Member
Petunia Wake & Her Friend Crocell
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Rank: Middle Class
Species: Human
Appearance: Around 5 foot 2, Petunia isn’t a particularly imposing figure, with midnight black hair and almost always wearing an equally dark dress. Her stern face matches her apparel, and if looks could kill, everyone she knows would be dead. Her build is nothing spectacular, slightly slim and not incredibly muscular. She has very little interest for trivial things such as exercise.
Personality: Petunia’s personality only sometimes matches the expression that appears permanently etched upon her face. She can be, at times, and when faced with opposition, cold and almost heartless. At times when she has no reason to act so, she tends to be quite talkative. Talkative, not chatty. If you engage her in a subject she is interested in or at least cares about, she will talk to you for hours upon end. However, if your drivel is of no interest to her, she will be curt, but not outright rude, she has to keep up appearances after all.
Her focus can sometimes be daunting to those who don’t know her very well, she could very well spend a day or two without food or drink if there was something more interesting than the basic necessities of life, which there often is, whether it’s studying Dæmonology, or communing with the great minds that have since passed from this world.
Being alone for the majority of her life, Petunia is not quite apt at reading the emotions of others, and can sometimes be incredibly inappropriate if she hasn’t quite read a situation correctly.
History: Petunia was born into a peasant family, and lived most of her young life in a state of comfortable ignorance, ignorant of the world outside, of the problems her parents faced, and of the dark force that was gathering around her part of town. At the age of 7, she noticed strange people lingering about her house, and before she had a chance to go and point it out to her father, they were crashing into their house with all the subtlety of a fireball. They bundled her out of her home, and the last thing she remembers of that day was a flash of bright light as it set on fire. She then screamed herself into a state of shock.
When she managed to regain her senses, she was in a darkened room, surrounded by the mysterious robed figures and hundreds upon hundreds of candles. In front of her lay an open book, and one of the figures in front of her whispered “Read.” So she did, she was so frightened that she never questioned what she was doing or why she was doing it; even though the book was in some strange dialect she had never seen before. The words stumbled out of her mouth, and her young mind struggled with a few of the longer words, but, eventually, she managed to reach the end of the page, and looked up at the strange people around her. They were completely still, the only movement being the flickering of the candles lighting the room. And then they all collapsed.
“Don’t be afraid, young girl.” A voice from the darkness whispered, disembodied, deep, but comforting. She nodded her head as a tear began to roll down her cheek, and almost screamed when the figure stepped out of the darkness.
“It’s okay child. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not a monster like they were.” The monster, not a monster, gestured to the motionless robed figures lying down around the room, and chuckled a little.
“I’m Crocell. And I’m going to help you.” It reached out it’s hand towards Petunia, and she slowly took it, rising to her feet, coming up to about the knees of the creature. She trailed after it, still holding its hand as it led them out of the room and into the sunlight.
“We’ll be able to do great things together.” And they did. Together, they defeated the cult that was summoning Crocell and other Dæmons, and managed to make a big enough mark to move up in the world, and have a comfortable life, pretty much working for the Empire. It was no surprise to Petunia and Crocell that the expedition across the crag was practically forced upon them.
Extra: Petunia’s only ability is to summon, order, and dismiss Crocell, but it’s not often that she has to do this, as she enjoys his company and he pretty much acts with his own intentions, as they have formed quite a close bond, but being the one who has summoned him, she does ultimately have the power to make him do as she wishes.
Gender: Female
Rank: Middle Class
Species: Human
Appearance: Around 5 foot 2, Petunia isn’t a particularly imposing figure, with midnight black hair and almost always wearing an equally dark dress. Her stern face matches her apparel, and if looks could kill, everyone she knows would be dead. Her build is nothing spectacular, slightly slim and not incredibly muscular. She has very little interest for trivial things such as exercise.
Personality: Petunia’s personality only sometimes matches the expression that appears permanently etched upon her face. She can be, at times, and when faced with opposition, cold and almost heartless. At times when she has no reason to act so, she tends to be quite talkative. Talkative, not chatty. If you engage her in a subject she is interested in or at least cares about, she will talk to you for hours upon end. However, if your drivel is of no interest to her, she will be curt, but not outright rude, she has to keep up appearances after all.
Her focus can sometimes be daunting to those who don’t know her very well, she could very well spend a day or two without food or drink if there was something more interesting than the basic necessities of life, which there often is, whether it’s studying Dæmonology, or communing with the great minds that have since passed from this world.
Being alone for the majority of her life, Petunia is not quite apt at reading the emotions of others, and can sometimes be incredibly inappropriate if she hasn’t quite read a situation correctly.
History: Petunia was born into a peasant family, and lived most of her young life in a state of comfortable ignorance, ignorant of the world outside, of the problems her parents faced, and of the dark force that was gathering around her part of town. At the age of 7, she noticed strange people lingering about her house, and before she had a chance to go and point it out to her father, they were crashing into their house with all the subtlety of a fireball. They bundled her out of her home, and the last thing she remembers of that day was a flash of bright light as it set on fire. She then screamed herself into a state of shock.
When she managed to regain her senses, she was in a darkened room, surrounded by the mysterious robed figures and hundreds upon hundreds of candles. In front of her lay an open book, and one of the figures in front of her whispered “Read.” So she did, she was so frightened that she never questioned what she was doing or why she was doing it; even though the book was in some strange dialect she had never seen before. The words stumbled out of her mouth, and her young mind struggled with a few of the longer words, but, eventually, she managed to reach the end of the page, and looked up at the strange people around her. They were completely still, the only movement being the flickering of the candles lighting the room. And then they all collapsed.
“Don’t be afraid, young girl.” A voice from the darkness whispered, disembodied, deep, but comforting. She nodded her head as a tear began to roll down her cheek, and almost screamed when the figure stepped out of the darkness.
“It’s okay child. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not a monster like they were.” The monster, not a monster, gestured to the motionless robed figures lying down around the room, and chuckled a little.
“I’m Crocell. And I’m going to help you.” It reached out it’s hand towards Petunia, and she slowly took it, rising to her feet, coming up to about the knees of the creature. She trailed after it, still holding its hand as it led them out of the room and into the sunlight.
“We’ll be able to do great things together.” And they did. Together, they defeated the cult that was summoning Crocell and other Dæmons, and managed to make a big enough mark to move up in the world, and have a comfortable life, pretty much working for the Empire. It was no surprise to Petunia and Crocell that the expedition across the crag was practically forced upon them.
Extra: Petunia’s only ability is to summon, order, and dismiss Crocell, but it’s not often that she has to do this, as she enjoys his company and he pretty much acts with his own intentions, as they have formed quite a close bond, but being the one who has summoned him, she does ultimately have the power to make him do as she wishes.
Age: Centuries Old
Gender: Male
Rank: N/A
Species: Dæmon
Appearance: Crocell is an 7 foot 10 Dæmon with a pallid complexion and he constantly appears as if he is going to fade into the air, which is entirely possible for him to do when dismissed. He has rippling muscles, and his skin falls in strands as if it was an incredibly smooth fabric. His face is mostly featureless, with the exception of his mouth, from which echoes the voice of the deep below.
Personality: Crocell has a wicked personality, often tricking others into achieving his own goals, unless it comes to Petunia. With Petunia, he has a dark sense of humour and it is rumoured that he is the only being that can make her even chuckle. He is eternally calm, and his emotions are never extreme in any way. When Petunia is in danger, he calmly, but swiftly, comes to her aid, and he sometimes is on the verge of being cocky, a trait to be expected when you’re a centuries old demon amongst only decades old humans.
History Before being summoned by the mysterious robed cult, Crocell existed only in the underworld, his place of residence and origin. Within the hierarchy of Dæmons, Crocell isn’t a particularly strong one, his summon was almost a ‘test’ by the cultists, who had failed every previous summoning, and by some luck, had realised that a younger mind, with more potential, and innocence, was the one who had to complete the ritual.
Crocell ruled over a group of fifty or so lesser Dæmons, and even though they mostly revered him, there was a fair amount of uprisings against him, every single one of which he had thwarted. His group’s orders in the Underworld were to open paths to other worlds, and take them over to expand their realms, and perhaps this is why he was most susceptible to being summoned. The issue with Daemons is that, outside of their own realm, they are much less powerful than they would normally be, and therefore it is hard to take a realm by force, much easier to take it slowly, eventually working their way into the minds of the realm’s leaders.
His work was cut short by the summoning, and in his anger he was about to lash out at the person who was summoning him, until he noticed the fear they had, and how young they were. Once he was in the room, not be it physically, he was angered by the position the cultists had put her in, Dæmons do experience childhood, and so he knew fear. Once he’d dealt with the cultists and talked to the girl, he took her under his metaphorical wing, enlightening her on the arts of the underworld, and explaining everything about himself.
Extra: Crocell’s abilities are numerous, but unfortunately his power is greatly hampered by being in a realm other than his own, his abilities are:
Gender: Male
Rank: N/A
Species: Dæmon
Appearance: Crocell is an 7 foot 10 Dæmon with a pallid complexion and he constantly appears as if he is going to fade into the air, which is entirely possible for him to do when dismissed. He has rippling muscles, and his skin falls in strands as if it was an incredibly smooth fabric. His face is mostly featureless, with the exception of his mouth, from which echoes the voice of the deep below.
Personality: Crocell has a wicked personality, often tricking others into achieving his own goals, unless it comes to Petunia. With Petunia, he has a dark sense of humour and it is rumoured that he is the only being that can make her even chuckle. He is eternally calm, and his emotions are never extreme in any way. When Petunia is in danger, he calmly, but swiftly, comes to her aid, and he sometimes is on the verge of being cocky, a trait to be expected when you’re a centuries old demon amongst only decades old humans.
History Before being summoned by the mysterious robed cult, Crocell existed only in the underworld, his place of residence and origin. Within the hierarchy of Dæmons, Crocell isn’t a particularly strong one, his summon was almost a ‘test’ by the cultists, who had failed every previous summoning, and by some luck, had realised that a younger mind, with more potential, and innocence, was the one who had to complete the ritual.
Crocell ruled over a group of fifty or so lesser Dæmons, and even though they mostly revered him, there was a fair amount of uprisings against him, every single one of which he had thwarted. His group’s orders in the Underworld were to open paths to other worlds, and take them over to expand their realms, and perhaps this is why he was most susceptible to being summoned. The issue with Daemons is that, outside of their own realm, they are much less powerful than they would normally be, and therefore it is hard to take a realm by force, much easier to take it slowly, eventually working their way into the minds of the realm’s leaders.
His work was cut short by the summoning, and in his anger he was about to lash out at the person who was summoning him, until he noticed the fear they had, and how young they were. Once he was in the room, not be it physically, he was angered by the position the cultists had put her in, Dæmons do experience childhood, and so he knew fear. Once he’d dealt with the cultists and talked to the girl, he took her under his metaphorical wing, enlightening her on the arts of the underworld, and explaining everything about himself.
Extra: Crocell’s abilities are numerous, but unfortunately his power is greatly hampered by being in a realm other than his own, his abilities are:
- He may instantly teleport to Petunia’s side, but nowhere else, at least in this realm.
- He is twice as strong and twice as fast as a human knight would be.
- He can commune with the spirits of the deceased, and allow others to do so.
- His skin is tough and resistant to fire; in addition, he is immune to diseases and poisons.
- He has no need to sleep or eat or drink.
