Physical-focused:
Power-focused:
OP as Balls:
Name: Its true name is long forgotten. When they tell of it in stories, they just call it Screamer.
Age: 300+ years
Height: 8'11''
Weight: 510 lbs
Race: Wendigo
Class: Monster
Appearance:
Tall and menacing, the Wendigo moves unnaturally, slow and clumsy one moment then swift and deadly the next. Its mouth is almost always open, with drool often dripping down from its chin. Branches grow from some parts of its body, the others are covered by either thick hair or a thin layer of fur. The beast as a whole is filthy, and stinks of blood and rotting flesh.
Weapons:
It has nasty spiked antlers, as well as razor-sharp teeth and claws. The latter allow it to climb almost any rough surface. It is also strong enough to use many environmental objects as weapons. Finally, its tongue is strong and flexible, and can extend up to a meter out from its mouth.
Physical Abilities/Skills:
Strength and speed: the sheer mass of a wendigo is impressive enough, but the monster is even more powerful that it appears, a frenzied hunger driving it forwards, giving it double the strength of the toughest human warriors. Though ordinarily slow, it is capable of bursts of sudden movement with the speed of a striking snake.
Resilience: though unarmored, the wendigo has branches growing above and beneath its flesh throughout most of its body, which give its vulnerable insides a fair degree of protection against physical attacks. Additionally, it is highly resistant to the cold and damp.
Senses: the wendigo's sense of smell is well-developed, allowing it to track down its prey wherever it flees. It can also see perfectly clearly in the dark.
Magic/Special Abilities:
Blood frenzy: upon tasting the flesh or blood of a human or humanoid creature, the wendigo will enter a frenzied state, gaining increased strength and speed (1.5x) and healing any minor wounds it had beforehand.
Horrid breath: Screamer itself stinks badly enough, but its breath has an even more horrid stench. It is distracting at a distance, and will trigger the gag reflex if breathed in at close range.
Weaknesses: It hates heat, fire, and bright lights. Though cunning, it lacks knowledge of human weapons and tactics, and its fighting style is haphazard. Though very fast when it strikes, it cannot sustain great speeds for long, and will usually move slowly when not directly engaged.
Background:
Heroes are fleeting, spending their short lives in glory before the inevitable fall. Monsters are eternal, the darkness eating away at the edges of the world, always there and never resting. The wendigo lies between the two.
It is said the first wendigo came into being when a band of heroes ventured into a forest, and were caught there in the winter. One by one, the starving warriors went mad, and began to turn on each other out of spite and hunger. They fought, and spilled one another's blood, until only one remained, barely human anymore. The forest claimed him for its own, and twisted him into a horrifying creature of wood and flesh and bone and eternal, ravenous hunger.
For centuries, the first wendigo stalked the woods, feasting upon any travelers unfortunate enough to cross its path. Eventually, however, as tales of the monster spread, men and women came to hunt it. Many tried, and were consumed, but eventually came one with great strength and skill, who slew the wendigo and took its head.
With the monster gone, travelers soon returned to the woods, merchants and rangers and lumberjacks all making their way in to take advantage of nature's bounty. But a black spirit yet lingered there, waiting for a chance to strike. Eventually, a party of hunters was lost in the woods- and the pattern repeated itself. They went mad, attacking and devouring each other until only one remained, and that one stalked off into the forest, hunger yet unsatisfied.
Every time a wendigo dies, a few decades of peace are earned. Every time a wendigo rises, it holds the forests in its grip of fear for centuries. Some are worse than others, besting any hero who comes across them. Screamer is one of these.
It is said that the most recent of the wendigo was born of a hero, much like the first: a man went into the forest to slay the beast, and succeeded. However, it took him so long to slay the beast that by the time he finally claimed its head, he was starving with hunger. In desperation, he ate of the wendigo itself- and thus began his slow transformation. His human name is lost, but they call him Screamer now, after the way he sometimes shrieks into the night, a scream of horror at what he has become.
Whether or not these rumors are true, whether or not some humanity remains within the wendigo, none can say for sure. There is no doubt of one thing, however: its hunger will never be sated. Watch that sweet flesh of yours...
Age: 300+ years
Height: 8'11''
Weight: 510 lbs
Race: Wendigo
Class: Monster
Appearance:
Tall and menacing, the Wendigo moves unnaturally, slow and clumsy one moment then swift and deadly the next. Its mouth is almost always open, with drool often dripping down from its chin. Branches grow from some parts of its body, the others are covered by either thick hair or a thin layer of fur. The beast as a whole is filthy, and stinks of blood and rotting flesh.
Weapons:
It has nasty spiked antlers, as well as razor-sharp teeth and claws. The latter allow it to climb almost any rough surface. It is also strong enough to use many environmental objects as weapons. Finally, its tongue is strong and flexible, and can extend up to a meter out from its mouth.
Physical Abilities/Skills:
Strength and speed: the sheer mass of a wendigo is impressive enough, but the monster is even more powerful that it appears, a frenzied hunger driving it forwards, giving it double the strength of the toughest human warriors. Though ordinarily slow, it is capable of bursts of sudden movement with the speed of a striking snake.
Resilience: though unarmored, the wendigo has branches growing above and beneath its flesh throughout most of its body, which give its vulnerable insides a fair degree of protection against physical attacks. Additionally, it is highly resistant to the cold and damp.
Senses: the wendigo's sense of smell is well-developed, allowing it to track down its prey wherever it flees. It can also see perfectly clearly in the dark.
Magic/Special Abilities:
Blood frenzy: upon tasting the flesh or blood of a human or humanoid creature, the wendigo will enter a frenzied state, gaining increased strength and speed (1.5x) and healing any minor wounds it had beforehand.
Horrid breath: Screamer itself stinks badly enough, but its breath has an even more horrid stench. It is distracting at a distance, and will trigger the gag reflex if breathed in at close range.
Weaknesses: It hates heat, fire, and bright lights. Though cunning, it lacks knowledge of human weapons and tactics, and its fighting style is haphazard. Though very fast when it strikes, it cannot sustain great speeds for long, and will usually move slowly when not directly engaged.
Background:
Heroes are fleeting, spending their short lives in glory before the inevitable fall. Monsters are eternal, the darkness eating away at the edges of the world, always there and never resting. The wendigo lies between the two.
It is said the first wendigo came into being when a band of heroes ventured into a forest, and were caught there in the winter. One by one, the starving warriors went mad, and began to turn on each other out of spite and hunger. They fought, and spilled one another's blood, until only one remained, barely human anymore. The forest claimed him for its own, and twisted him into a horrifying creature of wood and flesh and bone and eternal, ravenous hunger.
For centuries, the first wendigo stalked the woods, feasting upon any travelers unfortunate enough to cross its path. Eventually, however, as tales of the monster spread, men and women came to hunt it. Many tried, and were consumed, but eventually came one with great strength and skill, who slew the wendigo and took its head.
With the monster gone, travelers soon returned to the woods, merchants and rangers and lumberjacks all making their way in to take advantage of nature's bounty. But a black spirit yet lingered there, waiting for a chance to strike. Eventually, a party of hunters was lost in the woods- and the pattern repeated itself. They went mad, attacking and devouring each other until only one remained, and that one stalked off into the forest, hunger yet unsatisfied.
Every time a wendigo dies, a few decades of peace are earned. Every time a wendigo rises, it holds the forests in its grip of fear for centuries. Some are worse than others, besting any hero who comes across them. Screamer is one of these.
It is said that the most recent of the wendigo was born of a hero, much like the first: a man went into the forest to slay the beast, and succeeded. However, it took him so long to slay the beast that by the time he finally claimed its head, he was starving with hunger. In desperation, he ate of the wendigo itself- and thus began his slow transformation. His human name is lost, but they call him Screamer now, after the way he sometimes shrieks into the night, a scream of horror at what he has become.
Whether or not these rumors are true, whether or not some humanity remains within the wendigo, none can say for sure. There is no doubt of one thing, however: its hunger will never be sated. Watch that sweet flesh of yours...
Power-focused:
Name: Sirena Imogen
Age: 22
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 137 lbs
Race: Human
Class: Sword-mage
Appearance:
Graceful and slender, Imogen's loose robes hide a surprisingly well-toned form. Where she steps, she steps quietly, her eyes always watching with measured curiosity. Though her path is that of the warrior, her gentle demeanor would indicate anything but.
Weapons: Ten swords:
- One rapier
- One katana
- One claymore
- One estoc
- One zweihänder
- Two hook swords
- One khopesh
- One scimitar
- One urumi
Two shields:
- One round shield
- One tower shield
All swords are forged from the finest steel, and both shields are made of stiff, strong wood.
Physical Abilities/Skills: Imogen is in excellent physical condition, though does not posses supernatural levels of strength or speed. Can deadlift around 250 lbs unaided, and sprint at 20 mph. She's trained in a wide variety of combat styles, specifically a variety of sword styles, as well as the principles of focus and mediation. Has unusually sharp hearing, and is very agile and flexible.
Magic/Special Abilities: Imogen has telekinetic control over her weapons (all twelve listed). She can levitate them and move them around with ease, though their speed and the force behind them is around the same as if she were wielding them herself. Multiple weapons can be controlled at once this way. She is also aware of their position: even if she can't see them, she'll know exactly where they are.
She has the ability to recall weapons at will. When she recalls a sword, wherever it was previously, it will immediately appear in her hand (or hands), so as she is not already holding anything in the same hand. Recalling a shield causes it to manifest on her arm, held in place by straps.
In addition to wielding weapons by hand or moving them directly with her mind, Imogen can issue her swords and shields basic telepathic commands, which they can act on with reasonable ability. For instance, a shield ordered to "defend me from harm" would hover near Imogen and move to block any oncoming threats, even if she did not perceive said threats herself. Weapons used this way tend to follow their orders through rudimentary means, acting with very little skill or cleverness beyond that required to understand commands.
Background:
The Sirena clan, goddesses of war. Each one is raised by her mother and aunts, and trained in the martial arts from a very young age. Gradually, they specialize in a certain kind of weapon, be it bow, spear, or sword. Once their training is complete, at the age of fifteen, they are sent out into the world on their own, as novice mercenaries.
They wander, fight, and earn their pay with their legendary skill, honing their abilities to ever-greater heights. Eventually, when one reaches the peak of her skill, she will seek a man worthy of her respect, and bed him. When a Sirena falls pregnant, the child is always a daughter, and as soon as she is born, the mother will leave her partner and return home for the first time, to raise her offspring as a new warrior. Thus the cycle continues.
Occasionally, however, there is an exception. One Sirena, a mistress of the dagger and throwing knife, found love in a strange man, a weaver of magic both powerful and ancient. He gave her a daughter named Imogen, and she took the child to her clan, as she was meant to do.
But it soon became clear that there was something different about this one. From her earliest days, Imogen demonstrated flashes and bursts of arcane power, a strange magic she had inherited from her father. Many clans might have feared this- but the Sirena saw an opportunity. A chance to forge the greatest weapon in the history of their noble lineage.
And so they trained Imogen, pushed her harder than any other. Not only did they teach her the mastery of her body, and of every kind of sword, but also of her magic. She learned to infuse it into her weapons, make them an extension of her will, deadly steel birds that would fly wherever she willed them to. Upon this young girl were piled the greatest of honors- and the greatest of expectations.
When the time came for her fifteenth birthday, she was a capable fighter, ready to go out into the world and carve her legend upon its history. But there remained one final trial. For the Sirena clan had no use for the weak and the old, and thus, one final obligation had to be fulfilled before Imogen could leave.
She was to duel against her mother, to the death.
Should Imogen win, she would become a full member of the clan. Should her mother win, she would become a matriarch, one of the few elders who had bested their daughters and held authority over all of the Sirena. Only the strong would survive, and earn greatness.
When the duel began, Imogen's mother struck out ruthlessly, aiming with all her skill for the throat of her own daughter. But her attacks were effortlessly parried, her daggers knocked aside. But Imogen would not kill her.
Instead, the young warrior left, defeating all among the Sirena who tried to stop her. She would not bend to their cruel rules and vicious cycles. She would forge her own path in the world.
And so she did, becoming one of the most skilled warriors her world had ever seen. Until one day, she received an invitation, a challenge unlike any she had heard of before, a chance to prove herself as a warrior greater than any of her vicious ancestors.
Age: 22
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 137 lbs
Race: Human
Class: Sword-mage
Appearance:
Graceful and slender, Imogen's loose robes hide a surprisingly well-toned form. Where she steps, she steps quietly, her eyes always watching with measured curiosity. Though her path is that of the warrior, her gentle demeanor would indicate anything but.
Weapons: Ten swords:
- One rapier
- One katana
- One claymore
- One estoc
- One zweihänder
- Two hook swords
- One khopesh
- One scimitar
- One urumi
Two shields:
- One round shield
- One tower shield
All swords are forged from the finest steel, and both shields are made of stiff, strong wood.
Physical Abilities/Skills: Imogen is in excellent physical condition, though does not posses supernatural levels of strength or speed. Can deadlift around 250 lbs unaided, and sprint at 20 mph. She's trained in a wide variety of combat styles, specifically a variety of sword styles, as well as the principles of focus and mediation. Has unusually sharp hearing, and is very agile and flexible.
Magic/Special Abilities: Imogen has telekinetic control over her weapons (all twelve listed). She can levitate them and move them around with ease, though their speed and the force behind them is around the same as if she were wielding them herself. Multiple weapons can be controlled at once this way. She is also aware of their position: even if she can't see them, she'll know exactly where they are.
She has the ability to recall weapons at will. When she recalls a sword, wherever it was previously, it will immediately appear in her hand (or hands), so as she is not already holding anything in the same hand. Recalling a shield causes it to manifest on her arm, held in place by straps.
In addition to wielding weapons by hand or moving them directly with her mind, Imogen can issue her swords and shields basic telepathic commands, which they can act on with reasonable ability. For instance, a shield ordered to "defend me from harm" would hover near Imogen and move to block any oncoming threats, even if she did not perceive said threats herself. Weapons used this way tend to follow their orders through rudimentary means, acting with very little skill or cleverness beyond that required to understand commands.
Background:
The Sirena clan, goddesses of war. Each one is raised by her mother and aunts, and trained in the martial arts from a very young age. Gradually, they specialize in a certain kind of weapon, be it bow, spear, or sword. Once their training is complete, at the age of fifteen, they are sent out into the world on their own, as novice mercenaries.
They wander, fight, and earn their pay with their legendary skill, honing their abilities to ever-greater heights. Eventually, when one reaches the peak of her skill, she will seek a man worthy of her respect, and bed him. When a Sirena falls pregnant, the child is always a daughter, and as soon as she is born, the mother will leave her partner and return home for the first time, to raise her offspring as a new warrior. Thus the cycle continues.
Occasionally, however, there is an exception. One Sirena, a mistress of the dagger and throwing knife, found love in a strange man, a weaver of magic both powerful and ancient. He gave her a daughter named Imogen, and she took the child to her clan, as she was meant to do.
But it soon became clear that there was something different about this one. From her earliest days, Imogen demonstrated flashes and bursts of arcane power, a strange magic she had inherited from her father. Many clans might have feared this- but the Sirena saw an opportunity. A chance to forge the greatest weapon in the history of their noble lineage.
And so they trained Imogen, pushed her harder than any other. Not only did they teach her the mastery of her body, and of every kind of sword, but also of her magic. She learned to infuse it into her weapons, make them an extension of her will, deadly steel birds that would fly wherever she willed them to. Upon this young girl were piled the greatest of honors- and the greatest of expectations.
When the time came for her fifteenth birthday, she was a capable fighter, ready to go out into the world and carve her legend upon its history. But there remained one final trial. For the Sirena clan had no use for the weak and the old, and thus, one final obligation had to be fulfilled before Imogen could leave.
She was to duel against her mother, to the death.
Should Imogen win, she would become a full member of the clan. Should her mother win, she would become a matriarch, one of the few elders who had bested their daughters and held authority over all of the Sirena. Only the strong would survive, and earn greatness.
When the duel began, Imogen's mother struck out ruthlessly, aiming with all her skill for the throat of her own daughter. But her attacks were effortlessly parried, her daggers knocked aside. But Imogen would not kill her.
Instead, the young warrior left, defeating all among the Sirena who tried to stop her. She would not bend to their cruel rules and vicious cycles. She would forge her own path in the world.
And so she did, becoming one of the most skilled warriors her world had ever seen. Until one day, she received an invitation, a challenge unlike any she had heard of before, a chance to prove herself as a warrior greater than any of her vicious ancestors.
OP as Balls:
Name: Vol Lok Ra
Aliases: the Liar King, Scaleforger, Old Snake
Race: Unknown
Gender: Dependant on form
Age: Ancient. Claims to be millions of years old.
Occupation: Generally fucking with stuff.
Aliases: the Liar King, Scaleforger, Old Snake
Race: Unknown
Gender: Dependant on form
Age: Ancient. Claims to be millions of years old.
Occupation: Generally fucking with stuff.
Physical appearance:
As a shapeshifter, Vol Lok Ra has no constant form. Long ago, it possessed endless forms, but after the loss of its empire, it has been restricted to three variants.
- Human form: Vol can take on the shape of a human between 3 and 7 feet in height, weighing anywhere from 35 to 350 pounds. Features, pigments, and athleticism can be chosen from normal ranges. Although it is capable of matching virtually every aspect of the human form, Vol does so instinctively, making it difficult (but not impossible) for it to deliberately match the appearance of an already existing human.
- Avian form: Vol can take on the shape of a bird with a wingspan between 2 and 8 feet, weighing anywhere from 3 to 15 kg. This form can vary to incorporate aspects of different birds, but is limited to those that fly (cannot fully mimic ostriches or other flightless birds).
- Lizard king form: The shape Vol took when he ruled over an empire in days long past, and his usual shape for combat. This shape is a large, reptilian humanoid with jet-black scales, standing 8'6'' high and weighing 650 lbs. It has sharp teeth, small eyes, a roughly triangular head, and a long, prehensile tail. This form can speak like a human, but its voice is deep and grating.
As a shapeshifter, Vol Lok Ra has no constant form. Long ago, it possessed endless forms, but after the loss of its empire, it has been restricted to three variants.
- Human form: Vol can take on the shape of a human between 3 and 7 feet in height, weighing anywhere from 35 to 350 pounds. Features, pigments, and athleticism can be chosen from normal ranges. Although it is capable of matching virtually every aspect of the human form, Vol does so instinctively, making it difficult (but not impossible) for it to deliberately match the appearance of an already existing human.
- Avian form: Vol can take on the shape of a bird with a wingspan between 2 and 8 feet, weighing anywhere from 3 to 15 kg. This form can vary to incorporate aspects of different birds, but is limited to those that fly (cannot fully mimic ostriches or other flightless birds).
- Lizard king form: The shape Vol took when he ruled over an empire in days long past, and his usual shape for combat. This shape is a large, reptilian humanoid with jet-black scales, standing 8'6'' high and weighing 650 lbs. It has sharp teeth, small eyes, a roughly triangular head, and a long, prehensile tail. This form can speak like a human, but its voice is deep and grating.
Backstory:
Vol says it was around since before the beginning of time. Before the world, before the gods, before anything. Can it be believed?
Perhaps, but the moniker of the Liar King is not unearned. The past of this strange shapeshifter is shrouded in mystery, mostly due to the falsehoods the being itself has spread. About its origins, nothing is certain, only that it has been around since before mammals had even developed the use of tools.
Vol's stories and lies have spread far and wide throughout the ages, and there are many old legends telling of his exploits, if one knows where to look. All share a common theme: the shapeshifter daringly reaching for power and knowledge beyond its grasp, challenging the mightiest and cleverest beings around for the greatest of prizes. Sometimes it won, sometimes it lost, the stories often vary and disagree. One thing is clear, however: Vol never died, nor did it give up. Cunning and tenacious, it remained a thorn in the side of every set of gods that sought to rule its world.
Until the day it grew to close to becoming a mortal.
A few thousand years back, the shapeshifter happened upon a pitiful race of lizardfolk, struggling to survive during a harsh time of change and turbulence. Seeing a possibly useful tool in them, Vol took their form, becoming a male, and joined them, blending in with the dwindling populace and gradually winning them over with his intelligence and fearlessness.
The trickster now had followers, but they were weak and short-lived. The ancient Vol sought to change this, and began a dangerous heist. Seeking out three mighty elemental gods, he tricked them one by one, conning them into granting gifts to his people in exchange for souls they would never receive. His plan succeeded, with a few minor hitches, and the lizardfolk obtained eternal life, titanic strength, and incredibly durable scales.
With newfound power and confidence, Vol's people spread and prospered, forming a mighty empire with the shapeshifter at their head. Through them, Vol was able to expand his influence to an unparalleled extent, to the point where godhood itself seemed to be within his grasp. However, even as he used his people to further his own desires, he grew closer to them. Ruling the lizardfolk required living among them, and over the years, Vol began to feel empathy, closeness, even affection for his loyal subjects. While his might grew further and further above that of mere mortals, his heart pulled the other way, seeding doubts in his mind that perhaps his path was wrong, perhaps he ought to be content simply living on as the lizard king.
The choice was never to be made, however, for Vol's activities had not gone unnoticed. He had made many enemies over the previous millenia, and none of them liked what they saw in his newfound power and followers. Banding together, all of the shapeshifter's enemies descended upon his empire. A host of gods and demons, spirits and abominations, ascended beings and elemental forces, moving together in a storm of fury and vengeance.
Once upon a time, Vol would have simply run away, as he had done so many times before. It was a course of action that had served him well over countless centuries, and would likely have worked here, if he were cunning enough. But somewhere along the line, Vol had changed. Where it had once been callous and selfish, caring only for itself, it was now a he, and he would not sacrifice his own people just for the sake of survival. Instead of turning and fleeing, the lizard king stood and fought, challenging the almighty horde head-on in order to buy the lizardfolk time to scatter across the world, hiding away so that they might survive.
Mighty as he was, it was a hopeless fight. The forces arrayed against him were so great that they would have inevitalby torn him apart, and done the same to his soul after that. Indeed, the mass of gods and monsters came expecting and easy victory- but Vol did not stand alone.
Disobeying his commands, the shapeshifter's adopted people came to his rescue, throwing themselves into battle with the same bravery that Vol had won them over with so long ago. Greeting them with a sad smile, their king led them to their glorious end.
It is said that the world itself trembled that day, as two armies of strength beyond measure clashed against one another with unmatched fury. The details of this terrifying conflict are forever lost, for what observer could possibly have survived to record it? The outcome, however, was clear. At the end of the day, the surviving gods and demons limped away, forever scarred- and of Vol and his lizardfolk, nothing remained.
Some say the story ends there.
Could it have? It certainly seems fitting, the ancient immortal trickster sacrificing itself in vain out of loyalty to its children. The canny scholar, however, knows otherwise. There are clues, small hints that may be tracked across the histories of different worlds, signs of a cunning and steadfast hand at work, one that may be recognized by those old enough to remember. How? Why? None can tell. But one thing is clear: the stories and lies of Vol Lok Ra have not yet met their end...
Vol says it was around since before the beginning of time. Before the world, before the gods, before anything. Can it be believed?
Perhaps, but the moniker of the Liar King is not unearned. The past of this strange shapeshifter is shrouded in mystery, mostly due to the falsehoods the being itself has spread. About its origins, nothing is certain, only that it has been around since before mammals had even developed the use of tools.
Vol's stories and lies have spread far and wide throughout the ages, and there are many old legends telling of his exploits, if one knows where to look. All share a common theme: the shapeshifter daringly reaching for power and knowledge beyond its grasp, challenging the mightiest and cleverest beings around for the greatest of prizes. Sometimes it won, sometimes it lost, the stories often vary and disagree. One thing is clear, however: Vol never died, nor did it give up. Cunning and tenacious, it remained a thorn in the side of every set of gods that sought to rule its world.
Until the day it grew to close to becoming a mortal.
A few thousand years back, the shapeshifter happened upon a pitiful race of lizardfolk, struggling to survive during a harsh time of change and turbulence. Seeing a possibly useful tool in them, Vol took their form, becoming a male, and joined them, blending in with the dwindling populace and gradually winning them over with his intelligence and fearlessness.
The trickster now had followers, but they were weak and short-lived. The ancient Vol sought to change this, and began a dangerous heist. Seeking out three mighty elemental gods, he tricked them one by one, conning them into granting gifts to his people in exchange for souls they would never receive. His plan succeeded, with a few minor hitches, and the lizardfolk obtained eternal life, titanic strength, and incredibly durable scales.
With newfound power and confidence, Vol's people spread and prospered, forming a mighty empire with the shapeshifter at their head. Through them, Vol was able to expand his influence to an unparalleled extent, to the point where godhood itself seemed to be within his grasp. However, even as he used his people to further his own desires, he grew closer to them. Ruling the lizardfolk required living among them, and over the years, Vol began to feel empathy, closeness, even affection for his loyal subjects. While his might grew further and further above that of mere mortals, his heart pulled the other way, seeding doubts in his mind that perhaps his path was wrong, perhaps he ought to be content simply living on as the lizard king.
The choice was never to be made, however, for Vol's activities had not gone unnoticed. He had made many enemies over the previous millenia, and none of them liked what they saw in his newfound power and followers. Banding together, all of the shapeshifter's enemies descended upon his empire. A host of gods and demons, spirits and abominations, ascended beings and elemental forces, moving together in a storm of fury and vengeance.
Once upon a time, Vol would have simply run away, as he had done so many times before. It was a course of action that had served him well over countless centuries, and would likely have worked here, if he were cunning enough. But somewhere along the line, Vol had changed. Where it had once been callous and selfish, caring only for itself, it was now a he, and he would not sacrifice his own people just for the sake of survival. Instead of turning and fleeing, the lizard king stood and fought, challenging the almighty horde head-on in order to buy the lizardfolk time to scatter across the world, hiding away so that they might survive.
Mighty as he was, it was a hopeless fight. The forces arrayed against him were so great that they would have inevitalby torn him apart, and done the same to his soul after that. Indeed, the mass of gods and monsters came expecting and easy victory- but Vol did not stand alone.
Disobeying his commands, the shapeshifter's adopted people came to his rescue, throwing themselves into battle with the same bravery that Vol had won them over with so long ago. Greeting them with a sad smile, their king led them to their glorious end.
It is said that the world itself trembled that day, as two armies of strength beyond measure clashed against one another with unmatched fury. The details of this terrifying conflict are forever lost, for what observer could possibly have survived to record it? The outcome, however, was clear. At the end of the day, the surviving gods and demons limped away, forever scarred- and of Vol and his lizardfolk, nothing remained.
Some say the story ends there.
Could it have? It certainly seems fitting, the ancient immortal trickster sacrificing itself in vain out of loyalty to its children. The canny scholar, however, knows otherwise. There are clues, small hints that may be tracked across the histories of different worlds, signs of a cunning and steadfast hand at work, one that may be recognized by those old enough to remember. How? Why? None can tell. But one thing is clear: the stories and lies of Vol Lok Ra have not yet met their end...
Powers and abilities:
Telepafuckery: Vol keeps its consciousness masked behind layers of decoy thoughts and signals. This allows it to feed false information to anyone attempting to read its mind or track its psychic footprint, as well as intercept and eliminate any attempts to seize control of its consciousness, alter its thoughts, or communicate with it telepathically. Though it cannot form a psychic or telepathic connection on its own, Vol can use those established by others to mount its own mental attacks.
Trickster's Skin: Though it has far fewer forms than it did in the past, Vol can still transform extremely quickly between its current variations. Each has their own uses.
- Human form: may be very athletic, but otherwise has no abilities beyond those of ordinary humans.
- Avian form: very light, capable of flight, often posesses a sharp beak and talons. Also has exceptional eyesight.
- Lizard king form: large and heavy, armored with thick layers of tough black scales all over its body. Extremely strong, with sharp teeth and claws, and a powerful bite. Also has a long, prehensile tail (which is a bit weaker than the main body) and a good sense of smell. Very resistant to high temperatures.
Trickster's Palm: Can 'palm' small to medium-sized inanimate objects upon contact, pulling them into a pocket dimension roughly the same size as his body (in lizard king form). While palmed, objects are placed in stasis, and do not age, lose energy, or change in any way. Vol can release palmed objects at will, at which point they will appear to emerge from its skin. By default, he keeps a gallon of water and three cubic feet of solid steel palmed, as well as a change of clothes.
Thur's Strength: Vol can siphon mass from nearby rocks, sediments and minerals, and temporarily transfer this to itself or objects it is touching.
Dal's Swiftness: Vol can siphon velocity from nearby air currents, and temporaily transfer this to itself or objects it is touching.
Shim's Cunning: Vol can siphon light from nearby water (including seawater and dirty water), allowing it to see what is reflected therein.
Lok's Forge: Vol is capable of slightly altering properties of solid metals upon contact, increasing or decreasing their hardness, flexibility, and temperature. It can also completely control the shape of molten metals while in contact with them. The same control also applies to metals it can access through a metal channel (for instance, if Vol is holding a steel pole and dips it in a pool of molten iron, it can control the molten iron). The greater the amount of metal being forged and the higher the speed of alteration, the more exertion and focus is required.
Telepafuckery: Vol keeps its consciousness masked behind layers of decoy thoughts and signals. This allows it to feed false information to anyone attempting to read its mind or track its psychic footprint, as well as intercept and eliminate any attempts to seize control of its consciousness, alter its thoughts, or communicate with it telepathically. Though it cannot form a psychic or telepathic connection on its own, Vol can use those established by others to mount its own mental attacks.
Trickster's Skin: Though it has far fewer forms than it did in the past, Vol can still transform extremely quickly between its current variations. Each has their own uses.
- Human form: may be very athletic, but otherwise has no abilities beyond those of ordinary humans.
- Avian form: very light, capable of flight, often posesses a sharp beak and talons. Also has exceptional eyesight.
- Lizard king form: large and heavy, armored with thick layers of tough black scales all over its body. Extremely strong, with sharp teeth and claws, and a powerful bite. Also has a long, prehensile tail (which is a bit weaker than the main body) and a good sense of smell. Very resistant to high temperatures.
Trickster's Palm: Can 'palm' small to medium-sized inanimate objects upon contact, pulling them into a pocket dimension roughly the same size as his body (in lizard king form). While palmed, objects are placed in stasis, and do not age, lose energy, or change in any way. Vol can release palmed objects at will, at which point they will appear to emerge from its skin. By default, he keeps a gallon of water and three cubic feet of solid steel palmed, as well as a change of clothes.
Thur's Strength: Vol can siphon mass from nearby rocks, sediments and minerals, and temporarily transfer this to itself or objects it is touching.
Dal's Swiftness: Vol can siphon velocity from nearby air currents, and temporaily transfer this to itself or objects it is touching.
Shim's Cunning: Vol can siphon light from nearby water (including seawater and dirty water), allowing it to see what is reflected therein.
Lok's Forge: Vol is capable of slightly altering properties of solid metals upon contact, increasing or decreasing their hardness, flexibility, and temperature. It can also completely control the shape of molten metals while in contact with them. The same control also applies to metals it can access through a metal channel (for instance, if Vol is holding a steel pole and dips it in a pool of molten iron, it can control the molten iron). The greater the amount of metal being forged and the higher the speed of alteration, the more exertion and focus is required.