in such a situation. But as it was, the brunette had little interest in slaughtering the ruins' residents. She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on the passages ahead.

"I'll have no part in this farce. We're leaving." The time for discussion was over, as far as she was concerned. She'd given them time for discussion, and that had revealed that at least one of them was a gibbering idiot. "Two of you pick up Orpheus. If nothing else, one of the dark passageways should hide us until we have an idea of what we face." Perhaps, if they hadn't spent their entire brief existence getting on her nerves, Dwyn would have been nicer about this.

As it was, the knight had no intention of letting any more discussion continue after witnessing her teammates' reckless idiocy. Besides, the scent of the herbs and the words being spoken worried her. A point of principle that was probably foolish, but she was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of killing holy men. So instead of waiting for anyone to dissuade her, Dwyn turned and began walking down towards the passages. It seemed that, without direction, her plan was to pick one entirely at random from those that didn't appear to contain any approaching foes.

Perhaps a more forgiving sort would have waited by Aiv's side, seeing as he clearly had no intentions of avoiding the confrontation. But frankly, she had no interest in hanging around an arrogant, unpleasant collection of gibbering morons.

And even less interest in associating herself with what frankly appeared to be a heretic.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Dwyn

Curious to see what lay down the passage, Dwyn made her way over to the lit hallway. It seemed relatively benign to her as these things went, even if she wouldn't call anywhere around here inviting. The thing that caught her attention was the smell - something stirring at the back of her mind. It was familiar, as though she had smelt it many times before. The word 'holy' came to mind, the briefest flash of rites and rituals. Just as she was about to start racking her brain for answers, the others began to debate their options.

With a sigh, Dwyn turned back to her companions. It honestly seemed to her that these people would rather argue all day than come to a decision. Still, there was no reason not to say her piece, especially since she had no wish to stand quietly whilst the others got themselves killed. And some of what they were coming out with was concerning, to say the least. She looked at the disrespectful one with a reluctant nod. "Loath as I am to agree with you, I think you're right that splitting up is a bad idea. We don't know where any of these passages lead - should anything happen, there's no guarantee that we'd be able to find each other again. That being said..."

She gave the abrasive man a look of irritation, though remaining somewhat prim and proper. "I question the logic of deliberately angering whatever lurks in the depths. Better that we just move on. If we insist on splitting up, though," Dwyn glanced at Isabella, exasperated, before looking back to the lit passageway. "I plan on heading down that hall regardless. Better that we at least see what we face." At the very least, Dwyn would be able to stab with her weapon, even if swinging the tall polearm would be impossible.

Was that really it? Did she really think it was a good idea to go that way? After all, the nature of the passage would no doubt be inconvenient to them, and any fast-moving foe would tear them in two. No, she wasn't looking after the group, was she? Just chasing a forgotten memory, a selfish action that she was supposed to have cast off. Of course, this was why she'd never been more than a squire. Some knight, to place her own whims over the lives of othe--

Dwyn shook her head, appearing distressed for a brief second before regaining her composure. Of course that wasn't her motivation. She had no interest in worldly desires, in acting for her own benefit. Luxuries such as company and conversation merely provided a distraction from achieving her holy mission. That her chosen direction would comfort her with familiarity was a coincidence, nothing more.

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Making his way to the castle, Duncan could well have gotten there on time if he'd sprinted. But for one thing, the whole endeavour wasn't much more than seeking sanctuary on his part, and for another... Well, in a place like this, sprinting along as a horse didn't make you much more than target practice. Moving along with some sort of steady purpose at least made him look like he was somewhat important, and the sheer strangeness of a seemingly normal animal unbothered by the dark magic that purveyed the area was novelty enough for him to pass unmolested.

That being said, while it had saved him a spear through the gut, it had also made him painfully late to arrive at the bridge. His main concern was that his lateness would somehow irritate Lancelot, lords often being a little touchy about anything they deemed disrespectful. Duncan was keenly aware that he was not the most powerful creature, and the idea of being swatted like a fly was even less appealing than returning to his village and facing an army of godly men brandishing gleaming weapons and holy water. The idea of them blessing his river in the name of their god was enough to make the kelpie's skin crawl.

In all honesty, he was rather grateful to Lancelot. The chaos such a man caused drove people to travel and flee from it, and those who took refuge in the town were a steady food source. Before that, he'd had to resort to eating deer once or twice. It was disgusting. Barbaric. Humans were just so much more tender, as far as he was concerned. Satisfying. Not quite satisfying enough for him to want any part in this war, though. Snapping out of his thoughts, he found himself trotting up to the entrance.

As the doors stood shut in front of him, Duncan winced at what was to come. While it made sense to assume a human form, considering he was dealing with people, the concept was always a little uncomfortable to him. Perhaps because the only humans he'd ever met seemed to fawn over him to a slightly pathetic degree, he wasn't quite sure how to deal with ones who were meant to be on an equal footing, never mind more powerful.

So it was with a sense of slight discomfort that Duncan, now a man, walked into the room as Lancelot's speech concluded. And it couldn't have been more obvious that he was anything but a noble, considering he didn't seem to understand the concepts of say, 'closing his shirt', or 'wearing shoes'. Only adding to that impression was the fact that it looked very much as though he'd decided to swim across the lake rather than taking the bridge, seemingly soaked to the bone.

Some of them already appeared to be discouraging violence between the attendees, which, though he agreed with the sentiment, left him more than a little concerned as to what exactly the speech had been about. Deciding it would be best not to draw too much attention to himself, he quietly made his way over to the table. None of the food looked particularly appetising to him, but he filled his plate nonetheless.

Finally taking the time to look around the grand hall, it was clear that the man was more than a little confused. He briefly entertained the thought of speaking up, but it came out as a slight whinny - quickly covered up by a coughing fit. He wasn't quite used to talking in this form yet, and as spirits went he wasn't particularly old or experienced. While he was almost certain that it wouldn't happen again, he decided against making any announcements for the time being. Better that he composed himself and stuck with normal conversation. With any luck, he wouldn't have caught anyone's attention, and could go about figuring things out without being accosted by any of the more frightening and bizarre guests.

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Duncan

Each na H-abhainn Dubh, Spirit of the Drowned, The Devil's Horseman

General description

Race

Kelpie

Age

100-ish

Size

Human: 6'2", 175lbs
Horse/Monster: 5'3" tall, 8'0 long, 1200lbs

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Tentatively bisexual, although he hasn't really thought about it.

Religion

None.

Job

Water-vanguard

Personality

For a man-eating child-drowning demon, Duncan is slightly unsure of himself when it comes to dealing with others, perhaps as most of his time prior to accepting Lancelot's invitation was spent as, well, a horse. Ignorant of human customs, he is rather naive and easily tricked, at least where social norms are concerned. Perhaps. It's unclear whether Duncan doesn't realise he's being taken for a ride, or whether he just doesn't care either way. Whatever his reasons, he'll happily go along with most things that he is told.

Perhaps because of this, he is easygoing and difficult to anger, unless the mistreatment of animals comes into the equation. He tends to take it rather personally, for obvious reasons. Beyond that, he doesn't particularly seem to enjoy fighting or hurting others, and would much rather people weren't at each others' throats. As for his dedication to their fight, he'd honestly prefer that they just stay at the castle - to hell with the whole 'world-conquering' business. Honour and status as concepts are lost on him; he would much rather accept defeat than fight to his last breath.

Biography

The guardian of a river near a fairly large settlement, Duncan's early life was a fairly tranquil one. The locals did not fear him, and made much effort to avoid angering him - For the water, pure and unpolluted, was the lifeblood of the town, the fish their food, their mills powered by the river's constant flow. The locals were well aware of his presence, and their children were often warned of the creature dwelling within their waters. The half-drowned man, when making an appearance, was treated with the utmost respect, for they knew him as a herald of the beast - not realising that the two were one and the same.

There was a time when they would warn visitors of the white horse, but after a few disappearances an uneasy truce was reached between the monster and the villagers. He would protect his river, and allow them to hunt and fish without fear, and in return they said nothing to any travellers that visited. His food source was steady enough, and the devoured merchants were hardly likely to send back any warning. In a morbid gesture of thanks, the belongings of the merchants would wash onshore for the villagers to find, along with a hefty portion of discarded entrails.

Such peace was unlikely to last forever, though, and not every merchant was caught. One escapee, after shearing off his own hand as his companion was dragged to the depths, returned with a command of holy soldiers, paladins of a sort. Caught off-guard, Duncan was left with little choice but to flee from their massed blades, falling unconscious and left to drift downstream. It was only by the water's healing and the kindness of a stranger who found his battered - now human - body that he even lived. Fearing that the knights would find him once more, however, the only reward that Duncan provided was a quick death before the stranger was consumed.

Duncan had received Lancelot's raven some days earlier, finding the bird waiting for him at the river's bank.
Initially, he had cast aside the invitation, having no interest in leaving behind a life of relative comfort and contentment. However, upon losing that, he had little choice but to flee to Camelot. Not because he had any great cause to serve, or enemies to take revenge upon, but simply because he had nowhere else to turn.

Appearance

Appearance

Most of his time is spent in human form, a long-haired man with dark eyes and who always appears to have just crawled out from a shipwreck. His hair is conspicuously filled with what appear to be water weeds, deep green ribbons that seem impossible to get rid of no matter how hard anyone may try to clear them away. As for his stature, he is fairly muscular, broad-shouldered, and handsome, a fact which is abundantly clear from his apparent disdain for any kind of heavy clothing. While he has the decency to wear clothes, the soaked shirt he wears is almost invariably open at the front, and any new clothing he is given invariably appears soaked through. Curiously enough, the moment it gets taken off of him it appears to become dry again.

Around his neck is a silver necklace, which he firmly refuses to take off.

A pristine white stallion, with little to distinguish him from any normal animal. The most obvious feature that makes him stand out is the silver bridle that he bears, giving the impression that he perhaps belongs to some wealthy noble. The more observant sorts might notice that the horse itself is unusual, not a normal creature, by its hooves and the prints they leave behind - hooves which are flipped the wrong way around.

Once a creature or human is in his grasp, Duncan's monstrous nature reveals itself. His flesh stains to a rotted-looking grey, lacerations appearing across his form though they don't seem to bother the spirit. His eyes take on a red, otherworldly glow, his mane transforms into a mess of seaweed and tentacles, and his teeth become unnaturally sharp along with a jaw able to unhinge beyond what would appear natural. Across his flesh, there are many handprints, white against the dead-looking skin, the marks of those who have found themselves trapped before.

Traits and Equipment

Race Description

A race of shape-shifting water-spirits, the kelpie usually take the form of ordinary-looking horses to deceive people into approaching them. Once a person touches the kelpie, they are trapped within its flesh as it assumes a monstrous form and drags them underwater, where they are devoured alive as they drown. They can also assume a human form, though they are marked by the presence of water weeds in their hair. Some see them as harbingers of the devil, unholy spirits which terrorise the innocent.

Strengths/Skills/Talents

• Siren's Song
  
  When someone looks at Duncan in his horse form, they will hear a faint song in their ears, enticing them to want to approach and ride or otherwise pet the creature. This effect is easily resisted by any who know his true nature, and the threat of death or drowning that such an action presents.
• Consuming Current
  
  Duncan's flesh is able to trap any creature that comes into direct contact with it. This effect cannot be escaped unless he chooses to release the victim, or the flesh containing the trapped body part is destroyed. In addition, should the trapped body part be detached from the victim, they can escape his grasp.
• One with Water
  
  When completely submerged in water, Duncan's flesh will quickly regenerate and is able to heal surface wounds. Internal or magical damage is not fixable through this effect. In addition, his swimming abilities are exceptional.
• Tainted Creature
  
  When he assumes his monstrous form, water around Duncan becomes black and sticky, much like tar, though he can move through it like normal. The effect is not under his control, but happens whether he wants it to or not, reverting as soon as he is no longer touching the water or changes to another form.

Weaknesses

• Bridle's Burden
  
  If Duncan's bridle, or necklace when in human form, is taken from him his powers will be completely under the thief's control, and he will be at their mercy. He will become progressively weaker the longer it is kept from him and should he be completely separated from it for twenty-four hours straight, he will die. Lancelot is aware of this weakness, though Duncan otherwise keeps it a closely-guarded secret.
• Unholy Spirit
  
  Duncan does not do well with holy ground or any kind of blessed item. Anything holy or blessed will sear and burn his skin and cannot be healed through his usual regeneration abilities, and he can't set foot in places such as cathedrals or shrines.
• River Dwelling
  
  Being a river spirit, Duncan's abilities are far more suited to fresh water. While he can still operate in salt water if it becomes necessary, it cannot heal him and his swimming abilities are lessened.
• Weakened Shape
  
  Though it helps him to blend in and communicate, Duncan's human form has none of the offensive potential or durability possessed by his true form. In places where his other form would be inconvenient, he has no choice but to fight as an average human. His lack of training in this area means he has to rely on physical strength alone.

Equipment

• Bridle
  
  A silver bridle, this is always worn by Duncan in one way or another. When in human form, it changes to a simple silver chain around his neck.

Artifact

River's Caress

A pendant gifted by Lancelot and subsequently attached to Duncan's necklace and bridle, the River's Caress allows him to sense the locations of any nearby water sources. If necessary, the pendant can be used to teleport nearby water to his location, but doing so takes a huge toll on Duncan due to his lack of any magical affinity or knowledge, and depending on the volume transported is likely to leave him highly weakened or even completely unconscious.

Relationships

N/A

Other

N/A

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Back, and posted! Dwyn's faith in everyone else is dwindling.

...Dwyn-dling, you could say.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Dwyn

These people...

Dwyn looked away as Nera spoke to her, brow furrowing as she frowned. No matter what was said, the truth was simply that those feelings were improper for one such as her. Not her place. The fact that anyone, even a goddess, could so easily pick up on it was unacceptable. I have to do better.

Her essence surrounded her as she was lost in thought, a speck of silver at the centre. The colour was slightly dull, but otherwise untarnished. Part of her felt it was appropriate, though she couldn't quite say why.

To tell the truth, as Nera had advised, would be to question why these were the ones to be sent on what the squire could only assume was a just and righteous mission - for at least some of them appeared anything but. Perhaps the marks of her past defined her expectations, perhaps not. In either case, she was hesitant to call them scars. Though to speak up about the sense of disappointment, for lack of a better word, that accompanied her first impressions, would only breed discord. In that moment, she thought she understood what Nera meant about the weight they carried.

So, shameful as it was to ignore the advice of one so high above her, Dwyn did not tell the truth. Did not berate the arrogance, the craven disregard for their station, the overall ignoble nature of her so-called companions. Instead she watched, almost reverent, as the goddess began her dance, though she couldn't help but flinch at the blade that pointed to her chest. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, the young woman's faith wasn't so unconditional.

The number of new sensations she'd dealt with since waking was far more than she would have liked, the nothingness of the blade that entered her only adding to the list. It seemed to stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable before exiting through the other side. She barely had time to examine the black weapon before it latched onto her. After a second to get over her shock, she examined it. Not quite a sword, that was clear. Not quite a spear, either. It took her a second to think of the word as she turned it over in her hands.

A halberd, that was it. Slightly unfamiliar, but not too difficult to figure out. The weapon was tall enough to be slightly irritating, even if it did make up for her own relative lack of reach. Again, it was difficult for Dwyn to be thankful for the goddess's 'gift'. Between that and the stigma, this unnatural magic unnerved her. Knowing the blades had been no threat, however, she felt her cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment at her cowardice. Of course they hadn't been.

Mind, it seemed that she was doing better than some, as the impudent red-haired girl somehow managed to trip and fall into the abyss, followed by the man with the glowing eye. Again, she found herself unsure of Nera's selection process - if there had been one, for it seemed increasingly likely that it was based simply on blind luck. For her part, Dwyn was certain there were many more accomplished scholars and warriors among those who had trained her. Noble, selfless fighters for justice. Her own selection was as much a mystery as anyone here.

But she was certain she could competently walk down some stairs, especially when, according to their only guide, it was connected to a realm of nightmares. Nodding solemnly to the goddess's explanation, Dwyn was not swift to leave the hall. She glanced back at the goddess before descending, feeling a slight pang of guilt. "...I'm afraid I can't take your advice." Not yet, anyway. "But take comfort that I don't plan on failing you any other way."

With that, she turned and walked down the stairs, closing her eyes as she entered the abyss.

---

Dwyn opened her eyes, trying to put the nightmarish visions behind her. After all, they were little more than dreams. Allowing them to trouble her was unnecessary, considering how much she had on her mind already. Though the dull ache that seemed to run over every inch of her skin certainly felt like more than a simple trick of the imagination. Outright unpleasant, in fact.

For a second, she wondered if it had been more than just a nightmare. But such creeping doubts were again only a hindrance to their mission. The frustration she felt with herself was certainly familiar, though it remained unconnected to any particular memories for the moment.

She stood, caring little about the grime and dirt on her clothes as she took hold of the black halberd once more. It seemed unlikely that she would be able to leave it behind, and there was every chance that this world would be hostile and unforgiving. Creatures of chaos, lawbreakers, monsters... They could lurk around every corner. Perhaps finding those who trained her would help, but she didn't know where to start.

Right now, she took in her surroundings, glancing around the room with slight shock crossing her expression. Yes, it was the same one that they had been lead to before, though obviously not quite the same. It seemed that some of her companions were here too, which Dwyn had mixed feelings about. They hadn't exactly come off as the most competent sorts so far, at least in her opinion.

In particular, the two who'd already began wandering off were concerning. Both in terms of attitude, and the fact that they were wandering off before all of their companions were even present. And the one with the extra eye was odd, but at least not doing anything that worried her. For now, she decided it would be best to wait until they were all present, though it was obvious that she was keeping an eye on the pair by the doorway in case they decided to go any further. Not hostile, just concerned for the quest's sake. It wouldn't do for their group to be split up so early.

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

@RyuShura Just so you know, I'm going down to England this weekend for reasons and won't be anywhere near a computer to post. Should be back on Monday!

Shattered Fates - A Dark Fantasy, Boss Battling Epic

Dwyn

---

---

Appearance: Despite her insistence otherwise, Dwyn isn't exactly the most imposing young woman you'll ever encounter. Standing at a grand height of 5'2" (and a half, as she insists on pointing out), what muscle her training has granted still isn't quite able to make her intimidating. Or inspiring. Though it could be argued that it's a lot to do with her personality as well. When she isn't wearing some kind of armour, she'll normally be seen in a plain tunic and leggings with a sword at her waist, practical if somewhat boring fashion choices.

With mousy, light brown hair and matching eyes, along with a face that could best be described as 'pretty but forgettable', the marks on her arm are the only thing that keep Dwyn from being completely plain. The colour of them appears to shift on a fairly constant basis, almost as though there is some shifting light trapped beneath her skin. On their own, the marks would perhaps be beautiful, but attached to a person they could easily be called unnerving or downright creepy. Dwyn herself certainly seems to think so.

STR = 1
END = 1
DEX = 1
SPI = 0