MrCellophane

Artificial Spirits: A Fantasy Roleplay

WIP

My Hider

Appearance - without shield or plate armour (outlined below)

Body Character Sheet

Gender: Female.
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Race: Dark Elf ("Drow", if you're being technical)
Appearance:
Personal plate armour (fitted to drow size):

My Hider

Helmet – worn under hood (no horns):

My Hider

Equipment: Two-handed greatsword w/ scabbard, map, compass, preservable food (such as kept bread and the odd apple or bit of cheese), whetstone, polishing cloth and rucksack.

Combat Skills: Unable to rely on the grace and speed elvenkin are renown for, she is forced to rely on both brute force (what she can muster, that is) and any magic she could bring to bear, if at all.

Her primary expertise is with two-handed swords, longswords, maces and polearm weaponry. Conversely, she has little experience with any bowed weaponry and no experience with any other forms of weapon.

Unexpected Angles
To a veteran warrior, every possible part of a weapon could be another avenue for attack or defence - the flat of a blade, a mace's pommel, the shaft of a glaive and so on. All one needs is to recognise an opening, time it perfectly and, of course, practice, practice, practice.

Ambidexterity
Constant training and use of her two-handed weapon has given the wielder the ability to wield her cumbersome 'zweihander' with either her right or left hand in the predominant "control" grip of her weapon. This can allow her to counter-attack or defend against blows to either side of her body that a lesser-trained individual with a dominant hand (as well as no other form of defence, such as a shield) might find more difficult to compensate for.

Non-Combat Skills: Lowlight vision (inherent trait), intimidation (goes without saying, considering who she is and likely what she does), recognition of Dark Elf language and sigils, repairing and maintaining her arms and armour.

Mana: Mid-range mana-retaining capacity, though only usually enough for the abilities that are listed below.
Magical Schools: Demonic/Evil (major)
Magical Abilities:

Smite Good
The very antithesis of do-gooders, such as warrior-priests or knights who serve those deities of heroes, the Blackguard draw on the magic of the world not to uphold the ideas of justice, but to strike down these weak-minded and naive fools. With a powerful blast of magic, the Blackguard could bring any character of Good alignment - at least, those unprotected by any higher power or enchantments against evil - screaming to their knees in abject agony.

Neutral or Evil character will remain unaffected.

Corrupt Blade
Just as a Paladin or warrior-cleric can invoke the name of their god to divinely empower their blade before facing the diabolical, so too can a Blackguard prepare their own blades before facing their opposite numbers.

At its simplest form, corrupting a blade would allow the Blackguard to inflict an incremental higher amount of damage against an opponent, reflecting the infusion of vile magics or runes into the weapon about an hour before the battle.

At its most powerful (and provided the necessary rites and work is done at least 48 hours in advance), the defiled blade can banish an enemy's soul to the hells if the weapon can inflict a single fatal wound, such as running it through the heart or by decapitation.

In both cases, however, the corruption will fade away as soon as the battle has concluded; the Blackguard must begin the rites again if he or she wants to corrupt their weapon again.

Techniques:

Unbridled Rage
Whether it is due to a trigger that sets off something within them or a sudden surge of fury imparted from their deity, the Blackguard suddenly feels their limbs cloaked in demonic fire and their soul filled by rage. Infuriated, the Blackguard immediately rushes towards the target of their anger, their strikes now enscorcelled by the power they serve and hitting harder then they could have before.

Any subsequent strikes inflicted by the Blackguard would hit harder then they would have under their own strength until the target falls. Once the opponent lies dead, however, this strength fades away.

Artificial Spirit Sheet

Name: Krzysztof Zaleski
Personality:
Talents:

Multiverse Exhibit

Eh, like our Admin said in the rules "contribute to society, gosh darn it". I don't think modship's up my alley right about now, with my schedule.

Multiverse Exhibit

It's probably going to take more then dnacing bananas to get this gig back into gear. Soooo ..... what's next?

Multiverse Exhibit

"A storage room. Really?" Integra muttered aloud as she rounded the door and headed into the adjourning room. "Just what the hell are the ... well, whoever or whatever that's keeping this place running, what are they doing?" Clearly becoming agitated at her confinement once again, she fought to keep her frustration down as she carefully scanned each of the shelves that dotted the place, looking for any tools or weapons that would be useful to the group.

Multiverse Exhibit

With chaos of all kinds erupting within the theater, Integra decided to herself to move to the other side of the auditorium rather then get crushed by any of the flying chairs, a witch's alternate form or that maniac knight-construct. As the old saw went, however: easier said then done. Clipping the burning end of her cigarette off and stubbing it out, Integra pocketed her half-finished cigarette before, carefully waiting for a gap, took off. Immediately, she was forced to dive to the floor as a chair went sailing in her direction, courtesy of PEKKA. As said chair disappeared into the back of the auditorium, Hellsing picked herself up again and ran, picking her way through the mess of overturned chairs and destroyed furniture, darting towards the marked-off door that was now fixating everyone's attention. A sudden blow from the witch's weapon impacted on the area of floor beside her, the concussion sending her tumbling down one of the sets of stairs and into a lower row. Gritting her teeth as her limbs tingled in pain, she picked up her discarded spectacles before she stumbled the last few meters to where the now-opened door sat. Slamming her back against the wall near the door frame, Integra took a minute to catch her breath before she took a peak around the corner ... Well, for all the build-up she heard from her side of the seating area, she was quite let down by what was inside. You'd think the overlord of this place was pulling their legs.

Multiverse Exhibit

With the blue-haired girl prompting the dissolution of the brief Mexican stand-off, Integra had quite a bit to ponder on as the group continued to various points within the theater. The leader of Hellsing needed time to think, to brig some kind of plan together for helping the others out (if she even could), so picking her way through the debris caused by PEKKA's little rampage, she found one of the rows of seats that hadn't been dismembered and sat down. A glinting object on the floor caught Hellsing's attention and, stopping, she picked it up with a gloved hand. As she brought it up to eye level, she realised that it was, to her good fortune, a cigarette lighter. A cursory examination revealed that the small device had a name stamped on the side, although this had been faded into obscurity, and a curious emblem that Integra did not recognise:

Emblem

If there was anything that could have clued Integra in about the former owner of the lighter, it was in the emblem's depiction of a winged F.S. pattern combat knife - a symbol commonly associated with British Commonwealth commando units back in her time. Was this left behind by one of the many poor souls who may have passed this way before, dropped carelessly or discarded in its owner's final moments? Was this soldier even alive, trapped in the labyrinth surrounding the theater like she and the others were? Pushing the grim implications aside for the moment, she operated the lighter's 'cap' and, bringing it close to her cigar, tried to light it. The first two tries resulted in only a small sprinkling of sparks, much to her disappointment. On the third try, however, a weak, sputtering flame emitted from the nozzle, the glow lighting some of Integra's face as she lit the cigar and puffed on it a couple of times to fan the embers. "If we ever find the man or woman who owned this," she reflected to herself as she leaned back in her seat, exhaling cigar smoke contently. "I'll have to thank them when I return it."

Multiverse Exhibit

"Mon'keigh, I advise you not to shoot this cross dresser. Though funny looking, I presume that Sayaka will not appreciate people killing people. Now be a dear and drop your primitive-as dust gun. Please."

With that threat, Integra now found herself on the wrong end of a firearm. It seemed one of the 'unknowns' (for lack of a better term) had intervened and from his tone of voice and the hooded man's fireball, forcing a point via a firearm isn't going to get out her of this place ... if she even could. For all she knew, this museum and the group populating it were just the delusions of a dying woman; her body could still be lying on the Deus Ex Machina's bridge in a pool of her own blood. And if I am dead, then this is probably the worst form of Purgatory that anyone could hear of. That fool Maxwell would have gone insane in this madhouse inside of five minutes. "I've killed people - alive or undead - for less then drawing a weapon on me." she coldly taunted the pointed-ear ... whatever species that man was. "I don't know where I am, if I could trust anyone or even if I am still alive! So until I find answers, a way out or both, you must forgive me if I am in no mood to be tolerant of idle threats or not taken with trusting anyone without any reserve." Her point made, Integra slowly drew her snub-nosed sidearm away from the tensed-up wizard and calmly ejected the full magazine. She continued to glare at the wizard, who still seemed ready to burn her to cinders before, with a mocking smirk twisting the left corner of her lips, she pocketed the Sig-Sauer and reached for her as-of-yet still-unsmoked cigar. "If you are prepared to try and help me escape this place, I'm prepared to let bygones be bygones and to do the same for you." she added, placing the cigar between her lips as she inclined her gaze towards the Eldar outcast. "So do us both a favor and lower the gun ... dear."

Multiverse Exhibit

"Excuse me madam, but that may not be the best of idea's. Attacking a P.E.K.K.A. is quite suicidal."

Having burned through her magazine in a failed attempt to down PEKKA, Integra had just managed to swap her expended magazine for a fresh one before a voice piped up from behind her. Startled, she rounded on her heels and took aim, the barrel of her sidearm just managing to come in contact with the speaker's forehead. Integra frowned as she studied the man. He was a somewhat rotund, bearded man, clad in clothing that seemed so out of place that he appeared to have walked off the set of a medieval play or fete. How else could it explain his ridiculous style of clothing choice? Even so, the Baronetess didn't say a word to the Wizard, glaring sternly at him behind her glasses and maintaining her steadied aim.

Multiverse Exhibit

Having resigned herself to the fact that she'd be unable to get a smoke in for now, Hellsing strode through the hallway leading to the theater, her hair and the tail of her long-coat flapping as she ignored the still-burning remnants of one of the now-destroyed paintings. To her annoyance, the door she arrived at had been jammed half-open by the last entrant. Readying her Sig-Sauer, she leaned back a little before repeatedly ramming her left shoulder into the door, eventually forcing it open after a few (painful) blows. Stalking into the auditorium, the first sight she was immediately confronted with was an armoured being who seemed to be either gleefully or urgently tearing through the seats. What the hell is that thing doing?! Without thinking, Hellsing aimed at the metallic construct's 'head', gritted her teeth into a half-snarl and proceeded to discharge the magazine's contents.

Multiverse Exhibit

As the events of the small band of mismatches continued, the still-in-shock Integra was still trying to process everything that occurred right before her eyes. First, there was the location of the room and its wall-hung contents. Hellsing couldn't recognise many of the scenes and people depicted, but one which disturbed her the most was a vista depicting a fire-consumed London, a trio of all-too familiar airships hovering menacingly over the Thames. Second, the people. None of the people (or creatures, for the odd exceptions) possessed any clothing, armament or insignia that she could recognise, nor could she even remotely understand more then half of what was being communicated back and forth between them: "The Warp", "Mon-Keigh" and many others. However, she was confident, though equally cautious, that none of them were Nosferatu, ghouls or any other form of foe that she'd have to dispatch on the spot. Come to think of it, that was really all she could gather about them - none of them had been able to make much sense to her so far. Finally, to muddy matters even further, something or someone was in control of this environment, as amply demonstrated when a number of the occupants were ejected into what ever void was hemming everyone in. "Come on, Integra. Focus!" she hissed to herself. "What would your father have said if she saw you in such a pitiful state now?" Able to get to her feet at last, the full-time vampire-huntress' first act of introduction was to reach for a cigar and search for her li- 'Wait. Damn it, I lost mine back on Millenium's flagship!' she cursed to herself. Deprived of her lighter and without matches, she leaned against a bare section of wall and crossed both of her arms, the unlit cigar hanging lazily out of the corner of her lips.