Hair: Light blonde with jet black highlights sometimes and just light blonde the rest. Somewhat lengthy and straight all the time.
Eyes: Bright light blue some times and Blood red others.
Weight: Approx. 120 Lbs.
Height: 5' 10''
Weapon: He wields a blade that like him changes color, but not shape. Sometimes it has a bright pure white blade and sometimes it has a black blade. The hilt always matches his eyes exactly. It has two special powers that correspond with his appearance. The sheath of his sword matches the sword by either being white with a blue pattern or black with a red pattern He also has a black re-curve bow that only he can string and shoot. (Kind of like Odysseus in The Odyssey) His quiver is black or white depending on him.
Armor: His armor isn't anything special underneath he has a chain mail shirt and on top he has either a light blue tunic (once again matching his eyes) or a jet black one. Either way it has armoured shoulders pads and a chest plate. The chest plate and the shoulder pads are both extremely light and flexible because they were enchanted by an elf shaman before Allimuth received them. So when he wears them they contour perfectly with his body and his movements
Strengths: He is a very skilled martial artist and can perform many different acrobatics to get around obstacles. He is quite strong and can lift heavy objects easily but not all objects. he can jump high and he is very skilled with both the sword and the bow.(although he doesn't often use them he can deal death with daggers when it comes down to it even though he's not nearly as good as with a sword or bow.) Very good offense
Weakness: His temper can get the best of him sometimes and he often can't control himself... He has trouble with crowds because he has multiple personalities(more later) He can also be somewhat vain and he isn't the best at defense, which ultimately tends to be his downfall.
Skills/Magic: The only Magic he uses is in his changes(which aren't controlled) and in his swords special power which is automatically built in. and also his quiver magically replenishes it's arrows so it never runs out(it was also blessed by the shaman)
Appearance: He is tall and slim. He has a multitude of facial expressions. His eyes are medium in size and he has a one inch long scar on his left jaw bone that he got from an attacking wolf. He has long fangs and nails when bad too. He has longish hair which is either parted down the middle and split to one side when he's good or parted a little to the side and half is hanging in front of his eye (giving him an emo look) when he's bad. besides his armour he wears a long black hooded cloak(but only when he is bad) He always wears tight pure white leggings(in both forms) and his boots are black and come up to his knees(when bad) but they are just shin high and blue when good. He wears black (bad) or blue (good) gauntlets with the same metal material as his armour. On his right ring finger he has a black ring with a single gem in it. The gem is blue on one side and red on the other. In the gem is an engraving of the infinity symbol which is this: ∞
Personality: He can love and be gentle... or cruel and ruthless... it all depends since he has two personalities it's hard to explain. He basically has the same either way but when his bad side is out he can't control himself quite as much... Although no matter what he still knows his friends and he would always save them even if they don't accept him... He loves animals and he likes to befriend them. He would never hurt one unless it was absolutely necessary. In battle he is always alert and on his toes. Sometimes it's like he has a heightened sense of awareness or a pair of eyes in the back of his head. He believes that there is a reason for everything and he never has any regrets. His motto is "If all we do is dwell on the past, how can there ever be a future?"
Biography: Okay here is Allimuth's background story...
Allimuth had just returned home from another great adventure. He stepped into his house and set His sword down on the bed and started to take off his tunic when he heard a scream. He put the tunic back on straight and grabbed the sword and ran out into the village to find destruction. He belted his sword sheath back on and walked through the village, sword in hand. He thought he heard something behind him so he turned around and saw nothing but when he turned back he saw 30 great black monsters known as Mazuc, also known as shadow hunters or masked death. They are 7 feet tall and have long arms and legs. They are all black except for their blood red eyes. They also have long fangs and nails. Allimuth had heard of them in myths and fables but didn't think they were real. He had heard tales that they were fast as lightning and if one bit you it would turn you into one of them or worse... The one at the head of the pack charged forward but Allimuth was ready, he stabbed it in the gut and tossed it to the side. Then another charged, and another. Allimuth fought ruthlessly and ended up killing all but one. It was taller and faster than the others. It charged forward and jumped in the air Allimuth did a back flip out of the way just in time and when it landed and stood up Allimuth stuck the white blade of his sword into its chest. The Mazuc screeched loudly then stared at Allimuth as blood oozed out of its mouth. It then gripped the blade of the sword and pulled it out. Before Allimuth knew what had happened the creature was behind him and had plunged its fangs into his neck. He screamed in agony and fell to the ground gripping the wound with one hand and still holding the sword with the other. The Mazuc fell too and died as Allimuth passed out...
The next morning when he woke up he stood and looked at the village. There were only a few dead villagers and many dead Mazuc. People were coming out of their houses and weeping at the lost dead. Then they looked to see Allimuth and their mouths fell wide open in shock. Allimuth, who didn't know why they were staring, looked at his reflection in a nearby window and was also shocked... He was no longer the great white hero everyone knew... His hair had black highlights his armored tunic was also jet black as were his gauntlets. He looked down and saw that his leggings were still pure white but he had knee high black leather boots. He looked at his reflection again and noticed something else; he now had long fangs like a Mazuc... And his eyes were red... He turned to the villagers, they were all staring, obviously scared that Allimuth had become a Mazuc. He looked around for his sword and saw it on the ground... It too had undergone a change. It was no longer shiny white with a blue hilt but black with a red hilt. He grabbed it and turned towards the villagers again. They quivered under his gaze. Allimuth then turned and ran to his house as fast as possible, which he now realized was quite fast. Once there he grabbed his belt and looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed now that he was also wearing a long black cloak with a hood, which he pulled up. He then went outside and ran back through the woods away from the village, and away from his normal life...
Before long he heard a scream from behind him. He jolted around and realized it was coming from the village. He knew he couldn't leave those people, people he had known his entire life, to die from whatever was now attacking, so he ran back with his unnatural speed carrying him along. When he reached the village he stuck to the shadows so as not to alarm anyone. He looked around a corner and saw that the people who the Mazuc had "killed" had come back to life as Mazuc and were now attacking the village. Allimuth stuck his sword out from the shadow just as one of them was running past and caught it in the throat, decapitating it. He then stepped out and looked around the Mazuc were chasing people all over and biting them, spreading their disease. Allimuth charged after one of them and sliced it the side it screamed and collapsed as Allimuth stabbed it to finish it off. Five more came and attacked him and he easily slew them all. Another one started chasing after him and he ran from it. He ran straight towards a building and ran up the wall doing a back flip over the head of the Mazuc. When he came down he brought his sword straight down, impaling it right through the top of its head. It collapsed and Allimuth pulled his sword out. With a flourish he spun the sword around in his hand and brought it backwards stabbing another Mazuc in the stomach. The Mazuc stopped dead and Allimuth pulled the sword out, spun around and decapitated it all in one swift move.
Allimuth killed five more Mazuc before they were all dead. Once he was sure they were all good he sheathed his sword and ran back to his house for something he had forgotten earlier. He stepped in and grabbed his bow and quiver off a chair and slung them over his back. He turned and surveyed his house one last time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Once he was sure he turned and stepped out of the door. He once again ran through the woods but this time he didn't stop till he came to a clearing. There was a small hut with a man sitting on a garden bench as if he were waiting for Allimuth. Because he was...
"Ah Allimuth I wondered when you'd get here!" the man said.
"How do you know my name?" Allimuth asked suspiciously.
"I know all Allimuth... Now, let's get to business. You want to know why you didn't turn into a full Mazuc like the others, right?"
"Yes, this is true."
"Well it's very simple. It all has to do with your sword." Allimuth looked down to the sheath belted to his left hip. "You see, that sword has a special power. Before you changed, it had the power of light. So when you stabbed that Mazuc it eliminated some of its dark powers, therefore when it bit you not all of its disease was spread to you. Turning you into this... You're now faster and stronger and your senses are heightened."
"Seriously? So I'm still myself?"
"Then why do I feel like I'm not?"
"Because some of the traits from the Mazuc still got transferred to you, that's why you have some of their abilities."
"Oh... Will it ever go away?"
"Probably not, I'm afraid..."
Allimuth and the man continued talking. Allimuth realized that his quiver had somehow changed as well. He found that his new sword had the same power as his old one but it was dark not light. But most importantly he found that from time to time he would change back and forth between his current form, and his Human form. This excited Allimuth, but he was brought back down when he realized it couldn't be controlled... As time moved on Allimuth learned to master both of his forms and became a great warrior.
Time passes, people move. Like a river's flow, it never ends. A childish mind will turn to noble ambition... Young love will become deep affection... The clear water's surface reflects growth...
Name: Monroe Vossler
Height: 5’9’’ (five feet nine inches)
Weight: 145 pounds.
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Brown
Race: Enhanced Human.
Race Explanation: This is a human that was nearly killed that was deemed too important to simply let die during his time. Frozen Cryogenically and then rebuilt when technology deemed it possible. During the process of rebuilding, his body was enhanced in order to make him a kind of super weapon for assassinations and other jobs of the like using the skills he had before he was frozen. After he was repaired, before he was awoken, they isolated all memories deemed unnecessary and destroyed them, only keeping useful things like fighting styles and such. Also, the person’s body is physically enhanced, making him or her stronger, faster, and have better senses.
Photon Energy Sword: Still in the shape of a small sword, the only major variations on this from his old sword are the blade and the fact that there are now mechanisms built into the weapon. All shall be promptly described shortly.
The handle of the sword about five inches in total length and at its widest part is nearly an two and a half inches. Just under the hand-guard, on the side opposite the knuckle ring is a small button that is pressed up to turn the blade of the weapon on. The handle starts out at about one and a half inch wide and then expands to its maximum width halfway up the handle and then thins back out. The handle also has rings of gold embroidering the handle for purely decorative reasons, but they also work well as finger guides, since there are only four of them. The handle itself is black in color and made of titanium to case to protect the golden wires that allow the weapon to function. Also, on the left side of the handle is an area where the discarded photon units can be removed and replaced. Monroe keeps only four extra photon packs on him at a time and they last for about six hours each.
The hand-guard is broken into three parts: The knuckle ring, the cross-guard and the hand-guard. Each part has its own individual purpose.
*The knuckle ring is simply a golden bar that meets the top of the handle just under the cross-guard, and ends on the bottom just above the pommel. The knuckle guard seems to have little more purpose then decoration, but also seems to be able to stop some blows from other weapons should they get close, although this is untested as a theory.
*The cross-guard is a simple, golden cross-shaped part just above the knuckle-guard and below the hand-guard. This is from the old long swords and broad swords, meant to protect the hand from attacks, but like most of this style of sword, the cross-guard serves little more purpose then decoration.
*The hand-guard is a circular part above the cross-guard that meets with the bottom of the blade itself. The hand-guard is silver in color, but is really, like the blade, titanium with a coat of chrome over it to give it a more silvery look to it. This part of the weapon actually serves a purpose in that it can block blows from swords that come to close the the wielder pretty well. The hand-guard is only about three inches in diameter, whereas the cross-guard is about five inches across, and is very effective for defensive purposes.
~ The blade of the weapon is about an inch wide and three feet long in length. The blade is green in color and created of concentrated photons that take the form of a double-edged blade that is extremely sharp. The blade can cut through materials that are less dense then titanium, but anything more dense it will only leave burn marks in. The blade also cauterizes wounds when they are made, making it impossible for this weapon to kill a foe by means of bleeding them to death, but the blade is also much harder to stop then a normal sword. This weapon, to Monroe’s knowledge, is one of a kind.
Colt Single Action Army: Also known as the Colt Peacemaker or Single Action Army. It is a forty-five caliber gun that holds six bullets in a revolving chamber. Single action refers to the fact that when the trigger is pulled, the hammer is released which fires the projectile. The hammer of the weapon has to be manually cocked before each time the weapon is fired. The major drawback to this is that there is a delay between shots due to the need of the hammer to be manually cocked in-between shots.
The chamber of the Single Action Army (Or SAA) is designed to automatically rotate when the trigger is pulled and moves the bullet to be struck by the hammer. Again, there is a delay between shots entirely due to the single action nature of the weapon. Also, the chamber can only hold six bullets at once, and has to be emptied of the spent bullet cases before reloading. Also, bullets need to be reloaded individually, which, although time consuming, is worth it if the bullets are good quality.
The caliber of a gun is determined by the length from the breech to barrel, which gives the value of a firearm. The higher the caliber, the greater the diameter of the bullet, and the stronger the bullet is when fired. The recoil from the SAA is very powerful, and has even been known to dislocate a person’s arm if the person doesn’t know how to properly prepare themself to absorb the force of the recoil. To Monroe, the recoil is little to nothing, but still plays a factor when examining a gun.
For bullet descriptions, see skills/magic.
~ A foot long knife that is strapped to the right side of his chest. The blade is about eight inches and the hilt four and the knife is double edged and extremely sharp. Generally, this is used for cutting things and not so much as a weapon.
~ Kevlar vest that he wears over his shirt. It is basically just a black vest that is bullet proof, or so it seems. It is very futuristic and is said to be able to stop bullets up to .3 caliber strong, but Monroe ill gives his foe a chance to shoot him, so he wouldn’t know.
~Electromagnetic Shield Generator: (EMSG) The EMSG was a cooperative effort by Mark and Monroe to create a shield that could be used to make all metallic projectiles worthless. This is a small box worn on Monroe’s belt on the left side with a small switch on the top that turns it on. When activated, an invisible barrier about three feet in diameter in an elliptical sphere around Monroe appears to deflect any projectiles, including bullets. However, this defense is worthless against close range weapons, since the barrier is only strong enough to resist things coming from a distance of at least ten feet. This weapon is extremely useful for foes who are only effective with long range weapons.
Strengths: For one, Monroe is an excellent fencer, one of the best in the world. When he was asked to choose a main weapon, he choose the smallsword due to its extreme similarity to the epee, which he fenced before the accident. His skill with his sword is first class, and makes him a hard match for any person in close range combat. Secondly, being enhanced, his senses are stronger, allowing him to see greater distances, differentiate smells a bit better then a normal person, and other things. Also, being enhanced, he is faster and stronger then most humans, making him almost a weapon in and of himself.
Weaknesses: For one, he despises using his gun and will rarely even remove it from its holster. His lack of skill with the weapon assists this in that he has poor aim with it and heavily relies on the laser sight. Also, having enhanced senses also means they can be wielded against you. Namely, extreme sight can be disrupted by bright lights, enhanced hearing by loud noises, and so on and so forth. Also, his heavy reliance on his sword, even with his Kevlar vest, leaves him very open to being shot at in one of his blind charges that he tends to follow when outnumbered.
Skills: For one, he is a world class fencer by modern standards, seeing as he was an olympian fencer before his accident. Also, having enhanced senses makes him very skilled at locating whatever it is he has been sent to find.
Bullet types: Monroe doesn’t use normal bullets, nor normal bullet types. He, and an associate of his, work on forging specially made bullets. The name feature of the bullets is that all metallic parts aside from the spent casings are made of titanium, making them capable of breaking through things that normal bullets wouldn’t be able to. Aside from that, each of bullets have unique properties that most bullets, even specially made ones, do not carry.
Armor Piercing Precision: APP (Or No. 1s) are Monroe’s most used bullet type. They are merely bullets cast from titanium in a special mold that Monroe has. The bullets are smaller in diameter then a normal .45 caliber bullet in a single action army (being only about .4 in diameter), but are more powerful and accurate then normal bullets. Aside from being smaller and designed for precise attacks, the bullets are designed to tear through metal platings, making them very hard to attack. The main drawback to the bullets is that they only create small holes in things they strike, and also, the fact the bullets are too small for the weapon makes them hard to aim, despite their design. Even so, these are the most trusted bullets Monroe has, and he keeps at least twenty four of them on himself at all times.
Ricochet: Ricochet (or No. 2s) are a specially made bullet given to Monroe as the first part of an agreement he made with the scientist Mark. The bullets are a mix of titanium and a special material that allows them to ricochet off anything solid twice before losing the spring like reactions. The bullets deflect at angles of ninety degrees always, making them easy to predict, although they gain momentum as they move. Even so, the bullets are heavy, and mostly hard to use, since they can’t be fire directly at the foe, making them mostly useful for tricking a foe. Aside from that, these bullets are of proper diameter, and are one of Monroe’s favorite tools. He carries twelve of them normally.
Scatter Shot: Scatter Shots (or No. 3s) are a very deadly weapon that are only used for close range combat, since they are nearly worthless at long range. The bullet uses the same logic as a shotgun shell, so when the trigger strikes the powder in the bullet and sets it off, the gun releases about twenty small balls of titanium that shred through anything that doesn’t have medium armor at least. Monroe normally only uses these bullets to keep people away from him, or for picking apart large groups of foes that are clustered together. Monroe keeps eight of these on himself at all times.
Explosive: Explosive (Or No. 4s) are Monroe’s least used and most dangerous bullets. They are titanium cases that have very brittle tips so that when the tip strikes anything, it breaks. Within the casing is a small, glass vial of nitroglycerin that is shattered when the tips breaks, which causes a relatively large explosion. These bullets are only used by Monroe in the worst of cases, and the bullets themselves are kept in a special, protective casing made of titanium in his jacket and kept in place by setters in the case itself. Also, of all of his bullets, these take the longest to make, but still, Monroe tries to keep at a total of four on him at all times, for when occasions get really bad.
Movement Skills: Skills that Monroe have learned in his studies of ancient combat arts. Despite the insanity of what they say to do, he’s found his body is wholly capable of mastering all the step skills he’s read about. Most notably the Flash Step, but the others are equally impressive as well.
Stealth Step: A movement skill in which Monroe shuffles his feet very quickly and moves his body on his tip toes. This movement style leaves after images shortly after the user has moved from place to place, and is great for confusing unsuspecting foes by allowing Monroe to sneak up and strike them. This attack takes a relatively small amount of stamina, but becomes straining if used for too long. The longest Monroe has held it for of late has been about one minute without being completely worn out.
Moon Step: A movement skill that, rather then moving on the ground, allows the user to perform a kind of multi-jump. Pretty much, by kicking ones feet hard enough against the ground, Monroe can perform multiple jumps in succession with relative ease. The strength for these kicks takes a small amount of stamina and Monroe can use this skill five or six times in a row and not feel a thing. It is hard to say how many times he can use it in a row, but he generally uses Moon Step in bursts of four or five jumps to either confuse or get away from his foe.
Flash Step: Monroe’s most physically draining movement skills. This attack is a massive burst of speed in a forward motion. Use of this skill in repetition leaves only a brief image of the user between landing. The skill speeds Monroe up to nearly twice his speed, but he can only use this skill for about three second, period, before his leg muscles begin to become strained. At five seconds, his leg muscles break, and any longer risks destroying his leg bones. However, Monroe’s pride in mastering this skill doesn’t hold him back by time, and he’s intent on growing strong enough to use this skill constantly for as long as he wants, even if he doesn’t know exactly how hard that will be.
Appearance: Monroe's hair is short and barely moves down to the center of his forehead, and in the back reaches the center of his neck. The sides moves down past the ears at the sideburns, but is relatively balanced before that. HIs face is very stern, and his eyes ill show anything more then absolute seriousness. His face is still very young, despite his age, giving him the appearance of being somewhere between eighteen and twenty.
HIs upper body is very toned, and strong. His muscles don’t ripple, but are still defined, making appear strong, even though he is slender and thin. His arms are very strong, even though they don’t appear it, and his upper body is covered by a black, long sleeved shirt that is covered by a black kevlar vest and then finally covered by a large, black trench coat that he simply wears to hide his sword, which he always have on him.
His legs are strong, giving him a strong run and the power to jump fairly long distances. He wears long, black pants with a black belt that he keeps his sword attached on. His shoes are black and dressy, simply worn for their sleekness then anything else.
Personality: Monroe is a multileveled person on the personality level. For one, he still maintains most of his honorable nature kept from what he learned from fencing and something he maintained even when they wiped his memory of everything but his fencing skill. He’ll heed this in his mind at all times, even in the heat of battle, and will only fight as he deems to be in an honorable fashion.
Around women, he is very flirtatious and very desiring. Although in his heart he wants to find only one woman for himself, he deems that until he finds that woman, he’s a free man. He’s not very suave when it comes to wooing women, and tends to be more hands on then anything else.
Around friends, he’s a bit more open, keeping to his personality from before he was unfrozen. He tends to make jokes which, for the better, tend to not really be funny. Also, Monroe enjoys spending his time studying how others behave around him to try to grasp their intentions, but he tends to make mistakes here, having no skills in psychology.
In combat, besides being honorable, he is a very fierce fighter and will aim to win at any cost. His precision and skill with his blade make him hard to defeat, and his gun as backup for unfair fights tends to allow him to handle the fight well in any situation.
Biography: What good is it to discuss a man’s history, or at least the part that he doesn’t recall happening? That was Monroe’s question just after he awoke and realized where he was. All that he was told when they revived him was there was a terrible accident and that he had, fourteen years ago, been a world class fencer. He could recall the fencing part, and he retained the language they spoke, but he didn’t recall anything else.
You see, when they found his frozen body in the catacombs, he was dated as being from 2007. Had they just left him, he would have remained in Cryostasis until the day someone else awoke him, but finding his records, they deemed him useful. After fourteen long years, they would revive the fencer Monroe Vossler as an assassin for them. All they had to do was modify his memories and remove everything he couldn’t use. Basically, any memories that were of things that weren’t his ability to speak, his ability to write, his understanding of things he knew before he died, and lastly, his fencing skills.
All of his personal memories were erased, deemed as being hazardous to the nature they needed him to be. He would do their bidding and kill anyone that they ordered, and all they did was repair his body with nanotechnology, and also enhance it. The nano machines weren’t left in him, for they would serve no purpose. When they finally awoke him, all he could remember were basic things. The one thing they couldn’t change, as much as they would have liked to, was his personality.
After several weeks of debriefing and training him in the art of stalking and assassination, they gave him his sword, his most prized possession, along with his other standard arms that he carries. It didn’t take long for them to know that they had made an ideal warrior, who only didn’t question why. His methods were his own, his job his life, but something in his heart yearned for more. He couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t the job for him, and a few months after being awoken in the year 2021, he escaped from the FBI’s headquarters and became a rogue agents.
Since his escape, Monroe has been searching for his place in this world. Of everything he’s lost, he misses his purpose the most, and searches for it desperately, in hopes that one day, he’ll have a reason to live beyond just being a tool.
Hair: He had extremely short, black hair. Because of its shortness it appears light-brown.
Eyes: Pure white pupil with a black iris.
Height: 6ft 2inch (Changes in different forms)
Weapons: Kraton had a variety of powerful weapons. He is skilled at unarmed combat, but never willingly resorts to that. His true skill lies with his weapons.
Bloodfury: This is Kraton’s only mortal weapon, a spear. It was made in Athens with a strong metal. Kraton named it Bloodfury because its is the weapon that he uses when his rage and fury cannot speak for itself, and he must spill blood to let out his anger. The point of the spear is jagged and rough, so it inflict the maximum pain. The whole spear is about three foot long.
Herpese: Kraton’s rapier, forged in the heavens. Herpese is a thin blade that was previous wielded by Hercules. It is made from materials that cannot be found on earth, it is forged with Zeus’ tears, which hardened and formed a barrier around the holy blade. The blade is bright white, with a darker hilt. This is his weapon for his Angelic forms. The blade of Herpese is two and a half foot long.
Life Harvester: Kraton’s Daemonic weapon. The Life Harvester is a large scimitar. It is made from pure souls, that have been harvested from inferior beings.With every life it takes the blade grows stronger. The scimitar itself is about three foot long, but the blade is only two and a half foot long, four foot wide and three inches deep.
Strengths: Kraton wields all of his weapons extremely fast and well. He is strong, fast and smart. He is good at recognising strengths and weaknesses, and using them to his advantage. Kraton can sense power from miles away, making it hard to sneak up on him. His body is in perfect shape and he has a high threshold for pain. He can switch between his forms very quickly.
Weakness: Kraton can be his own weaknesses at times. When he is in his Angel or God forms, he is vulnerable to shadow magic. And when he is in his Daemon or Titan forms he is vulnerable to light magic. The higher his form of power, the more vulnerable he is to his weaknesses. He also has no armour in his normal form.
Skills/Magic: Kraton can morph himself into four different forms aside from his natural one.
Angel: Kraton starts glowing white and angel wings unfurl from his back. His hair lengthens and also turns white. Although he is completely white his features and aspects are still easily visible. Kratons gains the ability to fly as well. Instead of walking, he hovers off the ground in this form. He also grows to six foot eight inches and his skin toughens into thick armour-like skin. His powers with his Angelic weapons increases considerably. He can also use the Angelic spells. (listed later)
God: This time Kraton becomes engulfed with pure white flames and his wings grow even more. He also grows to seven foot 5 inches. None of his clothes or features can be seen anymore, the only things visible through the white flames are his black eyes. The white flames surrounding him also act as a barrier, because physical attacks cannot harm him whilst he has them around him. They aren’t natural flames either, water cannot extinguish them, only shadow can defeat them. His powers with Angelic weapons and spells increase heavily.
Daemon: Kraton (like in angel form) grows wings in his Daemon form. But they aren’t angels wings, they are bat-like, curved gargoyle wings. Like in Angel form gain, he can fly. His skin darkens and toughens, going almost black. He grows two small black horns on hid head (which now seems bald). He grows to six foot nine inches and his skin also toughens and acts as armour. His skill with Daemonic powers increases considerably, and he can use Daemonic spells. (listed later)
Titan: Kraton becomes covered in dark red flames, and his wings grow larger and curve more. His horns grow even bigger and are now the same size as his head. He grows to the height of seven foot six inches. His eyes turn white and become yet again the only thing visible through the flames. The dark red flames are not fire, they are shadow. With no weakness to water. Again physical attacks cannot harm him in this form. His skill with Daemonic weapons and spells increases heavily.
Light Flow: Kraton lets pure light energy flow out through his palms. He can release this in different shapes and forms. The most common is a long stream of light.
Light Flash: Kraton coverts himself into a ball of light, allowing him to move around quicker and unnoticed. He cannot attack while doing this.
Smite: Multiple lightning strikes fire down on someone, either killing or injuring the desired target.
Shadow Flow: Kraton shoots shadow out through his palms. This is the twin of his Light Flow, this is also a very flexible spell, he can release it in different ways.
Shadow Cloak: Darkness envelops Kraton, hiding him from all eyes.
Devastate: Kraton manipulates dark energies in the air to pull enemies apart. When this does kill, it will cause excruciating pain and torture.
Appearance: When in normal form, Kratos wears traditional Greek clothing: A dull grey robe and brown sandals. He has normal eyebrows and a kind face that looks normal, until you look into his eyes. His strange eyes reflect his powers. He has Bloodfury is strapped to his back. None of his weapons are visible until he morphs into the form he uses them in. His skin is tanned a light brown that makes him seem bald. His body is in perfect shape and he is very broad shouldered.
Personality: Kraton is ruthless and unmerciful on the battlefield, but when he has finished his war, he changes. He becomes a friendly, happy person, just looking for friends and love. He respects both heaven and hell, for he knows the power of both. He has a charming smile that attracts women easily. He doesn’t like killing women, but will do it if forced to. Killing men however is different, he would murder countless men without a second thought. Kraton doesn’t belief in any faith or religion, he thinks that once he dies, he is dead and won’t come back.
Biography: Kraton was born and grew up in Athens living with his mother: Aleena. He never knew his father, his mother never told Kraton about him. Kraton grew up, oblivious to his true parents. Kraton was the son of the gods. Zeus (the leader of the gods) had chosen Aleena to host Kraton, the child who was to grow up and defeat Hades’ might Daemons of hell.
But it went wrong. As Kraton grew up, Aleena debated when to tell him of him heritance. But his Angelic powers surfaced before she could tell him. Kraton told no one of his powers, not even Aleena. (but she already knew that they would surface)
The angel’s mother eventually found out about his powers, and told him he was the son of the gods. She said he must travel through hell, and defeat Hades. Kraton was seventeen now and could shift into a full fledged angel form, the gods had already bestowed upon him his weapon, for they surfaced as he shifted to angel form. So he did travel through hell itself to find Hades:
Green blood spurted violently from the Daemon’s eyes. Kraton spat in disgust.
“Daemons, such pitiful creatures,” he noted as he soared through the flames of hell, extinguishing the dark flames with his holy magic.
Kraton was soaring in his angel form, searching for the Dark Titan, Hades. Aleena had told him everything, his parents hadn’t been mortal, he was simply the son of the gods. The Angel was secretly hoping to be accepted into heaven once he had destroyed Hades.
“Pitiful? You my friend, are pitiful.” A hollow lurching voice rang through hell, alerting Kraton to Hades’ wakening.
The Angel stared from where the voice had come from, and a figure stepped from the flames there. Hades himself had come to greet Kraton. Hades was at least eight foot, not counting the shadowy flames writhing all over his body. He had eyes darker than his almost black skin. Flames surrounded him, slithering and sliding over hid body, like hellish snakes. Although he had no visible wings, he floated slightly off the ground.
With the Titan’s arrival Kraton shot balls of light at him, but he merely caught and crushed them in his dark fist.
Kraton looked upon him in awe, but soon drew Herpese, determined to smite the Daemonic Titan. He slashed at Hades, throwing all his heavenly powers into the blade. But Hades simply batted it away, with his arm!
“You have potential, if only you were…” Hades broke off, whilst in deep thought.
Anger surged through Kraton, he was futile against Hades. He was supposed to defeat him! Pure feeling and emotion overcame the Angel, he felt anger, hate, sadness.
Suddenly everything began to shrink, he felt... more powerful. He looked at his arm, he was glowing a spectacular white! Hades’ eyes widened as he looked at Kraton.
“You’re a... god!” Hades stuttered as he stared at Kraton.
He felt power and magic pulse inside of him. Hades’ fearful expression assured him: He had become a god.
Kraton raised Herpese high above his head, and brought it down with great vengeance on Hades. The Titan blocked the bark but not the bite, and was sent to his knees. The god flew over to him, and pushed him to the ground easily. Kraton placed his holy blade to Hades’ neck.
“No! It cannot end... like… this…” He gasped fearfully.
“It can and will Titan!” Kraton prepared to end Hades’ reign of terror, but was stopped by tempting words.
“I can give you power!” He bargained for his life.
The god stopped abruptly. Power…
“How? What would you do?” Kraton’s inquisitive nature forced him to ask.
“I can make you a Titan and God, with the power of both. If you let me live.” The Daemon master’s words sounded so appealing to Kraton.
Do I want that? He thought to himself. It is twice as much power as I have now. I would be able to defeat good and evil. Many thoughts whistled through his head. But only one answer,
“Deal.” Kraton accepted, literally sealing a deal with the devil.
That day Kraton exited Hell far more powerful than he entered. He had spared Hades’ life, for power. But what did he do? He knew he couldn’t return to Athens, to Aleena. He knew he couldn’t go to the Gods. They might kill him. He did the only thing he could to spare his own life. He fled Greece, and travelled. Kraton now tries to prove himself to the gods, he wants them to realise his intentions were pure.
But the gods have sent numerous angels to either kill of capture him since his departure, he has killed all. Kraton knows that one day the gods will come for him. So he prepares for that day, when the day of judgement faces him.
Even Hades’ has sent dark assassins to kill Kraton, maybe he sees the him as a threat? Whatever the case, no agent he sent was powerful enough to avoid execution. Kraton calls himself “Heaven’s Outcast”, because he knows that, had he not fled, they would have banished him.
Eyes: Right eye/yellow hazel eye, Left eye/deep sky blue with tiny red outline on the pupil.
Weight: 146 lbs.
Height: 5 ft. 11 in.
Weapon: His weapons include a Legendary, single-edged, thin longsword that he named simply X Blade. The blade is made of a polymerized Adament with a solid Diamond tip. It has proven itself to be indestructable many times in battle. The blade has the power to turn from Holy Adament, to a Fire blade that burns at a tempurature of 800 degrees Fahrenheit, to Ice Crystals of -150 degrees Fahrenheit, to pure Plasma Lightning. He also wields cannons on his elbows that shoot what is called Ebyss Vinom, Ebyss Vinom is not like a poison on Earth, what it does is if it hits a human, demon or anything but a non-living thing, the victim will lose sight, hearing, and weaken their senses for 20 seconds. His last weapon is two halfs of a Vitilament staff that he can clamp together to make a powerful staff, same strengths as the sword but with longer reach.
Armor: Vitros does not wear too much armor for the fear of slowing him self down, so his armor consists of one slightly mechanical suit. The suit is slightly tight on his upper body but baggy down on lower. He wears a blue jacket over his upper body, but nothing additional on the lower. His suits lower part looks alot like jeans exept that one pant leg is shorter than the other. The suit absorbs all dark damage but offers little protection against melee attacks, unless switched to that proper defence, which slightly slows him down.
Strengths: Vitros's best strength is his endurence. He has perfected swords of all kinds and can use most to his advantage. Thanks to his slightly mech suit, all dark spells, no matter how powerful, will be absorbed by the suit and Vitros can shoot them back through his palms, with additional power of his own dark power, which is very low. Any mind-reading, mind-control, or
mind-stuns are reversed to the person who used it, and will stun them for a little while. He is capable of dodging most attacks to the best of his ability, and to reward of his strong will power and attitude, he never lets anyone make him lose his focus of the fight at hand, and he never gives up a fight unless his life is on the line. He is also a undead's or vampire's worst nightmare, for he is almost like God's knight, for the fact he can communicate with Him and also seek His advise. He cannot be killed by an undead, demon, or vampire as long as he is able to fight.
Weaknesses: Vitros' powers almost always come with a small price. His powers and abilities must always be activated through focus, if he has more than one ability active during battle, each are slightly weakened with each additional ability activated. One of his most annoying weaknesses to him is when he becomes under pressure during a fight. If this happens, he will go to safety, sit down or stand, and think to stratigize. No enemy of his wants him to do this because once he does, it almost always gives him the victory, but it is more of a weakness than a strength. When he does this, he is highly vulnerable because it takes him 10-30 seconds to pull it off. He also never uses his black hole attack unless in an emergency, for pulling it off puts enormous strain on his body, tearing apart his muscles. He does use all element attacks but there is one that he is weak against, Lightning. It hurts him nothing too major but can stun him badly. If he is in heat for too long(120 degrees or above), he also starts to become weaker.
Skills/Magic: Vitros had a very open mind to studying, which made him uninterested in just mastering one element. He is a user of every element known, here is a chart explaining it, 0 being no talent, and 100 being mastered.
He also has healing magic studied down, minor injuries are healed automaticly, and medium sized wounds he has to put focus in, and serious wounds cant be healed without alot of time.
Vitros also has numerous natural abilities. During battle, he is capable of running 70 mph and can teleport small distances with 1-3 seconds of focus. While traveling though, he is capable at best to fly at speeds to 800 mph after building momentum. Thanks to his fathers training for 10 years, his reflexes and senses are far more than the average person, making sneak attacks useless. He also has one more very important ability, his left eye. His left eye is capable of mind-reading, mind-control for short times, illusions and future visions. It also lets him see completely around his body. He is also capable of making small black holes, that he can build up and let it stay as long as he can. Last, but not the least of his abilities, on a scale, Vitros always weighed around 130-140 pounds, but when other people tryed to pick him up, or bump into him, it was like trying to lift a giant ball of steel, or bumping into a brick wall.
Appearance: Vitros always was one of the better looking guys in his schools he went to and always had girls looking at him, which started to get old with him. He has flawless skin, blue hazel right eye and a yellow, red outlined left eye with a blue X deep inside it. He is a little shorter than maybe 55% of other people his age, and had a very toned body for his age. He had brown hair at one time then changed it to blue with white streaks, with everyone saying,"Nice change in hair!", and not in the make fun of him way either.
Personality: Vitros was always one of the quiet kids in his childhood, so no one bothered him much. When he was a young boy, he was always serious when it came to sports and always took up for others that needed help. His attitude often got him into misunderstandings, which often led to fights. His saying, try to calm the foe and stop the fighting at first, and if that doesnt work, protect yourself. He is anything but ruthless when it comes to fighting, and fights with honor in his heart. If he defeats his foe, he trys to help them subdue their rage, if at all posible. Many people he knows will often say, "I fought that young man with nothing but the thought of killing him, and yet now, he has turned my life around."
Biography: Vitros was born on a planet light years away from Earth, Morsoth, where he used to live, with a happy family, a mother named Kala, a father whos name was known throughout their world as Galahand, and an older brother named Mitachi. His mother was 27 years old when Vitros was born, his father was 30, and his brother was only 3. The first thing his mother realized about Vitros, was his left eye. She noticed his right eye was much different, it was a yellow, hazel color. His left eye however did not appear normal to her at all. It was a was a light, sky blue with a little red outline around the pupil, and a deep dark blue X shape in the back of his eye. She examined his eye with deep thought and wonder until Galahand asked if everything was okay.
She said, in a surprised state, "Yes, we're fine, I'm just shocked at his eye."
"Well, it was been quite a few hours sinse you were able to hold him, and I just..."
She turned her head to him with her eyes wide, "What?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, "What, you didn't notice? You've been staring at his eye for nearly 5 hours now, I was starting to get worried."
She had a blank face for a while. That was impossible, she thought to herself. How can it have been that long, I just now stared at....
She looked down at her baby, Vitros and into his eye.
Galahand looked up from a daze, " Hmm? Did you say something?", he asked in sleepy voice.
She looked up, "Oh,....no..nothing."
Most of Vitros's life is unknown, from him growing up from 1 to 11, he seemed to be stronger than the average child. His speed was seeming to get faster and faster the more time went by. His parents got more worried by the years. When they talked to his friends, they were all saying that he seemed smarter than all of them. By the time Vitros became
12, the leader of their planet sent a message to all the people of Morsoth, warning them all that power to the entire planet has been disabled by an unknown source and that a red shining light was getting bigger and bigger as they saw it in the clear orange sky.
His mother and father knew was coming. Luckly, Vitros's dad not only was a fighter, he was also an inventer. He took a look threw a C3 Twili (like a telescope on Earth, exept alot stronger on distance of sight. What he saw was devestating. He saw a man, ingulfed in a firy hellfire, with what looked like his fist out in front of him. From the looks of the man in black and red, he had complete control of what he was doing, yet, he was mere miles from the planets surface.
He was aiming to go through Morsoth completely.
Galahand knew one thing, if he went through, he would go through the core of the planet, desilating the planet and its habitants.
He did the one thing he could do to save his family. He went straight to the only invention that he kept for his family only, a teleporter, or a Dilitefier. He did not have time to explain things to his wife and kids, so he just told them to get in, and quickly.
They all rushed inside having no idea what was going on. While inside he made a quick desciption of what was going on and told them something terrible.
" Listen closely everyone, I have not been able to perfect the targeting system for this machine. There is no dought in one thing, it will get us out of here but, I have no idea where we will be sent to. I have it in control enough to send us to another planet, but this might be the last time we ever see each other. Vitros, I want you to have this, take good care of them", he shoved a big bag that had heavy items inside it.
Before anyone could object to his quick idea, he hugged his wife, Vitros and Mitachi. Before he went through with it, he said one last thing.
" I promise, I will find all of you again, and please, never lose hope of finding each other, because it will happen!"
With one simple press of a dial on a pad, the last thing everybody saw was a blinding light of yellow and white.
Vitros awoke in a blurry daze. It took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts.
Ok, we saw a man flying in a hell blaze, the...
He jerked his head and sat up from the unusually soft surface as fast as he could, only to get a dreadful pain in his legs and back. He grunted as he relaxed his body.
"Boy you gave me quite a scare out there."
The uncalled for voice startled Vitros and he nearly jumped off the bed, receiving another jolt of pain for his trouble.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you there."
Vitros looked to his side and saw a woman, from the looks of her she was at least in her
"Wh...where am I, what happened?"
The woman tryed to explain to her best understanding,"Well little boy, I'm not sure myself. I was sitting on my porch when I saw a flash of light behind my house. I came to where I saw it, and I found you laying on the ground. I thought you were dead to be honest, but you seemed to have an odd heartbeat. I brought you in here and laid you down, you've been asleep for nearly a week."
Vitros asked the one question that almost blew his cover,"W..what planet i..is this?"
The woman raised an eyebrow,"Why silly, this is Earth."
The rest of Vitros's life was taken into the hands of this woman. Her name was Mira, and she said she had a daughter who lived about 10 miles away. From the ages of 12 to 15, Vitros trained in secret with her word that she would never tell anyone that he was not of this world or had these powers unless in an emergency. She gave him his word and that is where he is at the moment. He plans to leave soon to find his missing family. In the bag his father gave him was a mech suit and a sword, the X Blade.
Race: She's a Mexican human, but she is a Rainbow Mage.
Hair: Her hair is shoulder length with bangs that hang to the side, partially covering her eyes. It is multicolored with its roots brown, going to blonde and ending in black tips. She likes wearing it in many different fashions. Whenever it is tied up, a orange hair tie is used.
Eyes: Her almond eyes seem to be a profound black color most of the time. But sometimes, they seem to turn varying colors of green. In reality, her eyes are just a very dark green, the light changing their appearance from black to different shades of green.
Weight: She weighs 140 pounds.
Height: She is 5 feet and 6 inches.
Weapon: Her main weapon is magically based, due to being a mage. She wields a wand to use her magic and such. Appearance and size further down.
Another weapon she has is used primarily to draw blood to spur herself on or when she doesn't have her wand. She uses a blade to do so. She's called it P2J2M for her own reasons (see bio for more).Appearance and size further down.
Lastly, she wields nine colored pencils as a last minute resort. Being the rainbow mage she is, she lives in a world of color. They're each like a very small trump card which she can use in tight situations. They exhaust a lot of her energy, but help a lot as well. She can only use one a day. Each has a different ability. Check magic for the specifics. Appearance and size right below.
Strengths: She's fierce and doesn't give up until she can fight no longer. She's skilled in magic and strength, overpowering some of the strongest of enemies. Using her wand and swords, she can destroy and draw blood with ease. Ixchel is especially skilled against those with a low speed.
The mage is very intelligent and can quickly configure a game plan as to how much blood she will draw and then follow through with it. Also, she's analytical of her opponents, coming up with possible weakness and how to exploit them.
Another strength she has doesn't entirely lie within herself, but rather with her teddy bear, Teddy. because of having him as a constant ally and help, she can feel confident and even put him into battle with her. They make an incredible team.
Weakness: She has little to no defense and a speed that is less than impressive. Because of this, she finds it difficult to keep up with someone whose speed is high.
Due to her low defense, she can't sustain a large amount of blows without healing herself, only wasting more of her energy. And, as much as she'd like to not get hit, she always does due to her continual fighting without stopping.
Because of her will, she often finds her surpassing her own limits. And, because she thinks limits to be pointless, she is left in a state of complete pain. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop there for her. Because she believes pain to be a figment of the mind, she can often harm herself further to shut out the pain.
Skills/Magic: All of her abilities are used with Spanish words and phrases. She currently has no abilities associated with her sword.
Cure el Oso- Using this ability, her bear, Teddy, is enveloped in a rainbow glow, healing any of his rips and tears instantly and making him battle ready once more. Like her colored pencils, this can only be used once a day. Therefore, after this is used, she rarely ever puts him back into battle the same day. To use this, she need only say 'cure el oso' and wave her wand over Teddy.
Cure la Maga/Aliado- Using this ability, she can heal herself, much like she heals teddy. If she only has external injuries, it heals those. If she has any internal ailments, it will only heal those. This too is a 'one-a-day' sort of spell, but she uses it more sparingly, using it only at the end, or near the end, of battles. To use this, she says 'cure la maga' and waves it over herself.
If she wants to use it on someone else, she must say 'cure el aliado' and wave it over them.
Rayo de Arco Iris- This basically is what it means, 'beam of rainbow'. She says 'rayo de arco iris' and waves her wand toward her opponent. It charges a multicolored type of energy and let's it loose whenever Rainbow swings a second time. Because of this it can be stopped. It shoots at her opponent, harming them with a beam containing all the colors of the rainbow. It's pretty much an energy blast containing all the elements.
Desfile de Muchos Colores- It's a 'parade of many colors' just as the name implies. This creates a barrier around her consisting of swaying colors. It serves as a shield for, when anyone touches it, it will hurt like a fire, or ice, depending on the color that is touched. Unfortunately for her, she can't touch it either. It makes fighting difficult, but still provides a good defense.
Colored Pencil Abilities: To use them, she must say their name in Spanish.
Red/Rojo- Summons an immense amount of flames to consume her enemy. They're difficult to put out. Orange/Naranja- Calls forth light to blind and harm any being associated with darkness. Yellow/Amarillo- Summons lightning to strike a foe up to three times. It varies very much. Green/Verde- Calls forth roots to tie a foe down. They are nigh unbreakable. Blue/Azul- Summons water to thrash a foe around in a whirlpool type manner. Purple/Purpura- Calls forth a poison cloud to enter the enemies system and deal damage over time. Black/Negro- Summons darkness to envelope an enemy, harming people associated with light. Brown/Moreno- Calls forth the ground itself to swallow a foe. It's difficult to escape. White/Blanco- Summons ice to enclose a foe, freezing them to the very core, harming them over time.
In the part not shown, she wears boots with a deep rich crimson color which transitions smoothly to pink. Her entire ensemble is the way it is only to show her complete mastery of all colors.
Personality: Being a rainbow mage, it's easy to say that she has a very colorful personality.
When it comes to fighting, she has a completely different demeanor from when she is merely mingling. She will never turn down a good fight and loves to be in battle experiencing all the senses. Rainbow has an odd lust for violence. So much so, that, at the sight of blood, she will push herself harder to win.
She is not afraid to kill or be killed. She thinks this only to be another part of life and if they're time has come, it has come, even if it is by her own hands.
When confronted with an opponent that is surely stronger than her, she only smiles and tries her hardest, for she sees losing and winning as pointless. She never cares if she's victorious as long as she enjoyed the fight. And, even if enraged, which is very difficult to do, she will get the most out of a battle.
The only way to fully get her enraged is to offend her opinions. As long as they are respected and acknowledged, she will remain content, which is most of the time. For, she find her opinions to be her. Just as she is strong headed, her opinions on strong headedness are equally as important.
She's very smart, but only shows it in her planning and executing of moves. She can come up with an ingenious solution to some of the most difficult situations in a matter of seconds. And, when put in situations where she must work with others, she will automatically assume control. Not many can complain about it though, seeing as she always has good reason to be in control.
In general, she has a controlling personality in a battle and in quests. She will tell others what to do, just as she does with Teddy. And, due to being used to dealing with a loyal teddy bear, any ally she sees as the same thing. While she may offend some people with the upfrontness about this, she doesn't care.
She does have a very upfront and in your face attitude at times. If she dislikes someone, she isn't afraid to tell them. If she thinks someone is awesome, she will tell them to their face. If she wants to beat the crap out of someone, she just does.
But, when not thinking about battle, or not in battle, she has a very agreeable nature. She humors people and generally shows a very kind nature. While some may think that it's just a facade so that no one can see her deep passion for battle, she is truly a nice person when fighting isn't on her mind. Sometimes she even gets a very loving and nurturing persona about her.
She can be distrustful, but, if she is, she tries not to show it. Rainbow is only this way because of past experiences that taught her trusting others isn't actually the best of choices, especially when one is a warrior as she is. She can be easy to make acquaintances and comrades, but not so much friends. In order to be her friend, an immense amount of trust would have to be built.
When it comes to romantic matters, she has looked at the other sex, but never done much more than that. She just doesn't think she has or ever will find 'the one'. Rainbow realizes that she's a mere 25 years of age, but she's never been one for patience.
When it comes to religion, she is a Catholic, believing in everything from God to Christ. But, because she knows better, she never mentions or cares if anyone mentions religion. She always knows that it's better to let it pass. Of all brawls, the only kind she dislikes are those regarding religion, therefore, she never instigates them.
She has a great sense of humor, rarely taking anything to offense, especially when said about her. She's never hesitant to crack a joke or laugh to another.
Biography: This will be told in the form of a journal entry. Enjoy?
Dear diary... or is it journal? Does it really matter? Well, anyway, dear journal, I'm about to set off on an adventure. I know, I know, you're thinking the same thing I am 'finally!'. At least, that's what you would be thinking, if you could think. But no, you're just paper.
So, yes, after twenty five long years of living, I'm finally leaving Pueblo De la Rosa Sagrada. God, I'm old. Eep, sorry, lord. I probably shouldn't use your name in vain, eh?
I remember when I was but a small child, running after Mami and always hoping to see what Papi was up to. It wasn't easy being a poor Latino family growing up. Sure, the food was obviously the best of the best, but cuisine doesn't exactly make a childhood great. I remember they barely had enough money to buy me Teddy when I was two. Growing up wouldn't have been the same without him. It was even harder when Lupita and Marga were born. If I recall correctly, that was when Mami got a second job...
I guess it was also around that time when Papi got himself into all that heap of trouble... but, it's not like I was old enough to understand what was going on. I mean, I was six, Lupita was two and Marga was one. None of us could even comprehend all the things that Mami and Papi were yelling at each other... But, as I look back on it, I can remember a few. Papi would yell, “Gloria, ya no tengo la paciencia para mantener esta familia!”, meaning, “Gloria, I don't have the patience to maintain this family!”.
She would yell back, “Si, pero no debias a resortar a esto!”, meaning “Yes, but you shouldn't have resorted to this!”. You see, Papi was getting into some dirty business. He relied on some of the worst people, and sold some bad things... While I understand he did it to help our family, the day the police came, I'm sure that our family wasn't exactly helped.
“Policia! Policia!” could be heard outside our doors. Our neighborhood was constantly plagued by them, therefore the word struck fear into the hearts of practically everyone. No one could even say it as a joke for fear of what would happen to them. Marga learned that from experience once. It was hilarious, but anyway...
Mami ran to the door, eye pressed against the peep hole. Lupita, Marga and I had been playing on the floor with bottle caps, not many more things to do considering our possessions, or lack thereof. “Gabriel,” She called to my father, “Han venido.” Her tone was worried, but yet so calm, probably for our sake. Despite her ominous warning of 'they have come'.
He quickly ran up to us, carrying bundles, spilling out power. At the time I thought it was flour. How young and naive I was. But, he pecked us each on the forehead with a kiss, running out the door with a sad, “Adios, hijas...”
And, I've never seen my Papi since that bye. Mami told us that he had urgent business for the first month of our incessant 'En donde esta Papi?'s. Any child had the right to ask, 'where is my father?'. Afterwards, she told us that he left us, always turning away slightly. Eventually, we learned to just stop asking.
With that, my mother took on yet another job, leaving me, the eldest to tend to my sisters. It was during this time that I learned of swords and magic. With my mother never home, and my sisters always playing with each other, I left them locked up tight at home while I ran off with mi amigos. In other words, I ditched them to play with my friends.
I remember them to be a mixture consisting of three males and two females, not including myself. With me, there were six of us, each very avidly believing in fighting. There was Pablo, Julio, Joel, Mayte, Mariel and me. When I first began to hang out with them, they intimidated me with their impressive swords and skills. Some even had taught themselves magic. In fact, at first, I was in disbelief at learning magic existed. I had never even seen it before.
It was Mayte that first introduced me to the magics. She'd acquired a makeshift wand and taught herself spells that did everything from tie her shoes to trip someone. Being as kind hearted as she was, she rarely used the latter. But, she did teach me, along with Julio and Joel. And, it was Pablo and Mariel that taught me how to use a sword. I was an eager learner of both magics and swordplay to say the least. I soon surpassed my 'masters' and they named me the 'reina' of our little clique.
Being the queen of our group was the life, seeing as the queen did exactly the same thing as everyone else, had no authority and was subject to the same challenges. All I got was bragging rights, which was more than enough for a twelve year old me.
But, being the reina, they wanted me to specialize my magic. Loving colors, rainbows and such, I simply had to choose Rainbows. And, from then on, I was known as a rainbow mage and a rainbow 'lady'.
Life pretty much stayed like that for a few years. I would spend all school days and normal days with my friends and return home before my Mami did and cook dinner. When she did got back, I would have already fed my sisters and have a plate ready for her. It wasn't her fault that things had to go the way they were and I felt sorry for her, having all those jobs...
And, it was in this time that I animated Teddy. With all the magic that I had been learning, I felt confident when I did. I was so successful in this, that he stayed animated! In fact, he's looking over my shoulder as I write.
Everything stayed like that until one single thing happened: I got my first real sword.
It was a glorious moment. I had just turned sixteen and all my friends chipped in to buy me a sword. Now, I took this to be the best thing to ever happen in my life. It was by far the fairest blade I'd ever seen, and the fact that they bought it for me, brought tears to my eyes. I, of course, called it P2J2M, for each of their names.
I, being sixteen and confused with life, thought my blade to be fine stowed away at home until I could put it to good use. And, so, I left it tucked in my drawer. Such was life for a good long year, my blade always remained hidden, leaving my thirst for battle completely unquenched.
One incredibly fateful morning, as I was getting ready to run off to school, Lupita tugged at my sleeve. “Hermana, que es esa cosa en tu cajon?”. I grew rigid, knowing very well that she knew nothing if my infatuation with the art of fighting. So, I answered safely.
“Es un jugete,” I told her, knowing full well that it was not a toy. But, Lupita didn't know that and that was good enough for me. With that, I ran out, hoping she would not persist.
But, that was my mistake, when I returned home that evening, I returned to nothing but the cries of Lupita. I ran to her, yelling out, “Estas bien?!” I could tell by her cries that she wasn't okay, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.
“Ixchell!” she cried out, and I entered my room. The drawer was open and my sword was out. And, with my sword came the blood of the innocent. “Pense que... que...” I could barely hear between each of her sobs. But I knew why she was crying.
Marga lay lifeless on the floor, blood spilling out freely, but her face pale and lifeless. I remember that my only reaction was a gasp. And that that night, I left the house, knowing by my mother's cold stare I would never be forgiven. The years that followed, I occasionally visited, only to see Lupita, but otherwise stayed with Mayte. She was eager to let me live with her. After all, we would be graduating soon, and we could be 'las dos solteras'.
Indeed we were the two bachelorettes, always doing fun things, just the two of us. Only until she moved out though. She was kind and fun, it was no wonder that she was to get married at 24 and I was to be left in her house, alone.
It's really only because she moved on, that I'm able to move on as well. It took me a year of preparation, but I think I'm ready to leave. I've said farewell to Lupita, Mayte, and all my old friends. I even left my mother a note. Teddy is ready too, despite not having much to prepare...
And, as soon as I finish these last few sentences, I think I'll roll this paper up, stash it away, and just leave. It's time that I live my life to the fullest. Visit other places and spread my powers of colors across other 'realms'. No longer am I the young naive Latina that I once was. Now, I'm the confident strong rainbow mage which will fight until the very end.
Thank you for listening... err-- reading, diary. I mean journal. Does it really even matter?
Age: 23, as Ixchel got him when she was 2.
Race: Teddy bear.
Sex: As manly as a teddy bear can get.
Hair: Furry and covering the entire body.
Eyes: Brown and made of plastic.
Weight: 3 pounds due to mainly being stuffing.
Height: Two feet high.
Weapon: He has an axe, a knife, some TNT, and matches to light it.
Strengths: He is ruthless and fearless in battle. Unless recalled, he will fight to the very end. He goes to all lengths to win, even it means harming himself. Since he is an animated teddy bear, he can not feel the pain. And, what he lacks in defense, he makes up for in weapons.
Weakness: He's very light and therefore can be easily blown away. He's also very vulnerable to anything sharp, one fire, or basically any element due to being made of cloth. Also, he has an incredible will to keep fight, therefore getting more injured. The only one that can tell him to stop is Ixchel.
Personality: Despite being a teddy bear, he has quite a bit of personality. Unrelenting and unforgiving, he fights with a passion. He loves to blow things up and he loves to be with Ixchel. He will do anything to protect her.
He can speak fluent Spanish, being born into a Latino household. Unfortunately, he can barely speak any English, so his sentences make little sense to anyone but Ixchel. Or, they are incredibly grammatically incorrect.
Teddy is always smiling for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps that was how he was manufactured, but, never the less, he always looks happy. Or, he just looks insane. Either way, it always brightens the mood.
Name: Billie Ramenshire (But you’d better just call her Illie.)
Age: Appears to be 23
Race: Wiped Angel. *See Bio*
Hair: Dark brown thin hair reaches to her shoulders. She normally keeps it tied in a ponytail, hidden up in her cap if she wears it, or lets it hang, scruffy and uncared for. Her bangs tend to drift into her eyes, and she doesn’t really care.
Eyes: She first appears to have violet eyes, but they’re contacts. Her real eye color is a bright green.
Weight: You really shouldn’t ask Billie her weight. But if you must know, it’s 140 lbs, enough to make her slim, but hefty enough to shove others out of her way.
Height: 5’7, to be precise. She sees herself as short and dislikes it.
Fenris This is Billie’s main weapon. She picked up this guitar after leaving the orphanage and learned to play. Once she discovered her powers with music and the magical properties of the guitar, she decided to take it upon herself to find out what happened to her. No one knows how exactly the guitar became magical. Perhaps it was the thought of the children who gave so freely of all they had. Perhaps it was the old angel abilities of Billie reinvesting in something new. No one truly knows, and no one really needs to know. The fact is, there’s magic within her guitar, and Billie plans to use every drop. Using Fenris, Billie can inflict a range of attacks.
Fenris is a very sleek guitar, and Billie has deemed him a male. She has covered him in stickers from the various places she’s traveled and played. He is a black color, with a few wavy lines down his sides varying in green and purple, Billie’s two favorite colors.
*Chord Assault*- Billie strums her strings at very high velocities, causing shockwaves to ripple the earth and topple trees, or merely make the opponent dizzy, depending on the volume she uses. She can also make the pitch of her guitar screeching so as to damage the rival’s ears, but it doesn’t bother her. She’s been used to loud music for a long time now.
Mariel *Pronounced Merry-ill* Billie discovered how to play the flute as well soon, and picked up her second weapon. She uses Mariel only if the opponent is calm able. The sweet song from this instrument will soothe gentle hearts and even put the rowdiest of fighters to sleep.
*Penny*- This is a small whistle appliance that comes out of the normal mouth hole of Mariel. Using this, Billie has learned how to call a variety of birds to her aid, from doves to vultures, to many other animals. It is a high, chirping sound.
Ripshot Billie’s quickest weapon, this is a small black cartridge she keeps normally inside her trench coat. Most people, because of its shape and size, mistake it for a pistol when she reveals it, but it’s actually more than that. Using this weapon, Billie can shoot razor sharp miniature cd’s at her foes, within picoseconds of one another. The downside to this is that she has a very limited supply. It is not easy to come by more, and therefore she dislikes using this weapon.
Armor: Billie has on knee guards behind her long socks, but she doesn’t really focus on armor. She’s too proud to admit she would need any.
Strengths: Billie is a good fighter, and she knows it. She’s very difficult to slow down, and she isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She would be nigh impossible to kill during a battle, but would keep her weaknesses to herself, even to her own death, in solitude rather than during a brawl. She would rather faint in battle than give up. She’s good at evaluating others and their weaknesses, as well as staying on her feet during battle. She is always ready for attacks, and therefore, little catches her off-guard, even magical attacks. Music and loud noises have no effect on her. She’s grown immune to any sound damages. She also recovers from wounds extremely quickly, although she doesn’t know why.
Weakness: Billie hates people counting her out just because she’s female. To those warriors who show honor by not striking or fighting a woman, it only infuriates Billie. She assumes they see her as weak and therefore attacks without reason. She also despises looking inferior in any way, so she strives to be at her best constantly, pushing herself until she can no longer. She knows little of her past, so she hates people that talk about theirs constantly, whether in a good light or bad. Altogether, Billie attacks too much without realizing she has limits. For some reason, shadow or dark magic seems to have a greater affect on weakening her than any other magic.
Skills/Magic: *See Guitar/Flute Abilities*
Appearance: True to her name, Billie looks like a man at first glance. A rather slim, weak man, but a male none-the-less. Her skin is a tan color, usually dirty, as if she had been playing in a mud puddle or working on a car. Starting from her head, she wears a vivid green bandana which lets straps hang down past her belt line. Both of her ears are pierced, the left twice, both in the fat, and the right three times, once in the cartilage. She hardly ever wears jewelry in her piercings, but it does happen occasionally. Her lips are well-formed, and once seen up close, are one of the key factors to realizing she is indeed a female. Underneath her eyes are two dark purple war-like marks, straight lines with a dark substance.
She wears an extremely baggy white shirt that hangs pleasantly over her chest, concealing any signs of her breasts at all. It is ripped in several places and smudged with oil and grime. A black belt holds her hole-filled jeans up, though they droop past her tennis shoes usually, anyway. Her shoes are surprisingly whiter than the rest of her, with little purple lightning marks down the sides near the heels. To cover this up so as to avoid suspicion, she wears a large tan trench coat that buttons up to her neck and down to her knees, although it drops all the way down past her ankles. She carries her guitar strapped to her back behind the trench coat.
Her flute is inside one of the coat’s inner pockets nearly always, and her hands have black gloves on them that allow her bare fingers to fit through. If she wears any jewelry, it’s usually just studs for her ears and perhaps a few bracelets. She also has two unusual lumps just below her shoulder blades. No one has been able to tell her exactly what they are, but she figures they’re just sore muscles, or a deformation of her body, since she’s had them as long as she can remember.
Personality: Billie is a tough person, both inside and out. She absolutely hates people mistaking her for a man, although it happens very often, since her very name is male-originated. Her father gave it to her before she was born, and he died before seeing her as a girl. Even though she could have changed it, Billie chose not to. She instead changed it to Illie and insists those who know her call her that. She loathes dresses and perfumes, a true tomboy through and through.
She’s coarse to get to know; especially at first, cussing profusely at those who make her angry. It is no wonder she’s mistaken for a male so much, since she tends to spit, smoke, and get dirty, although she’s trying to give up smoking. She sees no reason to make friends with anyone, as she has her own purposes in life and they have theirs. She’s rough, rude, and sassy to nearly everyone, a true fire.
Although hard to befriend, if she finds someone good enough to call her companion, she will stick to their side like superglue. She enjoys music more than anything else, nearly always humming, whistling, or thinking up song lyrics in her head. Therefore, musicals and people that play instruments of some kind, even badly, attract her more than those that don’t. If she has no interest in you, chances are she will not speak to you unless you do something that catches her attention. Even through her hard outside, though, Billie does have a tender heart. It just takes a lot more to reach that spot than others. She really is an extremely complicated person to get to know, but she’s a lovely companion altogether.
She doesn’t believe in a God, really, although she has a tough time convincing herself of this. There’s something that tells her otherwise and she has a very difficult time shaking herself of it. Before she had her memory wiped, she was much more loving and gentle than she is now, in fact, nearly a different person altogether. Who knows what will happen in the end with the way she acted, if she’ll ever remember or not. She loves traveling the world with the money she earns playing her guitar.
Theme Song: Moondance-Nightwish
He followed the whistling, spreading his small white wings and flapping a few times to get up into the air before popping into a tree, resting a hand upon his chin. “Hello, Billie.”
The young petite miss suddenly yanked her head backwards, completely taken by surprise. She laughed, pushing herself up from the street paved with pure gold. “Don’t scare me like that!” She scolded playfully.
The boy pushed himself off from the tree, soaring down gently and coming to a stop a few feet in front of her. “Told you my wings were coming in, didn’t I? But you didn’t believe me. I haven’t seen you around in a long time; I’ve wanted to show you.”
“Oh…” She breathed, running a light hand over his feathers. “They’re lovely…”
“They are, aren’t they?” The ten-year-old remarked, admiring them, though not proudly. “Dad says I may be able to use them well once I’m in the army.”
“I’m going to miss you a lot.” Billie remarked with her hands folded behind her back as she stood up. “Even Mom says that you’re a good person and stuff… you won’t leave heaven right after you get out of the army, will you?” She asked timidly.
Any of the other children in heaven could have told you that these two made a perfect couple. Billie was gentle, sweet, and kind, and so was he. Their mothers were best friends, and so were they. They were, so to speak, a match made in heaven. “No, I won’t leave. I promise.”
“William Brabosi!” A call echoed out.
“Oh, geez, Mom’s calling me. Listen, Billie, I got to go now. I’ll see you later, okay?” He began to jog backwards, lifting slightly above the ground every few moments with his wings.
“Okay.” Billie remarked, waving with a large smile on her face.
As the two grew closer and closer together, something happened. It occurred one day while the two shared some swings on one of the many playgrounds located throughout heaven. Will chatted away to Billie like he always did, pushing her slightly on her swing and every once in a while pausing in midair, his powerful wings already nearly the size of an adult. Some called it a mutation, or abnormality. But Billie thought they were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. A ruckus began to stir not far from the two, and Will paused in pushing Billie, promising her he’d be right back.
The girl watched as Will went over to the small group, listening in on the conversation. Before she knew it, Will, the ally of justice, had gotten himself into a fight with the most famous angel boy in heaven, Kinir. They had a quick race on wing which she watched eagerly; still unsure as to why Will would challenge Kinir like that. It ended in disaster, and Will was taken to be punished. Tomorrow Billie swore to go and see what had happened.
She rapped anxiously on the door, which was answered by Will’s tearful mother, Serenity. “Is Will here?” Billie asked fearfully.
“Yes, he is.” Serenity answered after a moment, clearing her choked voice. “I don’t think it would be good for him to visit, though, Billie. He’s…sick right now.”
“Sick?” Billie repeated. It wasn’t like Will to get sick. He seemed just fine yesterday.
“Yes, he’s sick. Come back a little later, alright?” Unsatisfied, Billie waited until the door was shut and moved around the house until she reached Will’s room. She rapped on the window until she heard a stirring and a small groan. She watched the windows swing open and gasped, jumping back slightly and holding her breath.
“Will!” She whispered in shock, eyes widened. “What… what happened? Are you okay?”
The boy winced with a hurt smile. His free, incomparable wings now had nothing covering them. They were merely long stiff appendages jutting out of his back, absolutely no feathers on them, but dried blood and sticky brown crust over the ebony bone. Bandages fell about them, some coming off and some overflowing with the clear, gunk of gauze. “I’m fine.” He rasped. “What are you doing here?”
“What happened to you?” She repeated, eyes tearing up. “Did Kinir do this?”
“No, of course not.” He slumped over the side of the window. “My Dad did. He says it’s the only way I’ll learn to keep my place. Billie, remember the girl yesterday? The one with the red wings?”
“Yes, why?” Billie asked, feeling sorry for Will. It must pain him so much, especially with his huge wings.
“She’s the princess. Princess Selene.”
Billie gasped in shock. “No! You’re joking!”
“Nope, it’s true…” Will trailed off for a few moments, and Billie noticed.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, and you should go. You should. I don’t want you to get into trouble.” Will said, squeezing her hand and giving a small cry as he folded his bones.
“I’ll see you soon… and Will?” Billie paused, looking back at him. She could recognize that this princess meant something to Will. But what? And why?
“…Never mind.” She trailed, turning and taking off with a wave. Why couldn’t she tell him how she felt about him?
A few years passed, and what Billie feared did in fact come to be. Will became attracted to Selene, even more so that Billie ever thought possible. He swore his love to her, and Billie felt a pang of guilt and jealousy. She decided then, even though she knew it to be wrong, to take matters into her own hands. She counted down the days, minutes, and seconds until Will came bursting into her door.
“Selene’s gone, and it’s all my fault!” He cried.
“What? She’s gone? How?” Billie asked innocently.
“I don’t know! But she is! It’s my fault! The king found us… together. I don’t know how it happened, Billie! He must have found out somehow, but how, I don’t know… it’s all my fault… I’ll find her… no matter what.”
Soon after the announcement of Selene’s death, Will announced to Billie he was joining the army for a few years, so he could visit earth and find Selene once more, as he was sure that’s where she must have gone. Why, he didn’t know. Billie didn’t like this idea, not one bit. “Will, don’t go! Please! I beg of you!”
“But, Billie. I have to go. I have to find Selene. I told her I would come for her, and I will. There’s no other way. I have to go into the army. You know she’s not dead. You know it! I will find her! I must know how it happened. Why she left.”
“Please, Will.” Billie fell to her knees, even though she was only twelve, she was very dramatic, and needed to speak her heart. This burden had now begun to weigh upon her. “Will, I told the king what you were doing with Selene. It was wrong of me… I’m so sorry. I just was so jealous and so angry.”
Will was quiet for a few moments. “You what?” He roared, fuming now. “You told the king? It was all your fault? You? Of all people, my best friend?”
“Will, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. Not yet.” Will narrowed his eyes, turning his back on her. “I thought you were my friend, Billie. My best friend.”
“Will…” Billie managed, feeling horrible.
“See you.” He took off into the air, knowing Billie with her small wings would not be able to keep up. She didn’t even try. She knew he wouldn’t listen. So… Billie waited. Years passed without sign of Will, apart from glimpses in the training field, if she could imagine any blonde angel as him. Billie blossomed into a serenely lovely angel, and Will grew into a handsome man. The class with Will graduated, and Will himself with the highest honors. His first assignment was to become night guard in the palace. It was there that the huge ruckus started.
The morning after Will’s first working night everyone was going crazy. Something happened, but no one seemed to know what. No one could find Will to ask him, not his mother, nor his father. Billie, however, was determined to find out. She snuck past the castle guards, coming upon the king inside the great recording room. She watched silently as he took a pen, scrawling something inside the book. After he left, quite quickly, Billie leaped from her hiding place, curious.
She opened the book and flipped to where he had been reading, gasping. Will. His name, his position had entirely been changed. He was supposed to be a… guardian? But that meant that he would have to leave heaven. Why would he do that if… She inhaled in shock. He must have found something out, and the king was changing the records to keep it silent. Even the king himself wasn’t allowed in here, much less to change a position of an angel.
Unfortunately, Billie was much too late. She found herself snatched from behind, held firm. “Well, well, well. A spy.” The king remarked, narrowing his aged eyes. “I think it’s time we took care of all those against the throne.”
“What have you done with Will?” Billie barked, huffing and kicking, although much too weak and petite to do anything, her frilly white robe waving around in exertion.
“Will? Looks like you know too much.” He flipped through the book easily, coming to the “B” section. “Billie…” He looked her up and took a pen, chuckling. He looked up at her, placing the pen upon the paper and scrawling out her name completely. “As far as I’m concerned, there is no Billie in heaven.” He glanced at the guards holding her. “Have her scheduled for a memory wipe and have her wings clipped.”
“Wait!” Billie screamed, thrashing free and sprinting as fast as her legs would allow towards the holding cells for angels. “Will!” She shouted hoarsely, looking for him. “Will! Where are you?”
“Billie?” Will shouted back, extending a hand through the bars. “Billie, listen! You have to warn everyone! The king is completely insane! He threw Selene out of heaven and banished her to earth and now he’s poisoning the Queen! You have to tell everyone!”
“I can’t, Will! They’re going to wipe my memory!” She screeched as the guards arrived, flailing as she grabbed Will’s hand tightly in her own, tears streaming her cheeks. “Will! I’m sorry about Selene! I never meant to hurt her or you! Especially you! I love you!” She broke hand contact with him, and was dragged away. “Will! Will!” She shouted as it faded into the night. They dragged her past the boundaries of heaven, into a large white room with a chair in the middle, straps hanging with signs of body fluids still remaining soaked into them. She felt herself being strapped down as a large needle was prepped, her teeth gnashing together. The white hot pain filled her body as she bit through her tongue. The taste of blood filled her mouth and she blacked out, the figures in white the last thing she saw before her vision went black.
“Rock on!” The woman screamed, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she made a universal sign with her hands, her new electric guitar hanging about her abdomen. “This guitar is the best gift ever! You ass kissers!” She accused the children, laughing fondly.
“So you like it, Illie?” A little boy asked, beaming as she continued to play a few chords.
“F*** yes!” She shouted in joy, a rare radiant pearly smile on her face.
“It’s a magic guitar, Illie.” A girl whispered with a sense of awe, perhaps hoping her idol would feel the same. “We know you can make it do magic. That’s what the man we bought it from said.”
“Out!” The power suddenly cut, and the children sitting in a circle about the practicing Billie groaned. The woman in charge of the orphanage glowered, pointing a finger towards Billie. “Get out! You’re leaving now, too old to be adopted!”
Billie found herself roughly pushed, and stamped out her cigarette, wildly grabbing her few belongings in a carpetbag within a few seconds. “Where the hell am I supposed to go?” She shouted, pushed into the snow outside without warning.
“How do I know? Go find job. Try a factory. They’re always looking for people that can grow old working for them. Good luck and good riddance.” The old woman muttered, huffing as she picked up her large skirt to return to the warm indoors. “You’re in real life, make something of yourself.”
Billie scoffed and gave the crone the middle finger as she slammed the door to the warm indoors, leaving the girl outside alone. “Find a job, she says…” Billie grumbled, waving to the children lovingly as she picked up her carpetbag and her trench coat. “Make something of myself, she says. Oh, I will. I’ll become the greatest rock and roll star ever known to the planet. I’ll be performing someday…” She reached a hand back through the powdery snow building on her shoulders to feel the large bumps under her skin. “I’ll be famous. Then she’ll be sorry. Oh, they’ll see. Someday, I’ll be a star. And then… Maybe I’ll even find out where I come from. Who my parents are, and even…” She glanced over into a small puddle forming under some icicles, most of it ice. “Who I am.”
Strengths: Aside from her Spider Wraith powers, she has no outstanding strengths. However, there are a few automatic powers that could translate into strengths. Firstly, one might say strength is one of her strengths, though it really isn‘t. One of her Spider Wraith powers is proportional strength, making her arms just as powerful as her legs. Though it isn’t much, she can pack a more powerful punch than one might first suspect. From her next power, this one being the ability to produce webbing, her supply of said webbing is nearly limitless. Not only does her body immediately begin production of the webs once some is used, there is always miles of the stuff in her from the beginning. Finally, she can stick to any surface. Regardless of what she’s wearing, if the surface is wet, or even if it’s not consistent, she’ll stick to it.
Weaknesses: Right away, her appearance can be marked as a weakness. Since she’s unable to hide the downright frightening features of her face, not many are able to trust, or even stand to be around her. That, along with the needs she is forced to fulfill as a Spider Wraith, makes her almost incapable of social contact. Just as one might suspect from her age, she’s quite naïve, both on the battle field and on the field of life. In combat, she has no sense of strategy. Unless she’s given the opportunity to think her steps through, her attacks will have been the result of instinct, leaving her vulnerable to someone who might think their way through a fight. As far as life goes, she has a hard time with inhibition. Often times, she’ll say something disturbing and not realize it until someone reacts negatively.
Skills/Magic: As a Spider Wraith, she has many talents relating to spiders. Of course, there’s the aforementioned proportional strength and sticking ability, but there’s so much more. Naturally, producing web strands is her biggest skill. The strands are a quarter of an inch thick with an appearance almost like grey crystal. They’re nearly impossible to break without a cutting tool, and are sticky enough to restrain the arm of a full grown man. Miss Spider can stick to them just as she would any other surface, but they can stick to more than she can. Aside from the strands, she has her fangs, which are made dangerous by her great jaw strength. They work much like a real spider’s, able to suck liquids, such as blood, into them. Additionally, she has a few tricks she’s given names to.
You’re… Not afraid yet?: Easily her most horrifying and useful talent. In this transformation, she sprouts four extra legs. Two grow from each of her sides, and her existing legs completely turn around, ending up at the same angle as her new ones. Each of her transformed legs is also a bit longer than the original ones, raising her now squat form to about her normal chest height. Here, she stands just like a spider, belly down and head tilted up. The normally uncomfortable neck position is made easier by the merging of the lower part of her neck and very top of her back. As a strange side effect, her new limbs will be fully clothed, boots and all. The added legs greatly increase her running speed, jump height, and balance. Miss Spider almost always assumes this form when confronted with an opponent.
I catch more than bugs!: Working up a great deal of web material, she’ll produce a single strand that will explode into a fully put together web. Once the strand leaves her grip, it will expand within a couple seconds. A negative side effect is the hiccup it causes in her system. Forcing her body to produce the strand causes her to suffer from temporary headache, stomachache, muscle ache, and loss of balance. Though she often uses it in combat as a means of trapping, she rarely uses it outside of battle, preferring to build her own.
Help! I’m going into the Rage of Blood!: Rather than a state of rage, the Rage of Blood is a condition where she must feed on flesh. Under the influence of the Rage, she can not determine the difference between enemy and ally and will try to feed on the closest thing to her that looks human. The condition can be brought on by the sight of a great deal of blood, suffering a bloody injury, or having been deprived of feeding for a certain amount of time. A sign that she’s about to go into the Rage is vomiting up a goopy, green substance.
Appearance: Gothic, a million times over, gothic. Starting from the top, she wears a black beret atop her head. Her short, jet black hair is completely slicked down, to the point where it wouldn’t affect a silhouette of her head. Around her neck, she wears a light blue bandana, a personal treasure of hers. Beneath that, she wears a collar that holds up a black and white stripped cape. The cape is only long enough to cover her shoulder blades. As for the rest of her, she sports a tight, black bodysuit with a wide slit cut in over her lower back. Over that, she wears an unremarkable black T-shirt and skirt. And, accentuating her skinny body, she wears a large pair of black gloves and boots. Now, having listed all that, we get to her actual body. The most obvious trait she possesses is her completely white skin. Getting a little closer, one might notice that under each of her eye lids, she hides two yellow-green eyes, making that four eyes total. A little closer and the pair of pearly white, fang sized canines in her mouth become obvious. If one were to actually feel her, they’d notice a raised section of flesh over her coccyx (Lower back). This raised section has three holes, from which she ejaculates her webbing. Aside from all that, if one was to ignore her freaky features, she would appear quite cute, even lovable.
Personality: Despite her young body and violent past, she’s really a nice, stable young lady. Her most positive trait is her near limitless capacity for self sacrifice. Literally, she is self sacrificing to a fault. If there is any way to make someone else’s life easier by volunteering her own, she’ll try her best to make it happen. Seemingly a conflicting trait is her near boundless maturity. Really, she deals well with all things. Whether it’s her inability to be socially accepted or her desire to remain solitary, she’ll be mature about it. When asked why she keeps to herself, her most common answer is, “It is in their nature to fear me. This, I can not change.“ All that being known, she doesn’t really sound like your average fifteen year old girl. Due to a certain event, she acts more like she’s forty. Although, she still has a few childish traits left. The way she presents herself is a clear indication of her youth. Similarly, she never uses a person’s real name, always using a nickname instead. She’s almost always the first one to give credit to those who deserve it. Of course, there’s the issue of the Rage of Blood. Though she hates killing, she feels absolutely nothing wrong about sucking the life juices from a living human. Actually, she quite enjoys it.
Biography: Paris, France. In a dark room, a mother is giving birth. The father stands nearby, a grim look upon his face. He knows there are only a few moments left for him to reveal his secret. It’s too late. The baby is thrust from its mother’s loins, crying loudly as it comes into the world. Through with the difficult labor, the mother looks to the father, but he is not there. The baby squirms and the midwife of the birth screams in terror. The father is running away from the responsibility he is faced with. Coming with the birth of his daughter, his secret is unveiled. The child is a horrible mutant, yet its mother cradles it in her arms anyways. It stops crying for a moment, long enough for the mother to say one thing. “I still love you,” she said, looking not at the baby, but out into empty space, “Her name will be…” A crash of thunder cuts her off. It begins to rain.
Time passed, people moved, and the milky white child grew up into a sprightly little miss. By age eight, she’d been leading a stable life, although one that was a little out of the ordinary. She’d been peacefully living alone with her mother since she was born. Her parent may not have been wealthy, but she was well off, giving the child very little to complain about. Not that she would complain. By a parent’s definition of a good girl, she was a good girl. She was always cheerful, loved to laugh and play, and she always helped out around the house. Her mother always said she was an angel in disguise.
But, she was an unfortunate child. Throughout her young life, she never left the confines of her house, not even once. Time and people may have moved, but the mutant girl remained in the same place she had been all her life. Instead of going to school and forming bonds of friendship with other spry lasses her age, or ties of infatuation with the young lads, she was taught at home with private lessons from her mother. Rather than play in the public parks that glistened with mother nature’s pure aura in the serene spring, or in the fountains of clear water that refreshed the soul in the intoxicating heat of summer, she stayed inside, playing games by herself in the room with the big windows.
Sure, on occasion her mother would hire some strong stomached boy or girl, who always wore some casual thing -as if life had no need for any proper displays of respect- to play with her, but no friends were ever that for longer than a couple hours. They would stick their fingers into her mouth, trying to discover as only children can, if her fangs were real. Their fingers would bleed, the charming green dress the pale child wore would be stained, and neither would see each other again. After a while, the very sight of her through the big windows she played adjacent to would send not only children, but adults, shying away from the house of the spider child.
However, the mutant girl remained unaware of the lot she had been given. Indeed, she was always that cheerful little Bridget or Antoinette or Madeline or whatever name she made up for herself. There was only one time, a time before her life turned blacker than the coal colored locks she once wore loosely down past her shoulders, that she ever felt truly unhappy. It was a temperate mid-afternoon, not a disagreeable day, but one that required at least a light jacket to go outside in. Light was everywhere in the house of the spider child, pouring through the windows that had not a single drape drawn. The little girl was a cheery Nathalie that day, all bundled up and ready to pretend she was about to go outside.
“Mommy?” she asked as her tired mother walked into the room, “Why can’t I go outside?”
“Because, mon petit tresor,” her mother began, ready to again painfully lie to her only offspring, “You have a skin condition. You wouldn’t last out there. Pas sortant.”
“But mommy, everything out there is in here too. There can’t be anything wrong with me.”
“Not everything that is out there is in here, Nathalie of today. Out there, there is something you aren’t old enough to understand yet.”
“That’s not true! Your answer to everything is the same! Why can’t you let me be free?!”
That day lived on in the mother’s mind for a very long time as the day her petit tresor stopped wearing her mint green dresses. From then until the blackening, the clothing of the pale child turned from a tint to a shade. Her attire became forest green.
After that day, life went on as usual in the house of the spider child. In fact, an entire year passed before anything out of the ordinary happened. On the day of the young one’s ninth birthday, she received a strange gift -out of very few others- from her mother. With a kind of disappointed look upon her face, she asked her mother why she had been given a worn blue bandana. She would have preferred to get a new dress. Taking in a worried breath, her mother began to explain. The piece of cloth belonged to her father, her papa. He had bought it for his wife while she was pregnant. Since he left them, it had never been worn, but it had never been thrown out. Next to her daughter, it was the single mother’s personal treasure.
Immediately, the pale child wrapped the cloth around her neck. After adjusting its fit, she asked something her mother knew was coming, but was not ready for. “Mommy, what was papa like?”
“Well, Olivie of today,” she began as her limbs stiffened up, “Your papa was a great man. He was twice as strong in the arm as most men were in the leg. Ah oui, an incredible man. He was tall, kind of intimidating, had many of your features. You really do have your papa’s complexion. But he was so kind, not a brute like many of his type. He did everything he could for me. A poet, your papa; would write me an ode every day. Ah and was always tres courtois. If there were a gentleman in this world, it was him. He was surely the best in Paris.”
“Where is he now?” the young one asked timidly in the face of such a description, “Where’d papa go?”
“He went off to fulfill a promise, mon petit tresor. He once told me that he would vanish if he ever displeased me. He never found out that he did no such thing.”
A few tears escaped the mother who had a strong will; the first she had shed in the whole nine years, the whole time she had been with daughter but without husband. Without husband… Not true. There was always the feeling, the suggestion, the small speck of hope that appeared on the horizon at the end of the road, that he was still bound to her by the wedding band. But that wasn’t important. The head at her side and embrace around her waist was what was. Black forest. That’s what became of the little one then. Her greens became dark and black polish clung to her nails. The black forest that was still green, but hid everything covered by its leaves.
And still, life went on as it always had in the house of the spider child. The pale skinned little girl was as cheerful as ever, though she grew somewhat rebellious and a might stir-crazy, as any growing girl in her situation might. Such continued for years, time drawing ever closer to the event that had no choice but to come. She was at the fragile age of eleven, in the company of another girl, age at tender twelve. They tried on different styles of clothing, talked of their dreams on the outside, and generally did what young girls did. Oh, it was a sight that made mother happy. Unfortunately, she had to go out and pick up a few things from the market. She wouldn’t be too long.
That was when the gears began to turn and the oil began to be poured. The elder of the innocents suggested that, after the lady of the house was out of sight, they sneak away to play with the others. Wouldn’t they get in trouble? No, not if they were home in time. Isn’t it dangerous? No, not at all. That sounded good to them. Leaving the house of the spider child, the house with the big windows, the house one of them had never left, they stepped out into the real world. Evening struck a short time after, cooling the midsummer’s night’s air. There were so many things out in the world’s night. There were new friends, a big place to play, and a pain that shot through the back of her head.
From a sleep the pale girl had not fallen into on her own, she awoke. The slow steps she took to return to consciousness were muffled by an unnatural fog. She had yet to open her eyes. And then, she did. Something stung her sensitive sight on one side, leaving her bicloptic. She was covered twofold, once by a thick burlap sheet, and again by a viscous white substance. Something bothered her throat. She coughed it up. Her activity brought out new light, as the sheet was removed and her life was brought into new perspective. A rain of feet, fists, and hateful words came from children not four or five years older than her. They didn’t stop; they were merciless to the freak, to the monster, to the innocent little girl.
Everything turned black.
All that had transpired came out in one natural act that symbolized the start of sexual maturity in the life cycle of a certain species. The anger at the single mother for her confinement, the sadness over the father that abandoned them, and the pain of the horrible night she was just about to stop experiencing. In almost an instant, the lives of those who would cause pain were slung over the walls and floors, a nice red color that swirled around with a certain green. The little one stood amongst the sludge, clutching her stomach, about to collapse. She was hungry. But for what? Nothing she saw suited her palate. There was only one place she could go to get a gourmet meal.
Three bodies may have entered the house of the spider child that night, two may have left, but none would ever stay there again. The first entered as it began to rain, concerned that the room with the big windows was empty. The second entered in search of food, turning their view upside down as they looked. The third walked in when the first would never walk out again, to coax the second out of their newfound Rage. “Sleep now,” said the third as they touched the second on the head, letting them fall to the floor, “You took what you had to, and now you’re ready. There’s just one thing left to do, and that’s to make peace. You chose a good woman, but it’s still sad to see you take this road. At least you’ll always be together, and…
…As for me…
…You’ll always have my bandanna.”
Signature, Avatar, and Character Buttons made by Lady Knives.
Name: Zachary Daniel Himora [Zack] (The Dark Hero)
Race: Half-human, half-wolf
Hair: Dirty brown/shaggy, long, wavy
Weight: 143 Ilbs
Weapon: He uses throwing knives as his sub-weapon that have no special abilities whatsoever. As for his main weapon, he uses a kantana that was passed down in his family. Its name is the Yukisaku.
Strengths: He is very great at acrobatics and swordplay. He favors in speed, agility, etc. Zack is very stealthy, and knows how to use his surroundings to his advantage. Zack finds ways to use the area around him, such as hiding in bushes, crawling in pure darkness, etc. Being part wolf, he has enhanced hearing and sniffing.
Weakness: Magic takes critical damage to him, as it is a primary weakness. Another main weakness is using his enhanced wolf-like abilities against him. Loud screaching noises may irritate the average human, but it can weaken Zack because of his sound-fortified ears. The same goes with his scent abilities. Zack also has a fear of arrows.
Personality: Humorous, half-minded, witty, cocky are only a few words that describe Zack. He is known to pop a joke here and there. Zack is an "act-before-you-think" person. He is very "full of himself". He'll brag and brag.
Biography: Zack's name was originally Zachary Yarunstua (YAR-oon-stOOa). He was born and raised in a medium sized town called Kakora Village. There, he was well-known by the townsfolk. Kakora Village was a crime-infested town. One night his family was robbed of almost everything. In spite, Zachary dressed up in a jet-black outfit. He wore a black mask with a matching armor jumpsuit. He'd dash throughout the city, assaulting criminals. Sometimes he's brutally slaughter them, other times he's leave them at the jailhouse, tied up. It depended on how he was feeling. Nobody knew this man's name, so he was named the Dark Hero. One night, he was out "patrolling" when he was attacked by a beast. It was a red wolf, which were very rare. It attacked unprovoked(sp?). When he awoke, the sun was dawning. He pulled off his mask and staggered into a local hospital. He a huge rip in the back of his suit. It was three claw marks; blood was dripping all over. After a long surgery, they found out Zachary had contracted Pyphic Heliumbro, or wolven curse. His DNA had infused with wolf DNA found in his wound. When he finally awoke, Zachary didn't remember anything. He thought his name was Zack Himora. His head had been filled with fake memories. Zack managed to escape from the town and set off on a quest to find his true memory.
(Wow, it's been a while since I have done this. This summer has blessed me with a bit more freetime though so I believe I will get to develop this character a bit more. I'm going to put up a character fiction about this character, that way I won't have to be so reliant on other posts to really work on this and my schedule will compliment this work. Plus I need a good writing hobby ;P)
Name: Brother Ardon of the Shining Blades
Hair: Long brown with streaks of grey he keeps in a ponytail.
Weight: 155 lbs
Height: 5 ft 9 in
Weapon: Ardon carries two longswords on his person at all times. Both are old weapons, seemingly frail from years of service as is Ardon himself, yet as surprisingly sturdy and strong as he is. The first longsword is called White Moon, and is sheathed at his left side and wielded primarily, it is ordinarily unmagical on it's own. When wielding it, however, Ardon can charge his divine energy into it and make it into a powerful weapon (see skills/magic). His second longsword, Starsilver, is strapped over his right shoulder and not used as frequently. Starsilver glows when drawn with a pale silver light that luminates normally dark areas. The light comes from a mucas coating that the sword secretes constantly and when it strikes an opponent, they also glow. This ability merely makes light and has no other affects on a target.
Armor: Ardon wears a suit of field plate presented to him by the Order of the Shining Blade. Aside from offering him full body protection, and being lighter then your standard suit of field plate, it has no magical properties and offers him no other form of protection. He also bears a shield of the order, built of heavy darkwood and bearing the insignia of the order, he makes great use of the shield with either White Moon or Starsilver and keeps it strapped to his back as he travels.
Strengths: A hardened man of the militious Order, Ardon is an expert fighter and divine champion with great renown that has spread the will of the Order far and wide. He is very strong for his age, and gives an astounding presence withing the room that few can match. He has mastered the Order's practices of channeling divine energies into one's weapon and has more experience in warfare then most would like to believe.
Weakness: Unlike the traditional paladin, Ardon never uses healing spells. It is unknown if the dieties never gifted him with these powers or if he simply chooses not to have them for some personal reason. This, along with his old age, make his endurance falter quickly, and his constitution weak. Although he is very wise, Ardon never recieved schooling and lacks the intelligence to pull off brilliant schemes and rarely thinks to plan ahead more then a few moves. He is also very impatient and makes it very obvious who he likes and doesn't like early on. He also pays little attention to mechanical concepts, such as time. This can be critically devastating to him as his most powerful abilities, channeling energy into White Moon, is measured by time allotment, and he can be made relatively defensless against powerful opponents when his powers fade in the middle of a fight.
Skills/Magic: Ardon can channel the divine energy of his faith into White Moon, based on duration as opposed to power. Ergo, the sword can be charged simply with electrical energy for up to 30 minutes a day, with holy force that cripples evil foes for up to 10 minutes a day, or both for 5 minutes a day. He can supress this at any time to save his time and energy, but using one power supressing it and then using another critically lowers the total time for the day: for instance, using the electrical charge for 5 minutes allows only 5 minutes of holy force and using 5 minutes of holy force allows for only 15 minutes of electrical charge. Using one ability, and then adding the other only subtracts seconds from the total time. Say, he uses electrical charge for 10 minutes, only 20 seconds are taken from the total time. Once both are being used, however, he can't use only one for the rest of the day.
As a secondary power, he often makes use of protection magics as well. For an hour every day he can charge himself with a protective aura against evil individuals. Any being of evil decent or with an evil personality is warded from his body, making it much harder for them to strike at him. This only works against evil individuals.
Appearance: Brother Ardon is a very solemn individual, and all who have traveled with him say that this is shown in his face. His skin is lightly wrinkled and heavily tanned and the shadow of a beard on his face adds to his gruff visage. He bears a multitude of scars, from head to foot and in a variation of sizes, most prominent a large cut across the right cheek. His armor is pure white and shines in the sunlight like a gleaming sun but is far from heavily ornated as their is a simplistic beauty in everything he uses. He wears a large cloak, but it's pure white color and the large insignia of the Order, A blade straight down through a flaming heart, printed on the back hardly keep him hidden in a crowd.
Personality: Ardon is a solemn and stern individual, not saying much and only speaking to say something worth saying. He lacks much of a sense of humor and his eyes suggest a lifetime of pain and loneliness. Many describe him as empty, emotionless, and mercilless. A perfect blade in the hands of the order, and nothing more. More open individuals see pain and vision. Eyes of not emptiness, but of farpresence. He is never truly in the moment, he is somewhere else. The occasional traveler who accompanies may find him looking out into the horizon, and a lucky one may even see a warm, kindhearted smile. And maybe that one individual with the blessings of the dieties will get close enough to see a tear.
Biography: Arnold Douglas Ardon was born of no noble heritage, nor under great tutilege, or even with the aspects of heroism. In fact, Arnold Douglas Ardon of the Order of the Shining Blade was born a vegetation farmer, the son of a vegetation farmer, the son of a vegetation farmer. To the surprise of so very many, he was well over the age of 20 before he ever touched a sword. In his childhood, Ardon sought the life that was handed to him. He was a happy child with a smile on his face at all times and the whole hearted determination to live a peaceful life void of any turmoil. Aside from family, he almost never saw another being save for the few times he went into town with his father as a child and glanced at the wide arrangement of individuals present.
At 14, his life went from peaceful and happy to simply remarkable. Helping his father make vegetable deliveries in town, he was glancing at the different people that passed by and greeted him as he always did on these trips and caught his eye on a clear skinned half-elven girl. It was only for a moment, but seeing this girl changed him and he spent the next year searching for her on every venture in town and every time he found her he would watch her silently from a distance. She was much older then him, but due to her elven heritage and his already gruffening appearance, that did little to not make them look as though they were born on the same day.
After a year of silent watching, the half-elf finally spoke up "It has been almost a year of your short little life and you have done so little else but gawk. A man of courage would have tried to speak to me by now."
Ardon was lost for words for a good minute before he regained himself and replied as best he could, "Well, I ain't no man of courage. But I'm an honest man none the less, and in that honesty I feel that it was your beauty that had me silenced."
A light smile cracked across her face, it was warm and filled with kindness. She walked closer to him and her deep, clear eyes met his and it was in that moment that love transcended through both so truly and deeply that it could be said all in town felt a little better that moment, whether they saw the two or not and to them, all else was forgotten and the two walked off and out of the town together, completely unnoticing Ardon's raging father dissapearing behind them as he left his post. After they were well beyond city walls and far into the uncontrollable wilderness, the half elf looked to him and gave her name, Yvon, as Ardon did the same. They spoke until the sun fell and rose again, and then they spoke more until there was nothing unknown between the two.
As time passed, the two fell deeper in love, and on Ardon's 19th birthday, they were married in the wild field they had spoken in that first night. They managed to make a nice home, a healthy field of thick vegetation that bore the fruits that even the gods could be satisfied with at their table. The next 9 years were the best in Ardon's life and aside from Yvon's occasional partings he was never alone and they were never happier. He would wake each morning to her face smiling back at him, and work in the fields through the day with her helping and smiling not far away. Their love was passionate and pure, and he would look to the night sky with her and watch the stars shimmer above for hours. The night sky was a music to them that sang out a chorus of ecstacy. It was after the first 7 years that Yvon bore a child: a girl they named Alexandra. She had her mother's beauty, and her father's strong grip.
On the tenth year of marriage, however, everything in their peaceful life had changed as an officer of the King's National Army came on their land bearing an issue that drafted Ardon to a miltia camp to be trained for service to the National Army and defend his country from oncoming invaders. He was to work for 5 years under the king and would then be commissioned to return home to this life of peace and hapiness. Given no choice, Ardon said good-bye to his beloved wife and kissed the brow of his young child before leaving, looking forward to seeing them again after those five long years were up.
The militia tought the 28 year old man to hold a sword and a shield, disciplined his mind and body into a strong and sturdy warrior. In those 5 years, he met enemies from orcs, to goblins even to an ogre, and was responisible for the death of well over 30 lives. His power and innate ability was unexpected even by himself, but he never really had the time to acknowledge it at the time. Due to his strength, pure heart, and simple mind, he quickly grabbed the attention of the Order of the Shining Blade. At 32, he was offered to join their ranks as an official knight of the Order. He declined kindly and replied that there was another life eagerly waiting for him back home, a life he would live until the god's themselves took it from him.
It, unfortunately, did not take a god to take this life from him. Only a raging fire on his arrival. He came to find his home in flames, and the wide farmlands ablaze and turned to ash. The single man could do nothing to end the fire and could do little more then watch everything that he had loved turn into black nothingness. Searching through the ruins, he recovered a single corpse. That of a woman, charred beyond all recognition, but undoubtably of elven decent by the delicate figure. He never recovered the body of his child.
Knowing the healing powers the Order was famous for, and the power the gods had over mortals, Ardon took up the only option he could see. He went to the Order of the Shining Blade and swore himself to them and their wishes until the diety of the Shining Order saw him fit of deserving his family back and since then, he has risked his life countless times against unimaginable enemies and has earned a reputation far and wide as the weapon of the god himself. Yet every time he has gone to the diety and asked for his family's return, he has been denied such, once even by an angel of the diety itself, but they were beyond telling him why, leaving him no option but to fight more, and offer more of his service.
Hair: Of long silver, hanging straight and unmarred to the shoulder.
Eyes: Red. Their crystal glass is subdued beneath greying cataracts.
Weight: One hundred US pounds.
Height: Five feet and two inches.
Strengths: The control of your fears. Touch me; though I cannot see you, I can feel every hair on your arm go stiff.
Weakness: As comical as it sounds, I am blind.
Skills/Magic: Your eyes. While I have none, can you truly trust yours? That is my power, what little I have of it, anyway.
Appearance: This small creature all pale and white, with red eyes clouded over into a pinkish pustule, blue veins bulging underneath paper-thin skin, how can it have any power at all? Like a wax figure running from the touch of a flame, can you live in this world of others?
Personality: What am I? I see but do not have sight, I feel with no skin, I think with no brain. Separated from my founders, I wander over root and thorn leaving but my thoughts behind me. Nothing to eat. No one to hold on to. Has it really been ten thousand years? Though vines hold me and flies sting me 'till my flesh is tortured red, I persist. Why? It is simply that I hate everything.
Biography: Before man.
Or rather, as man appeared.
We were already there.
As swiftly as the smell of the dragonfruit passes through the cool, cold leaves, we slipped out of your history as nothing more than a legend.
We are where you get your ghosts.
We are where you get your vampires.
The homīn. The ones who adhere to the Ritual. Guarderians of the Immortals, persisting, non-changing, static, we have nothing and everything. What we build can just as easily be destroyed. That is our way.
We can love so passionately, so sensually, with every bump of your skin a thousand gifts of pleasure.
We can hate so...
We hate so much we cannot describe it. There is no word for it.
Age: 1,700 Years old (Appears to look 17 in human age)
Hair: Long platinum blonde hair
Eyes: Light blue eyes
Weight: 220 Pounds
Weapon: Angel's Bow - A powerful white bow with a gold elvish inscription on the handle that reads
"I lom Angëlus Nányë né i macil Eldilo, Lercuvanten i móli Mordórëo"
"I am the sacred angels bow, my arrows shall pierce the heart of all evil"
The Silver Sword - Lyrian's secondary weapon, Very sharp but light when handled. It Contains the elements of white light and the wind (Sun and the Earth).
Armor: His only armor is the chain mail he wears underneath his clothes
Strengths: Lyrian is agile, uses speed and quickness in battle. A master archer with his Angel's Bow and a formidable swordsman. He possesses keen eyesight seeing things from a distance and is unaffected by extreme weather conditions.
Weakness: Being that he is lightweight, Lyrian can be tossed around easily. What he gains in speed he lacks in strength, thus making him fight twice as hard in battle. Elves are immortal as they are not prone to death, disease or old age. However, they can be slain in battle and they may die of grief or choose to pass on because they grow bored of their present life.
Skills/Magic: Through the healing arts from his race, Lyrian can heal himself or others. Having a spiritual bond with nature, he can sense danger or sadness.
Appearance: A two toned suede jerkin. This is worn over a pale silk shirt and light suede trousers. He wears light elfin made boots that are wheat colored and his weapons are carried on his back.
Personality: Lyrian displays a lone wolf style. He is quiet, wise, and hardly says a word. His character is presented in the way he moves, fights, and speaks. Romance is not one of his traits due to his soldier like attitude. He tends to become shy around the ladies, and shows respect to those who give it. Overall his personality is good natured and does what he can to help others in need, although his past made him how he is now
Biography: Lyrian grew up in Faana (Meaning white in elvish language) Leaf Forest, where his race resides. Haunted from the few memories of his past has him living his life alone. As a young elf, he witnessed his family's execution and his forest village being burnt. Deep in the lost areas of the Faana Leaf Forest, Lyrian found shelter from an old elf who also trained him with the sword, bow, and the healing arts of their people. As he became older his spiritual bond with nature became strong. Now one of the last of his kind, he seeks answers to repair his broken past and avenge his people from the evil that took them from him.
Old character that I may use for a fight. Needs updating, but I'll do that later.
Name: Maelena Age: 16 Race: Human Sex: Male Hair: Black Eyes: Red Weight: 119 LBS Height: 5'7"
Scri is a two-meter tall thin cross made from bronze-plated steel. The arms of the cross each have a thin spearhead blade affixed to them, and the head has three spikes surrounding a central spear blade. Depictions of the 9 circles of Hell are engraved in the cross, starting with Limbo at the head and the Cocytus at the bottom.
Personality: Somewhat unwilling to do his unholy duty, but once he knows he has to do something, his personality quickly changes to get it over with. Maelena suffers from extreme dementia and confusion; he often forgets his name, gender, and what he was doing. Maelena has adapted to a dual-gender, dual-personality lifestyle, being a calm, sensitive male while with his sister, and a destructive, demonic female when he's forced to do Erotia's dirty work.
That of an extremely effeminate male; he has long, straight, silky black hair that is pulled behind his head and tied into a braid that hangs between his shoulder blades. His watery, red eyes bulge from his thin face. Maelena has no body or facial hair, exactly like a teenage girl. He wears a loose, black blouse and a medium length black school-style skirt, giving him the bizarre apearance of an evil, breastless schoolgirl. Also, Maelena wears a pair of black silk elbow-high gloves, and a pair of thick black leather boots that nearly reach the knee, complete with thick yellow laces.
Bio: Maelena's real name is simply forgotten now. He was a 16 year old boy who lived with his 15 year old sister, Megan, and his mother and father. Andre and Megan slowly entered a bizarre form of an incestuous relationship with each other, which was unknown to their parents or anyone else. The two were wildly infatuated with each other. Andre and his sister secretly delved into perverse forms of sexual demonic rituals, eventually performing a sort of profane wedding between themselves under an inverted cross; pouring both their blood into an ornate bowl and slathering each other's bodies with it. The cross was created with rotten, blood-stained wood and filled with rusty nails.
Andre possessed the eccentric desire for transvestitism. He would often wear Megan's clothes, especially during rituals or carnal situations. Andre and Megan's dark love (which was completely consensual between the both of them) continued for some time, until their mother intruded accidentally upon one of their mutual concucpiscent violations. Their mother entered a frenzied panic at the sight of such a foul desecration of two bodies; she died instantly of heart failure. Their abusive father witnessed her death, and realized the disgusting bond between Andre and Megan. He killed Megan; but Andre narrowly escaped, naked and soaked in his sister's freshly spilled blood.
He returned and destroyed his father, crucifying him to the wall with giant nails. In brooding rage, he cut his own throat with a butcher knife and died.
The soul of Andre sunk into the bleeding pits of Hell, suffocating under the torment of boiling fluid. Grasping aimlessly at the burning air above his smoldering punishment, he caught onto a low-hanging branch of a burning tree that was clutching onto the edge of the lake with gnarled, foul roots. Andre pulled himself from the molten stream of blood, and fell asleep on the shore...
Andre's eyes opened halfway, and a vague sense of feeling returned to his naked body. The hot sulfurous earth he was lying on filled him with a painful burning sensation, but a more noticeable pain was puncturing his back. He was too exhausted to even scream, or even attempt to move.
"What's this?" A seductive female voice giggled. "Another shade crawled out of my river. You were damned to Phlegethon, sinning b*stard."
The pain released from his back, allowing Andre to quickly roll over and discover what was pinning him down. Above him stood a tall woman with caramely skin. She was bare of any decent clothing, clad only in tall leather boots and an oversized collar around her neck. Her black hair was separated into thin, yarn-like dreadlocks; her crystaline eyes reflected the glowing soil before her. Every feature about here was indeed aesthetically perfect. Her smooth skin was soaked in glistening sweat; thick beads of it rolled slowly off her and onto the naked boy below.
"... can guess where I am, good enough." Andre said, catching his breath. "Who are you?"
She giggled, rolling her long tongue along her index finger and leaving a trail of thin saliva behind. She reached down, picking up Andre by the neck and raising him to her level. His feet dangled a good two feet off the ground. The most horrible glaze of fear ravaged his eyes; the peircing stare of the woman caused him to tremble, despite the extreme heat of the burning oasis. It was the first time he was genuinely scared.
"I don't suppose it could hurt to tell you, lad. I'm Erotia, the princess of the Succubi, Maiden of the Malebolge itself. In short I'm the queen seducer. Off with you, now."
She moved her body like a tight liquid, preparing to throw the boy back to the river of boiling blood.
"Wait..." He said through her choking hand. "Wait... please... I prayed for your Lucif-"
She snarled. "You think He has any mercy for your waste of a disciple? Your soul belongs to the filth of the river."
"No!" Andre screamed. "Where is she..."
Erotia stopped, staring at the scared face she was clutching. She asked who.
"Another shade... my sister. Meg..an... I will do anything to see her again! Where is she? Please, tell me! Please... I'll do anything..."
The succubus smirked. "It's not often a shade offers his eternal soul to me," she crooned, pressing her voluptuous body against her writhing prisoner. Andre protested, but was quickly shut up. "No soul, no Megan. It's that simple. Work for me, and for every 12 hours your are my slave, 12 hours you can be with your evil little sister. Does that sound fair, boy? It's either that, or you swim in Phlegethon forever!"
"I knew you'd see my way."
Andre became the feminine Maelena while he served Erotia; evoking her will on the surface of Earth at night. He returned to Hell at daytime to be with his sister, at the shore of a calm lake of tears outside the gates of the infernal City of Dis. Maelena was given the destructive Scri, a bladed cross embedded with the perverted powers of seduction, mind control, and pure evil. For love, Andre sold his soul, and for eternity he would be the lover and slave of Erotia.
Weapon: A blue-hilted longsword called Xoeda. (ZCHOY-duh) Zch is like the s in the word measure.
Strengths: Orysius is a very avid swordsman, and is quick in battle to see what is coming. His reflexes are very adept, and he does not back down even if disarmed. This is because Orysius doesn’t believe the battle is over or cannot start without a weapon; he considers his hands and feet just as much of a weapon as his sword. Also, he is very adept in most kinds of magic.
Weakness: Orysius has a tendency to get cocky in his battles, and this will sometimes lead to his sound defeat. While he is normally rational against someone completely out of his league, this only applies for people he knows and has seen the strength of. Unless told directly or having been in witness to someone’s power, he will find anyone to be a good and leisurely fight. He is also a bit of an alcoholic, and has been known to flail drunkenly into battle to his demise the morning after.
Techniques/Magic: Orysius is a powerful mage, and is familiar with most kinds of elemental magic. He prefers to use skills that center around Ice, Water, and Lightning, but is familiar with much more magic, such as Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light, and Darkness, and then all combinations of the aforementioned elements. While he does focus on Ice, Water, and Lightning, he is just as skilled in Fire and Earth. He is a mite weak in the Air and Darkness departments, however, and Light was something he was taught but never really executed too much, so he is of average caliber with its magic.
Also, I might add that his ability to defend against all of these magics is parallel in strength to his ability to use them. (in other words, he’s powerful using Ice, therefore can easily defend against it; he’s not very good with Darkness so is susceptible to harm from it.)
Orysius does not have a moveset, but rather uses a plethora of all kinds of nameless spells and incantations.
Appearance: Picture appearance courtesy of HitokiriChibi from ZU. Orysius is up in the top left with glasses, and in front center is Prince Kyronei.
Personality: Orysius is a very sarcastic, laissez-faire kind of guy. He’s very outgoing, and loves to spend time with friends both on and off of the battlefield. He’s a man who enjoys his beer/wine/mead/rum/any form of alcoholic drink. He’s rather amicable, but people have been known to become annoyed with his sardonic way of revealing other people’s faults. However, even in doing so, he never goes without naming one of his own. Kind of ironic (or even hypocritical) if you take into play how he can sometimes be a bit cocky on the battlefield. Although, when it is time to be serious, he cracks right down to it and knows when to end the sarcasm.
Biography: NOTICE: Orysius' bio is going under a COMPLETE revamp, so I do not want his previous biography here to confuse everyone else. The only truly necessary thing you should know for battling him is that he is the captain of the Royal Guard of a place called Arcea. I will be expanding upon this soon.
Battle Rank Player: Safer Character: Orysius Solian Innate Element: Water/Ice Overall Rank: VIII Strength: VIII Speed: VII Elemental: VIII Skill: VII
“There are two types of statistics in the world: Lies, and damn lies.” ~Mark Twain Simply kickass sig by uǝzoɹɟ. UPA Chief. Have a puppy, too.
Weapon: Halberd, 7 feet long, weights about 20 lbs. The staff itself consists of dark, strong wood. The blade is dark grey, and wide. The pole-axe looks like a staff with a saber attached to the end of it. Resembles a Chinese halberd.
Strengths: Caragon is cool minded, and can be very deadly when keeping a distance to his enemies while wielding his halberd. He is good at fighting without weapons as well. He is very fast and nimble, something that he uses to his advantage in combat when swinging his halberd. Because of very hard training he has attained great strength and stamina. Experience with combat makes Caragon cautious by nature, and he is keen at picking up small details about enemy strategies.
Weaknesses: Caragon is a melee fighter, and so his ranged combat abilities are next to non-existant. He is moderately vulnerable to magic as a result. His light armor makes him more maneuverable, but also less protected. Because he wields the halberd he is often relying on keeping his enemy at bay, and failure to do so results in his halberd becoming useless in combat. Due to his aggressive nature, he can sometimes rush ahead of himself and become an easy target for traps.
Appearance: Wears light grey armor with a red cape, white torso under and light, thin pants. He has a golden necklace with a ruby hanging around his neck, which he inherited from his mother. His skin is a little dark.
Personality: Caragon is mostly calm, but can be rather aggressive and easily provoked. He is very courageous (some say too courageous), and will stop at nothing to save his friends and family from any threats. Strong of will and heart, and also maybe a little foolish at times, he is a loyal and trustworthy friend. Overconfident at times, as well. His just nature makes him opposed to oppression of any kind, and he despises those who try to bring others down. His bold and sometimes foolish attitude often gets him into trouble with higher authorities.
Biography: Caragon was born and raised in a distant, small village, where he was far away from anything called war and weapons. There he lived peacefully with his family, working as an assistant for the local blacksmith. However, when he was fifteen years old a group of soldiers came to the village, looking for a place to stay. During their visit, they found that they should have a little fun, and tried to rape one of the serving girls at the local tavern. As Caragon was there at the time, he interferred and knocked one of the soldiers out with a bottle. The other ones drew their swords, and as Caragon had no experience with fighting, he grabbed the girl and ran for his life. The soldiers did not follow.
The next morning, the Mayor walked up to the house where Caragon's family lived. He demanded that Caragon came out and took responisbility for what he had done to the soldier. Caragon came out, despite his mother's protests, and though he insisted on telling the truth, the Mayor had him thrown into prison, where he learned through the caretaker that the soldiers had lied to the Mayor about everything. Caragon, who wanted revenge upon the filthy swines who had tried to rape a girl, decided to learn the ways of the sword. One of his fellow prisoners, an elder man, had been imprisoned for not being able to pay his taxes. He agreed upon teaching Caragon, as he was a very skilled swordmaster himself. They used sticks instead of swords, and staffs instead of spears. His teacher always told him that though a stick could not kill as easily as a blade, Caragon was to fight as though he was going for the kill every time.
In five years Caragon trained, even after he had been let out. Once they were free, they continued his training. He learned how to use the halberd, and received his first weapon from his teacher as a "gradutation gift". Bidding his farewell, Caragon made his way home. He was met by dreadful faces, as something terrible had happened. The girl which Caragon had saved from the soldiers five years ago, had been raped and slaughtered in the neighbouring woods. The same soldiers were also in town, by some odd coincidence. Furious with their insolence, even after five years, Caragon sought them down.
Five more years later, the memories of that night still haunted him. He tried to convince himself that they had deserved what they got, that they were better off dead. However, every time he thought about it, he was filled with the same, awful feeling of guilt. He could not bear it. He could not forgive himself. So he embarked on a journey to find himself, and discover who he really was.
My second character in here, so it might take a little bit. If you want, you can tell me how I'm doing so far or something, even if I'm not finished at the time. Let's get started!
Name: Igaru Masada (never likes to reveal his middle name to people he does not trust)
Race: Irregular Human
Hair: Black and extremely smooth and flawless, hanging from his head to the very top of his shoulders. Two bangs hanging infront of his face, with silver streaks running through his hair. His hair streaks change color with his emotions. Silver meaning calm and happy. Red meaning tense or ready. Blue meaning mad or focused on one thing. Green meaning sickened. Pink if he is attracted to a girl. Each color affecting his powers in different ways(explained in Skills/Magic section)
Eyes: Green with blue around the pupil. Hazel.
Weight: 157 lbs.
Height: 5" 11'
Weapon: Igaru's most powerful weapon is a the Misitari Blade. The sword burns with so much light energy, anything that stays too close or stays in contact with the blade will burn or melt(besides Igaru). The blade chose Igaru as its wielder, and therefore, is telepathicly linked with his mind. The sword can talk to him, such as giving him good advice in a fight. Only those with an extremely well focused and calm mind can hear the blades voice. The blade is, indestructable, and has 2 special powers, it has an unheard of liquid on the blade that makes any injury inflicted, hurt 50x worse than without it. The blade's second power is that it has the power to split into 2 identicle blades.
He has an almost unlimited amount of needles with the same liquid that's on the Misitari Blade. The needles are about as wide as an extension cord, and it takes force to pull them out of whatever they are in, but not much.
Also, he has 3 small cannons on the top of each hand, covered with black and blue, fingerless gloves. Each cannon can fire small beams of pure light energy. Unavoidable, but decently easy to block except by flesh.
Finally, he always carries a deck of playing card with him, but they are no ordinary deck of cards. They are razor sharp and can cut almost anything. The pain inflicted by the cards are judged by the cards rank: 2's being doesn't hurt too much, and Aces being that it feels like a harpoon just jamed through you. The two jokers in the deck will hurt as much as a King card, except they will explode in the target, then reappear in the deck. The cards are drawn randomly, so he can't make a predictable amount of pain.
His emergency weapon is a chain that hands down from his waist to his ankle and has a X-shaped emblem on the end that is razor sharp on the tips than the inside.
Strengths: Igaru has little armor against elemental attacks, just endurence. He has a lot of elemental endurence against light and dark. Fire elements are useless against him. Thanks to his calm and non-agressive attitude during battle, even very fast attacks are easy for Igaru to dodge. His strength is unbelievable for a teen his age, and his speed is a force not to be taken lightly. Light elements hurt him very little, and dark hurts slightly more than light, but not much. He has high endurence against strong physical attacks. So, his greatest strength is no question, endurence.
Weaknesses: Igaru is weak against the element of Thunder. It hurts him to an extent, but stuns him for moments of time. Each of his stronger attacks, saps his energy. Once his energy is low, he must be still for as long as he can to regain it. It takes a while for him to run short anyway.
Skills/Magic: Thanks to his ability to study, he knows healing magic. He can heal minor injuries and medium sized wounds. His body also has a magical ability to heal itself very slowly, no matter what size of wounds. He also is trying to use all elements to his advantage in battle. With two years of training with them under his belt, he is skilled with the elements, but still hasn't studied a couple of them. Here is a chart:
Igaru has the power to enhance his eyesight 800x average, and when he does, his eyes glow green in the pupils. He can run up to 30 mph normally, and can jump very accurately and high, making transportation easier for him. Rewards for him being so calm and focused in battle, allow him the ability to dodge even the fastest of attacks. His attacks are listed below:
Karisiga Slash: Where he swings his blade and it glows with intense light and can extend to great lengths up to 10 meters. Just a little energy is needed to use this attack.
Halo Blade: An attack so quick, it is unseeable, therefore being a danger to slow moving foes. Where the blade is swung at many different angles at the enemy, at what seems like the same time. Decently hard to dodge every cut, and if wanted to be avoided, the foe must be quick to block. Even after blocked by foes, it has always done it's toll on the enemy by if not cutting the enemy, hurting their arms from blocking the attack.
Blade of The Cold Blooded: Igaru's most powerful attack. An attack that is very hard to dodge and almost impossible to block, and his strongest attack with his sword. He cuts a certain place on his palm with the blade and he bleeds blue blood. He spreads it over the blades cutting edge, and it glow a blinding blue light. He swings and the blade spreads a huge slash-shaped beam at the enemy. Even if dodged or blocked, the attack has so much force, that it will badly compress against the foe, even if dodged. It shows no injury if you dodge or block it, but it will hurt you on the inside(eternal organs). Has a high chance of causing eternal bleeding.
Calibur Beams: Shoots up to 6 beams at the enemy. Can't be dodged if aimed right, so must be guarded against.
Steel Storm: Throws as many needle as desired at the foe. Can be from 1 to 100 at a time. Do not do much damage, but will cause great pain if hit by many at once.
Ace to Duce: Draws and throws cards at the foe with great speed. The ranks decide the amount of pain. Explained above already.
...and many more of his attacks are random or never mentioned. He is mostly a user of Water, Ice, and Light spells and attacks, but will resort to others if nessesary.
Appearance: At first glance, Igaru looks like the type that is kinda mean, but once you talk to him, he is a nice guy. His hair is appealed and talked about by many people because of it's unusual colors. People think that he just dyes it very often, but do not know that it changes with his mood. He is very toned in the muscles, but not overly muscular. Girls like him, and he isn't interested in them while he is on his travels. He wears a white T-shirt, covered by a black jacket with blue fire at the bottom of it, and streams of blue across the shoulders. He wears black jeans with a red belt, and he always has a chain hanging from his right side of his jeans. The chain has an X at the base of it, as explained as a weapon.
Personality: Igaru isn't mean on any grounds, he is a very nice young teen. While he is nice to most people, he is quiet, and usually doesn't speak until spoken to. He is very alert when traveling to make sure he can't be ambushed. He has few friends, thanks to his quiet nature, but his friends adore him as their closest friend. When being tryed to influence into a fight, he always tries to talk them out of it, avoiding fights whenever he can, but will fight if necessary.
Biography: Igaru was born into a happy family. He had a mother and a father, no other brothers or sisters, which later to him, he found out to be a good thing. His life between when he was a baby, and by the time he was 8 years old is unknown, even by him. While he was 7, his uncle was killed during a stealth mission during the spring. Igaru was devastated from his death, and from then on, was never himself. He was like this for 8 months before his father decided to do something to help Igaru. His father had the power to control and manipulate minds, so he decided to force Igaru to forget about his uncles death while he was asleep. Once attemped and finished after a few hours, his father went to bed.
In the morning, when he woke up Igaru like he always did, Igaru asked on question he would have never thought of him asking," Wh...who are you?" He had made a huge mistake, after yesterday's attempt had made Igaru forget his own parents. After a few days, they had realized that Igaru had forgotten everything non-major in his life, from right now, to the day he was born.
After many months of convinceing and teaching Igaru again, they had managed for him to call them his parents, know everything about and where he lived, and everyone he knew, but one thing they could never refresh, was his memory. The only things Igaru remembered were when he realized he had wind and light powers. He could never forget the day that stubborn boy tryed to pick a fight with him. When the older boy punched at Igaru, he put up a block, and as he did, a gust of wind sent the older boy into the air. After the boy had landed on the ground, face-first, he ran away crying. No one amazingly saw the event. Eventually, everything was back to the way it was.
When he was 8 years of age, his small town was in a normal state until something started up a riot. All his family knew, was that the towns people were being killed, one by one by an unseen before group of warriors. All in which wore black and crimson red armor and what seemed to be the leader of the group of killers, had red hair, wore a blood colored cape that was torn apart at the bottom end.
The towns guards were holding them off as long as they could, but were being killed for their efforts. Igaru's family knew they were close to there house from them hearing the clanging of swords and screaming from outside. His father was away from home, fighting along side the town guards, because he was their Captain. As Igaru was looking out the window, trying to see what was going on, his mother came running inside the house, her leg injured and bleeding as she nearly smashed the door down. "Mom, what's going on? Where's Dad?"
"There's no time for questions, just come with me!", she yelled at him. They ran towards the house's back exit, his mother limping as she ran. She would not answer him when he asked her what had happened to her leg. They came out as his mother looked everywhere for the family's gardener, Kakashu. He had been the family's gardener for nearly 4 years, and they would all trust them with their lifes.
Now, was that time.
She found him out back watering some of the plants he had just planted yesterday. Amazingly, he was unaware of what was befalling their beloved town. She ran up to him, crying and yelling at the top of her voice," The town is under attack! Please, take Igaru and get out of here!"
Kakashu just stared at her as if she had gone mad, "What are you talking about? What's going on?", he said calmly as he looked left and right.
"There's no time! Please run to the town of Ukiahami! It's the nearest, and it has better defences for it's size! Just take Igaru and go!" She gave Igaru to the confused gardener and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then ran toward the back door.
"Wait! Where are you going?!", Kakashu yelled after her.
The woman looked back," If I'm not in Ukiahami in a day, that means something bad has happened!", she then disappeared into the house.
".....damn, alright Igaru, let's go! We don't have any transportation, so just hop on my shoulders!, he helped the boy onto his shoulder and the gardener took off into the east woods, toward Ukiahami. But the gardener moved too quickly for Igaru not to be suspicious.
After many hours of running through the forests, they came to the towns wall. He traveled around the wall until the gardener had reached the enterence and ran through, now seeing smoke from miles away where their town was supposed to be. After all that running, Kakashu didn't even break a sweat.
Kakashu and Igaru waited in town for his mother to arrive, and here they were, 3 years later, and his mother still hasn't arrived in the now, city, of Ukiahami. Igaru was at the time, living with Kakashu in a building he had bought with the last of his payments. Igaru after all the waiting, got tired of it. He told Kakashu that he was going out to try and find his mother. "Wait!", Kakashu said just as Igaru was on his way. "You need to be prepared."
The gardener handed him a sword, a blue waist bag full of needles, and a chain with an X emblem on the end. "Now go, find your mother.", Kakashu said as he hugged Igaru. "Can you since her presence?"
"Yeah, I can feel her, she's out there somewhere. I don't feel my father's presence, I think they killed him."
"Well, don't ever give up. If you ever need me, just call for me. You know how. I'm not just some gardener afterall, I did teach you your combat skills.", Kakashu said, smiling.
"Right, I'll see you later.", Igaru walked out the door and out of town, looking for the only thing that he cares about right now, his mother.
Name: Ziran Kunto Race: Cat (Inhabited by a Windigo) Gender: Male. Age: 189 years.
Height: Ziran’s height varies depending on which of his three forms he’s in at the time.
Kitten - Unknown
Hybrid - 5’3ft
Windigo - 6’3ft
Weight: Like his height, Ziran’s weight varies.
Kitten - 2lbs
Hybrid - 100lbs
Windigo - 170lbs
Appearance: Just as Ziran’s height and weight vary, so does his appearance. (Obviously)
Kitten - Ziran looks like any other little calico-colored kitten. His belly, sides, and back are predominately white, though he’s got a small orange spot on his side. The upper part of his head is orange, and his neck and chin are white.
His eyes are mellow green in this form, with the usual slit pupils. Ziran has claws, though he rarely finds occasion to use them.
Hybrid - The form Ziran spends most of his time in, for good reason. It doesn’t put a strain on his body like his Windigo form, but isn’t as defenseless as his cat form. Besides, he finds that this appearance best matches his cheerful and outgoing personality.
The first thing anybody would notice about him is simple: He still has cat ears in this form. They are chestnut brown, like his scraggly hair, and move depending on how he’s feeling. They go back against his head when he’s feeling angry or sad, perk up when he’s happy, etc.
He wears jean-shorts and a white t-shirt in this form. Ziran alternates between letting his two-foot tail hang out & wag, and wrapping it around his waist, at which time he uses his slightly oversized t-shirt to cover it and protect it from the elements.
His eyes retain the mellow green color from his kitten form, but have returned to round pupils. The Hybrid form’s teeth are fairly normal, though the canines are slightly oversized.
Windigo - In this form he is more or less the same as he was in his last life. He is tall, well toned, and somewhat tan. His hair becomes fiery red and his catlike features completely disappear. A small horn also appears in the center of his forehead.
Personality: Ziran is, to put it bluntly, a very happy person. He’s cheerful, energetic, and optimistic. Kunto is always happy to meet new people and see new things in the world, and even happier to make new friends.
He sees the good side of everything. If there’s no silver lining, he’ll make one. He loves to be silly and tries very hard to lighten the mood, sometimes at the expense of his dignity. Ziran knows when to keep his chatterbox shut, though.
He enjoys his predicament, with his only real beef being his Hybrid form‘s childish appearance. Still, he can’t help but give in to his feline side. One can usually find him basking in the sun or playing with a ball of yarn, and they’ll find that making him do almost anything is as simple as scratching him behind his ears.
Nonetheless, he’s sure to keep himself from taking his cat side too far. Ziran’s able to restrain himself from killing mice and birds, though he’ll still playfully pounce on them (And friends). He also hates water, though he tolerates it long enough to take baths and such.
Kunto is a very trusting person. He’d trust his life to a person he’d met only minutes earlier. This, combined with his childish naivety, means that he’s quick to make friends, and usually doesn’t realize when he’s made an enemy.
Just like his last life, Ziran has an Irish accent. He only really has the accent when in Windigo form, however.
~Hybrid and Windigo forms only~
Flight - Ziran uses his power over the wind to fly. When using it in his Hybrid form, using any other wind powers will cause him to lose focus and fall. He can fly faster and longer in Windigo form.
Tornad-Ow!/Tornado Strike - Ziran can accentuate his punches and kicks with miniature tornados, making his attacks more powerful. This ability produces stronger results while in Windigo form.
Sacrifice - The only ability that works equally in both forms. Ziran can heal other people’s injuries, but has to take said injuries upon himself in order to do so.
Whoosh! - Ziran creates a horizontal tornado, which he promptly uses to blow his opponent(s) back. He generally uses this when he wants to keep his distance. In Windigo form the winds blow a lot harder.
~Hybrid form only~
Scritch - Ziran’s nails turn into short claws. He can use them to scratch opponents or to cling to surfaces that he wouldn’t normally be able to hold onto.
Duh! - Ziran manipulates the wind and tilts himself to insure that he always lands on his feet after falling/being thrown.
~Windigo form only~
Cyclone - Kunto creates several small tornadoes and sends them at his opponent, the tornadoes growing larger and larger over time.
Hurricane - As the name suggests, Ziran summons a mild hurricane. The damage inflicted on his opponent(s) has less to do with the wind itself but rather, the debris that the wind picks up and hurls at them.
Wind Shield - Ziran creates a minor, nigh invisible tornado around himself. This tornado deflects light projectiles and weak magical attacks, as well as lessening the power of physical attacks. It only lasts for a short while, however, and it cannot protect him from more powerful attacks.
Strengths: Again, his strengths vary depending on which form he’s in.
Kitten - None, to tell the truth. But who in their right mind would harm a defenseless little kitten?
Hybrid - Ziran’s strength, agility, and durability are far greater than the average human’s. He also, obviously, as catlike reflexes. Said reflexes, coupled with his wind abilities and small size makes him a hard target.
He is incredibly flexible as well, able to bend at unnatural angles in order to surprise his opponent(s), usually via contorting at an odd angle and kicking them. This also allows him to fit into small areas if he wishes to hide.
Lastly, his senses are at a level greater than a human’s. His hearing allows him to pick up whispers all the way across the room, and his smell lets him pick up the faintest scents. His senses of pleasure and pain are also greater than a human’s.
Windigo - His physical abilities are even greater while in Windigo form, as well as his wind abilities. His destructive power is unparalleled in wide open spaces. Ziran can also regenerate, albeit slowly, while in Windigo form.
Weaknesses: You know the drill.
Kitten - Obvious. He’s a defenseless little kitten.
Hybrid - Ziran can’t help but give in to his baser catlike instincts, which often gets him in trouble. His sheer naivety is yet another problem that usually gets him in trouble. Kunto can’t help but see the good side in everything, which occasionally means that he’s unable to see the bad side.
Despite the many advantages that his heightened senses give him, they give him just as many weaknesses. Terrible odors, loud noises, and bright lights can easily cause him to lose focus. His ears are also incredibly sensitive which, coupled with his heightened senses of pleasure and pain, means that one could have almost complete authority over him via scratching behind his ears or yanking on them.
Windigo - Ziran can only remain in his Windigo form for twenty minutes at a time, after which he has to wait another twenty minutes before changing back. Remaining in Windigo form for more than twenty minutes can have severe effects on his body.
Shared Weaknesses - In all forms, Ziran’s trusting nature and overall naivety can get him in trouble. The same goes for his feline urges. He also has to wait twenty minutes between transformations in order to avoid screwing up his genetic structure.
History: (Note: The first part of his history is directly copied from the original Ziran, hence the sudden change in style and writing ability. The part copied from the original profile is in italics, while the rest was added on afterwards.)
Ziran was born into the wind tribe of the foreign continent. From a young age, he learned the art of the magical wind ninja. He trained for years, learning several techniques. At the age of 180, he received the privilege of becoming his generations Windigo. The Windigo was the wind spirit that would promise to protect his/her village from anything.
Nine years later Ziran had mastered the Windigo transformation. He went to the mountains to continue training. He returned to his village a week later, only to find that they had left. He walked through the town trying to find anybody he could. He was unable to find anything but a note. The note said "We hearby claim this town as a base of operations for the war against the army of demons that is ravaging our homeland. The inhabitants have been taken as slaves, and will work in our farms. If you are reading this, and you are the highest ranking officer in the vicinity,"
Ziran didn't read any more. He knew that it was going to be instructions on what building would become what. He went to the training center for youth in his village. He took his old sensei's weapon, as well as stuffing a large bag with food, and hiding throwing weapons everywhere he could in his clothing.
He left to go to the main continent, the center of everything in the world. He knew that the base of operations for the ruler of this continent's army was on the main continent. Despite the fact that he was leaving for somber reasons, Ziran continued his happy go lucky attitude.
He made what little money he could by accepting odd jobs and serving as a bounty hunter. He rarely killed his bounties, due to the fact that it's against his nature to kill someone weaker than him and he gets paid more if the bounty is alive.
(The following is Ziran’s death from The Medallion’s Curse. As such, it will also be in italics. To read his death in context, read that RP.)
The primates had fallen into a one-room tomb. Ziran marveled at the complex designs on the walls.
Rather than painted walls, the walls seemed to be made of individually painted bricks. A thick layer of dust covered the brightly colored walls.
The windigo didn’t have long to admire the beauty of the walls however, as his nightmare was quickly upon him. The large monkey roared as though it were a demon and slammed Ziran into one of the brightly colored walls.
The force of the blow caused the wall to shake. The windigo sighed with relief when it didn’t crumble onto himself and the nightmare.
“Phew, thank the wind.” Ziran thought out loud. Unfortunately for him, his nightmare had different plans. The large primate charged towards the windigo, grabbing him and pinning him to the wall.
The nightmare brought its fist towards Ziran’s face. The windigo quickly moved his head aside to avoid the blow, bad move.
The nightmare’s fist against the wall was just the right amount of force needed to bring the wall from shaking to crumbling. Ziran’s last sight before losing consciousness was the brightly colored bricks falling onto him.
Surprisingly, the windigo’s last thought was “Hey, I was right. The bricks are individually colored.”
(There we go. Now the original bit begins. )
Light. Was there supposed to be light? He didn’t know. Was he in Heaven? Hell? Was he on a sunny beach, or a dry desert? Dead or alive? His eyes started to focus, and he rolled onto his side with a pained, “Mew”.
Wait a minute… Did he just make a cat noise? No, it was too light to be a fully grown cat’s. A kitten’s? Why did he…
“Hmm?” he thought, flopping onto his belly. “I don’t feel any clothes, but I don’t feel cold. My fingers feel short…”
His vision started to focus, and he tried to scream. What his attempt yielded, however, was a long and drawn out meow. His hand was gone, replaced by a kitten’s paw.
It took Ziran several days to get used to being a kitten. He didn’t know how, or why, but he was happy. He was alive and cute. Things only got better when he figured out how to shift into two other forms, one of which was nigh-identical to his original form.
He decided to wander about, seeing new sights and meeting new people. If there was one thing he’d learned from dying, it was that anybody could die at any time. He gave up bounty hunting and chose to be a carefree wanderer, begging for money when he needed it.
Here is my character it just got apporved with no corrections needed! YEAH!
Hair: Long white spikey hair and a large beard.
Weight: 626 pounds
Height: 9 feet, four inches
Weapons: Although he prefers to use his fists to fight he also has a large hammer made a metal that can change heat on Crogon's mental command. Crogon carries with him a second weapon, a large sword, crafted by the Big Goron for him in exchange for a song on the drums. He also carries a couple pounds of bomb plant seeds in his belt for minor explosions if he needs them.
Armour: His rock-hard skin is resistant to most arrows, boomerangs, and other thrown objects. He also wears a military toga made from a flexable metal made from iron and bomb plant leaf which makes it almost resistant to bomb plant explosion he wears a cloak made from the same thing. He also wears a belt with a magical gem in it. The belt also contains several pouches used to hold bomb plant seeds, rocks, and anything else he comes across in his travels.
Strengths: He is almost completly resistant to heat, fire, and lava. He is also not affected by projectiles unless they are water based or explosive. He also has excellent training in nearly all forms of close and hand to hand combat. He is also very cunning and persuasive and can talk his way out of most situations. He can also roll at incredible speeds up to 80 mile per hour and grow spikes of stone out of himself for when extreme defense if required.
Weaknesses: Like all Gorons he hates water and is very vulerable to water or extreme cold. His weight keeps him from walking or running very fast and he is not very agile. He is also very bad against most magic unless it is heat based. His mind is more vulerable to attack than any other part of him and can be rendered almost completly helpless with a magical attack to his mind.
Skills: He is very skilled in most forms of hand to hand or close quarters combat. He can grow spikes with a mental command and roll at incredible speeds. He can also enter a deep sleep and he can not be harmed by anything (even water) during this sleep. The sleep can last for up to a year though. He has better eyesight than an average Goron or eyesight equal to the average human's. He also has the ability to meld minds with his enemis (and sometimes his friends) and force them to do simple commands (like a Jedi kind of). He also can play the drums pretty well. (like the Goron drums from MM)
Appearance: He has tatoos of the Goron Ruby on his biceps and back. He has a black dirty military toga which he wears all the time. Crogon is very muscular from his miitary training and sticks out like a sore thumb in any crowd. He is tall even for a Goron and may grow to a size of 34 feet and weigh up to two tons in his later years. Because of his size he has trouble standing up indoors and often crouches when forced to be inside an area without high ceilings. He also wears a belt with a gem on it that allows him to contact others with similar gems with his mind. He uses it to contact and give advice to the governers that report to him. The belt also contains several pouches that holds many things like bomb plant seeds, rocks, maps, and money. The hood on his cloak is almost always up which makes it very difficult to see his face. Some of his closest friends havent even seen his face.
Personality: He is normally very quiet and only talks if he feels he needs to. He is also very cunning and smart but only talks in very simple sentences because he hates attention and doesnt want people thinking he is a genius unless he wants to impress someone. He often talks to himself and thinks outloud a lot. In battle he is a ruthless killer, he is also extremely rebelious and hungry for success and power. His trust is only given to to people he respects, but if you get his trust you can count on him for almost anything. He also carries an ego bigger than Death Mountain.
Biography: He was born in the area of Verach Mountain and his parents died after being thrown off the top of the mountain by an unknown enemy. By the age of ten he was a street fighter in the nearby village of Verach trying to win money by winning fights against large powerful people and the occasional Goron. At the age of fifteen he was spotted by a military recruiter and was immeadiatly recruited. The leaders of the military were impressed with his incredible fighting skills and sent him into the frontline infantry to fight in close combat situations with incredibly dangerous enimies. This caused Crogon to become a ruthless killer and an even better close combat warrior. His incredible skills allowed him to rise in the ranks of the military from Private to General in a span of five years. He led his troop into many victories and recived several military awards. But only three years after his promotion to General a period of peace followed and the Military disbanded into a group of leaderless marauders. Crogon has since wandered the world fighting chaos and bringing order to lawless villages, gaining followers at every village and forming governments in the towns. He dreams of forming his own military and perhaps his own powerful kingdom instead of the loose band of followers and mediocre governments he had set up in the villages he saves from crime he has decided to call these governments The Crogon Empire. He is so dedicated to making a powerful empire that he built the capital city of his empire, Crogon City, with his bare hands and his hammer out of the side of a mountain.
Government: I am putting the name of the simple government Crogon has set up in several villages. The Crogon Empire
Title: Emporer Crogon, Ruler of the Crogon Empire (only his loyal followers call him that)
Empire Stats: The Crogon Empire stretches across the Valley of Nor and to the villages of Nor, Banar, and Chran. The capital of his empire is Crogon City. He currently has 3000 residents in his empire and about 58 loyal followers.
I am the most evil force for good and the most benevolant force for evil. I also enjoy cake.
Yay! thx for PMing Aex for me scratdawg The last part is a joke but I dont expect anyone to get it and they wont.
Name: Tywar (also my user name and has no last name.)
Age: 26(not my age)
Race: Irregular human
Weight: 178 pounds.
Height: 6 Feet, 1 1\4 inches.
Weapons: He has a Wide verity of melee weapons. His most prized possession is his ancient long sword that has engravings that are unknown to him. This sword does confuse enemies my creating illusions with the tracking of where the sword was. Its very valuable so he tries to let no harm to come to it. His main swords are duel Katina and short swords. To be even more safe, he has hidden even small knifes in his boots.
Armour: He wears thin plates of steel around his shoulders, torso, and thighs. To make him not as heavier then he already is. These plates are attached to a not so thick or thin blue jacket that cant be very easily removed. The plates around the thighs are attached to something similar to army pants which have many pockets.
Strengths: His practice with swords is his best strength, for he has much experience and many techniques to be cleaver with the sword. Tywar has also been know to have a high pain tolerance. Endurance is also one of his best strengths. A good "will" helps him to choose the right thing during battle to help his mind not to move faster than his body. In other words he has his goals in mind and doesn't change them until he succeeds. He also has a positive and smart mind for he had no extra time during his childhood so he choose th study in both the arts of fighting and knowledge. Faith in religion has bound him not to cause to much trouble but when he does get into a fight, he knows that the time he spent praying to his lord has not gone to waste. He does not greed for money. Tywar is not easy to charm.
Weaknesses: If there is nothing wrong with his strength, its his speed. He caries a heavy burden on his back already. Tywar relies too much on nature, even though he has befriended it, he seems to doubt all life's powers. Things have surprised him in many ways that he would have never thought of. Tywar is easy to overwhelm, having much more chance with just a one on one match. Not having good social skills, he tends to stay away from the regular public.
Skills/Magic:Tywar is befriendly with almost every element and is open minded enough to at least give the element a chance. Here is a chart explaining how close the elements are to Tywar. 100 being his best friend and 0 being told to get the hell out his face.
He has much experience with light from his childhood. Tywar had a previous job including a need for reason and thought for relation problems and would help people that way. Tywar is good with melee fighting. He beleieves that ranged fighting is cowerdly.
Appearance:Tywar sticks out like a sore thumb, overlooking a entire crowd. Tywar's hair sticks out above his head about a little more than an inch. The hair on the back of his neck bairly go farther below his shoulders. He has darker shades of brown the farther you go upward to the top of his head. You rarely see him wearing glasses for he only reads in privacy. Tywar is far sighted and wears small glasses that can break easily. Tywar wears nothing that would make him look like he is in a clan. No jackets, emblems, tattoos, etc, etc. Tywar wears long brown boots and contains small blades in the souls and can come out whenever he desires.
Personality:Tywar is nice to mostly everyone who treats him with respect. He tries to avoid fights by reaching a compromise. He is quite nor talkative but will be very loud if necessary. Tywar never thought in mind as which people he dislikes because it divides the people into catagories that bring about chaos. Most people think he is dull, he doesn't put alot of effort into meeting just anyone on the streets. Tywar is interested in girls but not enough to distract him from his goals.
Biography:Tywar was born on a planet even unknown to him. He was found on a door step of a church and was orphaned there. His parents didn't want a huge ugly baby that would degrade their popularity. He was well taken care of by the priests at that small church and was raised from there.
"Come hither young Tywar." Requested Father Azerath. Tywar walked over with caution suspecting that he had done something wrong. "We will need privacy for any more conversation"
The two walk on through arch doors and find their way on a small road leading to a small chapel. Tywar's mind wonders around in the courtyard's beauty, observing all the wonderful rose bushes and flowers that inhabit the church. The two reach the chapel. Father Azerath knocks on the door secret way Tywar was oblivious to. Tywar sees priests and priesetss... many of them. they have all gathered around the entrance of the chapel. The leader priest steps forward and Father Azerath stays behind Tywar.
"Tywar... You show promise for what the prophecy has foretold." Father Xion exclaims. Tywar is even more curious now. "Promise for what?" Tywar obviously asks. Father looks among himself then back at Tywar. "You are the chosen one... our guardian from ancient times past."
Tywar is startled. He diverts his eyes to get a moments time to think. His mind is starting to cloud. he starts looking for a way to escape confusion. He looks back at Xion. "And who might that be?"
"Yup well...um....this is where I'm stuck." Dustin says under his breath. "How in the hell does Parker do all this crap?" Dustin complains. "Aw, what the hell ever. I'll get back with you in a few days... I hope..."
Hair: Long blood-red hair worn in a ponytail that reaches her neck, no bangs
Eyes: Gray as steel
Weight: 110 pounds.
Height: Five feet tall.
BMI (body mass index): 21.48 [normal weight for her size]
True Zodiac Sign: Taurus
Weapons: Her metal prosthetic arms (not robotic or mechanized: instead, elemental in nature)
Strengths: She is good with her fists, being stronger than normal humans, and is quite unyielding in combat. Her intelligence is surprising and her sight too keen to be fooled by illusions (due to her father). She forgets nothing that she has experienced, no matter what, because of her mystical eidetic memory that she inherited from her father. Her mind is too powerful to be invaded successfully by psychics.
Her prosthetic arms move better than organic arms, swiveling at the elbows and wrists with a preternatural speed to make for excellent blocking (including bullets). No pain or sensation of touch come to her from them, which means that she can stick them into acid, magma, or fire up to her elbows with no ill effects. Being enchanted by an unknown method, they cannot be influenced by anyone but herself and are invulnerable and inflexible.
Her blood is normally black, since it is not blood in any organic sense. She bleeds ink, and with some concentration she can change its color and shape it when it flows upon a surface, allowing her to write without pen as a human Pen. Practically, this means that she cannot be harmed by blood loss.
Weakness: She is not very flexible (e.g. she cannot raise her leg very high to block her face) and depends on her arms for battles. Her balance is not the best and she fights without discipline. Her body can be pierced and slashed, and her organs are vulnerable to attack.
Appearance: Standing five feet tall, she does not look very impressive. However, upon a glance at her deep gray eyes, one gets an impression of great intelligence. Her blood-red hair is bound in the back by a pony tail, leaving her with no bangs to get in her eyes.
Her wide leg jeans are weather-worn, having several strange patches from unknown realms, and do not quite reach her ankles. She wears a modest, beige short-sleeved shirt beneath a dark blue, unbuttoned jean jacket with its sleeves ripped, exposing the point where flesh ends and silvery steel begins.
Her prosthetic arms encompass the entirety of her hands, wrists, forearms, and elbows, having no visible joints in a manner akin to a statue. They appear to be bright silver, glinting on the verge of a blinding whiteness.
Her ink-blood is black normally, unless she concentrates on it to change its color. Thus, when her face or body is flushed with exertion, they blacken.
Penina carries a delivery bag on her shoulder to carry her necessities. She will lay it to the side when danger comes up.
Personality: Penina is by her nature a loner, preferring to bury her head in a book than to talk amiably with a stranger. She is not afraid of other people: rather, she simply does not care for them. She is willing to interact with others for help, but does not do this with any enthusiasm. She reacts quite rudely to those who seek her company.
She is quite curious about the world around her, always seeking knowledge about the way things work. More often than not, Pen cannot leave well enough alone, poking her nose into matters that others are convinced should not concern her. She is unbiased in her observations, and does not possess a well-defined moral code. Repugnance for unnecessary murder is as far she goes in that direction. If asked what her religious beliefs are, she replies that she does not know for sure, but tries to keep an open mind.
Her emotions are stunted. She only smiles ironically in normal circumstances, displaying a strange sense of humor to those she speaks with. She does not register surprise or fear, anger or sadness. She faces all her opponents with a cool cunning. However, once she gets into the thick of a battle, she has been known to abandon her stony face and laugh with a truly maniacal glee as she goes berserk, throwing punches with wild abandon.
Biography: She was born in America on the fifth of June, 1988 to a Dream of the Red King (the Boots) and her human mother (Wendy Hargreaves). It was part of a strange deal for power. Her mother wished to gain occult knowledge while her father desired a daughter for undisclosed reasons.
Both agreed on three sevens of sidereal years (measured by the stars) for three phases of her rearing. For the first seven years (birth to seven years old), the father and the mother could share her. The Boots was allowed to be with her in her normal world while the moon was in the sky and to educate Penina in her dreams, giving her knowledge of mysterious things. These years went well, with harmony between the two parents.
The second seven years (eight years old to fourteen years old), the mother was allowed to raise her daughter on her own, with no interference or assistance from the Boots. For the third seven years (fifteen years old to twenty-one years old), the Boots was supposed to take her with him in his wanderings to complete her education, ending with letting her go forth into the wide worlds, carving out her own destiny. This did not happen.
Her mother refused to give up her child, so she used her occult knowledge to find a crone who could help her keep the child away from him. She found the old woman with hawkish wings on her head in the Far East. On her advice, the mother chopped off Penina’s arms with a large, sharp sword when the father came for his daughter. He gave them both a doleful look, and walked away in a direction that their waking eyes could not follow.
The blood that spilled forth from the unconscious Penina’s stumps spelled out a doom: since the deal was broken, neither the father nor the mother could have the child in their care. The strange sword then split asunder after the doom was read by the crone. Penina’s arms were replaced, as her mother’s eyes were encased with coins. What happened to her mother after that is a mystery
Penina then found her way to an orphanage in America. She went to college for a year. Then one day, she found a door that led her out of the shallow world that her mother was raised in. She now wanders the worlds, gaining first-hand much of the knowledge that her mother had gained by other means.
Goal: She is searching for her father, the Boots. All she knows about him is that he appears to be in his thirties, has one left leaf-green eye and a black-blooded pit where his right once was, and has wooden feet that are jointless like her own. He is also a mute, being only able to communicate through written word.