Nib

The Helium Frightful

Gyman

WRITE YOUR NAME AND WHAT YOU'D LIKE TO BE CALLED.
Gyman Drethain, but just Gyman is fine.

HOW OLD ARE YOU? A LIFE STAGE IS FINE IF YOU DON'T KNOW.
I’m eighteen years of age.

HOW WOULD I RECOGNIZE YOU IF I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?
You’d probably notice my wide dome of a hat made from a piece of a giant insect’s shell first(not pictured). Then, you might notice that my skin has a reddish hue to it and that my pure white hair contrasts with it. It may also seem strange to you that I don’t cover my face aside from the occasional scarf over the lower half and my hat to keep the sun off.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW?
I’m traveling, searching for artifacts that have to do with the knights who tamed and piloted G.O.L.E.M.s

WHY?
They were amazing warriors with a strong will. I want to tame and pilot my own G.O.L.E.M to reclaim my homeland from the swarms of giant insects and find out why they’re attacking us now. I might even sell some of them to fund my travels and give back to my village.

WHAT WOULD YOU RATHER BE DOING?
Farming with my father… living peacefully in my little village. Never thought I would say that.

WHAT'S SOMETHING YOU'RE GOOD AT, THAT YOU'RE PROUD OF? IT CAN BE SOMETHING STUPID, THAT'S OKAY.
I can play full songs on a grass whistle. It was impressive where I was from.

WHAT'S SOMETHING YOU SUCK AT, THAT IMPACTS YOUR DAILY LIFE?
I cannot fire a gun to save my life, literally. I’ve practiced with my knives a bit, but I can’t use a gun.

WHAT'S SOMETHING YOU LOVE THAT PEOPLE WOULD PROBABLY JUDGE YOU FOR?
Hearing about the history of the G.O.L.E.M. knights. Everyone tells me they’re in the past, that they’re either gone or dying off. No one’s tamed a G.O.L.E.M in ages, but I’ve found something that will help me tame one.

WHY DO YOU FEEL LONELY?
Everyone I know is far away and may even be dead or dying by now. I don’t know when or even if I’ll see some of them again. Including my parents and baby brother...

DESCRIBE YOUR PARENTS, CARETAKERS, OR WHATEVER WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR FEEDING YOU.
My parents are simple farmers in a village nestled in a small valley. They don’t have a lot, but they always made sure my brother and I had what we needed, but they’re on hard times lately with the insects attacking.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM?
Of course I love them, but I’m mostly worried for them now with the insects swarming so much lately.

WHERE DO YOU FIND LOVE AND COMFORT NOW? HINT: THE ANSWER IS NEVER NOWHERE.
I suppose in Golmon’s spirit. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend now. He’s also my teacher.

WHY ARE YOU DIFFERENT FROM EVERYBODY ELSE?
I’m not as quiet and docile as everyone else from the village, and I’m not afraid of the insects from the forests. I used to wander the forests all the time. They were usually calm creatures. I don’t know why they’re so aggressive now.

WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING?
To put Golmon to rest and find the power to protect my home and figure out what’s causing the insects to attack.

DO YOU TRUST ME?
Golmon mentioned your name to me, so yes.

---

OOC: Give a non-spoilery synopsis of a short adventure plot that would be personally meaningful to your character.
Gyman carries a long package wrapped in cloth slung across his back. He is determined to deliver it to its resting place and tame his own G.O.L.E.M so he can use it to reclaim his home from the insects swarming and attacking it as well as figure out why they're attacking. The insects were always docile creatures who kept to their forest until now. Something has riled them up, and they have fled to Gyman’s village and begun swarming and overtaking it, forcing the villagers to abandon their homes and become refugees. Some of the men have attempted to reclaim the village, but no one will aid them. The volunteer militia has lost many members, some of which simply went missing int he forests near the village.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

The Hermit and the Priestess.

From his perch, The Hermit watched the shifting white shapes far below. The Shadowlings went about their work, diligently searching through the ruins for anything their master deemed intersting and important. They would know this by a soft tug on their mind from The Hermit. He could feel them in the back of his own mind and was able to glance into theirs and give them direction without words. It was a useful tool he exploited whenever possible. It left him time to conduct his own search of the labyrinth. There was a power in the walls of stone deep below the sands of the desert. With a soft rustle of robes, The Hermit melted into the shadows and was gone from the perch. His departure was barely noticed by the Shadlowlings on the stone walkways stretching from different positions along the walls and connecting in a stone circle around the massive, ichor-filled tube.

The shadows shifted, a vague humanoid shape forming there. The form stepped from the shadows. The shadows swirled and writhed around The Hermit as he walked down another corridor, his staff tapping the ground every other step. His corridor was far above the tube of ichor and Shadowlings, closer to the surface. Leaving the dark corridor behind, he stepped into a small square room filled with scrolls and books heaped on any surface they would fit. These were the result of his searches thus far, these and the artifacts he had hidden away deeper within the labyrinth. It would be foolish to keep all of his research with the artifacts. He was less concerned about the artifacts than his books and scrolls; he was even known to occasionally give the artifacts away to individuals who found their way into the labyrinth entrance and sought him out for wisdom. That brought a smirk to his pale features, obscured as they were by the shadows swirling around him. He still remembered a time when he was that young boy struggling up the mountains toward the Wisdoms, seeking their knowledge and power.

He shuffled through his books but was brought out of his trance when he sensed movement; a great movement coming toward him. More than one person was heading toward his labyrinth, laboring down the mountains.

---

Cerys strode away from the mass of the camping army where they sprawled at the feet of the Godsfang Mountains. Her fellow Chiefs, Delyth and Merrion had stayed behind to see to the ordering of the camp, or so they said. They were both simple fighters at heart and unkeen to step foot into the shadowed Labyrinth or to parlay with its equally mysterious keeper.

To her left marched Rhys Blackwater, a near immovable presence since she had confimed him in his position of Captain of the Guard. Cerys felt that having his constant watchful gaze upon her was one thing she would never quite get used to.

"Are you so determined to protect me that you'll hazard the Hermit and his shadowlings?" She goaded, trying to push the stern-faced man into some other expression.

"It is not you I protect."

"Then who?"

"The Arakkai."

Cerys stopped in her tracks a moment and looked at him. After a few more paces he stopped as well. "Everything I do is for the Arakkai," she told him seriously.

"That remains to be seen. For now, someone must protect them from you," he said, his voice level and his eyes fixed on hers. "So yes, I will brave the Labyrinth, if only to keep you from selling our people to the shadows within."

Cerys blinked at him, stunned, and then shouldered past. If he could believe that she would do such a thing, then only her actions would convince him otherwise. In a few more yards, she reached the entrance to the Labyrinth and stepped inside the dark hall.

---

The Hermit set the rat tail down on a separate table filled with other similiar gifts from the shadowlings before stepping from his library, causing the door to melt away and form back into another section of stone wall with a tap of his staff. A moment later, he rose from the shadows near the entrance of the labyrinth but did not step from them. He instead stayed put, hidden in their embrace. The woman with silver hair stepped through the archway and into the shadowed halls. A power emanated from her.

"What is it you seek here," he asked, his voice drifting to the woman like the rustling of a leaf.

The woman stopped and looked around at the sound of the voice, and was joined a moment later by a tall, brooding man. "Do I speak to the Hermit?" she called.

"You do," again his voice came close to her ear, little more than a whisper. He watched the pair for a moment longer before stepping from the shadows, though his form looked to be made from a current of shadows twisting up and around him. Just enough of his face was visible to see his eyes aglow with power.

The man remained stoical and the woman's face betrayed only a sharp curiosity, almost akin to hunger in its intensity. "I am Cerys Shadowborne, and I have come for information, should you be willing to part with it."

"My willingness depends on the information you seek."

Cerys glanced uncomfortably at her companion, then reached out with one hand to display a globule of shadow, swirling and adorned with runes and hovering just above her palm. "There are very few that have been touched by the gods as we have," she started, still hesitant, "And while the farsighted wise women of my people have well documented the effect of my power on our future, they have little knowledge of its affect on me."

The silver-haired woman squared her shoulders with the semblance of someone facing some great discomfort, and said vunerably, "Hermit, what is happening to me?"

His eyes narrowed at her words. This was different than other meetings he held with the people of the desert. Usually they would come to seek some shred of wisdom concerning an artifact they uncovered or to win one from him for braving the labyrinth. He was still unsure how they got that idea in their heads.

The Hermit watched the swirling glob of shadows in the woman's palm. It had the same shifting nature as the shadows around his own form. The runes too held a resemblance to those softly glowing along his staff. This meant something; another like him. He'd heard of others touched by the shadows but had only been the presence of a handful.

"The shadows have marked you. In time they may take you," as he spoke he raised his arm, shaking the sleeve of his robe down and shifting the shadows away slightly. He revealed an arm of almost pure white skin with sections of swirling blackness.

Cerys stared in morbid curiosity, touching her own arm, pale but no more than normally so. "Have they taken you, Hermit? Or is this just a sign of their growing hold upon you?"

"Yes... and no. I have been given the unique ability to meld with them and call upon them as servants."

With a sharp flick of impatience, Cerys banished the shadow in her hand. "You waste my time, Hermit. I may not weild this power the same way, but it is mine to use nonetheless. How long before the shadows begin to take hold?"

"It is difficult to say for sure. There different factors that come into play. Mostly your strength of will to stave off the shadows. It could begin soon, or you could prove able to keep them at bay for years to come."

Cerys nodded, her face set in grim determined lines. For the first time, the man behind her spoke.

"I will kill you before it comes to that," he said seriously, his voice devoid of malice.

Cerys spared him a single glance. "I'm counting on it."

"You mistake me. The shadows will not take you and turn you to some crazed mutant like those exposed to the ichor. They will simply... take you. You will become as they are, wisps in the corners of forgotten, hidden places. You may even retain your sanity and self there - I know of several who have - or you make simply drift along, swirling about as they most do. Perhaps, you may even be called upon by myself or others with my gift," as he spoke he raised his arm again, bringing a trail of shadows up to swirl slowly as if in a soft breeze.

The man seemed to relax, a little anyway, and Cerys hid her shudder in a dry laugh. "I think I'd still prefer a blade through the heart before it comes to that; I don't suppose you'd mind, eh Rhys? But enough of this. I have been warned and I'm not too proud to take it to heart. The shadows will not have me easily."

"No, I don't think they will, Cerys Shadowborne," with that the Hermit melted into the shadows around the entrance way and vanished from view.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

<Snipped quote by Ink Blood>

For him and other character who are not at the council and who dont have a grand arc working itself out, let's give them something to do and some reason to get together.

@Flagg

Such as?

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

The Hermit is nestled in his labyrinth holding a council of his own. Heh heh.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Collab with @Fading Memory

Ignocious Phlemonte. Phlemonte- I've heard that name before.

She chewed her lip, working her mind over the name scrawled on the note in her hand. Soon she began to giggle.

Did I kill a Phlemonte? No, no, that was a Flimmonte not a Phlemonte. Easy mistake.

Her laughter, while already soft, died shortly after her words as she folded the note away. She'd gotten the recommendation of one 'Ignocious Phlemonte' when she went to search for her usual contact for poisons... but apparently the fellow had moved town, changed names, and in all likelihood hired bodyguards after Vivian's last visit. This loss of a once-reliable source of her poisons had lead her to search for another...Trustworthy sort of alchemist, and the word around the metaphoric grapevine- Nyhem had no grapes on vines as far as Vivian was able to find in her limited searches, but perhaps she had neglected to check by the Grand Temple or the noble's homes- was that the man who's name was scrawled on the parchment she folded away didn't care much about what he was asked to make, or who was asking.

Where was she?

Oh right, the alchemist. She moved her way through the quieting streets of Nyhem; night time was falling, and this woman- dressed in a simple maid's outfit, shrouded in a heavy black cloak- had somewhere to be, somewhere she would prefer to get into quietly. She pulled the hood up about her face, shadowing her features, as twilight settled across the city, and once night fell proper she stopped her meandering. She knew it was implausible she had been tailed or even 'made', as spies are wont to use the term, but her enriched paranoia had kept her alive all these years and she wasn't about to abandon it now.

Should I pay him, threaten him, or seduce him? she thought to herself as she began to head into an alleyway of Nyhem's streets, hiding herself fully in darkness and out of torch light. As she began to scale the side of a building to throw her tracks further off the ground, juuuuust in case she had been followed, she decided to answer her own question;

I suppose it'll depend on how 'e looks... but you've never been picky old girl, just do what the Old Man asked and get your payment. If he'll give you poison for a kiss, hell...that's the best margin of profit, now ain't it?

Vivian then began to silently make her away across a few of the rooftops, cautiously avoiding any stray lights that might reach her hidden vantages and taking her time to ensure she didn't get spotted. This was all to satisfy her paranoia, the possibility she had been followed, and after an hour of silently crossing rooftops she finally descended back into an alley, then back out onto the streets.

She already knew where Ignocious lived, and now that she'd satisfied herself with covering her tracks, she went directly there.

To knock on the front door, or break in and say hello...Oh, why not, it could be fun to surprise him. If he gets loud, I'll just kill him and find another apothecary.

And thusly the woman decided that breaking into the (in)famous alchemist's house was the best course of action for this evening.

-------------

This is odd. He's definitely home, I can tell that much, but this place is bigger than I expected. Rather empty, though- I wonder what he does with his money.

The cloaked woman slid her hands behind her back, where she had slung a crossbow discreetly; the weapon was a lighter, smaller, crossbow than most, and the heavy cloak shielded her form to a satisfactory degree to have hidden the weapon as well. She chewed her lip- a tick she just couldn't seem to break, whether it was a seductive tick or a nervous one such as moments like this, where a plan didn't happen precisely as she thought it would.

It wasn't until the form of Ignocious Phlemente, the very man she sought to employ temporarily, was nearly right in her face did she come to a realization- Of course someone like this would have secret passages in his home! she chastised herself, as yet unnoticed to the alchemist, as she composed herself and leaned on the wall some short distance behind him, aiming her crossbow at him through her cloak to keep it hidden.

The woman then cleared her throat to get the man's attention, having caught him in the process of emerging from a hidden room. she couldn't discern the nature of the room from her current position. She also didn't really care: knowing this man's secrets wasn't her job.

"Ignocious Phlemonte? I've got a job for you." She said swiftly afterward, not giving him a chance to react before her words were said. Her voice carried nothing but a...sort of flirtation. A very pretty voice, soft and rolling out of the heavy hood as if whispered by the wind. She kept her face and body hidden by the heavy cloak, for now.

The only acknowledgement Ignocious gave to the sudden voice in his home was a brief pause in shutting the hidden entrance to his lab, before walking down the sparsely decorated hallway. Without waiting for a reply Ignocious strode up to a doorway down the hall and began fishing for keys from his trouser pocket.

“Well…,” was all he said as he slipped a key into the door and pushed it open, finally turning to look back down the hallway.

"A poison. Not of the body, but of the mind. I need something that'll scramble a man's brains, but not kill him in the process. Can you do that?"

The woman slipped the crossbow back behind her back, satisfied she wouldn't need it in this situation. She strode up the hallway after him, closing the distance rapidly as she let her silken voice roll out to him. Once she had established herself well within the concept of 'personal space', she let out a giggle.

Of course, poison. Why else would someone break into his home instead of coming to his lab? He watched her move lithely down the hall toward him. If her breaking into his home and her cloak weren’t enough, her movements revealed her as an assassin to him. As she stepped right up to him he arched an eyebrow at her then sidestepped away from her and into the room he had unlocked. It was his personal study. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and every surface was covered with papers and books. He stepped around his dark wood desk and settled himself into the armchair there.

“Your request is an interesting one. I have read of such poisons before but have never made one myself. With time, I will be able to make what you ask.”

"With time, eh? Time means money, Phlemonte. What kind of price do you have in mind?"

Her honeyed words came quick that time, no slow coy meander. Same silken tone, just rushed with the speed of someone who wanted to get to the point. She walked forward across the room and disregarded his possible organization by gently pushing some papers aside on his desk to make room for herself, then she slid forward and sat on his desk- leaning over the surface to lean over him. This revealed the lower half of her face from the hood, where her deep red lips were curled up in a smirk.

"I'm a resourceful gal: whether it's gold or a service you want, I can get it."

Watching her slide his work aside to sit caused a pang of irritation deep in his chest, but he kept his composure as he spoke.

“It certainly does. First, tell me what happened to your last supplier,” he kept his tone even, eyeing her from behind his hands, fingers laced together.

"He left town. I was less than cordial with him- he had a family I could find." Her silken words carried poison within them. "But I'd never threaten you, Ignocious~" She teased.

“Don’t think me a fool. You’d threaten me as soon as you believed it would get you somewhere. That’s beside the point, though. For my fee, I would call upon you when I am in need of your skills. You will undoubtedly be checking up on me as I research and concoct the poison you asked for, so we may as well open a correspondence and make this a symbiotic relationship.”
Vivian licked her lips, a slow, calculated, gesture.

"I see. You want me to offer my services in return for the poison. Well, Ignocious, if you ever have need of my services just leave this..."

She produces a sanguine-shaded handkerchief from her cloak pocket, embroidered with an elaborate 'S’, and hands it to him.

"In your window. I'll see it and visit you when I can. Keep me interested, supply me with new and fun tools, and I’ll do whatever you ask~”

Ignocious took the handkerchief and slipped into his trouser pocket.

“I trust you can show yourself out without being spotted?”

Vivian lifted a hand and kissed her palm, before blowing the kiss to Ignocious. She giggled and slid off the desk, before throwing a hand up in farewell- that little bit of a smirk now hidden once again- and moving from the room.

This is going to be fun. she thought, laughing in her mind.

Ignocious watched the woman go, lost in thought about the exchange. She had said her previous supplier left town. He would have to check on that in the morning, find out local apothecaries or other alchemists who had recently left the city. He shuffled the papers back into their previous places on his desk.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

I am also open to any plot or history between The Hermit an other characters/factions.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Ignocious Phlemonte

Name: Ignocious Phlemonte

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: No one

Position: Alchemist

Personality: Ignocious is a brilliant man and knows it and does nothing to hide his own arrogance. He doesn’t care whether he upsets others and believes in sharing his true thoughts of a situation. He has no time for pandering or dancing around politics and others’ egos; his is enough for him to handle. He is as blunt as a smith’s hammer at times, but has a cleverness as sharp as the surgeon’s scalpel. He becomes obsessive when it comes to his work in his lab and will let other things go when they don’t align with his current work. He is nothing if not dedicated to his work, some may even say he is a workaholic.

Weaknesses: Bluntness and arrogance cause most people to avoid interaction with Ignocious. He also throws himself wholeheartedly into his work, which makes it difficult to keep up relationships of any type or get out of his lab much; it can also lead to him having tunnel vision at times. Because of these factors, his health and social life are not in the best state.

Appearance: Ignocious is a tall, slender man with a frame some would describe as frail with a pale hue to his skin that adds to the appearance of frailness. In contrast to his pallor, he has dark curls that hang past his ears, though his large ornate earring of gold and sapphire is still visible in his left ear. He has gaunt and pointed features with cunning, bright blue eyes. His thick lips seem to be perpetually smirking. Ignocious usually wears long-sleeved tunics of bright colors and ornate trim and embroidery with plain black trousers, long boots, and a sweeping coat of jet black material. When in his lab, however, he wears plain and functional clothing. He carries himself with an air of arrogance to the annoyance of others.

Background: Ignocious was born to a wealthy merchant father and so lived a rather comfortable life until his mother died of an illness when he was young. After that, his father sought comfort in wines and opiates. That didn’t leave much time for Ignocious aside from the occasional slap or kick. His father’s indulgences sapped their wealth, so by the age of eleven Ignocious and his father were living in squalor. No one wanted to sign contracts with the drunkard and opiate fiend his father had become. Despite this, he somehow seemed to always find the money for his fix.

Ignocious found out where his father was getting the money when the men came and took him as payment for his father’s debts. All the man could do was drift off into another opiate-fueled dream as the men took his adolescent son from him and cleared his account. To repay his father’s debt, Ignocious was forced to work in a brothel. He worked in that brothel for years until a wealthy man different from the others came to see him. He paid his father’s debts off in full and took Ignocious away. The man was a friend his father had made through business contracts and said he was sorry to see what had happened following his mother’s death, including the death of Ignocious’s father while he was working in the brothel.

His father’s friend was a wealthy banker named Arthur Phlemonte. He adopted Ignocious and let the boy continue his studies where he left off following his father’s collapse. From there, Ignocious put his past behind him as best he could, taking his patron’s last name. He excelled in his studies and eventually was accepted into the Alchemist guild at the age of twenty-three. He has since thrown himself into his work, preferring his lab to interaction with others.

Skills: Ignocious has a brilliant mind when it comes to his research and lab work. He throws himself fully into his work and has dedicated hours upon hours to his work. He has a keen mind suited for figuring out problems and finding answers to further his work. He is amongst the most talented Alchemists in his guild, but his general attitude has kept him from advancing too far. To compliment his alchemical prowess, Ignocious is also well-versed in the properties of certain plants used in both medicine and poison as well as other various potions.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

Really simple post up to get things rolling for The Hermit and try to set the mood for him.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

The Hermit

Something small and white darted from the shadows and fell upon a rat that was skulking about. It shrieked and squirmed as a clawed fist closed around it. A moment later, it gave a last feeble jerk then fell limp in the clutches of the tiny creature with leathery white skin. It popped the rat in its mouth and began crunching with teeth like needles, the tail still dangling from its mouth. Satisfied, it turned it obsidian eyes to its master. The Hermit shifted from the shadows, trailing them after him. He patted the shadowling on the head as he passed it, holding his charred staff and tapping it on the stone floor as he walked. They were interesting little creatures, given to him by the Wisdoms. Maybe not the most intelligent, but they were loyal and obedient to a fault. The one with a rat tail drooping from its mouth followed after him.

He stopped at the end of the hall, an opening that looked down into an enormous cavern dominated by a massive glass tube filled with ichor. The liquid sloshed around in the bottom of the tube, bubbling every so often. Once, it would have been pulled up and directed elsewhere to power machines the Old Ones used for who knows what, but that was why he came to this labyrinth. He desired the answers hidden here under the red sands of the desert above, the secrets the Old Ones took to their graves. That was why the Wisdoms gave him the shadowlings and the power he now held, tools to find his answers.

The Hermit turned his head downward as he felt a tug on his robes. The shadowling was holding its hand up to him, the rail tail laying on its palm. Odd creatures, indeed.

“Thank you, little one,” his voice was low and soft, like a whisper on the winds but chillingly close to the ear of whomever he was speaking to.

The little creature gave what he assumed by now to be a smile, showing off the rows of teeth like blackened needles, then scampered off to rejoin the others. It stepped into the nearby shadows of a corner and then reappeared far below on a stone walkway with the others of its kind. It fell into the crowd of tiny white bodies as they went about searching the area around the tube for anything of interest to their master, who watched from above in his alcove wreathed in shadow.

Blood on the Sands: Azoth at War (Open!)

@Nieszka
Thinking about it, The Hermit accepts and uses the tools the Wisdoms gave him. Deep dowm, he is paranoid of the possibility that they cursed and allowed him to start down a path with no end. So, ultimately, I think he could be seen as an ally or at least friendly force toward the Wisdoms and those who worship them. H