Name: Wretch and Rapture, aka 'the Twins', aka Eikha and Simkha, aka Rishpei and Ofan, ...(they have many, many names...)
Hair: one half is shaggy, unkempt, and pure white. the other half is trim, tidy, and black as night.
Eyes: One is yellow, filled with tears of sorrow, while the other is bright blue, radiating joy.
Weight: 221 lbs
Weapons: Azazel and Ecclesiastes, swords of Malice and Mercy. Both are living entities with their own wills and personalities...
Azazel is a scimitar. It is blood thirsty and sadistic. It has a crass and morbid sense of humor, and is often angry and yells, in its guttural, demonic voice. It belongs to Wretch, who's weak willed personality is easy to manipulate for his murderous desires.
Azazel's handle is topped by a small cracked skull. The rest of the handle is wrapped in light brown leather, studded with gold. Its blade is curved, with a razor sharp, serrated blade on its single edge. Near the handle of the blade, on either side, is a glaring yellow eye. It is blood shot with black veins and has a slit pupil. The rest of the sword is red and sinewy, like muscle. It is covered with black veins, to supply it with the blood of those it has slain. It also has a heart beat, so it pulsates several times a minute. It is stained and caked with blood from tip to tip, as blood cannot be cleaned from it. It HATES Ecclesiastes, and the two constantly bicker and fight.
Ecclesiastes is a rapier. It has a righteous and understanding personality. It is patient, and will not fight to kill, unless the opponent desperately needs such atonement. He is calm and composed, but sometimes exhibits a light sense of humor with Rapture, who is constantly over excited and brimming with ecstasy. Rapture is carefree, so he will usually do what Ecclesiastes says without a second thought, like a young child and a parent.
Ecclesiastes' handle is crowned by a pearl. The rest of its is wrapped with silver wire. A bright silver guard separates handle from hilt. It is of ornate design. At the wider part of the blade, at the end of the guard and the beginning of the hilt, there is a bright blue eye on either side of the sword. Its gaze is stern, yet kind. Its blade is white and keen, but it is tipped with a small hollow sphere, to prevent fatal, stabs, unless an execution is in order, in which case it is removed. Ecclesiastes has woman's voice. It is deep and old. It bears an enmity towards Azazel, and is always arguing with the scimitar. The blade repels blood, and is always shining and clean.
Both swords are ancient and very wise...
Skills/Magic: Wretch and Rapture are masters of sword-play and martial arts. They have very different fighting styles.
Wretch is reckless and undisciplined with his blade. He often mixes in hand and foot strikes to his attacks, and willingly resorts to deceit and trickery. His martial arts discipline is a mix of Capoeira and break dancing. His Combined with Azazel's cunning strategy, Wretch is a deadly opponent.
Rapture has disciplined, smooth form. He fights fairly, and rarely uses his hands or feet while dueling. His martial arts style is quick and gentle, like Thai-Chi. His attacks are often reserved, so as not to cause lethal injury. Unless he is fighting to kill, he holds back, as Ecclesiastes taught him. He has an efficient strategy that he has drilled into his mind, like reflex.
Wretch and Rapture's conflicting swords and fighting disciplines cause them to alternate between styles rapidly throughout a fight, giving their style a random and ugly look. Azazel and Ecclesiastes are always arguing, so they will sometimes change their minds mid swing. Wretch and Azazel will be fighting to kill both their enemy, and Ecclesiastes at all costs. Rapture and Ecclesiastes, will attempt to disarm the opponent, and also save the opponent from Azazel's bloody wrath. This is hectic, highly inefficient, and it can become almost comical to watch their inner turmoil.
If they reach an "Equilibrium", their style becomes somewhat hybrid, much more smooth, and oh so deadly. This occurs when Ecclesiastes sees a great amount of sin in the opponent, which can only be atoned for by death. Azazel is always bent on killing, so the conflict ceases, and both halves of the spirit are united in their effort to kill. The swords develop a masterful strategy, which combines both of their styles as needed, in order to execute the opponent.
Appearance: The spirits wear a necklace with a gold and sliver chain. The medallion at the end is a circle, half black, for Wretch, half white for Rapture. The spirits also wear a tight Grey tank top, the only neutral article of clothing on its body. The spirits wear no shoes. Their body is lean, like a runner's. They have no body fat, so under their skin, their muscle and sinew is very defined.
Wretch has shaggy, unkempt white hair. His half-mask is black, and has a sad eyehole, revealing his pitiful, yellow, tear streaked eye. Across the eye hole, on the mask is a white scar design. The mouth of a mask is set in a wide frown. There is no hole for Wretch's mouth, and on the mask, jagged iron colored teeth are displayed, though one is missing.
Behind the spirits' mask stick out two pointy ears. Wretch's is scared, with missing chunks and ugly gold piercing.
The spirits wear a trench coat with a popped collar. It too is split down the middle. Wretch's half-collar droops, and his trench coat half is torn and tattered all over. It sports dark stains, which are most likely blood. The coat is black.
The spirits' baggy pants are ALSO split (sigh...) Wretch's half is a dull, neglected white. It too is torn and dirty, with flecks of blood mist in places.
Wretch's half body is scarred and bruised from self-abuse. His skin and nails are cracked and bleeding in some places.
Rapture has trim, tidy black hair. His half-mask is white, and has a happy eyehole, revealing his beaming and joyous bright blue eye. On the cheek of the mask there is a black circle, like one would see on the cheek of a clown. There is no hole for Rapture's mouth, and on the mask, jagged iron colored teeth are set in a wide smile.
Rapture's ear is unblemished and sports numerous tidy, silver piercings.
Rapture's trench coat's half-collar stands straight. His half trench coat is tidy, clean, and well taken care of. The coat is white.
Rapture's pant leg is clean and black.
Rapture's half body is handsome and appealing, with no blemishes.
Personality: Wretch is pathetic. He is severely depressed and would end his life if Rapture wasn't so in love with being alive and holding him back. He cries quite often and has a 100% pessimistic view of the world. They way he sees it NOTHING good will ever happen to him. He is weak willed and very easily influenced. He mistrusts everyone fearing that they will deepen his sorrow. Azazel often orders him around and insults him. He loves and hates Rapture, and he wishes that Rapture would realize that living is pointless and just let him rest from his anguish.
Rapture is always happy and carefree. He is quick to joke and laugh. He is naive and knows of no evil in the world, making him 100% optimistic. Any evil he perceives, he misinterprets as good. He trusts and loves everyone, which can get him in trouble. Ecclesiastes and he have a good re pore, and Ecclesiastes is very wise, so it can talk Rapture out of doing foolish things, sometimes. He loves and pities Wretch, and wishes that he would recognize the Intense Ecstasy of life.
Strengths: Their combat skills, especially when Azazel and Ecclesiastes are in Equilibrium.
Weaknesses: The spirits are basically insane. This affects their decision-making and their combat. Wretch is indecisive, as is Rapture, and they often rely on Azazel and Ecclesiastes to make their decisions for them. The swords contradict each other often, sending Wretch into a fit of wailing, and Rapture into a fit of manic laughter, DURING BATTLE! This is EASILY taken advantage of by opponents, as it distracts the spirits.
Azazel and Ecclesiastes are old and wise, so they DO come to a decision rather quickly, most of the time. Other times each half of the body tries to do different things, and everyone's fighting, laughing, crying, much like a seizure DURING BATTLE. This can leave them open to attack. While experiencing such inner conflict, the spirits can hardly fight their opponents. This is also EASILY MANIPULATED BY OPPONENTS... Often times Azazel will order Wretch to strike at Ecclesiastes in stead of a wide open opponent, and unless It sees fit, Ecclesiastes will not always strike an wide open opponent who is undeserving of fatal wounds.
They are fit, but not overly strong when it comes to close contact or brute force, so a strong close quarters fighter would beat them. Their body is also chemically unstable, due to their dual presence in its fragile frame, so they are easily injured, through cuts, or broken bones.
The swords are the spirits' only real companions, so Wretch gets lonely, and Rapture tries too hard with everyone. Due to their fragile psyches, both are extremely susceptible to taunts. Wretch will be hurt deeply by the lightest teasing, and Rapture, will react to every exchange as he would to an intensely funny joke. They're CRAZY!
Biography: Eikha and Simkha were the Spirits of moods sad and happy. They were born of a Union between Ecclesiastes and Azazel, the spirits appointed over Good and Evil. For a time they lived peacefully... But Azazel Chose Eikha as his favorite, and Ecclesiastes chose Simkha as hers. Slowly, the family grew apart, for they were too different to last...
Eikha loved Simkha, and Simkha Eikha, for without Sad, there could be no happiness, and without happiness, no sad. But because of Azazel's influence, Eikha grew to hate his mother. Simkha grew to hate his father, because of Ecclesiastes teachings. So the spirits plotted against one another. they concocted flawless assassinations. Eikha was taught the art of combat by Azazel, and Simkha learned from his mother how to fight. And so the plots were carried out...
There was a great day of mourning in the Spirit World. The Death's of Good and Evil! And by their own children...such betrayal!!! The one's who suffered most were the killers themselves. Eikha took up his father's sword of malice, and named it after the deceased Evil Spirit. Simkha retrieved the sword of mercy, forged by his mother, and named it after her, the Spirit of Good. They had one vision: The other's demise.
They met on the Great Plain, past Oblivion. Then they dueled. For ages and ages they raged and battled, but neither could get the upper hand. Finally, overcome with loneliness at their parent's absence, the two collapsed on each other and wept. Their cries could be heard throughout the Spirit World. In their psychologically weakened states, the moods they represented overcame them. Eikha's sobs deepened, into profound, endless sorrow, which he had represented, and now became. Simkha began to laugh, louder and more fanatically, until he could not separate himself from endless glee. The almighty knew the time had come, for meetings and judgments. He approached them and asked what had become of their parents, between cries and giggles, each blamed the other. And so they were found guilty...
Suddenly, they were one, two consciousnesses in one body. They would be trapped together, complete opposites. Then they were forced to wear the mask. To add to their punishment, they would be trapped in their intense states of happiness and sadness, until they atoned. Their redemption from madness would only come if they continued through Oblivion, to the underworld, and retrieved their parents from the grips of Death and Fate, two powerful spirits. And so they began...
Eikha took the council of his father's old sword, and killed wherever he went, and gaining the demonic name Rishpei, among others. Simkha listened to his mother's blade, and carried out her just advice. He was named as a righteous angel, Ofan, along with other identities. Anyone who came into contact with them and perceived their madness, called them Wretch and Rapture, to identify their opposing moods, 'the Twins' for short...
Name: Havok/Aaron King. (Havok is his favorite alias, while Aaron King is a fake civilian name he uses)
Aliases: The East Orndoff Killer, The Stickman, The West Tybalt Murderer, The Southwest Mempa Assaultist. All of these are aliases used by various police forces, none of which even know his assumed identity.
Themesong: Falling Apart. (Note: Havok’s appearance is based off of the appearance of the wrestler the video is focused on, for those that want a great visual of what Aaron looks like.)
An indestructible shinai, also referred to as a kendo stick or Singapore cane, serves as his main weapon. Aaron took the shinai from a retired samurai, and quickly found it to be nigh unbreakable, much to his enjoyment.
He loves the weapon due to its ability to inflict pain without killing a foe too easily. Damage via smacks with this weapon, depending on how hard he hits, can range from welts to cracked bones. This makes it perfect for causing pain, but difficult to kill a foe with if he needs to.
For the most part Aaron doesn’t wear armor. He will, however, wear a bulletproof white Mardi Gras bird mask as a part of some of his various serial killer wardrobes for the fear value.
Passive Pain - If somebody within twenty meters of Havok is in physical pain for any reason, he can pick up on the signals their nerve cells are sending their brain and somehow grow more powerful as a result, though he himself doesn’t know how. His strength, speed, senses, and rate of healing increase for a few hours as a result. The more pain the person is in, the more powerful he becomes.
Focused Pain - Similar to his Passive Pain ability, but the overall increase in strength, speed, senses, and healing rate is much greater, though it requires him to focus on whoever is in pain for some time.
Marked Pain - If Havok injures somebody, the pain they feel from their injury is marked. If somebody’s pain is marked, Aaron is able to tell their exact location without relying on any of his senses, thus allowing him to track a target until the marked pain subsides.
His ability to grow more powerful from pain is only as limited as the amount of pain those around him can feel. This means that, in most cases, there is no maximum amount of power he can gain from the pain of others. Havok is a major threat in the presence of large crowds, or near places like hospitals and prisons because of the amount of passive pain he can absorb.
Aaron is also in great physical shape and is very intelligent, making him a threat whether he’s absorbed pain or not. He’s also an ingenious trap setter and a master of manipulation and intimidation, and he is incredibly skilled at fighting with his kendo stick, allowing him to hold his own in swordfights with master samurai, fencers, ninjas, and the like.
Havok is well acquainted with the human anatomy. He knows the locations of major nerves, soft spots, pressure points, and essential weak points in the human body. He uses this knowledge to his advantage in order to inflict the maximum amount of pain possible on his victims.
Lastly, he takes pleasure in his own pain, though he doesn’t gain any power boosts or get quite the drug like high that he gets from causing others pain. This adds on to the intimidation effect, as he’s able to ignore injuries that would normally leave a man howling in agony.
Despite being in great shape, Aaron’s initial strength is still only human. Superhuman characters could easily defeat him in a fight if he hasn’t had the time to absorb enough pain to grow to their level of strength. The same applies to his senses, healing rate, and speed.
His reliance on his kendo stick and brute force is another weakness. While his kendo stick and brutal hand to hand methods are perfect for inflicting pain, they are largely ineffective when he needs to kill an opponent in a hurry. While he does know various means of cutting off the air supply to an opponent’s lungs, and a few ways to snap their necks, these methods take far too long to use effectively in most combat situations.
Aaron harms people because it gives him a slight-drug like high, which he thoroughly enjoys. Professional police psychologists believe that Havok enjoys the pain of others because it allows him to forget his own emotional pain, though he completely disagrees with that hypothesis. No matter what the reason for his behavior is, he sees nothing wrong with it.
His civilian personae is kind, gentle, calm, and very shy. When in his civilian personae, Aaron seems to actually be sane. Of course, this is merely a mask to hide his true personality, which comes to the surface when his civilian personae is repeatedly harassed and/or he’s wearing one of his killer outfits.
Havok’s true personality is wild, bloodthirsty, and slightly childish. He can’t understand why the police are always after him, since he sees his deeds as mere fun.. Nonetheless, he is an intelligent killer, and it has been theorized by police officials that he is truly a cold and analytical killer, and that his wild demeanor is simply a means of instilling fear in his victims.
Though he doesn’t feel any remorse for his slayings, he doesn’t like killing on purpose. More often than not, he’s merely assaulting or torturing somebody for their pain, and simply gets carried away. He takes great pride in any surviving victim, and at times will go out of his way to help survivors with other deeds and/or tasks.
He isn’t incapable of having positive relationships with others, however. He has an obvious crush on fellow pain-eater Roxxi, whom he affectionately refers to as “Rox”, and he’s good friends with Zeke and Marr, two more pain-eaters.
Also, Havok has a tendency to invent words that make sense only to himself. At times he confuses both himself and those around him by using one of his invented words, and then either forgetting what it means or claiming that he never used it.
Aaron’s light blue eyes, shoulder-length blonde hair, and handsome features give him a much kinder and good looking appearance than one would expect from a serial killer. The same features can work towards the intimidation effect when he is in the mood for a slaying, however. When feeling in the mood for slaying, his eyes gain a manic twinkle and his perfect teeth are displayed in a bloodthirsty grin that visibly stretches his lips.
Adding onto both his handsome civilian appearance and intimidating serial killer presence is the great shape his body is in. His muscles, while not overly large, are a testament to how much exercise he gets on a regular basis, usually due to the physical nature of his crimes.
Finally, Aaron has several completely different attires depending on the occasion. His civilian attire usually consists of jeans, simple brown shoes, and a white t-shirt, though he’s been known to wear polo shirts, denim jackets, and/or jean shorts on occasion. He may also wear his hair in a ponytail, or wear a bandana on the top of his head.
His serial killer attire is far less diverse by comparison. He usually wears some kind of face painted design, though the design and colors often vary, and a pair of tight black jeans. As far as tops go, he either wears an unlaced straightjacket, a dark red long-sleeved fishnet shirt, or a black tank top. A black fedora hat and/or the earlier-mentioned bulletproof white Mardi Gras bird mask are worn at times.
SUBJECT - AARON KING
CHARGES - MURDER, ASSAULT, BREAKING AND ENTERING, KIDNAPPING, ASSAULTING AN OFFICER, EVADING ARREST, PUBLIC INDECENCY, ARSON, PETTY THEFT.
PRESIDING OFFICIALS - SHERRIF ALLAN T. JEFFERSON AND AGENT J. WILHOLM.
JW: You see that man in the corner there, Mister King? He’ll be typing up a transcript of this whole interrogation.
*Suspect leans back in his chair*
ATJ: Sir, do not tip during the interrogation.
*Suspect leans forward and rests his chin on the table with his arms dangling at his sides*
ATJ: Do not rest your head on the table either, sir.
AK: I’ve got to be comfortable.
ATJ: You will be comfortable enough in an upright, seated position.
*Suspect sits up*
AK: What do you want to know, Monsieur Fink?
JW: Never mind. Sir, you are aware that you are under suspicion of being the serial killer known as “Havok”, yes?
*Suspect begins to sway from side to side*
ATJ: What’s the matter?
AK: Well, Sister Fink, ma’am, sir, Father Raphael, it seems that I need to relieve myself.
JW: Sir, you were allowed to use the restroom before the interrogation began.
AK: I know, but I didn’t have to go then.
ATJ: You’re not going to be able to until this interrogation is over.
*Agent Wilhelm hands the suspect a picture of the suspect urinating on a fire hydrant*
JW: I’m starting with your lesser crimes first. Does this look familiar to you?
JW: Is that you in the picture?
JW: Yes or no?
JW: Excuse me?
JW: You obviously are not taking this seriously.
*Agent Wilhelm takes the picture back*
AK: Look, you can’t expect me to take this seriously. You have me in here for all sorts of charges, and the only evidence you have is a picture of me pissing in public.
ATJ: We have a victim’s testimony that you assaulted him with a large stick, a signature of Havok.
AK: Where is this victim?
ATJ: He died of internal injuries shortly after he gave us this information.
AK: Yowch. Poor guy. Anyway, a dead man’s testimony won’t stand up in court.
JW: What about the clothing we found in your apartment? The shirt drenched in the victim’s blood?
AK: Not mine.
JW: It was in your apartment, sir.
AK: No it wasn’t.
JW: Yes, it was.
AK: Prove it.
JW: I don’t have to prove it. We found it-
*Suspect interrupts Agent Wilhelm*
AK: In my apartment, in my apartment, in my apartment. Incredible! You found a bloody shirt in the apartment of a man who works as an insurance agent!
JW: Sir, we know you aren’t an insurance agent.
AK: No **** Sherlock. I said I was a dentist.
ATJ: We don’t have time or patience for games, sir.
AK: Really? And here I thought we were playing Monopoly.
*Suspect once more interrupts*
AK: Do not pass go! Collect not your $200!
JW: Will you shut up!
ATJ: You will cooperate, or we’ll add on to the charges.
AK: You can’t do that!
ATJ: Watch us.
AK: Fine, fine. I murdered him, and the lady down the street, and your mom, and that fat kid, and a whole bunch of people I can’t quite remember, and I had sex with your wife. I also set fire to three different police stations, stole from the mayor of Tybalt, broke into an old man’s house and beat him to death with his own oxygen tank, and pissed on a fire hydrant.
ATJ: Thank you for admitting everything, sir. That makes this whole interrogation much shorter.
AK: Good. So, I go to prison now, hopefully with a large man named Bubba who’ll attempt to make me his butt slave?
JW: Not quite. We need some background information, Mister King. If that is your real name.
AK: Don’t worry, it isn’t.
JW: Then what is your real name?
AK: Hell if I know.
JW: Do you mean to say that you don’t know your own name?
AK: Exactly. Heck, everything about my life is fuzzy until about nine months ago.
JW: Tell us what you know, then.
AK: Alright. I had a wife and a kid, I think, and I think something happened to the kid and my wife left me.
ATJ: So you started killing people?
AK: Not right away. I can’t remember how I went from depressed dude to serial killer.
ATJ: Not in the slightest?
AK: Nope. It feels like I’ve been a killer all my life. I’d be fine with that, because it means I’ve known Rox my whole life.
AK: Yeah. And Zeke and Marr.
ATJ: Who are they?
AK: They’re just like me, sort of. They gain strength from the pain of others, but they’re a bit different from me. Especially Rox. She’s got this voodoo witch priestess thing going on. The only time she talks is when she’s muttering a spell.
ATJ: *Directed towards Agent Wilhelm* Split personality, or imaginary voices?
*Suspect grows visibly agitated*
AK: They’re just as real as I am!
JW: Calm down.
AK: No! I won’t have some fink pricks accusing my friends of being imaginary! That’s bull****!
JW: Calm down!
AK: **** you!
ATJ: I’m sure your friends are real, Mister King. Could you tell us where they reside?
AK: I don’t really know where they live. They just show up sometimes.
ATJ: So, for the record, you don’t know where these people live. Do you know their real names? Rox, Zeke, and Marr sound like aliases to me.
AK: First of all, Rox’s name is Roxxie, and I’m the only one who may refer to her as Rox. Secondly, I know them by aliases similar to my Havok.
ATJ: I see. Carry on. Any more background information that would be useful in considering you for psychiatric treatment?
AK: Yes. I like pain.
JW: You what?
AK: I like pain. It makes me feel good.
JW: That is the most-
AK: Oops. The boss is coming.
ATJ: The boss? Who is your boss?
AK: You’ll see in five, four, three, fink, two, o
“That’s all we could find,” the deputy said. “I think that whoever rescued Havok purposefully destroyed the tapes of the interrogation. This transcript was found in the pocket of the corpse of the officer tasked with writing it.”
“Sweet Lord,” the sheriff remarked, his eyes shifting from the transcript to the demolished police station. It looked like somebody, or something, had destroyed everything on the inside before demolishing the main support beams, thus making the police station crumble in on itself and any survivors. When he’d been called and told that the Hemmerson County police station needed assistance, he didn’t expect anything like this.
The deputy suddenly grabbed the sheriff’s arm with one hand and pointed towards an oncoming figure with the other. :”Sir,” he said. “Somebody’s coming.”
Sheriff Randall turned in the direction that his deputy had pointed, and his dark brown eyes fell upon the strangest looking woman he’d ever seen. She wore a plain dark green skirt and a black crop top shirt. That much was fairly normal looking.
What wasn’t normal was everything else. The dark purple lipstick she wore matched her hair color, as did her eye shadow. Lightly held in one hand was a kendo stick, similar to the weapon Havok was known to use. In her other hand was a very small sack, which Sheriff Randall found himself unconsciously dreading.
“This is a crime scene ma‘am,” the deputy said, slowly placing a hand on his gun. The woman continued towards them, unperturbed. Sheriff Randall grabbed his own gun and suddenly wished that they’d brought more back-up.
“I’m not going to warn you again,” Randall’s deputy continued, starting to walk towards the ominous woman. Not wanting to be left behind for fear that another freak would show up, the sheriff stuffed the transcript into his back pocket and followed his deputy.
The woman, perhaps finally realizing the danger she was putting herself in, stopped in her tracks and waited for the deputy and sheriff to reach her. She slowly lifted the sack up to her mouth and seemed to be muttering something, though neither police officer could hear it. Her emotionless eyes watched the officers come nearer as she finished whatever she’d been muttering.
“Put down the stick ma’am,” Sheriff Randall said, grabbing his deputy and stopping roughly seven feet away from the strange woman. She cocked her head to the right and gave him a curious look before dropping the kendo stick. The deputy pulled his hand away from his gun and started walking towards her once more.
“Please leave the area,” the deputy asked, wondering how this Havok fellow could have fan girls. The woman suddenly held her now-free hand underneath the sack and poured its contents into an open palm. Before either officer could yell, she blew on the dark red substance, somehow turning it into a searing flame that engulfed both men and reduced them to ashes within seconds.
The woman viewed her handiwork for a few moments before a hand clapped down on her shoulder. Slowly, she turned to look at the blonde madman known as, “Havok”.
“Good job Rox,” he congratulated her, smiling at the ash piles.
Hair colour/Style: She has Long, straight and black hair
Weight: 9 stone
Height: 175 cm
Weapons: Anahei loves using her dual swords and shuriken. Though she is a vampire, she loves the art of the ninja. Her swords have ruby encrusted handles and serrated sharp edges. While the shuriken she has are hand crafted and Silver. Both of these weapons are sharp enough to wound even her own skin.
Armor: Anahei doesn't carry any armor, but, her skintight black bodysuit is extra tough and her skin isn't very easily pierced. A slice from the hardest and sharpest steel would only leave a small cut.
Strengths: Anahei is extremely agile and quiet. She can easily creep up on an enemy and subdue him/her without making a sound. She is also strange for a vampire. She is not affected by sunlight or holy items. This is her key strength when in battle. Anahei has trained for many years when it comes to being quiet. Even when outside of battle she can creep up on someone wothout them noticing. Other vampires also think she is not pure because of her resistance to vampires main weaknesses. She does sunburn rather easily though.
Weaknesses: Anahei isn't very physically strong. She also hates attacking animals and people she respects. If any of these weaknesses are exploited she becomes surprisingly easy to defeat. She is weaker than most women her age. Luckily, her weapons aren't heavy at all and she doesn't become tired using them. She makes up for this with her astounding speed(she is a ninja after all!)
Skills/Magic: Anahei doesn't use magic.
Appearance: Anahei has extremely pale skin. Her long, black hair reaches down to her hips. She usually wears a skintight, black bodysuit to minimise any possible way of her being seen. She does not wear shoes because they might make noise when she walks. One noticable feature about her is her bright blue eyes. Most male enemys get entranced with them, giving her an oppurtunity to strike. Her dual swords are strapped to her back and her shuriken are kept in a small pouch around her waist.
Personality: Anahei's personality is reflected in her work. She is very quiet and usually keeps away from other people. In battle, she is extremely skilled, but she usually isn't at her full potential if there is no way of being stealthy. She loves Romance, however and would love to meet a decent guy. Her vampire heritage shuns her from this behaviour however, so she is very miserable mostly. She has the uncanny ability to hide any emotion. This also helps her in battle because the enemy becomes unnerved and doesn't know what she is thinking.
Biography: Anahei was born and brought up with vampires. She started training at a surprisingly early age because of her resistance to vampire weaknesses. She passed all fighting exams apart from her physical strength exam. This is why the other vampires decided to make her become a ninja. Anahei is an only child and sometimes wished in her life that she had a brother or a sister. Because she is a vampire, she was treated harshly from an early age to strengthen her abilities. She doesn't bother with religion because she thinks things from a scientific point of view and can't imagine beings with enough power to create universes. Anahei is traveling from home at the moment to strengthen herself physically and mentally. She wishes to maximise her full potential to make herself unbeatable. That is her aim in life. Even though she knows there is no way to make that happen. She hates all emotions apart from love and enjoys fighting. Anahei easily has the ability to kill anybody. Apart from people she respects(not many!) and animals. Anahei is indifferent about death. She knows it will happen sooner or later and doesn't really care about it.
When Anahei was 5, she was fighting another girl her age. Anahei floored her and the girl had to be taken into hospital for the injurys she recieved.
When Anahei was 10, she beat the record for agility and speed in a contest
When Anahei was 13, She recieved a medal for stealth and accuracy with ranged weapons
When Anahei turned 16, her initiation trial started. She had to fight against other vampires to prove her worth. She spent many long hours training for this and she hoped she would do well.
The first vampire she faced, a small man called Azareth was no match for her. The fight was over almost instantly with Azareth going in for a quick attack and Anahei dodging it, drawing her swords and placing them on his throat.
The second vampire was harder. The two Combatants were studying each other for a bit, looking out for a weakness. Anahei quickly drew her shuriken and threw them at the man (called Baka) They imbedded themselves in Baka's shoulder but, Baka didn't flinch as he charged at her with a longsword. Anahei dodged just in time leaving a few minor cuts on her chest. She twirled around Baka drew a sword and swiped at his back. If Baka was human, he would have been killed instantly. Baka's vampiric strength and tough skin stopped him from serious injury.
The third vampire was a woman. She looked quite similar to Anahei and she suspected the woman would fight the same way she did. Surprisingly, Anahei finished the woman off quickly with a shuriken to the chest and passed her initiation.
Since then, she's been out in the world training for new challenges. Little did she know she would get plenty of those!
Previously called Ganondorf1234.
Have the complaints about SS graphics died down yet?
My BA character(s):Anahei
Hair: Long, dark blue, almost black. Has a purple streak down the left side.The purple hair is also laced with metal and wooden beads. They seem slightly old and worn out.
Eye color: Metallic Black irises, often appear gray or white due to the fact that they're highly reflective.
Weapon(s): He uses a simple staff, metal construction with a sharp metal base. The headpiece is a bit strange however. It's in the shape of a strange bird's head with a sharp metal demon wing shaped blade extending from the back of it. The bids beak is open and in it is a rather large black gem. Turned backward this weapon much resembles a scythe. He also has the ability to 'hide' this item, so to speak and summon it at any time. However, he prefers to keep it with him. Using it as a walking stick.
He can also summon a book, which contains various basic magic skills and summons. However he can only use the magic skills inside the book while carrying it, and it tends to be mildly useless. As such, it is more of a situational item than anything.
Strengths: He has the ability to summon various monsters, large and small. However, depending on the size the time to do so varies. He has a small carbuncle-like creature on his head almost all the time, and it can cast a limited reflect spell for a short time, one for physical and one for mental attacks. However, this can only be used occasionally. He is also very skilled with his weapon and using it to parry, etc. His preference is defense over attack, so when he makes an attack it will be well thought out, and most likely an attempt to kill if it connects right.
Weaknesses: He's not excessively strong, he can be beaten in most weapon locks. He also can't take much damage, and relies mainly on speed to avoid such things. His summons also take time and leave him rather vulnerable. And his magic is practically useless in battle situations, due to the fact that it's slow and weak. Overall he relies on his weaker summons when he's in battle alone. However, he is capable of handling himself fairly in melee combat. Though he will rarely make an attack, making the possibility of tiring very real. He is also very protective of the little creature on his head. Though this doesn't change a lot since it's on his head, after all. Also, when charged well his minor magic spells can tire him fairly easily.
Skills/Magic: Summoning, he is capable of summoning any sort of creature that has made a pact with his ancestors or himself. He is also capable of forming his own pacts, though this is extremely rare. Currently these pacts range from magic foxes/cats and smaller to giant dragons/golems. He is also capable of casting minor magic spells, that's about it. The summons have their own individual abilities, however. Also, each minor magic spell can be canceled/defended against with the opposing element, or a metal item? However if he has sufficient time to charge the spell it will take one of the opposite element. Gravity, however, will have to be canceled by stopping him from finishing the spell. (Which isn't difficult, as he can barely move while casting without breaking concentration. The same applies for summons.)
Minor magic spells: Lightning, Fire, Ice, Wind, Gravity, and healing. Each one is as it's name implies. Fire is a small fireball, Ice is a small spear made of ice that shoots forward. Wind is a small, fairly small and concentrated gust of wind. And lighting uses the static electricity in the air and groups it up into a stronger bolt. Gravity increases or reduces the gravity to various levels, each one taking more time then the last. (Starting at 20 seconds and going up to a minute.) Heal can heal small wounds in a short time and fairly large gashes over a longer period. However, all of these can only be used with his magic book and have to be read each time.
Appearance: He wears a black leather cloak at almost all times. Under it he wears slightly baggy black denim pants and a black, fore-fitting muscle shirt-like top. On his feet he wears black hiking style boots, with metal parts on the bottom and plates on the top so they can be used to block. They also make a bit of a clinking sound as he walks, however.
His facial features are that of a bit of a pretty boy, so to speak, though not weak. They are rather soft and usually his expression is rather plain. His hair is usually down over his right eye, as it tends to fall back whenever he flips it out of the way. He also has a small black horn sticking out of his upper forehead. It's a bit hard to see, but looking closely, even from a bit of a distance, it's possible to notice it.
Bastien also has a small Carbuncle, like creature that seems to remain on his head at almost all times. It's small, about the size of a slightly large house cat, and it's body form seems to fit that of a bunny, however, it's features are a bit more cat-like. For instance it has claws, and it's face is shaped more like a cat. It also has a bit of hair, shaped like spines that stick up on the back of it's head. It's coloring is different then that of the normal carbuncle. It's back, and it's tail, ears and paws all have purple tips, that fade back to black about half way down these appendages. It also has faintly-glowing red eyes.
Personality: His social skills are awful, to say the least. They are made even worse by his inability to speak, so he generally keeps to himself. As such he appears rather cold at first. However, when he gets close to people he is genuinely caring and loyal. He's not afraid to die for even someone he has only known for a short time depending on how he takes to said person. Death in general, however, isn't much of a concern to him. He is also a bit hesitant with relationships and such as he's been left for his inability to speak.
Bio: Bastien's story is a rather simple one. He lived a normal life with his parents in a village of summoners until he was thirteen. (Or, as normal as it gets when you can't speak.) This was the age where all young summoners were sent off to learn their abilities. They also grew their summoning horn at this age, however... Bastien's grew in a bit odd, not only was it black, it was... rather small.
Despite his oddity, Bastien went on to become and average student where he was taught. However, one thing was a bit odd. The first time he tried to perform a summon he was capable of summoning a much higher level monster then was expected. Unfortunately, it wouldn't go away. It was a small carbuncle-like creature, however, it was black, with purple tipped ears and a purple tipped tail. It also was lacking the gem on it's forehead. It's eye seemed to glow red, as well.
However, despite the creature's coloring, it still remained rather cute, during the day at least. It was rather popular with the girls as well, making a few of the other male students a bit jealous. However, this never really caused any problems. Aside from this incident he graduated like any other student, going through his fair share of relationships. Though nothing really noteworthy. However, there were a few that left him due to his inability to speak.
After graduating he spent about a year back with his family, as most from his clan did, and has now left home, though is unsure of what he should do next.
Name: Aronin Orino.
Hair: Stright, black, almost emo hair, but not so greasy. It’s completely natural, and every boy in his family got this type of hair.
Eyes: Dark Green/Blue
Weight: 65 kg
Height: 1,83 meters
Strengths: Aronin got telekinetic powers. He can heal, cause explosions and other damaging effects, manipulate objects, and levitate, to a degree. He is still very weak, and can only use his power for a short period of time. How long he can use the powers is exponential proportional with the amplitude of the power he is using.
Weakness: Emotion. To be able to use his Kinetic powers, he needs to focus. Any emotions can be fatal, resulting in the powers to backfire, multiply, or just disappear, amongst other. The events are dependent of the emotion. If he suddenly feels guilt or sorry for himself, his powers tend to backfire, and if he is feeling affection, the powers is suddenly useless. Therefore, he meditates every day to keep his emotions in check. Another consequence of this weakness is rage, in which he cannot control his power, which is multiplied given how furious he is, and can cause damage to foes and allies alike. He did manage to control it one time, but then he felt a bit of affection to.
Skills: Telekinesis. His powers are not absolute, but at the moment, he is pretty weak. He can summon ice and fire as he like, control the earth and the wind, and manipulate objects like an arm. The amount of damage each spell does, can vary from a simple scratch, to the loss of a arm. But again, the more powerful the power is, the faster he is exhausted. Only once did he use his powers that much that a person list his arm, and afterwards, he was fainted for the rest of the week. He also got defensive power, where he can, if he is aware of it, stop a sword or arrow directed at him. When levitating, he can go as high he want, but higher altitude means shorter time airborne, and if he goes to high, he might just end up getting exhausted before he can descend, resulting in a fall from the current height.
He is more a supporting character than a attacking, and feels more comfortable when there is someone else he can backup.
Appearance: Aronin is usually wearing a simple shirt, mostly white, but he also uses gray and black. He doesn’t have any armor, and uses his powers as a defense. He is always wearing blue pants, in linen. His head got no scar or stains, except for one small scar which goes from the left ear to the left cheek bone. His face is nothing special; in fact, nothing about him is special, which causes people to overlook him mostly. He is rather skinny, but not extremely thin, and is always barefoot. When he is using Telekinesis, which he is almost always (to keep his feet warm) it’s almost as if air is blowing away from him, as you can see dust being whirled up and grass bending to the side as he walks.
Personality: His powers are dependent of him being calm and emotionless, which can cause him to appear a bit harsh and arrogant. But regardless of what he might appear as, he is very mild hearted and is still only a youth trying to find his way in life. It is hard to gain his trust, but once gained, it’s hard to lose it again. Still, he is very shy and emotionless, and will not be the best friend even if gained as a friend. He is still unsure of his powers which can cause him to be rather nervous before using them, causing them to be weaker than usual.
Biography: Aronin Orino was born the 13 August 1988, in a unknown valley in Norway. His father was the shaman of a small tribe, which never interfered with the normal world. Early in life, his family had to move to a normal village because of a shortage of food. Unaware of his powers at the moment, the family sent him to a normal school to learn the “normal” ways. He was introduced to the class as a native, someone from the far north. The class, being only small kids just accepted this without any questions, and he was soon a integrated part of the class. During the seventh grade, he got in love with a girl in his class. They developed a relationship, and remained together for some years. But at the gymnasium, things changed. People changed, gangs were made and before you knew anything, the once so nice classmates became monsters. They came drunk to school and pretty much was at school because they got money for it.
It was about at that time Aronin noticed he had powers. It started a evening when his pencil fell out of his hand and rolled towards the edge of the desk. As by Instinct, Aronin reached out and the pencil stopped. Shocked he retrieved his hand, and the pencil followed. From that day, Aronin silently practiced manipulating his pencil; getting it to roll towards him, sending it rolling away, rolling it towards him again, and so on.
Then, one night, he snapped. He become furious, and went into a rage modus, and almost killed a guy. The reason; Aronin and his girlfriend went walking home after a party late one night, and some guys from school came out from a bar, drunk as hell. They were two years older than Aronin, and starting to threat the pair, forcing them to give them all their pocketbooks, watches and cell phones. After they had taken their part, they agreed they should have some fun with the girl, and one tried to undress her while the other held Aronin up against the wall. Aronin, hearing the screams of his girlfriend and feeling his unability to help, became more and more desperate and angry, until something just snapped. The guy that was holding him was throws five meters back, crashing into a wall. Then, Aronin turned to the other guy, who was currently struggling with the girl’s pullover and as in a dream saw the guy’s arm just split open, as if it was penetrated by a sword from the hand down to the elbow. As the guy screamed, Aronin turned to the girl, as felt the same feeling as before, and had to shout to himself to stop! Then everything became black, and he fell back.
Shortly after that episode, he broke with his girlfriend, as he knew he was a danger to himself and his surroundings. His parents, who, even when his father was a shaman, had never seen such power, were just afraid of him, almost closing him out. That’s when he knew he had to find his life another place. And that he could not allow himself to have emotions. Much time has passed since then, and he is much more efficient in using his powers. But they are still very weak, and he is currently in search of someone to learn him to control his powers.
Something I didn't add when writing this character was that he gains a "sidekick" in the talking mighty demonic skull Murray, which all you monkey island fans will know. He is basicly a pitty skull, which doesn't excactly realise he's not scary, and constantly screams out "I am Murray! A Mighty Demonic Force! Fear Me!" and other things. He is storywize the "bad" personality of Aronin, and will probably be along for a long time, unless my teacher decides he is deadweight.
I also have ideas for the story of how he came to Canada and met the old man which gave him directions to The Dome. I just don't know where to start...
Race: Homo Aetar (A more advanced form of human. After Sapien, there was Psypian, humans with any sort of psychic abilities or what was called just a Sixth Sense. It was different for each one, depending on how strong a Psyp was. After, is Aetar, with a 7th sense, a special spatial-time sense.), Angel(A being with wings created from a mix of their and a bird's blood.)
Blood Type: AB-
Place of Birth: Ares City, Mars
Residency: Silver City
Occupation: Agent of Opus Dei
(Imagine a slightly more chisled jaw and rounder eyes)
Picture Credits: "http://heise.deviantart.com/gallery/"
Hair: Fine, silky, shoulder length and raven black. It is usually tied back with a golden cord.
Eyes: Very round and normal sized, they are an electric blue.
Skin: Olive Colored, from the strong Greco-Roman Genes both his parents had.
Other Features: A rock hard muscley body, and a perfect boxy white row of teeth.
Scars/Birthmarks/Etc.: Scars of swordsman ship and gunmanship adorn his hands in various places, his wings might also be a clearly defining feature. They are black as a moonless night, shot through with streaks of silver, and fold up very close to his back. If he has a larger sized jacket on, they are hardly noticeable, although at some angles, bumps are visible.
Garb: Very expensive designer suites. All have a pair of starched slacks, with the finest of leather shoes of course to match them, a silk shirt with matching tie, and a high collared jacket firmly pressed.
Family & Friends:
- Julia Lawrence (Mother) *Deceased*
- Cameron Sheridon (Father) *Deceased*
- Cassiel (Friend/Partner)
-Arael (sometimes partner)
- Tabris (Sometimes partner)
Personality: Brutally honest almost to the point of cruelty, Raziel feels no need to sugarcoat his words. He stays silent for the most part to the point where Cassiel and he have developed a seeming telepathic link. In fact, he strikes most people as mute at first. He has killed many times in his life, and Doctors label him as a sociopath. Perhaps he is, but when it comes to Cassiel he is kind and almost loving to an extent. Yet he never feels remorse for anything he has done, for there is no need to. Her defection, and subsequent death was very tramatic.
- Perfect balance
- Supernatural spatial and time sense
-Very analytical and decisive
-Understands people easily, due to his college education in Psychology
- He relies on feedback from all of his senses. Should one of those senses be knocked out, he runs the risk of his 7th sense being off.
- His wings may tend to be rather vulnerable, and are a major attribute of his physical body. Should they be damaged, shock could be induced.
-Very sensitive to smells, loud noises, extreme temperatures, pain
-Extremely susceptible to claustrophobia, he fears elevators to an extreme degree especially
-He has no real defense against magic
-His mind is slightly weakened due to the psychosis, and recent depression. His college journey to try and understand his mind really did not aid him in trying to fix his self.
-Due to the psychosis, he occasionally hallucinates, becomes obsessive over something, or just loses touch with reality completely. Just looking at the stars sometimes causes him to fly into the sky for all of the night, or the mention of italian food will cause him to spend days learning recipes he only forgets later, ignoring everything else.
-If a psychotic hallucination messes with one of his senses, his 7th sense can be vastly distorted, this happens usually only when he has not taken his medication.
- Extreme amount of training in the Martial Arts, of course after being instructed by the Syndicate to do so at the beginning of his training.
-A powerful and fluid swordsman
-Dead shot accuracy
-Telekinesis (Mild: Heaviest thing he has been able to lift was Cassiel, so about 106ish pounds a little more or less, and that was only lifting. It could be guessed he can effectively move with ease a thing of around 60 lbs.)
Armor: Some of his suits have a Kevlar Weave.
Equipment: -Shades with different optical modes and a COM link (night vision, heat vision ect.)
History: Born into a life on luxury and everything he could have ever imagined, and never wanted, was Damien. His parents, where top executives in the Trump Corporation, and lived in the Trump Tower. They had gained their wealth by being personal advisors of the Trump big dogs, using their inherited Psyp abilities to consult them on financial matters, alert them when they where being betrayed, so on and so forth. They flaunted their abilities, gaining the awe and hatred from many.
Young dark haired Damien, with his eyes full of electricity and always a handsome and charming young fellow, enjoyed his early childhood and the pampering it constituted. Aside from the Trump kids, he was Lord of the Tower. Then he turned the miraculous age of five, and was enrolled into school. Immediately, the children shunned Damien, knowing that his parents where Psyps and that he might be. One gang of unruly children, tried one day to beat him up, forcing him to run up a power cable. And revealing his Aetar powers.
He gained the nickname, of “Spidey” after the Comic Book hero of Spiderman, who had made a major comeback with the merger of Marvel and DC Comic book companies as the Sidekick of Batman. Kids purposely put him in situations where he would have to demonstrate his Psyp abilities. And yet, in class one day when someone asked for the time, he gave it to them to the exact second. There fore discovering another of his abilities, and something else for the cruel children to have him forcefully portray as some freak show.
At the age of thirteen, he had enough of it. Through this constant mental abuse, he developed Psychosis, and Sociopathic traits. He saw his parents as the root of all his problem, so he decided to kill them. In the middle of the night, grabbing a few large kitchen knifes he crept into their room. His mother, however awoke her teal eyes shimmering with fear, and her light brown hair matted to her forehead with sweat. She had had a premonition, and screamed out for him not to. However, he just simply threw the knife at her, since she did not possess any telekinetic abilities strong enough to stop his accuracy. But he knew his father would not fight back, for he was in a drug induced sleep because of the Psychic dreams, premonitions and such that he had. So he slit his father’s throat and went back to bed.
In the morning, he awoke as usual, and then called the police. They arrived and checked the security system, something that Damien forgot in all totality, and discovered that he had been the one to kill them. After a mental evaluation, he was sent away, far off the planet, to where the highstress of the business world he grew up on would not reach him. He was also heavily medicated. He was adopted by a mechanic and a seamstress, who where briefed of what the boy had done, and where constantly afraid of him. But never less, he enjoyed the new school he was in, for he was not ridiculed because of his parents.
Possessed of a warrior's spirit, Damien took up martial arts and swordsmanship where his superior balance and spatial sense could be put to use. He knew his parents had been Psyps but had no idea that he himself was an Aetar, he just thought himself a Psyp like them. After blood tests in high school revealed him to be an Aetar, he shot to the top of the popularity lists for his good looks, good grades, and impressive athletic skill. He ignored the overtures of the gaggles of girls vying for his attention, preferring instead to keep to himself. He was not rude, only cold.
It did not take long for Opus Dei to spot this rising star in athletics and they conspired to meet him. To the agent's delight, Damien spotted him outright when he tried to stake out Damien's high school. The two talked at length and an offer was extended to Damien to join Opus Dei. Damien took up the job immediately and found that he would get his wings during summer vacation of his junior year. As promised, black wings shot through with silver were grafted onto his back and folded in such a way as to not be a hindrance to him. It took some time to get used to moving with them and Opus Dei instructed him on how to use his new wings and the rules concerning them. They even gave him a name based on his quietness and mysteriousness- Raziel, Angel of Mysteries and Hidden Knowledge.
Damien loved his new wings and finally felt like the superior being he knew he was. Whether it was arrogance of youth or anger at the naiveté that surrounded him, Damien remained cold, cementing a personality trait that would remain with him for the rest of his life. When he graduated from high school, he opted to go into college and in a few short years, he gained a Doctorate in Psychology. By the time he was 22, he began official work for Opus Dei. For awhile, his first partner was a brash, foul-mouthed man named Arael. They worked together very well and soon, a new angel was added to their little team named Tabris.
Raziel abided by Tabris though the idea of a vampire Angel did not sit well with him. Despite that, Tabris was dead useful and that was all that counted. When he was 27, he received a new partner. The girl had fair skin, brown hair, and teal eyes- and her name was Cassiel, Angel of Solitude and Tears. Raziel had given her the name personally for reasons almost wholly unto himself- though obvious to the ones who know his history.
A year later, Cassiel betrayed the syndicate. An expert hacker, the once extremely dedicated young woman had sold trillions of dollars of information to rivals, leaving the System to somewhere undisclosed. This event was rather tramatic, causing the Angel of Mystery to take a leave of absence from his duties
- "Baby Boy" - Thea
- "Hell Above The Water" - Curve
- "Stamina Rose" - Ghost in the Shell
- "Lagrima" - Andres Segovia
- "Rise" - Ghost in the Shell
Hair: Long straight hair that hangs almost to his chin, black with orange highlights, and sometimes puts it into a wolf tail.
Eyes: Dark black eyes, and are glossy but accepting eyes, they make it seem like there is nothing in his heart.
Height: 5ft. 7in.
Weapon: He uses a reverse balde kodochi, 3ft. long katana, keeping him from fataly injuring anyone. Only when the bladed side of his sword glows a bright majestic light is he allowed to switch it, this insures that it would be for a greater cause and can vanquish the foe he is fighting if cut by the sword.
However if it glows a dark purple/black color then this is evil trying to persuade him to use it to see its power once more, and is usually used if he is losing a fight, but the enemy isnt demonically evil. This also posseses great power but isnt garanteed tp destroy the opponent.
Strengths: Erabus is small and agile for his thaks to his size. Because of this he can easily dodge and menouver inbetween and amongst enemies. He can pretty mush move an inch in any dierection and odge an attack including ammunition or fired weapons. He isnt fast so much as he is quick, he can move very fast but not retain a high top speed. He still has his wings so he is able to fly about as fast as a diving falcon, 90 mph, and can be given strength from below or above.
Weaknesses: Although Erabus cant die that doesnt mean he cant be hurt. He still feels every ounce of pain delt to him, for instence if an enemy was to stab him in the stomach he would bleed just like any human and be in intense pain. He would fall out on the floor and most would prsume him dead, however if he was to assend up he would be cast back down (which you will see why later) or if he was taken down below he would be released (same as before.) So dont think he is unstoppable, you can still sever limbs and he would have to have it bolted, sewn, or wrapped back on untill it healed itself and reattached, while feeling the pain the whole time. Also because he has been to both above and below, he is constantly hereing both sides opinions on what he should do in his daily life.
Skills: Like I have said before he is quick and agile, and can pray for assistance from above or accept the offers of below. However he doesnt always get help form above or accepting the help from below doesnt always go how he thought it would.
Appearance: Small in stature, and looks really young but is hundreds of years old. He wears a cut off T-Shirt that is white that is perfectly cut in the back to go around his two black feathered wings. He has baggy, black, cargo pants with chains on both legs and black converse. He has three hoop earings in his left ear, one in his lobe, one in the middle, and one on the top. And a mark that extends across his face, from one eye across his nose to the other, the runs down to the bottoms of his cheeks. He sheeths his sword horizontally across his lower back on his hips.
Personality: A kind person that treats everyone fairly. Is always hiding something and doesnt try to make conversations about him. Isnt real selestial like due to being on earth for so long but has his moments. Will almost always try to be chipper to keep the mood happy, and he always believs everything happens for a reason. He will try to help anybody even his enemies if they ask him for help, which could backfire. Doesnt really flirt with alot of girls because he knows one day he will see his wife again. But remeber he isnt selestial so he does have all the feelings the human do.
Biography: (ok here we go) As I have said Erabus is a fallen angel due to a risk he took while in heaven. While in the presence of the lord Erabus was offered a mission of great importance but if failed he would be cast from heaven for the rest of earths life span, and would be denied of ever being known by any of the heavenly beings.
This mission was to go to hell as a spy for about 3 years to help prevent any earth raids they may have been planning. If he went the three years he would be replaced and would come back to heaven with the highest honor, and live with his wife Prancer with no duties for the rest of eternity. But half way through the second year towards the end of the mission the underworld decided to try and over throw earth, Erabus succesfully warned the heavens and when he and the rest of the demonic army rose from the ground they were met by an army of angels.
The problem was Erabus still had to keep his cover which is where he got his reverse blade kodochi from. The mark on his face told all the selestial beings he was a spy and protected him from feeling pain and healed him istantly. However while going throuh the battle as he was fighting and being hit he was stabbed in the back of the leg. God had been at work with out Erabus knowing, for when he turned around to hit the person holding the sword jammed in his leg he had to stop mid swing. What he saw was his wife, Prancer, behind him with wide tearing eyes for she knew she would not see him for a while. At that moment the general of the demon army was watching Erabus and saw him stop. Erabus' protection was taken away and he felt the sharp pain of Prancer's sword in his leg. Erabus was no longer allowed to go to the heavens but he would not be sent to hell, he was simply stuck in the middle. He was like a human.
age: currently eight years old, his species grow fast.
race: dinosaur, a species of tyrannosaur called Tyrannosaurus knucklerii, one of the species of present day tyrannosaurs.
hair: none. Only his green protofeathers as a pup, used in kaiju classification,
can be counted.
eye color: a light red, round and cat eyed.
weight: typical specimans weigh 5 tons. Chomps is one of the "extreme" specimans (predicted) to reach 6 tons. He is currently 600 pounds.
height: Adults reach up to 55 feet long and 20 feet tall. Chomps, being a juvinile, is currently 15 feet long and 7 feet tall, and counting.
weapons: extremely powerful jaws that has the biggest bite force of all animals, even against the best known placoderm and it's ancestor the Tyrannosaurus rex. bone crushing teath. powerful three fingered arms used to grasp his prey (consisted from as small as mice to as large as the biggest saltasaurid, which has saltasaurus itself, sauropods). A long tapering tail. Eagle clawed feet. strong regenerative power.
strengths: Sharp eyesight, allowing him to see sudden movements out in the open and in dense cover. Being the largest land carnivore, Chomps has the greatest sense of smell of any animal. This allows him to track enemies for miles away. Able to find obey strategies by his master.for his strengths, Chomps has the ability to regenerate at a fast, but not too fast, pace.
The amount of miles chomps can track is near indefinite. His ability to obey his masters commands is similar to that of a dog, which also obeys his/her master. He mostly uses his jaws as a killing weapon. One GREAT chomp can crush a big animal.
weaknesses: Bulls of chomp's species are fearcely protective of their territory and will do whatever it takes to save it, even death can apply. Domesticated animals will react to the masters danger to a halt. Chomps' specie is also able to react to an event to what happened to a person or thing and express it. His chance to visit the battle feild is good as long as his master is not captured or killed.Any time if the scent chomps is tracking is crossed with another scent, he will stop and retract the smell. Although his specie is lighter built than it's ancestor, The species has a wide radius turning, making him tough to catch agile opponents and prey.
skills/magic: Chomps is one of the many specimans who's blood stream can accept kaiju power vaccines. One such vaccine increased the sound of his roar to an extreme, allowing him to kill enemies at a safe range. Another vaccine increased his mobility, which allows him to leap vast distances of 5 to 10 feet.
Here are the vaccines and the effects.
Flexibility (injected in the bones): allows the patient to have incredible flexibiltity. The downfall, to much flexibility vaccines will kill you as your skeleton turns into cartilage.
Sound increasers(injected in the voice box): increases the volume of sound in your voice box. The down fall, a wrong vaccine of volume will either make you mute or highly squeeky.
strength(injected in the muscles): similar to steroids, but has no harm to the internal systems(reproductive, breathing etc.). the only thing harmful is that the vaccine limits the movement of the joint where the muscles are when they are vaccinated.
regenerative: decreases the amount of days of healing. but power hungry people who take too much vaccines will have to be euthanized(killed).
smarts: increases the amount of brain cells by one thousand. Too much will cause you to suffer from head aches. the vaccine for that will be mentioned next.
brain drain: decreases the amount of brain cells by one million. useful for those who are suffering from too much smart vaccines.
apearence: His species, although similar in build to tyrannosaurus rex, is more lightly built. their color is judged by the color of the pup's protofeather color,for example if they are black then their skin is balck as adults. thus chomps' color is light green.His species skull is longer. Chomps specie also has an increase in flexibility, allowing them to do the tripod stance in Charles R. Knights drawings. His species back has small osterderms and small spines lining from back of the neck to the tail tip.
personality: Chomps is honest to his very goodness. His main problem is how will he protect his freinds and defeat baddies. His sense of smell usually leads him to traps. Smoke is chomps major dislike, as he cannot see in the smoke. Chomps usually takes things that are very hurtful to him such as "big head" and "how can you grab with such small, dinky arms?!". But he is very forgiving and will forgive his freinds and forgets the bad things.
Biography: His birth place is in Shark city, Shark island in the game preserve around the time of the ocarina of time events (at least around 2035 HC to 2047 HC).
He has a family yes and he grew up with them for seven years, but they died on the seventh year when ganondorf killed them for protecting their son.
here's a very sad story, chomps was the only one of his egg clutch to survive. He has deciesed brothers and sisters because of the egg theiving dinosaurs of the preserve. He does make up for them with his freinds, one a Therizinosaur called baby, and a genus of Troodon called mary. They still live in the preserve today as honorary animals. Chomps visits them often.
His childhood, although short, was extremely abusive. Chomps was abused by other carnivores and hugely a speciman of an giant, albino pliosaur called Moby. Only by his parents will he be saved.
Chomps is protective of his former master knuckles the echidna.Chomps protectivity of knuckles was his mostly sworn oath when he became seven years old. This was later passed down to his and knuckles' descendants( most importantly knuckles' daughter). Any sign of trouble, chomps will usually come as fast as he can to save him. Thus, while he is compassionate to knuckles, he will attack enemies without mercy and most likely will eat them in the process. His temper is quite long, but it
whittles down at a fast pace because his enemy usually hurt his feeling by racial means.He will also not trust those he does not know. Though shark isle is his current home, he wants to know whats out there in the old world, which he does later in his life. He later explores the apparent New World, which is west of supremia. I have mentioned tthat he will not respect those who disrespect him. The goal in being a worldly dominant predator is moving to a top predators land and killing one in the process. Chomps, being the dominant predator, tests his power over all the other predators in the land.Chomps' species age is opposed to the original age of tyrannosaurs, which lives for 29 years. This is because the amount of food on shark island allows them to live a long time.
During the Ocarina of time timeline, a bridge of rock forms from Hyrule to Shark island, which allows animals to cross the ocean. Chomp's, seeking revenge for what happened to his parents by ganon, crosses the bridge with the others.
His name is Knuckles the Echidna. Chomps and knuckles is really a referance to the comics in which knuckles has a pet dinosaur named chomps, though it is unknown what the comic version of chomps is. The reason I add him to the zelda universe is because in my version of ocarina of time, Knuckles had a vision of an evil man, which apeared to be ganon, taking every single super powerful item in his grasp and conquering the world. Knuckles, thinking the vision is true, moves from Angel Island, which is above the Old World, and settles in death mountain, near dodongo's cavern.
his age is 16 years old, but became 23 years old after link's seven year nap after he drew the master sword.
his personality is quite the same as he is in the games except that he is more expecting to do what he can to protect the master emerald. He also has a hatred for people who are carefree, but that changed when he met chomps.
How the duo met is this. During the adventure,knuckles accidently broke the kaiju game preserve wall.He, along with his friends found an egg when the destruction was over and decide to take it to be sacrificed because they have lost the kaiju's most prized possesion, The Holy Grail. They later found out that the grail was returned safely. A little later they have seen the egg hatch and knowing it was a predator, all, except knuckles, have fled. Knuckles, seeing it as a cute harmless pup, accepts it and powerful bond starts. He does everything a parent does, which includes naming him chomps. The only problem is feeding it as he experianced seeing him eat a mouse. He introduces them to the others. They were just close to accepting him when Chomps' predatory instincts caused him to bite one of his friends tail. After that, Chomps was treated horribly by the others and after knuckles told him that predators cannot be accepted to the city, though later they accept predators, Chomps runs away from the foursome heroes. Just as he ran away, His parents, A dark forest green male (which is his dad) and an albino female (his mom) enters the city. They find chomps and return to the game preserve. The inhabitants see that the wall is damaged and that they plan to seal it. Knuckles finds Chomps' family returning to their home. Chomps see's knuckles and tries to join him again. His words are " chomps, you must go to your family! The people are trying to fix the damage done to the wall!" Chomps becomes startled, then knuckles say's " It may be your first time you met me, but I have something important, we'll meet each other again sometime." After Chomps leave's, and the kaiju close the wall, the scientists were still unsure what to call Chomps' specie. Knuckles, being in honor by his new friend for life, calls his specie Tyrannosaurus knucklerii for his honor of experiancing one.
Spearhead wields a trident forged from a very strong and highly conductive metal. The side blades of the trident resemble single-edged swords because that's how they are intended to act like; the side blades are used not only for stabbing but for slicing. It is considered more effective than a normal spear because it acts like both a spear in that it stabs, and a sword in that it slices. In both spaces between the blades, the edges are lined up with teeth that are used to catch weapons and break them. The middle blade acts like a spear, since only it's tip is sharp and exposes itself when used to attack.
Spearhead's trident is 6 ft 6 in. long, the blade being a foot long. The blade is purple-tinted, and the staff part is a dark bluish-purple. A blue-almost-white coloured cloth is tied where the blade meets the staff part, hanging a fair 2 ft in length off the weapon.
Aside from his weapon, Spearhead can control lightning to attack his enemies (see Skils/Magic section for further details).
Spearhead wears no armour.
Spearhead is a very agile fighter, with exceptional balance and hand-eye coordination. Being in the military since a very young age, Spearhead has learned to adapt to the vile conditions of war very quickly, creating a sixth sense for danger; Spearhead can tell something dangerous will occur during battle, and quickly act to that situation.
Being able to control lightning makes Spearhead much stronger in thunderstorms or in wet areas like marshes and bogs. He also has an advantage inside steel hallways or in areas where there is metal.
Spearhead dislikes silence. As a matter of fact, he entirely loathes it. He will always carry with him an MP3 player on every mission. This helps him totally ignore the cries he continuously hears whenever his adrenaline rushes. If it breaks, the cries will torment him and distract him, which could leave him entirely open. Also, if this happens, Spearhead might call in for back-up, but his overall more common approach is suicide; he'll use any of his last resort that could result in a fatal end.
Spearhead isn't much of a strong individual, lacking physical strength when fighting much bigger and stronger opponents. Avoiding such strong blows that could literally crush him can easily bring down his endurance and leave him partially open during a fight.
Lightning is considered to be the most difficult of elements to control due to it's severely violent and unstable nature, capable of destroying the user if he/she loses control and/or is too weak to control its violent nature. Spearhead is capable of controlling this elements, but at the cost of his mental stability; everytime he uses an offensive or defensive ability with his elemental weapon, his mind tends to mess up in that he can either gain blurry sight, get light-headed, or dizziness that provokes vomiting. Fortunately the effects are temporary and can be rid of with a good days rest, but severe , the greater the risk. To avoid this, he does not use his elemental power unless he deems necessary (i.e. when faced with a stronger opponent). However Spearhead is able to safely charge his weapon with The Ballad of Blades, but it takes awhile to charge and it takes longer to reuse over and over again.
Spearhead's skills comes from the music he listens to. He listens to music every mission, mainly to help ignore the voices and cries that overwhelm him whenever he experiences an adrenaline rush. However, music has influenced his fighting style in that his fighting style is almost similar to dancing.
There are 3 forms of this style:
Form 1: Ballad of Blades
The name does not imply a dance, but rather a song. Reason for such a name is the sound the trident makes when it is spun continuously in Spearhead's hand, which resembles the sound of a high-pitched flute (you know those flexible plastic tubes you can swing around and it makes that hollow sound? Think that, but more higher-pitched sort of, like a flute). This style is equally offensive and defensive, and is danced to mainly post-grunge type of music. This form can also help generate lightning into his weapon to shoot at his opponent(s).
Form 2: Breaking Off
This is more of a defensive style, but still can be used for attacking. This style involves heavy acrobatic movement for countering close and long-range attacks, resembling power moves in breakdancing (i.e. breaking). The style's name implies that Spearhead is usually off the ground when using this style, therefore "Breaking Off" means that Spearhead "Breaks Off" the ground, never landing and planting his feet onto the ground for a long time at once. As with all breakdancing, this style corresponds to heavy hip-hop (it can be rock with a hip-hop-like beat, or actual hp-hop) and rap music.
Form 3: Dance with Thy Weapon
This is the very opposite of "Breaking Off" in that this form involves all-out offense, and it is also connected with that form because this form is used right after exiting the defensive form. Spearhead attacks the enemy head-on, throwing fast attacks with his weapon. Using this form requires good timing, for attacking an open spot a second later could have him meet his grave. There is no defense used in this, so he must be quick to attack when the enemy exposes him/herself. This is danced to anything fast-paced, like really aggresive power metal or some form of techno.
Spearhead can go into a state of total concentration and power. During this time, his eyes are glowing light blue and he's surrounded by lightning. This is due to his arm, which is covered in black, flame-like tattoos that spread all over his back and both arms, and turn the same blue as his eyes when in this state. Unlike his abilities, this takes no toll on him and will not use up his power. He can stay in this form, but after using all the energy he has he can gain some of the problems listed in his weaknesses. There is no known name for this, but he calls it an "elemental state".
Rather simple, and does not require any sort of energy from Spearhead's body. Just by spinning his weapon quickly while in his "Ballad of Blades" form, Spearhead is able to generate small amounts of lightning into his weapon. When enough is created, he throws his weapon at his opponent. If it misses, the energy inside the weapon can send the enemy back. Drawbacks? It takes awhile to generate, and Spearhead must constantly spin his trident in order to generate enough energy at once. This, unlike the others, does not need Spearhead to be in his elemental state.
The simplest and safest of his lightning abilities. Spearhead creates a razor-sharp blade of pure lightning in his hand, about the length of his forearm, and literally uses it as an extension of his arm. It takes the least amount of his energy to create and use, so he can use it for a long period of time. However, it begins to disappear when he overuses it for too long. After using it the second time when he finishes using it the first time, then problems can occur.
This requires a good amount of energy. This move is done above the opponent from a good height above him/her, so this is done when in Spearhead's "Breaking Off" form.. A strong blast of lightning shoots from Spearhead's palm straight below him, looking like a pillar in a sense. It's powerful enough to leave the earth scarred, almost like it "crumbled" so to speak (hence the name).
For this to be successful, Spearhead must be in his "Break Off" form, and a thunderstorm must occur. During this attack, Spearhead jumps high into the air and lifts his trident above him, using it as an antenna to attract lightning to him. Once finished collecting enough energy into himself and his weapon, Spearhead attacks his enemy straight-forward. Once he collides with the opponent, a large blast of lightning consumes a large radius from the point of impact. This usually is the final blow, since there are no survivors. Only once had Spearhead used this attack, but not to its full potential and he was very lucky to live in the aftermath.
Spearhead's hair hangs down to his neck. It appears messy but is naturally straight. His hair is long enough to cover his eyes, but he has them off to the side to avoid distraction from loose hair.
Spearhead wears a dark-blue-almost-black, sleeveless cloak that hangs down about 2 inches off the floor. The sleeves were apparently ripped off, as it appears ripped where the sleeves would be. Spearhead wears no shirt or anything on his upper body, leaving his scars on both his chest and back visible. Spearhead wears dark brown pants with same coloured boots that rise up halfway his shins. When he has his MP3 with him, he carries it in a pouch-like carrying case that's attaches onto his belt. To make sure the cord doesn't get in the way, the cord goes behind him, up his back and to his ears instead of in front.
Spearhead is very calm and quiet, always keeping to himself and isolating himself from others when doing something other than his mission. When it comes to taking action, his voice shows leadership. He never wastes time and always sees the mission as his first and most important priority. He has no relationship with anyone; no girlfriend, no friends, no known family, except his team who he also sees as no more than just that. He doesn't like anyone, but he doesn't hate or despise anyone. He is very neutral when it comes to judgement of a person, as if he either doesn't care at all or he believes in equality among everyone.
Even if Spearhead has no known friends, he always places his mission first, but also places his team before himself. If one of his teammates are injured or in danger, he will place himself at risk for their safety. As some who know him would put it, he places his team the same way he places his mission.
He hates praise, whether it be from his peers or his team, or his officers. It doesn't matter who praises him, he absolutely despises it, reason being that he sees no reason for it at all. He feels that whatever he is asked to do by his commanding officer, he will do it until it is completed. "There should be no reward for what we are asked to do," he always says.
"What the hell happened here?"
"I don't know, sir, but I have the data pertaining to the incident."
"Good. So what happened here?"
"That we cannot say, but the body count is high. 90% have been proven dead, and the rest are all missing. They too seem to be dead, but the evidence is insufficient to prove it."
"Do you mean to say that this is an extinction?"
"It appears to be that way, sir."
"My God, what could've done such a thing?"
The sound of a baby's cries were heard not too far from where both men stood. Both took cautious steps to the source of the sound, aware of the possibility that it could be a trap. They carefully turned over a corpse, only to find an infant child in the arms of a dead woman, his head covered with a small patch of brown hair and his black eyes were dark but innocent.
Both were surprised to still see a living being in the silent graveyard they stood on. The baby was known to be the only survivor of a massive genocide responsible of killing off the entire population of Grajik, a small, rural-type country that was home to 8 million farmers and war veterans, and other people who wished to live peacefully. This incident was such a mystery due to the reasons behind the attack; they had no enemies, no signs of actually posing a threat, and they were trading partners with almost all nations due to their well-grown crops and agriculture. Why would someone, or something, attack them if they were no threat? Could it be the ones responsible wanted the exports for themselves? Was it just mindless bloodshed? No one knows why it happened, and as it stands, no one will.
As for the baby boy who was found among the dead, he was the source of much debate. The man who found him, known only as Cnl. Warrick Hurron, wanted the boy to be taken care of in the W.P.F. (World Police Force) Headquarters. His superiors were against the idea. "Who would have the time to take care of the child?" they'd ask. The colonel knew no one would stand forth and claim the responsibility of raising the boy, so he decided that he will take on that responsibility. Everyone else were thrown off by this decision.
"Are you out of your mind, War?" a friend of the colonel's asked in disbelief and dismay. "You are the most important asset to this force. You are going to waste your time with that kid, and he'll only slow you down either way if you keep him here."
"Will I slow you down? Or will the infant slow you down?" Warrick looked at his disappointed friend with sharp eyes, almost peering into his mind after reading his friend's face like a children's storybook. "I will take care of him and train him so that he will become as great a soldier as anyone else... No, not as great, even better. He will be the greatest!"
"So that he can continue your legacy when you're gone?"
"So that he can carry on his legacy when I'm gone."
General Dom Quarren, CEO of the agency, was very skeptic about the colonel's decision, but after learning that the boy had no relatives and had no family friends as well, being the only one to live in the family, the boy was to be taken care of in the refugee department. There, the survivor of the calamity was raised by volunteered individuals, visited by the colonel from time-to-time. He was also given a name by the colonel, being called Ethan. It wasn't long until Cnl. Hurron formed a fatherly-like bond with the child.
After turning 6 (they didn't know his real birthdate, but after genetic tests his birthdate was estimated to the closest date), Ethan began high-level academic studies in the force, unusual for a child at such a young age to undertake. Everyone thought the colonel was on the brink of insanity when he decided to enroll the boy in one of the high classes in the school that the force heavily sponsored in the building. Keeping the child in the base was already a crazy idea, but this was stupid, and everyone agreed to that. Although everyone's thoughts were absolute, Warrick's thoughts were the complete opposite; he had much faith in Ethan and believed that he'll manage one way or the other. It might've been stupid in a sense, but he wasn't going to change his mind about his decision. Besides, the boy had nothing against it, so unless something severe happened to the child the colonel made his choice final.
4 years have passed, and Ethan was handling the academics of his training exceptionally well. He even stayed at the top of all his classes after two years of grasping what he needed to learn. After turning 10, it was time for the physical aspect of his training. It started off as simple exercises to help the body develop good endurance, then it continued with more complex training: running in abnormal conditions, learning the basics of survival in the wilderness, firearm training, close-combat involving both hand-to-hand and weapon combat, and recon. Ethan excelled in all his training exercises in a matter of several months, and again became the top trainee in all categories. Although he highly excelled in all his training exercises, it was evident enough that he favoured the hand-to-hand combat training, especially using the polearms of any sort he chooses. The boy's achievements pleased the colonel very much, knowing that his dream would finally be accomplished soon. There was only one more thing he needed to do.
"Ethan, please come with me," Cnl. Hurron called the boy.
"What is it, sir?" Ethan asked as he tagged along.
"You don't have to call me that," the colonel retorted. "I told you many times that you can call me Warrick, or something other than sir."
"But my teachers say that it's disrespect to your commanding officer if you don't call him by sir, or ma'am." Ethan looked confused by Warrick's plea to call him by another name.
"Well, I allow you to call me by something other than that name." Warrick was disgruntled by the constant calling of "sir" that came from the boy. He always heard the boy call him sir, regardless of how many times the colonel explained that he didn't have to call him by that name. He didn't like being called sir by a boy not even able to shave since it gave him the impression he was getting old. He didn't like the feeling lingerig about.
"If you say so, si - I mean, Warrick," Ethan replied, grinning.
"Anyway," the colonel continued with his previous thought, "Do you remember your first day of school?"
"Yeah, it was real hard," Ethan replied, scratching the back of his head as he reminisced about the said day.
"Yes, it was hard, and I knew it was. However, I knew you would do great." The colonel crossed his arms. "But you did more than great. You amazed everyone with your accomplishments, and still continued to show us your growing potential."
"I don't get it," Ethan retorted with his charming innocence, which everyone adores about him as one of his qualities. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Today is your gift from all the hard work you accomplished, Ethan," Warrick said with a warm smile. "You will receive something that was special to you, even if you didn't know it."
The child, now 12 years old, looked at the officer with a perplexed look. Seeing this on the boy's face, Warrick couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
"You'll soon see in a moment."
They entered a clean bedroom that housed many pictures of family and friend's of someone's. The colonel sat on the neatly-made bed across from the door. Ethan stood neext to him, watching the officer pull something out from under the bed. It was a long, wide case made of polished wood, making the boy look at it in awe.
"What's inside, sir?" the boy asked, anxiously waiting to set his eyes on the object inside.
The colonel silently opened the case, and the boy saw a long, dark bluish-purple pole the length of the case, and an oddly-shaped spearhead. Ethan's eyes glistened wondrously like the light shining off the blade.
"Is this for me?" the boy asked hysterically.
"Yes, it is," the colonel replied with a warm smile. "For your hard work and continuously growing talent, I present to you a gift like none other."
"Why is it so special?" Ethan asked.
"I cannot tell you," came the answer, "But you will know when the time comes."
"When will that be, sir?" Ethan asked impatiently, followed by the colonel's chuckle that was an indirect reply to the boy's displeasing habit.
"I cannot tell you," Warrick explained, "But you must find out for yourself. You will learn when you get older."
"Everyone tells me that. When will anyone tell me anything?" The boy let out a disgruntled sigh.
* * *
"Attention!" Came the order, and everyone stood straight to await their orders. Warrick stepped up to the front to explain the current situation. After clearing his throat, he began the briefing.
"As you know, there are multiple insurgencies in the western continent around the city of Damaro. The Kaet Tribe is breaking the treaty the two societies have signed by rampaging through the city streets, and this could give birth to a war. We have been called out to stop these insurgencies before it becomes a calamity.
We will be split into two teams, the Security Team and the Assault Team. The Assault Team will drive off the insurgencies from the cities, whereas the Security Team will keep an eye on the villages after the insurgencies have been forced back in retreat until all things have settled down.
The mission sounds simple, doesn't it? Well, it would be if you killed the enemy. However, we as specially-trained international police, our job is to stop injustice from occurring and to achieve peace. To do that, we must not tamper with that peace.
I will lead the Security Team, and the leader of the Assault Team will be-"
A tall boy, seemingly a teenager, walked up to the front of all the officers standing in attention. His broad frame and muscular physique showed he went through extensive training since a very young age, and his face beared no emotion, giving everyone the impression that he was very serious about anything, if not everything. His hair was an unusual colour as well; a very light blue, almost turquoise colour, and his eyes were a much darker colour than his clean hair that brushed his shoulders as he walked. He also wore the standard uniform with his sleeves rolled up to above his elbows, but he wore a crest on his right shoulder that represented his rank as Lieutenant Colonel. What was more peculiar about this teen was what he carried on his back; a long spear-like weapon whose length exceeded his own height. Everyone watched the teenager stand in front of them all, wondering who this person could be.
"Hello to all," he said with a monotonous voice, no change of expression in his face. "I am Lt. Cnl. Ethan Hurron, your Assault Team leader."
No one said a thing knowing that they aren't allowed to speak, but both Ethan and Warrick saw the expressions on their faces. The colonel walked up to the teenager's side.
"yes, this is him. That boy you knew from years ago," Cnl. Warrick cleared up for them. "After he turned 13 years old, I decided to have him train with a friend of mine in the southern forests not too far from the headquarters. Now you see him at 17, a fine, young, well-mannered man standing right next to you as your commanding officer."
"You may stand at ease, soldiers," Their officer ordered, a vague smile appearing on his face. All soldiers in the room stood to their own comfort, continuing to listen to the briefing.
"As you have all been told, we are to split into two groups. Whoever is in my team, please take this into account," Ethan added. "I don't want to be called sir. It makes me feel old." Everyone let out a chuckle, Ethan joining in. Ethan continued when the humour ceased. "Instead, I'd prefer you call me by my code name, Spearhead. I hope you do your best, and help achieve peace this day... Ah, hell, let's kick some ass!"
Everyone shouted in agreement, raising their fists to show their enthusiasm to their new officer.
* * *
"Move! Move! Move!" The soldiers came out like a pack of wild dogs into the city streets, firing at the tribe warriors with the stun guns issued to them for the mission. Spearhead's team went into action and started to fire at the enemy to drive them off back into their villages. The choppers left after deploying the troops, and Warrick's chopper went on ahead to start securing the area. The tribe warriors didn't put up much of a fight, most of them running away when under heavy fire. It was much too simple, but not suspiciously so, so no one spent too much time wondeing about the simplicity of the mission.
However, Spearhead had something else going on in his mind. Voices started to go off in his head at times during the mission. At first he figured it was only the screaming of the enemies, but they sounded more like cries of mercy from victims of supposed gunfire, wood crackling from fires that he could somehow feel the heat from. He looked around him in panic, but everything was normal. What the hell's going on?
"Spearhead, are you all right?" a nearby soldier asked. Spearhead nodded assuringly, and the soldier went on her way.
It wasn't too long after the mission was complete. Once all tribe warriors were forcibly taken back to their villages, the Security Team took charge and allowed the other team to pack up and begin to leave. As Spearhead was ready to board the chopper, something else unknown to the teenager happened at the same time.
"What did you just tell me?" Cnl. Warrick angrily replied to the man.
"Are you hard of hearing, colonel? I ordered you to get rid of them."
"You can't be serious! They were to be forced back to their homes, not to be slaughtered. I will not do it."
"You forget, colonel," the man rose from his chair in the large office. "I am one of your force's biggest sponsors, and I have all control of this mission. If you do not follow my orders, I will simply stop paying your force what I do now, crippling you all severely. Do you really want that?"
Warrick said no more, but gritted is teeth in anger. He left the room and had no choice but to do what he was asked.
Gunfire alerted Spearhead and caused him to jump. At first he ignored it, thinking it was just in his head until he noticed everyone was reacting to the sounds. The teenage officer ordered his team to follow him, and quickly darted for the source of the gunfire. What he saw afterward was more than what he could've comprehended.
Fires were blazing through the villages as countless natives were shot mercilessly. Spearhead could hear the cries of the victims who ran and fought back regardless of how very little it did for them. It wasn't, however, what was happening to those people, but who did the horrible things - his own colleagues, led by the one who raised him, Cnl. Warrick hurron.
He couldn't look back. It was too horrid for him to look away and pretend it wasn't happening. The cries from before crept into his head and tormented him even further, but they were accompanied by voices that forced him to awake...
Wake up, and do your duty, they said. You must stop this madness.
"What madness?" the young officer replied confused. "Who are you? What do you want?"
Wake up, it repeated. Wake up and do the task bestowed upon you.
"Get out of my head!" He fell to his knees in pain from the voices calling him. A soldier from his team approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder in fear of what was happening to the officer, but he pulled it back after feeling a strong shock coming from his commanding officer.
Then Spearhead rose to his feet, his eyes glowing and heat emanating from his body. The intense heat ripped at his uniform, showing his upper body that grew flame-like tattoos all over his back and arms. Everyone was in awe and afraid of what they witnessed. The fear grew even more after columns of blue lightning fell violently from the heavens. Spearhead knew nothing of what he was doing, oblivious to every action his body was commiting. It was only after the voices spoke for the last time that all of it ended in the most violent manner...
... do your duty, and kill your enemy.
The fires were extinguished by the might of the bolts of lightning that shot from Spearhead's body, destroying not just the village he stood in, but all the villages in the surrounding area. Everyone in the path of the lightning were incinerated, and even the ones who escaped died by the powerful force that came from the blasts. Surprisingly, no native lost their life from the blasts, and only the soldiers were killed by the might of the lightning bolts.
After waking up from his experience, he saw with his own eyes the destruction of the villages, the building bordering the town from the forests and native villages, and all the dead W.P.F. soldiers. He fell to his knees and cried, unable to stop the crying, for at his knees laid Cnl. Warrick Hurron's body; the body of his mentor, his guardian, and his father.
* * *
"Lt. Cnl. Ethan Warrick."
"How do you plead to the crimes of mass murder and city-wide destruction?"
"I see." Dom stood from his desk and walked to Spearhead, who wore hand-cuffs as he was officially convicted as a cold-blooded murderer for crimes he knew nothing of. Spearhead knew he had no control of what happened that day, still oblivious to the day's events, and after 5 years of living in a cold and dark cell, reminiscing about the day over and over again in his head for countless hours, he knew it could've been avoided somehow. He didn't know how, but a strong feeling told him he could've prevented it. Now was Judgement Day, and he was going to take his punishment any way it would be given to him.
"It seems that your mentor saw you as something else," the man replied, motioning his hand for the nearby guard to come and remove his hand-cuffs. The surprising release of the young officer was more than he could handle, but the man had more to say.
"I knew Warrick very well, Ethan," Dom said. "And he knew this day would come. He knew who you truly were."
"He knew? WHat do you mean 'He knew' ?" the young officer asked perplexed. "How did he know about it? Why didn't he tell me?"
"You should know by now, son," the General said warmly, "He's always been full of surprises." He took out an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Spearhead. "Take this. It will explain everything."
The officer, now 22 years old, took the envelope from the General and ripped it open on the spot. He read it to himself without showing any sort of emotion on his face. After reading the letter, he gave himself a nod that told him he understood.
"I must go, sir."
"I know," Dom replied. "And expect a promotion when you get back."
After saluting to his commanding officer, he left for a place unknown to anyone. It was never revealed where Spearhead left for, or what the letter said, but many rumours spread around the men and women in the force. Some said the colonel told him to train hard and be the best soldier, so he went to train and control his power or something of the sort. Others believed he went to a library to study what happened to him after being told in the letter he was to learn more of what he experienced. No one ever knew for sure, but Spearhead was gone for another year and was never seen or heard from for that time.
* * *
"Sir, you're back!" a soldier called out to greet his superior. "Where were you hiding, sir?"
But he did not listen, and instead walked past him as if he wasn't there. He was like that with everyone at headquarters. He ignored everyone who tried to greet him warmly, but he disregarded them and minded his own business. Some were becoming confused as to why their superior officer, never seen since the incident 6 years ago, would ignore them after not seeing any of them. Others just took into consideration what happened back then could've changed the young adult.
Spearhead walked into the General's office, greeted by the soldiers stationed at the doors. He walked in and saw Dom looking out the large window behind his desk.
"So I see you've come, Lieutenant Colonel 'Spearhead' ," Dom greeted him as well. "Or should I say, Colonel Spearhead."
No answer came from the officer. He simply walked straight to the General's desk and placed three things on top: the letter given to him a year ago by Dom, and a pistol that was accompanied by a single round. He then walked out of the room, not one of them speaking a word.
So now it's my turn, Dom told himself.
Once he exited the office, a soldier came to him to escort him to the training facilities to choose his team, as he was ordered to do by the General. Spearhead complied and followed.
* * *
After much observation, Spearhead came down to four individuals. As he read their bios', he carefully took into account their abilities and what they could do for the team:
Name: Seth Larken
Weight: 135 lbs
Height: 5' 11"
Specialty: Expert pilot and mechanic.
Able to control the element of fire. Was a former cloud surfer in his late teen years, but decided to join the W.P.F. after his father, Squadron Leader Bill Larken, died in a dogfight when up against 5 enemy pilots. Somewhat childish and boastful of his skills at flying and fixing supposedly "anything", but his skills are exceptionally good.
Name: Kaya Az'Kune
Weight: 120 lbs
Height: 5' 10"
Specialty: Expert marksman and sniper,.
Able to control the element of air. Said to be able to fire the tip of a strand of hair from 500 yards away. A calm, quiet and benevolent personality, never able to lose her temper. Being as good as she is, she is unable to shoot to kill. Calm and quiet, the best aspects of a sniper. She doesn't shoot to kill, hmm... her bio says explains her accuracy is undoubtedly perfect, so it wouldn't matter either way.
Able to control the element of earth. Knows anything and everything about any sort of weapon, regardless of age or rarity. He proves to follow orders perfectly without having second thoughts, but still has his own mind and thoughts about any issue brought up. He will prove to be very useful with his extensive knowledge and discipline.
Name: Azura Tetsuna
Weight: 120 lbs
Height: 5' 9"
Specialty: Black Ops and Recon
Able to control the element of darkness. Able to hide in any environment which also includes open grassland, and is able to kill an enemy in a room full of multiple men without showing herself. She is also able to survive without food and water for 7 days if necessary. Her agility and speed are exceptional. She proves herself to be independent. That will be vital to the assignments ahead.
"Looks like they will do," he assured himself.
* * *
The four individuals stood straight and waited for their team leader. They were all anxious to meet their commanding officer, though Kaya was somewhat afraid. She shook the fear off when the doorswung open and in came a tall soldier with strange turquoise blue hair and darker-coloured eyes than his hair. His face was stern, serious and vague of any emotion. The four recruits were not surprised to see this as all superior officers were the same this way. What he said, though, caught them by surprise.
"State your names, starting from you on the left," Spearhead ordered.
"Yes, sir," Seth replied. "Sir, Seth Lar-"
"No, not those names," Spearhead replied strictly. He stood in front of all four, looking at them with a hard gaze. It made all of them feel uneasy.
"From now on, you will be given new names."
Their commanding officer pointed to Seth first. "You will be called 'Heat Surfer'."
Seth was already liking the name, thinking it was "cool" in a way.
He then moved onto the next one, Argoroth. He looked up at the tall beast and quickly came up with a suiting name. "You will be called 'Behemoth'."
The large man took the name partially as an insult, but took the name without second thought.
The next person, Azura, was a bit fearful of their new leader already. She wanted to keep her name, but knew she wasn't able to regardless.
"You will be called 'Reaper'."
The name was suiting, and she had nothing against it. She hatd the idea of losing her name, but was satisfied that her name provoked fear among possible many.
Kaya awaited her name. She had no second thoughts about it, but she hoped it wasn't something undignifying. When Spearhead approached her, she held her breath.
"You will be called 'Gunslinger'."
As he passed her by, she let go of her breath and was satisfied to have the name.
Spearhead stood in front of them, looking at their faces. He noticed dismay, disappointment, and a sense of anger. He ignored the feelings they expressed through their facial appearance, and introduced himself appropriately,
"You have been given your names, now you will know mine. I am Spearhead, and you will call me by either that or by 'sir'. My rank is unimportant to myself and to you, so you will not know of it. I want nothing out of you except one thing: a complete assignment. If you are given a mission, it is your duty to complete it with great effectiveness. Your life is nothing when compared to the missions ahead, so I expect you to have no fear in dying when the time comes. Dismissed."
"I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all."
~Geralt of Rivia~
I didn't do this when he was approved so I am now.
Name: Hochgender Adler
Hair: He has short brown hair combed straight down.
Eyes: A very dark blue.
Height: 1 meter and 75 centimeters
Weapon: A thin blade kept on his left boot, a short sword at his waist, and a crossbow on his back.
Armor: Chain mail for all body protection and a leather chest plate .
Strengths: Very fast and observant. Has 3 different ways to kill you. He could throw the blade on his boot at you, cut you up with his short sword, or shoout you with his crossbow. He has studied phsychology and so can predict small minded peoples actions, to a certain exctent of course. Has many people to help him with his assassin jobs.
Weakness: His arms, head, and legs have no protection from attacks at all. Hoch has no protection from certain magic. The magic he can dodge is things like fireballs. He can't dodge inst-spells though. Doesn't do well in areas he's never seen before.
Super Sprint: Used only as a last resort it gives him super speed but brings him towards the point of collapse. When used it makes him as fast as a cheetah but with more endurance.
Judgement: A usefull skill of Hochgender's is being able to tell if people mean him harm or not. It doesn't always work though. Can only be used every other hour.
Partial Telepathy: He can communicate with his mind but only to other people that have the ability, they know each other, both accept to talk. Is constantly in use incase of news from his informants.
Appearance: He has 2 different cloaks, a white and a black. He wears the white in daylight and the black at night. Thw white has trimmings the color of his eyes and the black has blood red trimmings. Has short brown hair combed down, very dark blue eyes, a few bristels on his chin, and has abnormally large canine teeth. Some people describe them as 'vampirish' when they see him. He has a thin scar going from his right eyebrow to his cheekbone. Hoch has relatively light skin.
Personality: Intelligent but hot headed. He is not frusterated often but when he does he makes some big mistakes. Has very good social skills and is extremely observant. He is serious when fighting but lighthearted when not. This will leave him open for ambush often. He is very social and so always trys to find a traveling companion. He will only kill when necessary. Is good at gathering information and learns the layouts of towns and villages quickly.
Biography: Hochgender Adler was born in the Italy. No one was sure exactly where except for his parents who are now dead. He was raised by his uncle in Ireland. His uncle knew almost everything about Hochgender's parents' killer but mades it seem like he knows little about he/she/it for the sake of Hoch's childhood. The truth was revealed to Hoc when he was 18 years old. The truth was that a figure called "The Dark One" was his parent's killer. He is a very powerful serial killer with dark powers. He seems to be constantly moving around the world. When Hoch found this out he sets out on a quest to find and kill the The Dark One. Hoch found The Dark One in the Arctic. He killed The Dark One and left with only a scar stretching from his right eyebrow to his right cheekbone. He is now an assassin for hire. Hoch has many informants from all over the world that he keeps in touch with them using his Telepathy ability. He has a familiar that appears in Ireland when he visits. He only knows it from walks in the woods from his childhood. He has ,as far as he knows, no siblings. The closest things to friends he has are his informants.
Race: 95% Human, 5% Neutral Dark Elementite
(An Elementite is a fabled species. Their appearance is just like a human's. There are two main types of Elementite: Light and Dark. The subtypes are the elements that the Elementites master in. Those elements are based on their type. e.g.-Dark has fire, Light has ice. Dark has lightning, Light has water, etc. The most powerful ones, though, master in the arts of their main type. The most powerful Dark Elementite, for example, would know shadow magic.
There is, though, the neutral sub-type, where the only real separation is that Light Elementite are more swift than Dark Elementite while Dark Elementite are more powerful. The neutral types do not use magic except for small amounts of telepathic power.)
Hair: Dark Black, similar to Xaldin's (from Kingdom Hearts 2)except it doesn't come that far onto his face and the eyebrows aren't as... bushy.
Eyes: Also black.
Weight: 165 lbs.
Height: 5' 11''
Weapon: Xangatsu (zan-GAHT-su)
Armor: Right and left Xicarta(ZI-car-tuh), [steel] shoulder guards, and a [steel] breastplate.
Strengths: Synyx is very fast, able to run consistently at eight miles per hour and swing a sword as fast as a true samurai, and has more than average strength. He can lift up to 300pounds, but that puts him under a lot of stress.
His Elementite Overtake.(Elementite Overtake happens when Synyx is consumed with rage. He then enters [Dark] Elementite Overtake form. In Elementite Overtake, he can swing a sword only as fast as an armored knight, but can cleave most objects in two. He can lift up to 500 pounds maximum (only 100 pounds telepathically), and can run consistently at five to six miles per hour. Black "flames" also seem to cover his body.
One of his most used moves in Elementite Overtake is throwing around Xangatsu while keeping it levitated and spinning, then bringing it back like a boomerang. Xangatsu can spin up to 150 revolutions/rotations per minute in this move.)
(In Elementite Overtake, Synyx becomes 80% Elementite and 20% Human.)
Weakness: His Elementite Overtake. The longer he stays in Elementite Overtake form, the more exhausted he will be when he comes out. If he stays in it too long, he may even faint when returning to his original state.
He is very susceptible to magic in his neutral form. In his Dark Elementite Overtake form, he is a bit more susceptible to magic.
In Dark Elementite Overtake, his line of vision becomes darker and shorter, like using senses as Wolf Link in TP.
In Dark Elementite Overtake, Synyx loses half of his speed.
If he loses Xangatsu, he will most likely do anything to get it back.
His right and left Xicarta. If they come off when he's holding Xangatsu, there is an almost certain chance of "Elementite Override." Elementite Override is when Synyx becomes 95% Elementite and 5% Human. Humans cannot handle the amount of stress and power Elementites have, so the human part of him dies off. This leaves him 95% Elementite and 5% DEAD Human. Since no one can live being 5% dead, he collapses and dies shortly after.
It's hard to explain....
Appearance: Looks very much like Xaldin from Kingdom Hearts 2, but only in his physical features. His sword, Xangatsu, is a double-sided samurai sword that once belonged to a Dark Elementite.(By "double-sided," I mean that, if the handle is being held vertically, there will be a blade on the top and the bottom. The blades' edges are facing the opposite direction.) The sword's handle is smaller than a normal samurai sword's, though, because it is incredibly light and therefore meant to be held with just one hand. Darkness is still possessing the sword, making it impossible for anyone to hold the sword without going berserk and being filled with anger, hate, and rage. When Synyx is engaged in battle, black "flames" cover Xangatsu.
His special gauntlets, Xicarta(ZI-car-tuh), are brown leather with a clear stone in the center, on top of his hand(s). The stones absorb the darkness from Xangatsu and direct it back at the weapon to protect Synyx from Elementite Override.
Synyx has on a well-fitting black shirt and pants. He also wears an odd kind of jacket, which reaches to his knees and does not have any means of connecting at the middle. He also wears shoes that a normal human man would wear with a tux, though not shiny. He has on a black leather belt with a very small holster to carry the handle of Xangatsu. The way he can turn it into just a handle is explained in the Biography.
Personality: Synyx is very mysterious and serious(pardon the rhyme). In battle, he is very confident and angry. Synyx doesn't like to talk publically. He believes that it is up to him to keep the world from being destroyed or overtaken by evil. Synyx doesn't like crowded areas, so he generally stays away from them. He normally doesn't stay around people at all, as he lives as a nomad, usually on the lower part of a mountain, secluded from most humans.
SYNYX IS NOT GOTH OR EMO. He just wears black clothes because he likes to do what he has to at night, so he wants to blend in. He also wears black to say "Stay away from me." As stated before, he does not like excessive human contact.
Biography: Synyx was born in a run-down old city. He grew up there and his father taught him everything he needed to know, as his mother died giving birth to him. He taught him how to hunt with a spear, start a fire, and basically anything else necessary. At age 16, though, Synyx's father was trampled by a stampede of cattle and, unfortunately, also died. Synyx then moved to another town. It was a bit more modern, mostly the buildings. Synyx lived with three newly-made friends: Anthony, Jack, and Jeremiah.
He lived there for six more years, until one day they passed by a museum. Synyx felt compelled to enter, and did so. He was drawn to the newest display; a sword. A special sword.
Synyx grabbed it. He suddenly felt rage, anger, hate... but something kept him from letting go.
Jeremiah spoke. "Synyx, what's--"
That's all he got out.
Synyx awakened on the ground, Xangatsu a few feet away from him. He looked around, and saw that the city, which he no longer could recall, as Xangatsu had somehow obliterated all but tiny scraps of his memory before that day, was in ruins. Not a person was standing. Synyx became frightened.
He ran off into the desert and tried to escape-- escape all of the evil that had happened in the city. He finally was more than three miles away and lay there to rest for the night.
Synyx woke up in the middle of that night, only to see-- a meteor headed straight for him! He got up and ran again, and after it hit the ground, he returned to examine it. It was a small meteorite, only a yard thick. It split in half suddenly, and revealed a treasure chest of some sort in the center. He touched it quickly to see if it was hot, but it wasn't. He pulled it out and opened it... and saw the Xicarta. He hesitated, but eventually took them out and put them on. A perfect fit.
Synyx walked back to the ruined city the next day. He fearfully picked up Xangatsu, but he didn't go berserk. It was something in the gauntlets. He could even take the darkness of the blade and put it into the gauntlets, so that there was only a handle.
Synyx set out for another city.
"I am a guardian of this world. I am a powerful warrior. I am a destined soul.
Hair: A wild unkempt blond long hair, with a leather bandanna keeping the
bangs out of his eyes.
Eyes: A wild yellow with orange tint around the white pupil. Though having color in his eyes, he is blind.
Weight: 124 pounds (lbs.)
Height: 5'4" (five foot four)
Weapon: The weapons he uses is the claws of his "father". The claws are from a "great" white wolfos, named Kuyakin by the nearby villagers, which are as strong as material(steel assumed) hylian knights use. When his "father" died, he cut the claws out with a spear edge stolen from an ambushed traveling salesman, and placed with within a specially made glove made of his fathers own skin and fur.
Armor: He wears a leather under tunic, hardened with bonded scales of the Zora's, with a regular white cloth cloak covering and hiding his tunic. He also wears leather shin guards and arm guards.
Strengths: Saso is fast as a wolf, and accurate as a hawk. The wilderness has taught him to fend for himself, while relying on your close "pack-mates", thus making tracking and stalking easy. Though, he cannot stand long battles without being considerably exhausted, he prefers fast, swift killing blows when the victim leasts expects it. Being blind he cannot see, but his hearing and smelling senses have been heightened considerably, though not overpowering.
Weakness: He cannot survive long drawn out fights without having had some sort of repercussion. He is also blind, so if you can confuse him with sound or smell, he is not at his full strength. He cannot understand the tongue of men, nor see friendly advances or actions, so if he feels threatened he will become very agressive. Seeing as he uses regular, handmade armor, mortal wounds are highly possible. If the zora scales embeded in his armor crack or break, his armor is almost like paper to a sharp or piercing weapon.
Skills/Magic: He is an excellent stalker and tracker. He can go without food for days, because he lived on an "eat by the kill" basis.
Appearance: Saso is mostly always cloaked with a white hooded cape. refer to armor section for whats under the cloak. His pants are made with a tan linen material that are somewhat big, not baggy or saggy, but just long. They hide the hardened leather arm and shin guards. He has a belt made from his fathers hide that he stores his tracking tools in(made of a sour smelling flower powder he uses to mark his targets, and some other helpfull tools not naming any right now. ) His long blond hair normally would cover his face but he holds it up with a leather band to keep his scent away from his nose.its unkempt, but not curly or frizzy, it's straight. His face is young, but has a few scars on it, big ones being across his left eye and one below his lower lip, followed by small ones scattered all over his face. His clothes are not in perfect condition, the are shredded and battle torn in some areas but nothing that would expose his armor.
Personality: He is very cold towards most people, but he has a soft spot for women and children. He tends to keep to himself and follow his own agenda not letting anyone be the master of him, wild like a wolf. He tends to keep to himself. Though he cannot understand the tongue of men, he can understand tone. He knows what a threatening noise sounds like and knows when to be on guard, and when to act naturally.
Biography: When he was born, he was born blind. This was seen as an abomination to his village, and because of this they ordered him to be killed. His people believed in physical strength and barbarity above thought and civilized behavior. His parents, caring for his future, fled the village the night the execution was to take place. Seeing this, the leader of his village sent for all three to be killed. Fleeing into the woods, his parents knowing they would all three die, or they would die and their son would live, decided that their child's life was worth far greater than the life of barbarity and hatred they would live.
They hid him in a cave, and fled quickly. A few moments later, the grunt of his father and the screams of his fearful mother could be heard threw out the area. The seed of murder had been sewn, the screams echoed threw out the cavern. The sounds of running water had been overlapped with the sound of death. Saso began to cry, and the sounds of his crying awakened the pack of Wolfos that dwelt within the cave.
One having bore witness to the evil dead that took place within the forest, ran back to warn his fearless leader, Kuyakin, of the imposing danger. Kuyakin, having been awakened by the infant's crying, approached the child, and took him in his mouth to raise as his own. The wolfkin didn't understand his reasoning, but Kuyakin had sensed something within the child, something no one else could understand because of his oddity.
Years later, Saso being around 8 and having lived in the wild all his life, Kuyakin decided vengeance must take place for the murder. Being of the Wolfos kin, and rightly natured so, he set an ambush after observing the Kiran village's trade route. The barbarians, though being uncivil in nature, did believe that allies must be kept. The Kiran merchants made their way like always, but this time were ambushed by Kuyakin's wolfos tribe. Being brutally strong, the Kiran repelled the countless waves of Wolfos thrown at them. Saso walked calmly over the wolfos corpses.
The Kiran merchants were surprised to see one that looked like them and was attired similarly. They let their guard down as he approached, and Kuyakin swiftly struck them from behind. Saso recited something from the Wolfos tongue that sounded like barks, snarling and coughing to the Kiran as they took their last breath. He stated, "You have killed my parents, so I am told. There for you must die to atone for your sins.".
Kuyakin rallied his remaining wolfs and Saso for one last march to kill all the civilians and warriors of the Kiran clan's village. They stormed threw the forest and hit the village lightning fast, every woman and child was killed. Half of the Kiran warriors, having had been caught off guard by the swift attack, had been killed or mortally wounded. The other half hardly had time to reach their weapons only to have been able to kill one or two wolves before being killed.
The wolfos army thinning, they charged for the Leader's Meeting Square, where the Battle-hardened skilled Champions of War waited for them. Kuyakin and Saso stayed in the back watching wave after wave of their fellow kin wiped out. Being mortally wounded and overpowered by the sheer force of wolfos, the champions fell. The leader of the Kiran grabbed his spear and finished off the rest of the wolfkin by himself.
Kuyakin engaged him after the last of the wolfos's hair touched the ground. The battle lasted around ten minutes, before Kuyakin was stricken with a gouging wound to the chest. With the last of his strength, he grabbed Saso and threw him on his back, and ran with all the might he had as far as he could into the forest. Having fallen under the oldest tree in the forest, he let Saso down and died. With his last breath he told Saso these words in the wolfish tongue, "Your family and yourself have been avenged. Act not on your emotions, but your mind. My death is but a beginning for your life. Avenge me and your clan, for we your family.".
Saso took his claws and hide and ran back to his cave. He fashioned himself a misshapen headband and belt. He made some gloves and took his father's claws and placed them inbetween his fingers, where he bonded them to the glove with his fathers steel like fur. He fled the cave and followed the sound of the running stream, whiched turned out to be a small waterfall leading into lake Hylia. He lept out of the opening and into the water. He had never swam before, and not know what to do he paniced and fell to the bottom of the lake.
A dying Zora had seen him, and with the last of his strength had grabbed the boy and reached the shore. He died next to Saso. When he came to, Saso felt the body, felt the armored scales, and harnessed their power. He lived off the earth and his wolf taught instinct for the next few years. Now he has become hardened by the wilderness, and discovered his ability in tracking. He now follows his father's words for vengeance, seeking the Kiran leader and his newly established village.
NOTE!: The term ‘they’ is how she helps herself not to get confused when talking to her ‘sister‘. ‘They’ use this term frequently. The word “demon” is not exact either, it is used to help describe her other half, her ‘sister’.
Name: Elea (She does not tell people her last name.) (Pronounced Eh-lia)
Race: Human; a Union (explained below)
Race Explanation: A Union is her own term to describe herself. ‘They’ appear to be conjoined ‘twins’. She is totally bonded to the other ‘sister’ at the near back of her head, down her back, the tops of her arms, and the back of her legs. Important: ‘They’ are one person! (To understand the arms, hold them at your side. ‘their’ hands are joined on the top, not the palm.)
Eye color: “Human sister”; A dull gray. “Demon sister”; White with snake-slit pupils.
Hair color: White in the front to the start of the “human sister‘s” ear. A stripe of gray is stuck behind the threaded ears of the "human and demon sister’s". (If her demon sister has copied her human side, black hair starts and ends as a mirror of her human sister’s white hair.) Hair ends at her chin.
Weight: 90 pounds
Armor: Nothing but the clothes on herself.
At first glance, this child seems normal, yet she is standing in the shadows. Her head is slight medium circle, framed by pure white hair. Dull gray eyes appear to be locked in a shy expression. Her skin is a pale white. The nose is a small, right triangle. It does not stick out much, a bump in other words. She appears to be wearing a large green t-shirt, obvious by the large collar around her short and thin neck. The sleeves nearly cover half of the child’s arms. It hangs down slightly, which seems odd. A medium-large light gray jacket is tied around her waist, the end touches the ground. The legs of light blue jeans stick out from under the baggy shirt. The legs are loose as well, yet do not sag as much. The child is strangely barefoot.
Then the child’s mouth moves slightly and she turns around. The first thing noted is a gray x-styled stitching running down her arms, leading to her wrists. Then, five black clawed fingers clench up, clearly separated from the child‘s fingers and thumbs. The child apparently disappeared behind a black ‘skinned’ thing, a demon would better explain its appearance. It’s eyes opened, pure white except for a sharp ended oval. It’s head is bare, and mimics the child’s face. It is wearing the same thing the girl wears. The explanation of why the shirt did not hang down is now given. It turns its hand to the side, showing the pale skin of the girl, joined at the top of the hand. Two, four-clawed feet stick out of the jeans, also showing why the child is barefoot.
Stitches: Starts at the back of her ears, and snakes down the side of her next and continues straight down to the sides of her feet. There is a single piece of this ‘thread’ that dangles down near ‘their’ right thumb.
Personality: (Both personalities combine often.) “Human sister”; Shy, yet kind. Tends to be careful at not showing her ‘sister’. “Demon sister”; Stubborn, voices her opinion sometimes, is the first to react to danger.
In a fight: “Human”; Will pick up a stick to defend herself, holding it like a sword. Cautious.
“Demon”; Animalistic in a fight. Will use her claws and bite, basically.
Strengths: Elea can not be snuck up on if her ‘sister’ is out. She can run in either forwards or backwards, due to she has no physical knees. The ‘demon sister’ can attack with her claws, only when not with her other ‘sister’. Since she is a child, she is kind of quick in running.
Weaknesses: Cannot bend down very far when both ’sisters’ are visible, due to they are joined at the spine. If pinned to the ground with one half on the ground, she can be choked because their lungs are partially joined together. Elea can not guard herself, if her other half is trying to get ’them’ up from a fall. The ‘sister’ can use her arms whenever she needs them. Stamina is slightly low, and she is easy to knock down. Does not have much power in her attacks.
The “demon sister” is better at using ‘their’ water magic than the “human sister”.
Needs a source of water nearby in order to use her magic.
Water magic (Currently unknown to her.)
All of her magic goes by shapes.
She can use this in either hand, but only one at a time.
~Cylinder/Tube~ Peg: A four inch, solid cylinder forms in her hand and she jabs her hand forward. If it connects, it feels like being stabbed with a blunt object.
Can be destroyed if it hit’s a barrier, like armor or a shield.
Snake: Water forms into a small tube and Cora throws it at the enemy like a spear. It feels like being jabbed with a small wooden pole. Only moves in a straight line then falls after five feet. Flies like an arrow. It’s a clear light blue.
Can be destroyed by hitting any barrier.
~Triangle~ Blade: A flat triangle forms in her palm, the three pointed ends stick out from the front and sides of her hands. Attacks by sweeping the bladed hand towards the target. It can cut the enemy, but it is not deep. Elea can stab with it, but she finds it easier to just slash. The pointed edges are clear, while it fades to a dark blue triangle in the center.
This can hurt her if the enemy pushes her hand towards herself.
Sting: Three small, navy blue triangles form near her fingers, and throws them like a Frisbee. They can cause small cuts, or even stab wounds if close to her.
Thrown path is not exactly straight.
She has to wait a while to use this again, up to two minutes.
~Square~ Block: A two foot, flat square extends from her palm to block a weak attack or projectile. The square is a murky light blue. It is about an inch thick.
This can easily break.
The oncoming attack can hurt her if aimed at her palm.
Fall: One ‘sister’ appears to fall backwards and disappears into the other ‘sister‘.
“Demon“: The ‘human sister’ falls into the other, appears with her clothes on, yet she has a flat back. I mean flat as in the side of a cardboard box.
“Human”: The ‘demon sister’ falls back. The human appears normal, the only difference is the black end of her hair, beginning where the end of the other “sister’s” ear starts. The gray stripe runs in between the white and black.
Split: By tugging the loose piece of ‘thread’ she can split into the two ‘sisters’. The two can not stay apart for long, as one of them instinctively will begin to move to the other ‘sister’. By touching either ones hand or standing back to back, they will come back together. (Unknown to her right now.)
Bio: (Color meaning: Black is her “demon sister” talking to her.)
I was born with my ‘sister’ attached, according to my mother. The whole backside of my body is bonded to hers, as if we were stuck standing back-to-back in a fighting situation. I learned that from my father. He began to teach me how to defend myself, before everything bad happened. My family does not want me to be with them, even my siblings, it‘ because of my sister. I like her though.
The only weapon I know how to hold or ‘wield’ is a medium sized stick of sorts. I’m kind of bad with it as well. Dad said I’m slow and I leave myself open a lot. My ‘sister’ says it’s because he keeps saying he is being gentle with us, but he is too quick. He said to hold it at one end, instead of holding the center like I always do. It’s easier to swing it like that, but when I try to hold it like he says to, it falls and then I almost follow it. That or it jabs me in the stomach. Too bad I left it behind, when we left home.
Oh, I guess I should explain why I’m writing like that. I do that to help keep me from being confused when I talk to my ‘sister’. I have a habit of talking out loud like that, other people say I must be talking to an imaginary friend, but I’ve never had one of those things. I have my ‘sister’. I have to hide her under my jacket, even though it kind of feels weird when she is not hidden.
The bad thing happened when the rest of my family found out about my other half. I was just playing a game with my older brother. I should have had my jacket on, but it was hot outside…
Elea puts the small blue journal back into her pocket. The pencil she is using is almost gone, the eraser barely pokes out of it’s metal band.
Sis, you don’t need to think about that.
I know, but I can’t help it. Everyone got upset and yelled or screamed “Demon!”…
Mom knew that I’m not a demon. I’m not too sure as to how she could tell.
Elea takes out her journal again, and begins to write something else down.
We like being near the water, it tends to jump near my hand though. My sister can hold it in her hand for nearly a minute, while in my hand, it’s a little shorter. I always find it odd, though. Being near the water helps me to forget bad things and relax.
Weapon: A long blade that is imbued with the lost elven magic, this makes it unbreakable as well as causes it to do things from beginning to shoot fire from its tip to temporarily melting. This will cause advantages as well as disadvantages, my character cannot control when or what happens. His style with his blade is very fluid. His style is to focus on defending using as little energy as possible, and once they are exhausted, he will take advantage of this and attack full-force. He also carries an unbreakable recurve bow. Obviously, he does carry a quiver on his back, this is inscribed with words from the elven language. His arrows are very basic, except for the heads, they are made of shed unicorn horn gathered in the elven forest.
Strengths: A quick thinker, he possesses the incredible strength and flexibility of all elves, his archery is much better than his swordsmanship, but it is also decent. His swordsmanship style is found in Weapon. His archery style is very accurate and he likes to concentrate so that he does not miss.
Weaknesses: He will sacrifice anything, including his life, when his friends are in danger. Sometimes he may lose focus of a fight and put himself at a disadvantage. His weaknesses in his swordsmanship is that there are occasionally small gaps in his defense that, if exploited, can cause him to take heavy damage. In his magick it takes him a while to activate a spell and once he has begun using a spell, he must follow through with it, this may cause extended periods of vulnerability.
Skills/Magic: He is apt in small magicks such as basic healing, understanding birds and other animals, and weak attack spells. These include shooting small, blue, glowing energy blasts and a weak, temporary, paralysis ability that only lasts for a few seconds. He also has an incredible lock-picking ability. He can also meditate which can allow him to see the future, but he must concentrate extremely hard; he cannot do this in the middle of a battle, he uses it to calm himself and make himself wiser; and yes sometimes possibly see the future.
Appearance: Like all elves he is very beautiful, but he is also scarred; he refuses to heal scars because he thinks that "all battles, even small ones, should be recorded in some way." He is rather tall and about an average length around him, meaning, he is neither fat nor skinny. He normally dresses in green, earthy colored clothes, brown boots, and his quiver and bow strung acoss his back, also his sword in a black sheath. You can see his eye and hair color above.
Personality: He is rather grim, he takes a very serious view about life, I hope you can understand that this is because of his tortured past. He can be joking and very cheerful at times though. He absolutely hates being lonely, he once believed he was apt to go mad for being without his friend Kitar so long. This was because he was going to warn the dwarves about the vampire conspiracy while Kitar was warning the humans.
Bio: He was born in the elven village Mein by his parents, Narn and Minora. He grew a rather normal childhood for him, but that really isn't saying much.
At age 83 he left to go and explore the world. In a few months, he met his friend Kitar, a tree spirit. He then learned of a vampire plot to either destroy or control the world. There were to many adventures he had for me to tell all you about, but I will tell you some, these will be in the form of important entries from his journal. Along the way he met Moddehn, a dwarf, at the dwarven capitol. He also made many enemies, his story is not yet, and will not be for a very long time, finished.
December 30, 2007
I did meditate today, though I wish I hadn't, what I sensed greatly troubles me. I can't tell exactly what it is, but here is what I could tell ; blood shed, spirits broken, lives lost, great cities destroyed, it isn't good. I haven't decided whether to tell Kitar or not.
January 8, 2008
We didn't reach Baderen as expected, we were attacked by vampires, that's right vampires! I mean, aren't vampires supposed to have a peace treaty with the elves or not?
One of them said something to me : "Why do you fight?" he said, "for you must know your pitiful existence as well as all others, must come to an end soon, there is no point."
"What do you mean?" I asked him. He merely laughed and vanished in a puff of black smoke, as well did the rest. Kitar asked me what I did to make them go away. I told him, "I didn't do anything. One of the vampires....." "Yes?" he asked me, "Never mind" I said, "nothing." Whatever the vampire meant still troubles me, and what's worse is we were driven days away from Baderen. I will write again when there is something to write about.
January 11, 2008
Well, we are back where we were when we were attacked. I found a strange object, it looks like some kind of amulet, it has strange markings on it that I recognize to be of the Vampire Clan of Guren, which means Bloodlust. Their history is as dark as night and black as it too. I haven't told Kitar of this nor of what the strange vampire said to me.
January 27, 2008
I will now tell you of this terrible thing that has happened :
I was sitting in my room meditating when I heard a crash. I ran down, quick as I could, unsheathed my sword and threw back my hood. What I saw was terrible; dead bodies everywhere,
"What happened?" I said to no one but the corpses that littered the ground. I regained my senses and ran out of the destroyed inn and leapt on top of the sign that used to read "The Boar's Tooth." What I saw was Kitar struggling against an onslaught of vampires, with nothing but his oaken sword, I know it's enchanted to be strong as steel but he knows the only way to kill vampires is with silver through the heart.
I used a simple spell to change my steel sword to silver as I did with Kitar's, we killed about six when they realized what I had done to our swords and they all vanished. But it was much to late; dead bodies scattered across the ground and the entire city was completely destroyed. I told Kitar of the Bloodlust Amulet, and of what the vampire said days before. He once again looked at the ground and said,
"Where do you propose we should go?"
"To the Clan of Guren" I replied.
February 8, 2008
What I am about to write is extremely disturbing.
We walked into the cave slowly, staying alert for the attack that might come any moment. Though we weren't attacked; we were greeted by a young vampire.
He said, "Come this way, to the Bloodchief." Kitar slowly nodded, his eyes told me to stay on my guard and to not unstring my bow.
When we reached the Bloodchief I immediately asked him about the Amulet, he smiled and said to me, "Come we shall unlock it's power," I was unsure about this, but I was forced to, as I noticed there were many armed vampires surrounding the room.
They led Kitar and myself to a chamber that I could sense was tainted with evil. One vampire asked me to step into the center of the empty room and place the Amulet on the stone table that was there. I did so. I was then asked to say three words, I did not know their meaning, I do now though, but I will not write them down.
Once I said these words the, strange presence I sensed earlier, it was back! It was stronger! I cried out in pain as I saw what I had done; A demon was rising out of the Amulet. It was terrible, blood red eyes glared at me with hatred. It charged me, but I was unable to move. Instead of colliding with me as it should have, it went within me! It's presence vanished, as did the ruins of the clan. I blacked-out.
I awoke a few hours later and asked Kitar what had happened. He told me the vampires had attempted to release a demon to destroy the world, but instead it is now within me. I asked him if we could destroy it, we couldn't. We could only release it. So now, if the vampires do not attack within a few days to try to release it, they have most likely found another way to destroy the world, or whatever else they are planning. So for now I bear the burden of the demon. I do not know what effects it will have, but I must stay on my guard for anything.
February 21, 2008
This is even more terrible than January 27.
We were riding through the forest at a rather slow pace. There was some brush in the way and I knew that we would have to clear it, as there are enchantments placed upon the forest so that you cannot enter any elven village by any means other than a certain path. It took about an hour to clear the brush.
What we saw then was terrible. My kind, elve's dead bodies were lain on the ground as if they were bloody toys of a baby giant. I was not the only one in despair, trees, hundreds, thousands had been either blasted or burned. I would guess Kitar recognized they once were his kind. We both wept openly.
About an hour later, as I walked through the wreckage, I came upon what once was my home. Both my parents bodies were laying there, looks of fear on their cold, dead faces.
When I went back to Kitar he only had three words to say to me, "Come with me." I did. He led me to what was once the blacksmith's. There was a sword on the ground, it's hilt engraved with the same markings as the Amulet.
I suddenly felt an extreme rage. I exploded! I had to kill! I unsheathed my sword and began striking Kitar with blows I never thought possible. All I remember after that was a look of extreme fear in Kitar's eyes and the uncontrollable desire to kill. I think I blacked-out.
I woke up about an hour later to see Kitar nursing a large gash on his left arm. "Ah, so you woke up," he said.
"What is happening to me?" I had to know.
"I don't know for sure," said Kitar, "but I'd bet it has to do something with that Amulet and the Demon." I was terrified, and still am, of myself.
February 23, 2008
I've noticed I've only been focusing on battles and death and destruction. It's been hard not to. (As I hope you can understand.) But now I will try to be able to put in more entries, so I must focus more on the lighter side of things. However, there is something that cannot be ignored; Kitar and I have decided to separate. We must warn all the races in time! I don't know what will happen if we don't.
March 9, 2008
Well my plan worked... sort of.
I got in to see the King, I walked up to him and said, quickly as I could; "Your Highness, I am here to inform you of an extremely important matter. The vampire Clan of Guren, and possibly more vampires are planning to..... well, I'm not actually sure, but they tried to have me release a Demon. Also, a vampire I was fighting after I was attacked said that we would all die soon, I'm not sure what this means but I know it can't be good."
He stared at me angrily and exclaimed, "Who do you think you are!? Coming and stunning my guards and then telling me of some, some, vampire conspiracy!? Why should I believe you when you have proven yourself a threat to my people?"
"Are we not all threats, your Highess?" I said quietly.
"Well, um. Guards have him thrown out!" So I slowly walked out of the room, as the guards were unconscious; I didn't want the King more flustered then he already was.
As I left, I saw a dwarf, probably a bit older than myself. He walked up to me and said quietly, "I believe you, and if you'll allow it I'd like to come with you, wherever you're going. There is nothing for me here."
At last a companion! I will no longer have to talk to my horse in hopes of real company! His name is Moddehn.
March 18, 2008
I was talking with Moddehn about bows when I spotted a faint blot in the distance. It looked like a horse whose rider was humped over and leaning to the right.
No matter what, I wasn't taking any chances. I strung my bow and kept it pointed at the rider's heart. That is, until, I realized it was Kitar.
Once Kitar was within fifty yards, he suddenly grimaced in pain, and fell off his horse.
I ran to him. "What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Arrow, just above my heart," Kitar barely managed to choke out. He passed out.
"What happened?" asked Moddehn.
"This is Kitar, we have to get him to a healer, fast. I can repair some of the damage with magic, but only enough to keep him alive for a week, if we're lucky."
"So, I expect you to know were these healers live, correct?" asked Moddehn.
"Not exactly, I know they love the sea, and that they often reside in certain areas of the forest, we have the best chance of finding them near the coast."
"So, to the Dreggen Sea," declared Moddehn.
I then repaired what I could by magic, we put Kitar on his horse and we decided to take turns leading Kitar's horse. So now our search for the healers begins.
March 25, 2008
I managed to find the healers.
They said that Kitar would have been lost within three hours. Right now they have Kitar in a tent and are treating him with different herbs. There are lights in the tent. The one who I assume to be the head healer told me Kitar would probably be fine in the morning
I am relieved, but also sad. After Kitar is healed, what should we do? Shall we grow fat and lazy until the vampires destroy us all? We are but wanderers if we have no purpose. The dwarves did not believe me and I doubt the humans believed Kitar, judging by his wound. Once me and Kitar meet with Moddehn I will pose this question to both of them.
If we find no solution will be to either run, which is completely out of the question, or fight the entire vampire army, just Kitar, Moddehn, and me, which is an option where we have no hope for survival. I don't know what we should do.
Allies: Kitar, a Tree Spirit, Moddehn, a Dwarf, and Mirabella, a Dark Faerie. (Dark Faeries are not neccasarilly evil, Mira is actually rather shy).
Please note that Moddehn, Kitar, and Mirabella may possibly be future BA characters for me.
For God gave his one and only Son so that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world but to save the world through him.
John 3: 16-17
Hair: Neck length, light brown hair of a nearly blonde shade with metallic golden highlights. She wears her hair in simple, uncomplicated styles. Her hair is both pulled back in a braided knot and hidden by some form of headwear, and her bangs - which are just long enough to touch the top of her eyebrows - left out. Alternatively, her hair is sometimes gathered loosely but securely behind her head by a light metal barrette, and her bangs are still left to fall over her forehead.
Eyes: Tierra's soft magenta eyes are expressive of her feelings at nearly all times, and a soft grey latticing within them gives them the impression of a stone color. She rarely blinks, and often makes direct eye contact, making the unusual color of her eyes even more obvious.
Weight: 155 pounds
Height: 5' 6"
Appearance: Standing five feet and six inches tall, Tierra Nena is a sturdily built young woman whose features might not be beautiful, but they are certainly striking. Her soft magenta eyes are expressive of her feelings at nearly all times, and a soft grey latticing within them gives them the impression of a stone color. Her skin is a dusky olive hue that suggests she may hail from some southern desert region with a natural tan that gives her a truly exotic look. Her hair is neck length; light brown and nearly blonde in color, with metallic golden highlights. She wears her hair in simple, uncomplicated styles. Usually, her hair is both pulled back in a braided knot and hidden by a grey-blue cloth scarf that has a knot near the base of her neck, and a tail of cloth that trails down to between her shoulder blades, while her bangs are left out to cover her forehead. Alternatively, her hair is sometimes gathered loosely but securely behind her head by a light metal barrette, and her bangs are still left out. Tierra’s voice fits her stature – sturdy and a little husky, but almost certainly womanly. Her curves are not especially flattering for a young woman, and while her facial features are feminine, Tierra could certainly and easily pass herself off for a young man.
Tierra wears heavier clothes that cover her completely from the neck down. Around her neckline, she wears a silvery metal collar set with a smooth red gemstone at its front. Clasped just below that collar is a deep-hooded, sand yellow cloak that flows over her shoulders and covers most of her body. Beneath that cloak is a like-colored cape of strong but light silk, which keeps the left side of her body covered as far down as her midthigh. Visible beneath both cloak and cape, respectively, Tierra wears a long sleeved, grey-blue shirt, which is somewhat billowy and obviously padded for protection. The ridge-like collar of that same shirt keeps the hem of her cloak off her neck. On her forearms, she wears a pair of thin, stylized metal vambraces and, on her hands, a pair of tight fitting, grey-blue cloth gloves. On her right upper arm, one may catch sight of an armband made from chain links and red gemstones.
Around her hip, the young adventurer wears a thick but soft leather belt, on the right-hand and slightly rear side of which is a heavy-duty leather weapons harness that holsters her warhammer for a fast and easy draw. On the left, front side of this belt she keeps a small leather satchel, which is usually concealed by a cape of cloth. A sand yellow silk cape that clasps on the left side of her hip covers her right hip and leg as far down as her midcalf, in similar manner to a skirt; the skirt partitions her weapons harness and warhammer from her leggings. The lady’s leggings are the same grey-blue color of her shirt and gloves, and are just as billowy and obviously padded for her protection. Strapped securely to the outer side of her right thigh, a tooled leather pack of rather rectangular shape, which is easily accessible through the cape that covers that leg. On her feet, she sports a pair of comfortable leather walking boots. From their shape, one might discern that these boots are steel toed.
Personality: When meeting new people, or encountering and exploring new places, Tierra is usually quiet until she develops a better command of her surroundings. When in her element, on the other hand, her demeanor is confident, direct and slightly sarcastic. No matter her level of comfort, Tierra has difficulties hiding her intelligent nature – her eyes are always sharp and watching, whether she trusts her company or not. She can be cold and calculating to new people, and guarded always. Whether her words or her tone say it to her friends or, even friendly acquaintances, or not, she is genuinely caring. Insulting the woman is difficult at best, impossible when she has only just met someone. Despite her cold demeanor toward strangers, she has a soft spot for children, especially those without families of their own, and may go far out of her way to help them.
If danger is the way of the wind, Tierra turns ruthless. Her life is top priority, followed closely by the welfare of her companions. As such, she prefers to mind her own business; stirring up trouble or poking one’s nose in where it does not belong is the fastest way to the grave. Her nature is regularly not controlling, but it is one of her few vies when lives are at stake. When she has control, her safety is guaranteed. Friendly spars or even duels to anything but death see her in a more playful, facetious light – she may even taunt her opponent in jest.
Weapons: Tierra wields a seven-foot long, shadowtop-hafted, steel bec de corbin of expert quality with a two-and-a-half hand leather grip near its head. The weapon has a metal interruption in five feet along its haft, where a strong, mechanical fastener holds it securely in place, while allowing its wielder to perform a short series of twists, pulls and pushes to either separate the latter two feet of the weapon from the former five feet, or lock them together again. When separated, the bec de corbin becomes two weapons - a spiked steel warhammer, and a steel-capped quarterstaff. Tierra normally keeps the weapon in its separated state, combining them into the bec de corbin only on rare occasion. In most circumstances, the warhammer hangs from a weapons loop on her right hip, while the quarterstaff remains her walking stick.
The warhammer on her side is barely more than two feet long and composed entirely of steel, brass and leather. Where other weapons may have a pommel, Tierra's warhammer has a thick dowel of notched steel, which comes to a point after about two inches. Its haft is wrapped in braided leather, which is in turn secured to the haft by means of several brass tangs. The hammer's head is viciously forked by a severe crescent-shaped depression at the place where the flat of its head would otherwise be, giving that end of her weapon amazing armor-piercing qualities, in line with the normal bec de corbin style. At the top of her weapon, the warhammer has a broad, two-and-one-half inch double-edged steel blade for making simple punctures, and the back of the hammer has a blunted, five-inch long steel spike for making deeper pierces.
The quarterstaff portion of her bec de corbin is typically held in her right hand, its solid cap pointed at the ground. The center of its upper cap is interrupted by a notched steel hole, the receptor for the dowel of the warhammer, where the two weapons merge back into the bec de corbin. The quarterstaff's haft is made from seasoned shadowtop wood, sealed with a myriad of oils and tempered in a method that Garn learned during his travels as a youth from a forest-dwelling tribe outside known civilization.
Tierra also keeps a small, waterproofed leather satchel on her belt, which she can reach into and draw out a mix of powdered salt and acidic alchemical reagents to throw at an opponent's eyes or open wounds. This same mixture also ignites readily, giving her a fire starter when tinder is sparse. Although practiced in the skill of throwing this powder during combat, Tierra is no expert, so she refers to this weapon only rarely.
Beneath a small cape of waterproofed cloth on her right hip, a safe few inches in front of the weapons harness, that secures her warhammer; Tierra has a single-shot pistol, made mostly from steel, oak and brass. The gun is more like a flintlock than a modern pistol; its payload is a single small sphere of alloyed meteorite iron and silver, propelled by a charge. Unlike her other weapons, Tierra's gun could be described as magical. The charge her pistol uses is not powder, but a stored spell from her Ruination magicks, powered by the soul of an ancient and deranged sphinx. The beast's soul can fuel five shots from the pistol. In size, almost the entire gun fits easily into Tierra's palm, except for its short barrel, which juts just one inch past her fingers.
Lastly, Tierra keeps a spring-loaded, twin-bladed steel dagger designed for both breaking and trapping blades hidden beneath the capes of cloth on her left thigh, ready at a moment's notice. This blade has an angled handle, a full knuckle guard and a split trigger, positioned on both the dorsal and plantar sides of the handle. When this trigger is depressed, the blade traps spring out from either side of the weapon's blades, making it look like a strange, four-pronged weapon.
Armor, Clothing and Accessories: Tierra wears clothing that covers her from the neck down at all possible times. Though her gray-blue, long-sleeved shirt may initially appear to be nothing more than padded cloth, its high-cut V-neck collar stands up in a two-inch ridge meant to protect her neck from blows while still giving her a free range of motion. This collar is the first indication that her slightly billowy, padded shirt is more than it first appears to be. A mesh of fine metal cords tied in a series of complex knots lie beneath the first layer of cloth, designed to resist punctures, such as from arrows. Woven with the fabric of the shirt itself are thin, double layered iron plates, all concealed at her abdomen, lower back, upper back, chest, and the tops of her shoulders. All in all, this very complicated design gives Tierra an almost uninhibited range of motion and very light wardrobe, while providing her with some of the protection of true armor, especially warding off the danger from most conventional ranged weaponry.
Tierra wears a pair of gray-blue leggings are crafted in similar fashion to her shirt armor, though they conceal light chain or banded mail armor in the places that cover her inguinal region (the groin), the front of her thighs, her knees, the back of her knees, and her calves, instead of plate reinforced cords.
Tierra wears a pair of steel toed, calf-high leather walking boots, armored along her shin and the top of her foot in the same hidden fashion as her shirt, despite the fact that her leggings drop down as far as her ankles, causing an overlap in her leg and foot protection. She also accents her armored attire with a pair of full-fingered cloth gloves with corded plates laid at the back of her hands. To hide her hair, she wears a cloth scarf of the same gray-blue color of her shirt and leggings tied around her head with a knot near the base of her neck, and a tail of cloth that trails down to between her shoulder blades.
Woven into sewn in channels all over her shirt, leggings, boots and gloves are long, supple strips of a canvas-like material, the overall weave of which is designed to suture together her various pieces of clothing into a more singular piece. There are seven of these strips in all, and their entire function is to protect her from the harsh elements on her travels, particularly to keep water off her body during storms, and snow out from inside her clothes.
Over all her other clothing, Tierra wears a large, deep hooded, sand yellow leather cloak that mantles over her shoulders and falls down as far as her mid calves. This heavy-edged cloak is specially treated with oils, designed to keep the weather off her body while she travels. Other capes of sand yellow cloth or leather adorn her body as well, such as a thin pongee silk cape that clasps on top of her right shoulder and covers the left side of her torso, down to midthigh of her left leg, thus keeping her entire left arm hidden most of the time. Another such cape drapes around her hip, clasping at her left side and loosely covering her right leg down to her midcalf, in similar fashion to a skirt. This second skirt is worn under the weapons harness that holds her warhammer, but over a far smaller, third cape of waterproofed leather - which covers barely eight inches of space - that hides her gun. None of these cloth or leather capes cover her body so tightly as to impede her range of motion, and all of them are cut so as to catch the air around her and puff out when she jumps, runs or makes other swift, prolonged movements.
Around her neck, Tierra wears a low collar of silvery white metal, set with a translucent, red cabochon gemstone, which rests against her sternal notch. The stone is inhabited by the soul of a demon on its way to redemption, who causes the stone to pulse against Tierra’s neck when she is in danger. On each of her forearms, the adventurer wears a pair of light, nickel-iron vambraces engraved with flowing, concentric patterns and on her right upper arm is an armband of many small iron chains, into the links of which are set just as many small, faceted gemstones of the same color as the stone set in her collar. Six of these smaller stones glimmer with an inner light, but these lights are visible only in dim or worse lighting; each one of them contains the captured soul of some especially heinous demon or creature of legend. On her right ear is an elaborately crafted piece of jewelry, a stylized earcuff made of nickel and silver, and set with tiny, faceted orange corals. This earcuff is possessed by a feminine spirit of knowledge and secrets, named Gilda, who has consented to aiding Tierra in her journeys until she is laid to her final rest. To Tierra's dismay, however, the spirit answers only direct questions, and never volunteers more information than is asked of it, to a very precise degree.
In a tooled, waterproofed leather pack, secured via leather straps to the side of her right thigh, Tierra keeps a plethora of small tools for her magicks, including incense, an iron-cored teak wand, and some knotted silk cords, ink of various ingredients and colors, and several individually wrapped cloths containing specially prepared miscellaneous components. On the posterior side of this same pack, a small pocket stores several small spheres constructed from meteorite iron alloyed with purest silver. Another of the pack's pockets holds high quality paper and vellum of varying lengths and widths.
One very notable object in this pack is a crystal phial containing a pinch of bright blue gemstone powder, called atenaar. This powder can be used as an additional component for any of Tierra's Ruination or Shaping spells. If she uses this powder to cast a spell, that spell's power is enhanced greatly, though it does not give Tierra the ability to cast spells that would otherwise be beyond her.
Strengths: Tierra has been trained in and practiced for several years the use of the quarterstaff for self-defense, and is familiar with the warhammer from both fundamental instruction and practice in live combat across the course of her journeys. She is a dangerously quick draw from either her left or her right and has an astounding understanding of the bodies of living creatures, whether they are mortal things or creatures of legend and myth. At her heart though, Tierra is a spellcaster. Each of her three known forms of magic are unusual in nature, and defending against them effectively can range from tricky to double-edged.
Tierra is an intelligent young woman, perhaps far more intelligent than she herself realizes. She learns quickly and can adapt to new conditions with infuriating ease. Tierra learned early in her adventures that fighting honorably is a short road to death, so she has put together an arsenal of cunning tricks to help her out of the tight spots that may arise both in battle and out.
The young woman is a blacksmith of notable skill, a crack shot with her gun, a gifted spellcaster and a passable melee fighter. As Garn refused to openly having a girl for an apprentice at his forge, Tierra is adept in passing herself off for a clean-shaven young man. She can cook a mouth-watering meal with her pot and the normal findings of any forest or meadow and, has a kind of insight that is nearly unheard of for her young age.
Weaknesses: Though she has been traveling for the better part of six years, Tierra is what a person would call new to the adventuring lifestyle. Her lack of experience is apparent to anyone who scrutinizes her too closely, and has been the source of many a glaring blunder on her part.
Tierra learned to defend first, attack when necessary. Her nature is defensive, however, and her fighting style relies on defense far too greatly. She will often ignore gaps in an opponent's defense until she is certain that she has an opening to attack and that is not being deceived by a ruse or feint. Instead of attacking, Tierra prefers to exhaust her opponents, then strike. This style often gives her opponents enough time to find flaws in her defenses.
Although her magical skill is prodigious, Tierra knows only a handful of spells and her skill-at-arms is passable, but she is unfamiliar with most of the weapons outside of her own personal arsenal. Even her bec de corbin and its constituent weapons are difficult for her to use effectively; her other weapons have come from her need for less honorable ways to bring opponents down. Additionally, when Tierra cats a spell, she must wait before she can cast another. Depending on how powerful a spell she's just cast, this wait time can be anywhere from a few seconds up to a full minute, and a lot can happen in a minute.
Water in large doses is anathema to Tierra; she has a deep-rooted and irrational fear of water in large volumes. Partially related to this fear is the fear of creatures that reside in the water; their inhuman forms unnerve Tierra. She is uncomfortable and apprehensive in heavy fog or mist, a sensation of being trapped makes her strongly dislike being caught in the rain and she has (as a result) impulsively used magic to keep water off herself during a storm on more than one occasion. Nearby streams, lakes, rivers and especially oceans make Tierra feel nervous or jumpy. When Tierra bathes, the tub is always spelled against misfortune, and the room is warded against unwelcome visitors and spirits. This fear is inborn to Tierra, no traumatic event has ever transpired to cause it.
Skills and Magic: Tierra's journeys have often found her in dangerous locations where fleet feet and nimbleness are paramount to survival. As a result, Tierra has become adept in a degree of acrobatics and tumbling. Although her reflexes are not superhuman, she does seem to push the limits; her awareness of her surroundings and her reflexes are akin to the prowess of expert assassins and ascete ki masters, respectively. Taught by her hometown's stable master, she is also a talent on horseback, able to stay astride a frightened wild stallion... just not without a saddle.
Though barred from learning the magicks taught at the royal academy, Tierra was undaunted in her pursuit of a magic she could call her own. Over the course of her journeys, she has learned three different styles of magic, each as unusual and unique as the others. They are Ruination, Shaping and Terragaldrs.
Ruination is a very dark style of magic that Tierra learned from a repenting demon shortly before its suicide. The fiend had specifically requested that Tierra use its own soul to fuel a ward that would alert her to nearby danger, so that she could hopefully succeed in the inevitable adventures that would accompany her journeys. Ruination focuses on death energy, on flesh, and on infernal powers. Spells from the ruination style can augment the caster’s abilities, torture others, curse others, conceal a person’s self or others, and create wards. Its spells can require remaining completely still, specially knotted cords, invocations, talismans, specially prepared components, magic words, gestures, parchment bearing special symbols, a staff and/or guiding magical forces with the mind. Ruination spells draw their power from otherworldly sources, but the more powerful spells in this type of magic can also require the energy of captured souls. Some ruination spells can age their caster in leaps and bounds. Many of the components in Tierra's leg pack are used for this style of magic, as are all eight of her captured souls. Tierra herself is uncomfortable using the spells that draw their power from soul energy, preferring the spells with other components when she uses this style at all.
The following are the Ruination spells that Tierra has learned:
Axe of Infernal Light
This spell conjures into being a single-bladed battle-axe composed almost entirely of coherent blobs of crimson and golden light. It stands up to blows as well as tempered steel, and its edge cauterizes any wounds its lays into a victim, ensuring great pain with the merest scrape. The axe takes only as long to materialize as its magic words take time to speak, and its haft is made from a long strip of parchment bearing symbols, wrapped around itself several times. To cast, the Axe of Infernal Light requires the magic words "Sorece Uc" and a long strip of parchment bearing mystic symbols along both sides of its length, which will become its haft.
Blades of Dust
This spell takes the form of a gust of dust-filled, burning hot wind large enough to cover half of an average human. When the wind brushes over its victim, it parches and cracks their exposed skin, causing them to bleed slowly. A wound caused by blades of dust is never life threatening, but it is certainly painful. Its casting requires a pinch of dust or sand, the magic words "Erfec Ros", and a scarab's wing treated with oil. When the spell is cast, the scarab's wing withers, making it unfit for another casting.
Beam of Bone
The evocation called Beam of Bone manifests as a single, pencil-thin ray of ivory color, which jumps out at a single target within 50 feet of its caster. Any object or creature struck by the ray is covered in a shell of massive bone, measuring two feet in diameter. This casing can be broken off with a hard blow, usually from a weapon, but can be devastating to a victim's agility if it forms around a joint. The casting of this spell requires a gesture with one hand and a cotton cord that has been knotted so many times that it cannot bend in any meaningful way. When the spell is cast, every knot in the cord comes undone, making it unfit for another casting until the knots are retied.
Ray of Devilfire
This spell manifests as a cyclone of red and gray flames that reaches out from the caster's hand, from which brilliant orange and yellow sparks fly in all directions. The ray is only a few inches wide but can be extended at its caster's will up to fully fifteen feet long. The fire burns hot enough to set ignite green wood after less than a minute of exposure. Perhaps worse than its physical effect, the devilfire also burns a victim's mental acuity, leaving them feeling drunk and "fuzzy”. Among Tierra's offensive spells, Ray of Devilfire tops the list. This spell's casting requires a gesture with one hand, the magic words "Urrogh Vel Ors" and a dried bat's wing that has been treated with human tears. The bat's wing is burned by the casting of the spell, so a new one must be used for another casting. Each time Ray of Devilfire is successfully cast, its caster ages another three weeks.
The aegis circle is one of the rare protective spells in the ruination style. When cast, it surrounds the caster in a bubble of nearly invisible force, which keeps weapons, spells, debris and similar matter at no less than arms' length from them. The ward is strong enough to rebuff falling rocks and weapon attacks of perhaps slightly greater than human strength. If stronger forces are hedged against its protection, the circle allows them passage without collapsing. The aegis circle also stops cold a single spell cast at it before dissipating, itself. An aegis circle can be maintained for several hours between castings, but its maintenance prevents the caster from casting other spells. Aegis Circle requires a short series of gestures with both hands to cast, as well as five pieces of paper bearing arcane symbols on them. When the spell is cast, the symbol-bearing papers fly out from the caster's hands and mark the outermost limits of the spell's protection but these papers can be reused for other castings of the spell. Every creature within arms' reach of the caster at the time of the spell's casting is counted under its protection.
The Profane Blast creates a very compact and powerful explosion of eldritch blue smoke and energy. The detonation is of sufficient power to flinder living bones but affects only the living. Objects within the effect of a Profane Blast spell suffer no ill effects, but might become ruffled as if be a small breeze. The area of Tierra's Profane Blast spell is only one foot in diameter, but lacks not for power. The casting of a Profane Blast requires a gesture with one hand and a measure of soul energy. Most souls have enough vigor to fuel six Profane Blast spells.
Bloody Evocation of the Blade of Hell
This particularly wicked spell is one that Tierra knows but cannot cast. The spell summons a blade the size of the average shortsword, made wholly from crimson, crystalline pain, which bursts forth from the body of its victim. The blade drinks the blood of its victim, and dissolves upon their death, leaving only a withered corpse with a ragged gash on its torso. The casting of this spell requires the magic words "Gol Orn Ervena Hal," a series of gestures with one hand, severe concentration on the caster's behalf, and the consumption of 2 mortal souls. Additionally, the completion of this spell ages the caster four years prematurely and leaves them heavily disoriented for several minutes. Before Tierra can even attempt the casting of this spell, her skill in the Ruination magicks will need to be expanded five-fold, at the very least. Before that time, the advanced magicks involved would only kill her.
In Tierra's Ruination repertoire is another sort of magic, which is used to steal the souls of those she herself has slain. This magic cannot be used on anyone but the dead, and is wholly ineffective unless the victim was slain by Tierra herself. The ritual takes more than a minute to complete and requires both a receptacle for the soul and a long strip of vellum bearing special runes. As powerful as souls could make her Ruination magic, Tierra is not fond of capturing souls, and so performs this rite only on creatures and people who have met their end after a lifetime of wronging others.
Shaping, on the other hand, may seem like the very opposite of Ruination. The woman learned the Shaping style while poking about the vault of knowledge guarded by a sphinx in the desert, at about the same time she acquired Gilda. Its spells focus on holy energy, light and astral matter and can create weapons, armor, objects and art, bring prosperity to people, homes and land, prevent misfortune, heal wounds, repair damaged or broken objects, temporarily enchant items, evoke light and augment the abilities of living creatures. Shaping's spells can require invocations, offerings for supernatural forces, incense, words of power, careful visualization and/or a special talisman. Tierra's favorite and most commonly used spells are from the Shaping style.
The following spells are a part of Tierra's Shaping repertoire:
This defensive spell creates a shield of dazzling white light in midair, at any point up to ten feet away from Tierra, and in any orientation she desires. Its evocation requires a gesture with one hand and the magic word "Thyre" and, when first cast, it takes less than a single second to fully form. Tierra's shield is strong enough to deflect arrows and sword blows. The shield could even stop a charging man in armor, but nothing stronger. The shield can last upwards of a half minute before dissipating on its own. A Lucent Shield is immobile once it has formed, and could be used as a stepping-stone by someone light enough. Lucent Shield is perhaps Tierra's most commonly used spell in combat.
Lance of Silver
By coalescing pristine, silver-white light and astral fabric, this spell creates a seven-foot long war lance with a broad, triangular blade. Its haft fits the hand of whoever hefts it and its balance is impeccable. The lance seems to weigh only a few pounds, when swung or thrown, it strikes as though the whole weapon were made of iron. It is extremely resistant to blows, its edge can slice leather with ease and it is impervious to fire. The spell's casting requires that the caster be wrapped in the smoke of incense made with jasmine, a gesture with one hand, the magic word "Sier" and careful visualization of the lance to be created. Unfortunately, Tierra is completely untrained in the use of a war lance, and has only ever used the spell when in need of a spear to throw.
Hale infuses its recipient with astral energies and augments them, body and soul, with holy power. Any living creature blessed with the power of the hale spell will find their health, their eyesight, their mental acuity and willpower, their physical speed and strength - the limits of all of these things become nearly twice their norms and, the effects of the spell last until either two minutes have elapsed, or the caster articulates another spell. The casting of the hale spell requires that the caster be able to lay her hand against the body of the recipient and a cone or block of incense made with vanilla. The incense is consumed in the casting, so a new cone or block must be acquired for another casting. Hale has no effect on the unliving, so mechanical or similar prosthetics and the undead glean no benefit from this spell.
The Rejuvenate spell does just that - it rejuvenates its target. The recipient of a Rejuvenate spell is cured of all exhaustion and can be brought back even from the far brink of terminal dehydration. The spell closes puncture wounds, gashes and deep cuts and alleviates the aches and pain of such injuries. Tierra's rejuvenate spell also replaces the majority of the blood lost from the same injuries it closes but it cannot aid with internal bleeding or knit broken bones. Other feats of healing are simply beyond Tierra's skill with this spell. To be cast, the Rejuvenate spell requires that the caster be able to hold her open palm near the recipient of the spell, the magic word "Melia", and a special talisman containing pure water. Casting the spell draws on the astral energy held in the talisman's water, making it unfit for another casting until its natural stores of that energy return, which is usually about a day later. Tierra owns three of these talismans.
When a weapon breaks, her armor becomes damaged, a cloth is torn, or she kinds a key rusted into two pieces, Tierra turns to her Mend spell to remedy the situation. Given enough time, this spell could turn a few rusty scraps of metal back into a shining cuirass of plate armor but Tierra rarely has need for such prolonged castings of the rite. Generally speaking, the more severe the damage to an object, the longer it takes to fix the object. Simple cloth or leather tears mend over the course of a single breath, partially rusted or split pieces of mail can take nearly a minute to piece back together and full breaks in large objects, such as most weapons, can take upwards of an hour. The rite for the spell requires that the caster breathes incense made with both dragon's blood and lemon grass and that the magic words "Dwam Urum" be chanted as the caster touches each place on the object where repairs must be made.
Terragaldrs are a type of magic that draw their energy from the world around the caster, using her as a friendly conduit. Tierra learned terragaldrs from the inherited personal notes and research of an academy mage-historian, who in his life voted against Tierra being allowed entry to the royal academy of wizardry. It focuses on gravity, magnetism and sand, specifically moving these things around and using them to move other things. Effects in the terragaldr style (referred to as terragaldrs, and usually not as spells) can require gestures, the drawing of sigils, a wand, specific bodily postures and/or specially knotted cords. Though Tierra is far too young to benefit from it, the use of terragaldrs seems to grant the caster a longer lifespan. Most terragaldrs require the use of the caster's hands and a strong measure of hand-eye coordination, so Tierra is careful not to let her terragaldrs consume too much of her attention. Terragaldrs do not really have names per se, but for listing them here, I have approximated some names for them.
The following are the terragaldrs that Tierra has learned:
By the use of this terragaldr, the caster takes a teak wand in hand and draws a few pairs of sigils in the air, each of which manifests in the form of a luminescent blue rune. The caster may direct one of each of the pairs of sigils to float near a body of sand; the remaining sigils simply float near the end of her wand. By tapping on one of the sigils near her wand, the caster may direct the movements of the associated patch of sand on the other end of the paired sigil. Each pair of Tierra's sigils can affect a measure of sand up to one yard square and half an inch deep. Every inch a "close" sigil is moved can translate up to five feet of movement for a "far" sigil, and a simple flick of the wrist can turn a patch of sand to a different orientation. A patch of sand controlled by this terragaldr can support an enormous amount of weight and force - charging bull could be stopped with ease with walls made by this terragaldr. The use of this terragaldr requires only that the caster hold on to the teak wand for the entire duration of the spell. As soon as the wand leaves the caster's grip, so does the sand leave the magic's grip. When a wand is being used for this terragaldr, it cannot be used for any other.
This terragaldr works by "grabbing" on to the gravitic forces surrounding its target. The grip of the terragaldr is powerful but gentle; having an upper limit of weight, it can lift or move over around four thousand pounds. Despite its great strength, the target of this terragaldr is never in danger of being harmed by the grip of the effect. This terragaldr requires that its caster to have tied a special, moving knot into the middle of a cord of silk. By taking a moment to attune an object or creature to the cord, the caster can slip the knot along the length of the cord, thus moving the attuned creature or object along with it. Therefore, if the terragaldr's controller holds a cord upright and slides the knot to the top of the cord, the attuned object or creature will be flung skyward. If the controller slides the knot away from their self, horizontally, the attuned creature is moved likewise. By moving a knot downward, the Terragladr's taster can even attempt to slam the attuned creature or object on the other side against the ground, or cause flying things to fall. Every inch of moving knot translates to about ten feet of moving attuned thing. When the controller stops moving the knot, the magic releases its grip on the attuned creature or object, as well.
Functionally, this terragaldr is almost identical to the terragaldr for controlling sands. The terragaldr's user scribes a few pairs of sigils into the air with an iron-cored wand and assigns "far" sigils to a single ferrous object nearby. The "near" sigils float around the tip of the wand and can any one of them can be tapped upon to seize control of them until the terragaldr's controller no longer wills it. By moving the group of "near" sigils, the terragaldr's controller directs the movements of the associated ferrous object on the other side. Each sigil assigned to an object helps the terragaldr to lift and move up to 300 pounds of weight and every inch a "close" sigil is moved can translate up to five feet of movement for a "far" sigil, and a simple flick of the wrist can turn the associated object to a different orientation. Only one object can be affected by this terragaldr at a time and if the terragaldr's controller ceases to hold the wand attached to the sigils, the terragaldr releases its grip, as well. When a wand is being used for this terragaldr, it cannot be used for any other.
Aevui is a type of life magic. Though it is arcane in nature, its power comes from the world around its wielder, specifically from animals and a cycle of elements. The aevui cycle is composed of and flows in the direction of earth, wood, water, air, spirit and fire. its spells can be used to incorporate living animals to the body as totems to garner benefits from them, to summon spirits and creatures to do one’s bidding, to shape objects, weapons and armor from the elements of the aevui cycle, and to move the spirits of animals and mythical creatures through the aevui’s wielder to enhance or alter their abilities. Aevui magic can also summon an animal familiar and move the elements of its cycle, though the latter spells are taxing to their caster. Aevui spells can require magic words, various herbs, incense, concentration, emotional calm or heightened emotions, the drawing of runes, guiding magical forces with the mind, and/or talismans in their casting. Aevui is a type of magic that is unique to Tierra, though she has not yet developed it.
Bio: On the day of Tierra Cohr’s birth, in the reaches of the Has’haran deserts, near the border of the steel king’s land, a shaman was called into the Cohr household. The shaman wore the finest leathers and furs the tribe owned, many brightly colored ribbons and small metal trinkets to ward off spirits of ill fortune, mischief and worse. Though the man’s demeanor was normally very light-hearted to other nomads, that day his chin was set and his eyes were severe. Sota Ret’s duty was grave, and he took no joy in it at all.
The shaman Ret set a hand against the frightened midwife’s shoulder, he could feel her relax immediately. She turned her head to look up at him, and he spread pure oils across her forehead with one finger. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye. The midwife bowed her head, stood, and stepped back from the bundled child.
Sota sat down in the midwife’s place, Alla Cohr, the child’s mother, looked on at him apprehensively. He took a pipe from the leather bag on his side and lit the end. The shaman drew a long breath from the pipe and held it for a moment. When he breathed again, a sparkling white smoke filled the tent’s air. Sota lifted the fussing child into his arms and doubled back the leather fold the hid the infant’s face. She grew quiet at his gaze and smiled up at him. The old man did his best to return the favor.
As Sota looked at the child, he tousled her hair and ran a finger along her cheek. Her soft magenta eyes shone brightly, but for some reason, he did not want to believe it. Those moments in the Cohr household changed like seasons. At last, Sota looked up at Alla Cohr and glanced sidelong, turning his head with the look. The mother burst into tears, unable to contain herself. Roghen, the father, took her in his arms, whispering to her quietly.
“This child is no Cohr. She is no child of the Faran tribe. The spirit in her will bring ill fortune to the tribe.” His voice sounded dead as he spoke; he addressed the child’s father, “Roghen. You will take Tierra to the Steel King’s land. Leave her in care of one you have never met and return to the tribe.”
* * *
Roghen Cohr had been traveling for two days. On his journey, his heart had grown heavy; he felt only fortunate that the child’s mother did not have the chance to grow so close to their daughter these past days. Something inside him ached. With every step he took, it was as if he were tearing open an old wound.
Far behind Roghen were the sands his people knew well. In this place, grass and forestland lay in all directions, as far as the man could see. He had traveled here swiftly, sparing himself no quarter. He wanted this task done with. Up ahead, the trees broke, and beyond that, the homes of the Steel King’s people. Before this moment, he thought that this moment would have made him glad, but he was not. Instead, he felt a longing in his heart. “No,” he reminded himself, “I cannot take her back to the tribe with me. It is the word of the shaman. My– “ his voice caught in his throat. He could not even think the words, so he changed them, “This child is demon possessed. If I returned with her, her fate would be far worse than this. I can only do my best to provide well for her while I can provide for her at all.”
Roghen looked about at the buildings of these people’s town. He knew that Has’haran nomads knew the best ways to live and, though these people had no shamans and worked with fire and metal, they were not ignorant, either. The largest family tent in Faran was owned by the wealthiest family in the tribe, so it would make sense that the largest building in this town was owned by the wealthiest family. He looked along the line of wood and stone structures until he spied the largest among them. He crept up toward the door, wary of anyone that might see him – the shaman had warned him that if he met the child’s caretaker to be, the evil spirit may follow him back to the tribe.
With incredible care not to wake the sleeping babe, the man set down the basket she was in on the stoop of the door, outside of the range that someone might accidentally step on her, and set the note he prepared atop her small belly. He kissed Tierra gently on the forehead and whispered an invocation over her for protection, and fled into back to trees, where he watched and waited patiently for the child’s next parent to arrive.
Three hours passed.
* * *
Reggorn grunted as he lifted the heavy wooden barrel of refuse and cracked cups from the corner of the inn’s tavern. He hated slow nights; they always meant the heavy chores were left for him. Still, there was no use paying one of the local boys when the help wasn’t needed. With a word to one of the serving girls, he headed out the back door to dump the garbage.
As Reg walked down the steps toward the trash bin outside the city, something caught his eye. Setting down the barrel, he looked a little closer. It was a basket woven from thick desert grasses, with something wrapped in soft leather inside. A note sat atop the leather, and in the quiet, Reg swore he could hear someone sniffling. His mood fouling, he snatched up the letter and looked it over. It was in the King’s common, but the script had a flourish about it like nomad writing. He knew at once what the basket was.
He had always known that the desert barbarians got rid of children that seemed strange to them. As soon as a child displayed unusual characteristics, the nomad shamans were called on to look the child over. If they were found, by whatever backwards system the shamans used, to be possessed by a bad spirit, the child was cast out. Some were left to die in the desert; luckier ones were abandoned on the doors of peoples’ homes in the middle of the night. It was simply beyond Reg how anyone could treat their own children that way. They were heathens, the lot of them. He thought that about the nomads even before tonight, when he found a child wrapped in leather, in a basket on his doorstep. That only made it worse.
He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, and folded back the leather covering the child’s face. The child was beautiful, but he saw at once why the nomads got rid of her. Eyes like those – a bright, yet soft magenta – weren’t common in any culture. She fussed a little, having just woken. Silently, Reg stroked the child’s cheek softly to calm her, folded the leather back over her to keep her warm, took her inside the inn without closing the door behind him and set the basket on a safe counter for the moment.
Red in the face, Reggorn walked back outside the inn and closed the door behind him. His anger boiled up inside him, and he half-growled, half-screamed out to the tree line, “Heathen! Coward! You’ll burn in Hell, dammit! Ain’t you feel nothing?! Ain’t you human?!” He went on like that for the better part of three minutes before finishing, “…and I hope you ain’t never come back! I’ll raise her, you gutless–“ Reg nearly choked, but instead, let out a roar so filled with hate it sent the birds from their trees.
Out in the forest, too far in the night to be seen by naked eyes, Roghen listened to it all. He was frozen in place, stunned by the sound of the man’s voice. He didn’t understand all of the words, but he didn’t need to. When the man bellowed at him, he found himself retreating – running – as if it would get him away from his shame and hide him from his wounded heart.
Reggorn took a breath and heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh. After a moment, he came to his senses and hauled the barrel of garbage out with the rest of it. Wiping the back of his hand across his brow, he looked back toward the inn and went inside. Reg picked up the bundled child from the counter and returned to the inn’s tavern. There, at the bar, he set the child down and whistled for the attention of the wenches who came to help him in the evenings, who immediately halted their chores, bringing near silence to the room. They knew that this whistle meant something important was happening. The child inside her bundle stirred and began to fuss. Reggorn turned away from his helping hands who had begun to gather about him and soothed the small child again.
Curious and disbelieving, one of the girls leaned toward the innkeeper, “Wha-“ her voice cracked. She stopped, and then tried again, “Reggorn… what’s that ye got there? Don’t tell me…”
With an expression of resignation, Reg cut her off right there, “It’s exactly what you think, Ruby. This child’s been left at our doorstep.”
One of the other women cried out in vehement protest, “Who’d jus’ leave a babe at an inn?! Dun they know there ain’t none but the innmaster what lives here?”
Reg waved his hands and the girls and patted the air, trying to quiet them, “Jay, the writing on the note’s from a Has’haran tribal hand.”
“So?” she demanded fiercely. She looked to the other five girls, who had seated themselves at nearby tables, trying to get some support from them.
“They gots a different way of livin’ than us. Whoever it were, probably didn’t even know what an inn is, and just assumed it were a big house. Asides, there be someone ‘at lives here. I do. And I’ll be taken in the child jes’ like ter plan, I’m guessin.”
Ruby made a face and began slowly, “Now, Reg, sweetheart… we all know you got the best intentions and there ain’t none in town that’ll tell yeh ye ain’t a good man, but ye’ve never ‘ad a child. Ye dun know what it’s like. Iffen anyun’ll be taken after that child, it’d be one of us.”
The innmaster shook his head at the woman and smiled, “Thank you, Ruby, but no. I’m a man of my word, and though I were in a fit when I said it, I told after that coward what left her here that I’d take her in. And I know it costs money to keep a child, which none of ye ‘ave got much to spare of, and what’s more do I know that none of ye have got the room to keep a child in. I got enough of both, and what I don’t, I can get.” He looked across their faces, each of which wore a look of uncertainty, shock and perhaps a little bit of wonder. To soothe them, he continued, “But, ladies, I would care for it very much iffen ye helped me raise her. I am new to this, after all.”
Ruby, a woman in her mid-30s and a mother of two herself, spoke as if she were speaking for all the women there, “Reg, if you’ve sworn to take her in, we’ll help you raise her. For the next couple of years, though, there will always be someone here to look after her with you. And I bet you’ll be regrettin’ never marryin’ when we’re here.” Her grin was sly, “Cause we’re gonna shape you into a right father, and you ain’t get none’a what comes along with it.” The women laughed, their tension broken, and Reg couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Ruby did go on though, after her joke was had, “Reg, that leaves just a couple of loose ends. Like, what’re you gonna tell her ‘bout her parents? And what’s name goin’ t’ be?”
Reggorn stroked his chin, feeling thoughtfully at his stubble. After a moment of deliberation, he said, “Ain’t do no good to raise a child with no parents. We’ll just make it known I had a night with a trader woman what was here in town last autumn, and I got left with her when the trader come back, as her ma’s travelin’ woulda been no good for her being raised.”
The women nodded in approval of Reg’s idea. One of them, Dawn, spoke up, “What about her mother’s name, then, Reg? And what color was her eyes? She’ll want to know those things, y’know.”
Reg stroked his chin again, “We’ll call her mother Althea… and she had eyes’a sky blue.”
“Very good, Reg,“ said Ruby, “but what’s the child’s name?”
Reggorn took the note from out of his pocket and unfolded it, looking it over. “Says here…” he began, “her name’s Tierra. But ain’t got no last name what’s said.”
Ruby part-laughed, part-sighed at the innkeeper, “Well, that should be obvious, Reg. You’re her father, after all. She’ll be Tierra Nena.”
Thus, it was decided.
* * *
Tierra walked in through of the open doors of the smith’s workshop and looked around for the man that should have been tending the forge. Finding him nowhere, she went to the side of the doorway and pulled on a long, thin rope that hung down from large room’s loft. The sound of a jingling bell filled the air.
Today, Tierra had been sent from the Red Oasis on an errand for nails from Garn, Shadowtop’s sole smith. The Red Oasis was the inn where Tierra called kip, as her father, Reggorn Nena was the innmaster there. Tierra apparently had a mother somewhere in the world, but she was raised by her father and the women who helped him run the inn and tavern there. Tierra had heard that in Garn’s earlier years, he lived in the royal city of Acadnia, where he was the king’s royal forge master. Garn was certainly a skilled enough craftsmith to live up to the tale, but she wondered why such an important person would want to retire from such a prestigious career in a little forest town like this one. Shadowtop was the town she lived in. It was a small town, but had many of the trappings of a much larger city. She supposed that was because the people who lived there didn’t want it to be any larger. One of its main exports, shadowtop wood, provided the city with all the money it ever needed, as the hardwood was rare in the world and in great demand from the neighboring provinces.
The shadowtop wood exported from the city came from the massive tree at its center, after which the city was named. Nearly a third of Shadowtop was covered by he tree’s wide canopy foliage, and the townspeople there had paid great expenses to have special towers built that would hold up some of its larger limbs as they grew outward, to ensure that more of the city would one day be covered. In the early spring through late summer, massive red flowers bloom on shadowtop trees, and this tree would cast the inner third its city in rich crimson radiance during the days of those seasons.
Garn’s voice called out from the loft above her, “Kite? S’at you?”
Kite. That was the name she earned four years ago, when she became the smith’s apprentice. Before that time, Garn had refused vehemently to have a girl for an apprentice at all, despite all her efforts to earn his favor. Then, one day, a knight errant had come through town; his sword suffered a crack down most of its length. The knight took the blade to Garn, whom he had heard could mend even such damage as though the blade were new.
While Garn was toiling on the blade, Tierra watched, and he set it back in the forge and waited for it to heat again. As the man was getting ready to draw the blade out of the forge, Tierra made her move. Using the techniques she learned for bringing people larger than herself off balance and onto the ground, Tierra grabbed Garn and threw him over on his back.
Tierra wasted no time picking up the astonished smith’s work out of the forge and began working at the sword herself, in its final stages of repair. Garn, when he gathered himself to his feet, swore violently at her, but the steady falls of her hammer did not falter, nor did she look up at him once. The man who was once the royal forgemaster to the king of Acadnia was left with no choice but to guide the young woman as she fixed the sword, or all of his effort would have been for nothing. To Garn’s further chagrin, the knight who owned the blade walked back into the shop just as Tierra was finishing the labor.
When the knight pressed on why the girl was working his blade instead of the master, Garn abashedly explained that the girl was his apprentice, and, to his surprise, the knight congratulated him on his open mindedness and ability to guide a young girl to produce such expert work. Tierra received a hefty punishment for her actions after the knight had left town, but when Garn tried to dismiss her, she asked when she should arrive for her lessons.
Garn would have been a liar if he did not accept the girl as his apprentice, then, so he told her that she would receive lessons in the afternoons, five days out of the week. He also explained to the girl, though, that not everyone would be as accepting of new notions as that knight was, and to protect Garn’s business, she would from that day forward be a young man as long as she toiled at the forge, and his name would be Kite. Since that day, Kite never missed a single day of lessons in smithing.
“Yes, Garn,” she called back, “I need some nails for the Red. There’s a fight what broke out last night.”
“Aye, I heard. I got ‘em ready for ya, lass. Sitting by the table down there.” Garn paused for a moment, then went on, “I’ll be seeing you in the afternoon’ for lessons, aye?”
“You will, Garn.” She went to the table and peered into a bucket there. She fished out several iron nails from it and placed them in a pocket of the pack slung at her side, just as Garn was coming down the stairs from the loft.
The smith was a large man, just over six feet and two inches tall, with broad, powerful shoulders and corded muscles. His tan skin was made tough from forgework and he wore three days worth of stubble on his chin. Garn’s hair was a rich reddish brown, beginning to turn gray with his age. He was dressed in simple, thick clothing that had many scorch marks and burns on it. “Tie-,“ he began, “Kite. Tell your father that I’ll need you for a little extra time today. I’ve got a little present for you.”
Tierra tilted her head to the side in wonder, the gloss in her eyes betraying her thoughts. Garn said nothing at all, having suddenly found something else to busy himself with. He had never shown her much reason to think that he was fond of her, especially not after the way she became his apprentice in the first place. The idea of getting a gift of any capacity from Garn was almost like the sky turning blue in the dead of night. She had never thought it possible. She wondered if Garn had grown fond of her at all over the last four years, but decided not to ask. “I’ll let him know. I’ll see you this afternoon.” she told him.
Tierra left the smith’s shop and headed over to the apothecary’s. The brawl from the night before somehow quickly turned from fists to knives. It had injured several men; a couple of them were workers at the tavern, most not. When Ruby, one of the women who was something of a mother to her, went to patch up the cuts on her fellow workers, she found that their supplies were in sore need. She was certain that her father got a sound talking to about that, but it was Tierra’s duty to go and get more supplies from the town’s apothecary, just like most of the errands that involved going about the city on foot did.
On her way to the apothecary, Tierra saw a kind-looking man in his mid-forties walking toward the Red Oasis. He walked with a tall staff, topped by an intricate-seeming array of crystals, and wore a set of blue and gold robes that fit him prestigiously. Blue and gold. Those were the colors of Acadnia, the royal city at the heart of Tierra’s home kingdom. The man stopped by a window where a bush of ill-attended flowers was wilting. He passed his hand over the flowers and they recovered almost instantly. They stood up toward the sun as if they were happy to be alive once again. The man was obviously a mage, and probably a graduate from Acadnia’s royal academy of magic.
That thought brought Tierra back to the present. As she looked for the things she needed from the apothecary, she thought it over. She’d be leaving within days, so that she could make her own way to capital city and try to join the academy there. She had made this commitment ages ago, though no one had quite believed her until she began to put together a list of the things she’s be taking with her on her journey. Tierra was determined to become a mage, no matter how strong or weak her own talent for magic may be. Untested as of yet, she had no idea what her knack was, but many of the graduates fresh from the academy who Tierra had spoken with on the matter encouraged her to join the academy. Tierra looked at the things she had gathered in the apothecary’s store, and went to his counter to pay for them.
* * *
Kite finished the last of the plates he’d be tasked with. Their measurements were very exact, and it made him wonder what, exactly, they were for. The plates were arranged into many different shapes, they were all very thin and, most of them seemed to be arranged into opposing pairs and matching pairs. Every different plate required a strange perforation around its edges, as though it were a filter for something, or something else were to be threaded through it. Kite’s project was taxing in most of the ways he knew, and it drew on nearly all of the skills as a smith that he had learned over the last four years, and then some. On several occasions, he needed to scrap a piece of metal and begin anew, and on a few others, he called on help from Garn. Sweat beaded his brow, and he was thankful of the tied scarf that kept his hair out of his face.
Kite took a deep breath and sighed, then stacked all of the plates over the last few days that he’d made in a basket near the work table. Since he and Garn had begun this project, it had also become filled with a pair of spools of strange steel string that Garn had crafted himself. Kite wondered what else Garn had been occupying his time with, as none of the normal work had been coming into or leaving the forge since the beginning of the week, but he felt it was best that he didn’t ask.
The forgemaster came out of a door that came from Garn’s personal work area, carrying spool of the same metal cord. He set it down in the basket and looked at Kite, rubbing the stubble of his chin, “Take this basket to the weaver Neva, Kite. We’re done with our end of this project. Don’t ask any questions about it while you’re there.”
Puzzled, Kite did as he was told. The basket was surprisingly light for all the work he and his mentor had done, but he certainly wasn’t complaining; the weaver’s shop was on the other side of town. As he reached the door, the old woman opened it before he could even knock. She eyed him in a way that made Kite a little uncomfortable.
“Tierra?” she asked abruptly. When Kite nodded in return, the old weaver shook her head, “Sorry, girl. The way you’re starting to look when you put on that name, it’s getting tougher to tell if you’re a young lady or lad.” Neva took a step out her doorway and went on, “I’ll take that from you. It must be getting heavy.” She took the basket from Kite’s arms before he could even react. “I have it on authority from Garn that you aren’t supposed to know much about this. Off with you, then.” She set the basket down inside her shop and turned around. Her gaze was sharp, and Kite knew better than to linger.
“See you another day, Neva.” Kite said as he began his way back to Garn’s forge.
“And you, child. Now scram before your master accuses you of asking questions.”
* * *
When Kite walked back in through the wide doors of the forge, Garn was nowhere to be seen and the room was dim. Normally, Garn would have been cleaning the forge and workshop, so his absence puzzled Kite. She pulled on the bell cord to sound her arrival, but Garn did not arrive from the loft above, either. She walked inside and looked around. To her surprise, most everything was just how she left it but, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she found one exception. Sitting on the worktable was a long handled tool. She walked forward to inspect it, and found that it was not a tool at all. Instead, it was a weapon.
The weapon’s haft was almost seven feet long, its head steel. Kite was familiar with all the materials of the object, but the purpose of its construction was an enigma to her. She ran her hand along the haft; its grain and texture told her it was shadowtop, but it had a strange gloss on it and it seemed too hard, even for such a sturdy wood, to be the shadowtop she knew so well. Along its haft was an interruption of thick steel, which she knew from her lessons should have made the haft weaker. The weapon had a leather grip near its haft, but even she knew to wield a polearm from there would be folly. And its head bore payload on three sides – a hammer with a moon-corved face on one side, a dagger blade off the top, and a spike opposite to the hammer. Its craft was more than expert; it made gape in awe. Whoever made this weapon must have surely been a muse of the trade.
She was brought suddenly from her reverie by the sound of footsteps behind her. Before she could turn, she could hear Garn’s voice, low and graveled, “Do you like it, Tierra?”
She paused, and instead of turning to face him, she ran her hand over the haft again. “It’s beautiful…” she murmured.
“Yer…” Garn began, but his voice seemed to catch, “yer gonna be leaving in just a couple days, aye?” There was something different about the way he sounded, as if his confidence were short, which was unusual for the man.
Tierra stared forward at the weapon, her eyes transfixed. “I am, yes. You know that, I’ve been talking about it for months. I’m going to Acadnia, to join the mage’s guild there. I’ve been saving money from my tips at the Red for just as long to pay for a room while I’m in the city.” She paused for a moment, the thoughts coming together in her head, “Garn, this isn’t for–“
“It’s yours. I want you to have it,“ he interrupted.
She spun around to look at him, protesting, “Garn, no! I can’t accept–“ she stopped cold, he was crying.
The forgemaster blushed heavily when Tierra saw him, but he spoke anyway, “I’ve known ye since yeh were just a babe, Tierra. When mah lettle brother tol’ me about yer mother bringin’ ye here, I thought about ‘ow I ‘ad never, uh, never married, aye? Ye didn’t…” he took a deep breath, “ye didn’t ever see any of the other childfolk about the shop, when ye were lettle, remember? It was just ye. It weren’t cause of no one wanted to be abou’, I just didn’t want ‘em here.”
Tierra frowned, uncertain of where Garn was rambling to.
“Ye were a sure blessin’, Tierra. I never had a child of my own, but…” he hesitated, tears were streaming down his face, “well, ye’re my niece, that’s all.” He paused, again, and Tierra wasn’t sure if he was going to go on before he blurted out, his voice cracking, “I, I’m gonna miss ya!”
With that, the man sobbed, and Tierra hugged him about his chest, consoling him as best she could. He hugged her back, but he didn’t speak for some time. It was probably better that way, it left Tierra to ponder. No one had ever told her that Reggorn and Garn were brothers, and it was never made known another way. She was certain that they were friends, but that was all she ever thought of it. What’s more, was that she had never been given reason to think that Garn was so fond of her. From the way he so vehemently protested her apprenticeship here, and how he spoke to her, she had always thought that he had only tolerated her and grown accustomed to her presence over time. That Garn was her uncle, it gave her a new perspective on him.
At last, he stopped crying and took a breath to steady himself. He cleared his throat, “I want you to have it, Tierra. Shadowtop’s a nice place, but ain’t everywhere so. And ye never know where the wind’ll take ye. And tain’t no lettle knife that’ll stop ye from highwaymen gettin’ atcha.” He hesitated for a moment, “And besides… it weren’t made for no one but ye.”
Tierra let go of Garn and turned back toward the table. For nearly a minute, an awkward silence passed between them. Suddenly, Tierra broke that silence, “Garn… I don’t know how to use this.”
Garn began to chuckle, then laughed outright, “Ha!” He sighed, and grinned down at her, though she did not see it, but she could hear it in his voice, “Well, yeah. I know. And I’ve only got a couple days to teach ya. Let’s get started.”
* * *
Tierra woke not early, but to the sun’s rays on her face. She squinted as she rolled out of bed and looked at the polished metal mirror on the far side of her room. Her eyes glimmered back at her and she smiled. The past two days had been tough for her. Since she’d be leaving today, she was relieved of her normal chores, so that she could focus on gathering everything she would need for her trip to the capital and saying her goodbyes to the people she knew. When she was doing neither of those things, her normal hours of forgework were replaced by a strict regimen from Garn, who trained her in the use of the weapon he’d given her, called a bec de corbin.
The primary use of the weapon, or “bec”, as she called it, was one that came to her easily. To swing the hammer at an opponent. The hammer’s face was curved inward like a crescent moon, so that its edges could pierce through armor, and since it was a polearm, it had a kick like a mule. Garn showed her how to adapt the hammerblow style she learned as a smith to the swing of this hammer. By now, she could swing the bec from nearly the bottom of its haft and reliably strike a target one hand across. For only two days of practice, she called this good progress.
Garn also taught her how to set the weapon against the ground, in case someone were charging her on horseback; the dagger blade off the top of the bec would impale and probably stop, messily, any horse that hit it. The weapon’s haft could even take that kind of abuse easily – it was made from shadowtop wood, an extremely durable material, but also had it been ‘tempered’ by Garn, using a method that was taught to him during his own days of traveling the world by a tribe of jungle-dwelling folk far in the south. In Garn’s experience, this kind of wood tempering turned normal maple wood into something steel-tipped, armor piercing arrows could not mar. This only made her wonder exactly how much strong the haft of her bec really was, as maple is soft by comparison to shadowtop. She was satisfied when Garn told her it was strong enough that she might never need to know.
Third, the five-inch long spike on the back of the bec de corbin was used for making much deeper and narrower punctures than either of the other two ends of the weapon. When she swung the spiked end of the bec like she would the hammer end, she found that it passed easily through leather and lesser steels. A blow like that could easily end a man’s life right through his helm or, maybe, even his breastplate. Garn taught her where to strike on heavy armor so that if it took enough damage, she could make it cumbersome and almost useless for its wearer, or even fall off. She wasn’t very good at that, yet.
The bec had even more uses to it. Sort of a secret to the weapon, Garn showed her the reason it had a spot of thick metal in the middle of its haft. With a short series of pulls, twists and pushes on either side of that spot, Garn revealed to her that the bec was designed to split into two different weapons. A warhammer and a quarterstaff. The warhammer was an easy concept for her, but she needed to learn the application of the dowel that stuck off its pommel. Other than just locking the two weapons back together, that dowel could be used to stab an opponent, or make scores in objects. Garn recommended that she only use it for this when really necessary, as cleaning the piece could be a bit of a pain.
The other ‘half’ of the bec de corbin was a quarterstaff. Reggorn and the tavern ladies that raised her taught her to use one of these. Being raised in a tavern was tough for a young girl, and she needed to know how to defend herself, just in case some drunken patron got a little too friendly. She had personally put that knowledge to use on more than one occasion. In hand to hand self-defense, she was a little lacking but, with a staff she was dangerous.
When Tierra asked about the stability of the joint between the two sides of the weapon, Garn told her that he had refined and alloyed a special ore called ‘adamant’ to the steel he used. Tierra had never before heard of this ore, so she asked Garn to elaborate. The forgemaster said he’d used his entire stock of adamant for her bec de corbin, but when he measured out how many grains of the metal he used, Tierra asked how this was even relevant, as so little metal surely couldn’t mean any major difference to the performance of steel. Garn’s reply came that this was, in fact, nearly a wealth of adamant, and that since so much had been added to the steel, it would likely never bend or break for hundreds of years. On close inspection, she did notice that the steel of the joint between the two weapons of was a bit darker in color and glossier than the steel of the rest of the bec de corbin, but she was still uncertain to the absolute veracity of his claim.
Tierra was amazed at the sheer number of uses and value for a single weapon like the bec de corbin that Garn had given her. He said that he’d been working on it for months, but that in the last few weeks, it had been the object of nearly his sole attention. She was very thankful for it.
Many of her goodbyes went well. Some people were a little heartfelt at seeing her go, others were very enthusiastic, encouraging her to find her fortune. Her father, Reggorn, was very quiet lately. She hadn’t said any farewells to him, since he’d be the last person she saw before she left, but he was acting like it was all one very long goodbye. Reggorn was quiet at meals, where he was normally very talkative. His mood was not foul by anyone’s measure, though; Tierra thought that he just didn’t want to have to admit she was going. Tierra felt much the same way about having to go away from her father.
For her journey to Acadnia, Tierra would be going on horseback, atop one of the horses from Shadowtop’s stable. One of the stable boys was supposed to accompany her, but she had never met him before. When they got to Acadnia, that stablehand was supposed to stick with her until she found a suitable inn, and then take both horses back to Shadowtop. Tierra had heard that the stablehand used to be a wayfarer, so his advice on inns to stay at would be sound.
These are the things that Tierra chose to go over in her mind while she got ready to go downstairs. She washed, with soap she had been saving for a special occasion, in a tub of hot water, brushed her hair, chose simple and adequate clothes and a traveler’s cloak for her journey and packed her bag. Taking a last look around her room with a little tear in her eye, she set off toward the kitchen, downstairs.
As she walked through the short hall that led to stairwell, she heard a collection voices in the rooms below. Since the Red Oasis was not yet serving hard drinks, she assumed this was overnight patrons having breakfast. When she began walking down the stairs, though, the voices seemed to hush a little, then quieted altogether. Slowly, she came into the kitchen and looked around.
In a semicircle across the kitchen were all the tavernwomen who helped keep the Red Oasis on its feet, Reggorn standing beside Garn, the weaver Neva, several of Tierra’s other friends and a few people she wasn’t sure she recognized. Now that Reggorn and Garn were standing side by side, Tierra could easily see how the two could be brothers. As though on some silent cue, everyone began moving at once. Neva approached Tierra while some of Reggorn’s help prepared a breakfast, Garn laid a long wrap of leather he’d been holding on the center counter by a box that was already there, Reggorn looked around and scratched his head for a moment, then began setting a table with Ruby and Jay, and others were promptly put to work by Dawn.
“You’re looking very nice today, young lady,“ Neva said to Tierra, bringing her attention away from the bustle of people. “You will be joining me at the table for some breakfast, won’t you?” Neva gestured over to the dining table, which was still being set, “As long as you’re sitting with me, dear, none of them will bother you for seating yourself.” Tierra nodded in return, still in slight awe at the people moving about. Before she knew it, she was sitting at the head of the table, with Neva on one side of her, her father on the other, and everyone else seated throughout the rest of the large, oval table.
The food was the best she’d ever tasted, she was certain that many of the people who made it used their own home recipes, spices they’d been saving for a special occasion, and not the usual for Red Oasis fare. She talked about many things with the people at the table – her hopes for her near future, the preparations she’d taken and her plans for when she hit the capital, other than just applying for entry at the mage’s guild. She also met the pair unfamiliar faces at the table. One of them was the stablehand that would be accompanying her to Acadnia, named Stephen. He seemed to be an alright young man, but he didn’t strike Tierra’s interest in any way. As a part-time companion, she thought of him to be fine, but they’d know each for three days, tops. The other man she didn’t know was named Dorick, and he was new help at the Red Oasis. Although she didn’t say it to him, Tierra was almost certain he’d last as long the other men that had helped out at the Red in the past.
* * *
That was just one of the many fond memories of the past six years. After that point, she received some gifts from her extended family in Shadowtop. The clothes and armor she was wearing now, and a very brightly polished bec de corbin. Ironically, it had turned out that she made the plates in her armor, though Garn didn’t tell her that was what they were for when she was making them. It was a nice surprise, and more than a little humorous.
Her journey into Acadnia was uneventful, and her stay in the city was infuriating. When she went to the mage’s academy to apply, she had been turned away on what she was told was an issue of her skill with magic. A vote of twelve councilors was taken, and she needed a swing vote on whether her admittance was allowed. The thirteenth councilor voted against her. After that, she set out on a quest to show up the mage’s guild by finding a magic of her own.
The same councilor that voted against her told her told her about a demon that had been amassing magical knowledge and wealth, thinking that by sending her there, he would be ridding himself of her nuisance forever. In a stroke of cosmic luck, however, that demon’s home had been infiltrated by a wizard seeking the demon’s treasure just weeks before, who had cast a powerful spell of guilt and grief on the demon just before the demon slew him. When Tierra arrived, the demon asked Tierra not only to kill him, but to learn the magicks that would be necessary to bind its soul into a gem forever, forcing it to live in suffering as penance for the horrible crimes that the demon had visited upon mankind in its twelve thousand years of life. Through that method, Tierra learn Ruination, the demon magic. At the same time, she gained a powerful tool. The collar around her neck contained the demon’s soul, which warns her whenever she is in danger.
Having learned a magic few other men knew, Tierra returned to Acadnia and sold much of the wealth she had taken from the demon’s home to buy herself a home in the city. She wrote home to her family in Shadowtop after that, telling them about what had happened. She wasn’t satisfied, though. Ruination was known by few, but it didn’t fulfill her end of the argument with the mage’s guild.
She became an adventurer, searching for a magic she could call her own. Following many unsuccessful adventures, she heard of a library in the desert that held the knowledge of an ancient and extinct culture. After venturing there, she encountered a deranged sphinx that guarded the place. A fight ensued, and she found herself stranded in the library, incapable of traveling home for her wounds, and fearing dehydration unto death. Stubbornly, she decided to plumb the library for its secrets, as she would apparently die here, anyway. While sorting through endless tomes, Tierra found a strange piece of jewelry and tried it on. She was partly surprised when it began talking to her, but dismissed the weirdness when thought she may have just gone crazy.
The earcuff was home to a spirit of knowledge and secrets, and with some trouble, Tierra got it to help her learn a type of magic she had found in the library. Her luck returning, one of the first spells of the style that old civilization called Shaping was a healing spell that also restored a person from dehydration and heat exhaustion, and there were a few of the components for its casting that had managed to avoid destruction by the ravages of time.
Triumphant, Tierra returned home to find that a messenger had been living in her house. She nearly killed him for his trespass, until he explained that he was waiting for her to return on order from an elder councilor from the Acadnian mage’s guild. Tierra’s wrathful hand stayed and the grateful messenger delivered the letters, notes and books he was tasked with giving her. From those pages, Tierra learned that the thirteenth councilor who voted against her had passed away, and that it was in his will that she received these writings. Looking into the inheritance further, Tierra found out that the old mage had voted against on the basis of her being a woman, and he resented that decision as his own death neared. These books and notes contained everything he had learned about an old form of magic that could not be defined into spells. They were more like commands told to the very forces of the world, the mage called them terragaldrs.
Since learning terragaldrs, Tierra’s efforts to learn her own magic have been largely unsuccessful. Nonetheless, she still latches onto every piece of arcane lore she can find in an attempt to learn enough about magic to make her own style.
Between those six years ago and now, Tierra had also picked up some new weapons and tools to help her along her way. She bought a gun for dealing with the demon, which turned out not to be a very big help and after the sphinx incident, she learned a new Ruination spell that would improve the power of the gun by far, but since firing the gun now slowly ripped apart the sphinx’s soul, she was hesitant to do fire it at all. After being set upon by a self-proclaimed rake who tried to have his way with her after a duel, she spent a small fortune on a type of dagger that would specialize in parrying, trapping and breaking blades of all sorts. In her adventures in general, she found it useful to have a powder for staring fires easily. This same alchemical powder made a fine weapon on any creature that had eyes or a mouth – that was just about everything.
In the desert library, from which she also took many, many books, Tierra also found a blue gem powder that was always store in small phials. Her study on the powder told her it cam from a gemstone called atenaar, which had the power to significantly enhance any spell it was cast in conjunction with. At first, she had three pinches, now she had only one. The first one she used while testing the powder’s potency. She cast it in conjunction with her beam of bone ruination. Instead of covering a small area with bone, she encased an entire maple tree, leaves and everything. That tree probably died years ago, but still stands, white and gleaming for its encasement. No one in Acadnia but Tierra knows why one of the mage’s guild trees suddenly became covered in inch-thick bone. Her other use for the powder was during one of her adventures, when she fell from a rocky ledge toward a river of liquid rock. She cast the lucent shield shaping beneath her, and was relieved when she landed upon a lucent floor. That shield spell held itself, free from Tierra’s accord, for nearly an hour before vanishing, giving the adventurer more than enough time to escape her luckless position.
During an adventure to the ruins of a forest temple, Tierra ran across a rare breed of horse referred to most often as a “forest horse.” With help from Gilda, the spirit in her earcuff, and nearly a week of coaxing, Tierra succeeded in taming the forest horse, and named him Weiss. Over time, Weiss and Tierra have developed a trust for one another, a bond made stronger by Tierra’s use of her Shaping magicks on Weiss. In the last year, the horse has allowed Tierra to ride him, and he carries many of her supplies.
Right now, Tierra was headed off toward forest land again; there was the home of an old wizard there who apparently passed away recently. Not passed away in the dead sense, but according to the rumor, the wizard had accidentally opened a portal to Hell some ten years ago, which swallowed him and closed up behind him. Tierra was sure that no one could survive ten years in Hell. So, all preparations made, Tierra was off toward arcane knowledge again, hoping that this place would lead to the breakthrough she needed to make her own magic, and fulfill her quest.
Hair: Long silver hair down to his lower back. This is where his nickname came from.
Eyes: A vibrant blue. They are constantly scanning the area around him for signs of danger.
Appearance: Silver is a well-built individual. He is tall, lean, and muscular. He has a triangular jaw and a prominent Roman nose, and his face is usually unshaven.
He has several different outfits he wears. When dressing casually (or for small-scale combat), he wears a short-sleeve calf-length trench coat, a tank top, loose-fitting pants, fingerless gloves, and combat boots, all in black. Occasionally he wears a long, long-sleeved, brown coat (also down to his calves), a red or deep-maroon long-sleeved shirt usually rolled up to the middle of his forearms, dark brown almost-black pants, and black combat boots. For large-scale combat, he wears the same colors and fatigues as his hired country/faction, as well as a bullet-proof vest if the uniform doesn't include it. On hired hits, he wears the local civilian clothes. With each of his outfits, he wears a belt with several pouches and two holsters.
Weapons/Equipment: varies with the job. He always carries a serrated combat knife with an 8" blade with him, usually in a sheath on his left breast. His personal favorites are two highly modified Desert Eagles; one painted gold, "Jane," and another painted silver, "Rosie." He has those on his person almost all the time, relieving himself of them only when extreme stealth is required. For those missions, he carries a silenced M9 pistol and a sniper rifle that can be disassembled. In open combat situations, he carries his Desert Eagles as well as at least one other weapon, usually an M4 assault rifle, an older US Marine scout sniper rifle, or an HAP-180 (a streamlined SMG about twice as big as a Desert Eagle). All his guns use armor-piercing rounds with the exception of his handguns and the HAP, which uses small but heavy rounds made for accuracy. His pride and joy is an antique M1 Garand, which he avoids using.
In addition to these, he carries some smoke bombs no larger than a ping-pong ball, two hand grenades, a flashbang, and a grappling-hook gun. Depending on the mission, he may also carry thermal or night vision goggles.
Skills: Silver has received military training in the use of firearms; he is an excellent shot. Even if he is unfamiliar with a gun, he usually gets a feel for it quickly. He is a master of Taekwondo, Jiu-Jitsu, and Eskrima. He is fluent in English, Russian, Korean, Cantonese, and Arabic.
Strengths: strong, athletic, and intelligent. He has synthetic muscles in his right forearm that allow him to keep that arm steadier than normal.
Weaknesses: he is just a normal human being; there is really nothing special about him. He has no experience with magic or any similar force, and would be weak against most forms of magic or special powers.
Personality: On the outside, he appears to be a cocky, happy, fun-loving guy. On the inside, he is really a sad and aching soul. He has experienced hardship and trauma, much of which he has yet to move on from. However, this does not mean he is depressed; he still tries to live each day to the fullest, even in these bleak times. He has a strong sense of justice, always doing what he thinks is right. Still, he takes jobs from anyone (although he occasionally takes liberties with his orders if he believes his employer is corrupt), as long as he gets payed in the end. Those few who haven't payed up have met his wrath, whether destroyed politically or at the end of his gun.
Biography: Silver leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet on his desk. Business was good lately; he had just gotten a big sum from the Republic of France, one of the few remaining democracies in Europe, and the week before he had finished a target for the US in Western Japan. Horrible guy; he had was a rogue US general. He delighted in torturing his POW's, and he was horrible to his men, even those few who were loyal to him. That particular payment had payed for some badly needed equipment. Like food.
He leaned forward, chair thudding back onto the floor. He picked up a small eight-by-ten photo in a black picture frame. His parents, along with a young Silver in front. He smiled. His hair was darker back then; as he got older, it got lighter instead of darker, going from a blond to a shiny silver. He was an only child. His parents had a hard enough time with him. Neither of them were particularly wealthy, which made it all the more a surprise when he found out they were paying for his college education.
Oh, college. Those were the days. He attended a college in the Midwest, far from his native New York City. He was one of the rowdy ones. He always went out drinking on the weekends with his friends, but he always managed to stay out of trouble. His grades were above average; if he had spent more time studying and doing his work, they would have been excellent. He was going for a degree in Criminal Justice. He would have gotten it too, but for that one day.
October 17th, 2008. 4:13 PM. Silver had turned nineteen that summer, and he was just getting into his sophomore year. That day changed everything. He was sitting in his room playing his guitar. Metallica, "Fade to Black." Always had been a bit of a metalhead. His roommate Jake came running in. He looked sick. Silver asked him what was wrong, and he told Silver to turn on the TV. Switched to the news. Four nuclear missiles had struck the West Coast. One in Washington D.C. One in Philadelphia. One in Charleston. One in New York City. Silver remembered just sitting there in a stupor as the newscaster continued on in an almost emotionless voice. Jake was shaking. They were childhood friends. They had known each other since grade school, and they had grown up together. Hell, they even lived in the same apartment building right across from each other for almost fifteen years. Now they had nothing.
They found out where the attack came from. North Korea, they said. Immediately, Silver and Jake had dropped from college and joined the Marines. They spent two years on the frontlines. It was hell; Vietnam all over again, but with modern weapons. Silver was pulled out when he took a shot to the arm, rendering it useless. Fortunately, medical technology had advanced, and they replaced the muscle with a synthetic material that was even better than the original. Jake came out three months later, one of the lucky few to get out unscathed. Naught but two months after that did the US pull out. They had lost. The enemy had weapons that they had never seen before; new guns that could shoot quickly over long distances with little decrease in accuracy; bombs that reduced even the hardest of structures to ash; nigh-indestructible tanks that could survive several direct hits from US tanks.
Slowly, the world descended into chaos. War became a business; Silver and Jake, seeing only one choice before them, started their own mercenary company in their homestate of New York. Business came and went, and the company grew. But that was years ago. Today was July 5, 2017; he had just gotten payed, and he had a company to run.
A knock sounded at the door. Silver sat up and brushed an errant strand of hair from his face. "Come in," he called. Ikaruga entered and wordlessly set down a coffee on Silver's desk and left. Silver sighed as he sipped it. Business was picking up, and that was all that mattered.
Sig by the amazing Sugarpoultry Protect the homeland!