[hider=The Flayed Fellow] [center][img]http://orig15.deviantart.net/d3a7/f/2014/043/c/b/gif_color_2014downwardspiral_by_mateograph-d766xd2.gif[/img] [colour=steelblue][u][h3]Ligament[/h3][/u] [b]Tinker, the Flayed Fellow, Vertebral Mechanist[/b][/colour][/center] [colour=steelblue][b]Gender[/b][/colour] [indent]Demiboy- That is, nonbinary, but humans are allowed to use male pronouns, and they don't mind being called a boy or man.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Appearance[/b][/colour] [indent]Once, in long-gone days of peace under Rieth's reign, Ligament had a body typical of gods- Large, humanoid, and too beautiful to hide with all but the most elegant of clothing. As the Lesser Lord of Change, however, this did not last. Since birth, Ligament has been fiddling and tampering with their divine body. Amputation meant little to them, and they felt no pain from the self-mutilation that defines their role. With each iteration of his designs for himself, Tinker lost more and more of his size and conventional attractions, replacing the godly flesh he inherited with a tangle of his own arcana. By divine standards, Ligament is now a disfigured midget- And yet, despite lacking the patience or motivation to assume any kind of disguise, their continuing modifications might just enable them to pass as something almost mortal. Standing at a lanky 5'9, Tinker is tall, lithe, and boyish in form; Fairly broad-shouldered, and adequately muscled- At least in shape. His breasts are middling, leaning to the smaller side. His body lacks any kind of skin, or conventional tissue. Ligament is made entirely of dark, blueish-grey organic mechanisms, roughly resembling the arrangement of human muscle and sinew. Many sections, however, are replaced by alternative shapes, or simply empty space in order to minimise weight. There is no single skeleton supporting Ligament's body- The contractile 'tissue' itself is more than strong enough to take their weight, and thin strands of rigid structural material crisscross their body in a haphazard organic sprawl, often taking the place of adipose tissue. Numerous functional devices are hidden in this mess of modifications. Each finger on Ligament's dainty, delicate hands has a different tool hidden in it, the index and middle fingers of their left hand forming the electrodes of an arc discharge, for example. Several of these are weapons, and most of Tinker's body can be disassembled as required. Notably, an array of spring-loaded blades in his back prevents attack from that direction, small jets in the back of his shins allows him to leap further than even his augmented body would usually allow, and a durable wheel can unfold from each of his heels, for traversing flat ground quickly with little energy expenditure. The only part of Ligament that remains much the same as it was at their birth is the stretch of skin over his belly. This is where their centre of power is pierced into, and serves as a reminder of that first change, and how far they've come. In terms of clothing, Ligament's preferences are minimal. A pair of old brown trousers and a leather belt is all they wear below the neck. Lacking hair, but oddly conscious of being 'bald', Ligament wears a fashionable, very wide-brimmed black [url=http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=181310067]hat[/url]. Rumour has it that this hat has been grafted onto his skull so that Tinker won't leave it lying around and forget about it. Blue [url=http://steampunkvapemod.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/Steampunk-Victorian-Goggles-welding-Glasses-diesel-punk-gcg-0-0.jpg]welding goggles[/url] are worn at all times, not to shield him from anything, but rather to protect mortals from the full brunt of his divine gaze, which ignites in magnesium white when he gets too excited.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Personality[/b][/colour] [indent]An energetic and upbeat figure, Ligament bounces quickly between ideas and is easily distracted. While adequately respectful to their family, formality is unknown to them, and Ligament is deeply uncomfortable with having to feign something they consider so utterly barren of purpose. Indeed, Tinker plays much of his life with his cards on the table. Tinker is merrily honest with others where he doesn't stand to gain from lying, which he doesn't do particularly well anyway. Colloquialism picked up from mortal followers riddles his speech. The idea of [i]temporarily[/i] changing forms or assuming disguises confuses him- Ligament's own body and identity works perfectly well for them, and if it doesn't, well, they'll modify it. Again. And again. [i]And again and again and again[/i] Indeed, any significant amount of time in the Flayed Fellow's company is spent learning the passionately erratic nature of their obsessions. Tinker is a mutterer in all moods, and his stream of thought often flows too quickly for his breath, catching and stumbling into a string of nonsense, profanity, or melodic gibberish. Always working on something, Ligament will jump at any opportunity to tackle a fun new problem, no matter who poses it. None of their projects are ever really completed, and their purpose tends to get muddied or fuse with others over time. [/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Domain[/b][/colour] [indent][i]Change[/i] - The Major Domain of the new and different, and yet not of creation. Ligament's is the domain of process and adaptation, learning and leaving behind, applying resources in unorthodox ways. [i]Transcendence[/i] - A Minor Domain defined by mortals, of ultimate change as an individual. To become something so different from what once was that one cannot be considered the same kind of being anymore is to realise Tinker's dreams. Those who sacrifice comfort to grow into something beyond what they were born as, whether physically, socially or spiritually, are the most favoured children of Ligament. [i]Corruption[/i] - This Minor Domain is characterised by the twisting of identity. Corruption is change that perverts original function or purpose, separating the changed party from who or what they once were. A core trait of corruption is that it is, by definition, never a total change- What remains is still bitterly recognisable in all but a few key ways. Ligament favours the physical applications of this domain over the psychological ones.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Avatar[/b][/colour] [center][hider=A Divine Engine][img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/9f5f91e96c6ab4bac5d16bba0d947e91/tumblr_ofuxq577sm1tvp5u2o1_1280.jpg[/img][/hider][/center] [indent]The Mangler is a vehicle that Ligament built over many years out of arcane materials and the leftover scraps of their own body.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Stance[/b][/colour] [indent]For Ligament, the encroaching conflict operates on two distinct levels. As a deity, especially one inexperienced in conflict, no less, the threat of violence is of significant concern. Ligament values their safety, and doesn't particularly enjoy the idea of seeing their family wipe itself out. However, the scenario changes if a clash over the throne spills over into the mortal realms. Ligament stands to gain tremendously from chaos. Their fascination with mortals will be fuelled with centuries worth of new material once more powerful deities start funnelling resources into their nations. Refugees and deserters may swell Tinker's own mortal flock to numbers yet unseen, from which he can take his leisurely pick of experimental subjects.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Loyalty During the Rebellion[/b][/colour] [indent][/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Center of Power[/b][/colour] [indent][/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Relations[/b][/colour] [indent][/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Powers[/b][/colour] [indent][/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Godly Equipment[/b][/colour] [indent]The Mangler itself is, by far, Ligament's most versatile and dangerous piece of equipment. Beyond this, however, Ligament does not have the sheer power required to construct divine artefacts, and certainly not to craft God's Bane weaponry. Everything Tinker has is, as always, just a cobbled-together shadow of the works of others.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Demigods[/b][/colour] [indent][/indent] [colour=steelblue][h3]Rigwreck[/h3][/colour] [colour=steelblue][b]Lands[/b][/colour] [indent]A narrow, indistinct mess of border settlements, Rigwreck is too small and too underdeveloped to qualify as even a city-state. Though fertile enough to eke out a living- A thin, ragged living that's only debatably worth the effort- the Wrecklands have no significant agricultural, mineralogical or strategic value. What wildlife existed before Tinker made it his personal roost had neither the fur nor the meat to be worth hunting, and there is no magic native to the region. There is no beast in Rigwreck that is not a feral descendent of something that belongs in a farmyard, no plant that is not a weed. All in all, Ligament's own presence is the only reason to be in Rigwreck.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]People[/b][/colour] [indent]Despite its undeniable worthlessness, Rigwreck does not suffer from isolation. If anything, there's always more people than the land can sustain. The only 'city' in the 'country' is a relatively large town (even that a questionably accurate term) that goes by the same name as the area, but is really just a congealed mass of camps and slums. The old, the sick, the desperate and the perverse flow into Rigwreck from everywhere that's anywhere. Its population is a mess of ethnicity and species, virtually all of which are mortal.[/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Culture[/b][/colour] [indent]Much of the Wrecklands' population is transient. There is only so much respite it can offer migrants, and many gamble on extending their journey rather than stay. Even among those who consider it home, a significant proportion of the population forms trade caravans. The only permanent dwellings in the settlement are generally considered common property. What remains are shacks, hovels, huts and tents. Those tired, weak folk who remain either starve or learn fast. Everything in Rigwreck has been recycled and reused a hundred times over. Traditional Wreckland clothing is more patch than fabric, and tents are passed down in families, growing more and more asymmetrical each time a repair or extension is necessary. With no resources to trade, and at the same time reliant on convoys for basic necessities, the Wrecklanders have become an adaptable craft-based culture. Importing metals, fibre, fuel and ceramics from outside, these raw materials return home as manufactured goods of surprising quality, exchanged for far less than their true worth in food and other resources. The constant cycle of trade brings skills and breeds from a variety of regions, and Wrecklanders snap up any opportunity to adapt outside influences to their benefit. In the face of lethal scarcity, none of this survivalism would be possible without a shared core of hope for a better future, and it is Ligament that provides this hope. Tinker is an ever-present figure in Rigwreck. Neither worshipped as a god nor respected as an elder, Tinker's role is a grimly practical one. His constant experimentation requires living mortal subjects, and the people of Rigwreck live day to day hoping to be chosen to receive his blessing and become Immortal, free of death and despair. To save himself the hassle of being badgered over his projects by desperate Wrecklanders praying for eternal life, and indeed because he finds it a source of private fulfilment, Tinker tries to keep the reasoning and schedule behind his selections secret, responding to no requests, hiding the true appeal of his presence behind other positive acts for the community. Ever present in the streets of Rigwreck, Ligament offers a hand of sound advice and good humour to those who need it, and some of their creations are (or were meant to be) outright gifts to the settlement. The layers of unpredictability and kind spirit push their blessing of immortality to the side, and the people are grateful enough to respect Ligament as an individual as well as a potential way out of death. [/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Technology[/b][/colour] [indent]Eclectic. Metalworking is surprisingly advanced in Rigwreck, and yet it has no mines. Carpentry is exquisite, and yet it has no lumber. Refining dyes and weaving clothes are significant industries, and yet what flocks roam its rocky earth are bred to survive and produce milk and meat and anything else that will feed a family in drought or winter. In a world where farming remains the principle source of food and income for the masses, the settlement's dependence on manufacture leaves it in a precarious position, always on the edge of famine, its amassed expertise fragile, its wisdom lost every time a caravan falls to raiders or a plague passes through and reaps the town. Despite its stark lack of accessible magic, there is nonetheless a culture of sorcery in Rigwreck. With so little to go around, any way to get something out of nothing is incredibly valuable, and so the Wrecklanders have learned to treasure even the tiniest fragments of foreign magic that come their way. No spell is too simple or enchanted item too small to be exploited to its greatest effect or combined with others to do so, even if that's nothing more than keeping a candle alight. A single mage probably has more power in them than all of Rigwreck put together, but any possible bit of magic that does find its way to the settlement will be cannibalised and integrated to existing spells to serve the community [i]somehow.[/i][/indent] [colour=steelblue][b]Beings[/b][/colour] [indent]Ligament's presence in Rigwreck is distinctly visible. The Immortal products of their work form a sizeable chunk of the population, but are rarely counted among that number. These odd creatures are called Edits. Edits are mortals with significant portions of their body removed and replaced by the arcane biomechanics of the Machinist.[/indent] [/hider]