[hider= Cloven Brevis][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/bt0Xvb7.jpg[/img][hr][color=#166FC2][i]"I complete my missions by any means possible. Bite that onion and swallow."[/i][/color][/center]

[b]Name:[/b] Cloven Brevis 
[b]Age:[/b] 15
[b]Guild Mark Location:[/b] Left Hand | Dark Blue

[b]Magic Type |[/b] 

[color=#071421][b]True Black Magic[/b][/color] is a caster-type magic based in the darkness element. True Black Magic was the name told to him by his one-time mentor. Like most elemental magic it can be shaped into both offensive and defensive spells, typically in the mold of the user's creativity. The difference between True Black Magic and the others of its ilk, is its ability to absorb an opponent's strength as it own. And its special interaction in concerns with White or Holy magic as whole (has yet to be discovered by Cloven).     

[b]Spells |[/b] 

[color=#071421][b]True Black - Mold Break[/b][/color] is a spell that fills minuscule spaces with his magic. Cloven typically uses this spell to escape from non-wizard proof jails or during exceptionally creative or situational instances a spell or two. One good example of  such is filling out the breaks or crevices of walls or barricades and forcing them apart or to shatter in a controlled manner. 

[color=#071421][b]True Black - Gentle Intentions[/b][/color] a spell that coats any given body part with a thin coat of his dark magic. This enhancement strengthens his mortal blows with magic and adds the effect of absorbing some of his opponent's magic with every physical contact. The drain is judged by how prolonged the contact is.  

[color=#071421][b]True Black - Great Black Void[/b][/color] is a defensive spell in the shape of a dome twelve meters around the user. The spell's true genius comes in its ability to take a mighty mighty punch, for it drains spells' as well as takes the blunt of its metaphysical strength. 

[hider=True Black - No More][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kfjrD3w.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=#071421][b]True Black - No More[/b][/color] was devised with Cloven in mind by his one-time mentor. Its a boon to all his faculties; strength, speed, defense, and his senses. There is however a secret restriction; an emotional response coupled with more positive intentions and a mortal fear must be present. As with all great boons, for now at least, it can only be relied upon for about ten minutes and exhausts him for most of the next day notwithstanding exceptional healing magic.[/hider]

[b]Magic Rank:[/b] B-Rank
[b]Equipment:[/b] N/A.

[b]Strengths |[/b] 
[list][*] Creative - Cloven is a deep-thinker and when luck is on his side, this often manifests in peerless solutions to impossible problems. On the outside, in a casual-sense, this shows itself in the dreamy way he observes the people and environments around him. 
[*] Sustainable Magic - Sometimes his magic has adverse, if not wholly surreal effects on his surroundings. Typically it can warp inanimate objects, unbidden like gravity, but not even Cloven can explain the lackluster effect most magics tend to have on him.
[*]Fighter to the Core - Cloven is a fighter, trained in the martial arts by [i]The Son[/i] and Syra, he is most confident in this aspect of himself. He bends with his opponents assault, looking for opportunities to strike a decisive blow.[/list]
[b]Weaknesses |[/b]
[list][*] Pathfinder (Helpful to Fault) - His greatness weakness is perhaps those few beings of a genuine sort. Even if their choices would later present a cataclysmic result for him later, he would rather them follow their own path. In fact, he's likely to pave that path for them.
[*]Aimless - Without orders or someone driving him towards a goal, Cloven is usually inert. Of course this can be a issue in a more nuanced manner. Large-scale missions might have unforeseen problems, problems that could cut Cloven from his superiors. Leaving him more or less to his unprepared devices.  
[*]Thinker - Cloven is analytical powerhouse. But this backfires on him half the time. His brain attempts to solve issues that hardly exist and because of this he can be stumped or bogged down by too many choices. This is often shown by a glazed-over look and a potent lack of movement.[/list]

[b]Personality:[/b] Cloven has always held a core numbness in him. Since his childhood to the present day. It manifests in the hardness of his golden eyes or the silent dismissal of others, pushing them away unbidden. That's not to say he wants to push people away or despises people, he simply reacts in the way he knows how. That solitary-like disposition gives him plenty of time to observe and ponder. This in turn allows him to spot certain patterns in missions, people, and situations, that when successfully exploited boosts his confidence little by little. He gets his jobs done and usually is praised for such by his superiors, if not predictably, hated by his comrades. He's learned to ignore the sodden pain of being hated and more times than not, will simply bury his worries beneath the numbness, whether that be physical or mental. This in turn, has spawned a awkwardness in him. He has a casual mode with those he's handpicked, where attempts at humor and bare-naked naivety is flashed in full.  

[b]History/Bio:[/b] Born in a little hamlet village in Bosco, Cloven lived the majority of his youth as a farmhand. His lack of parents would spare him the sorrows of the other children, when the raid occurred. Raised within a band of mercenaries called the Black Jester, Cloven was a tight-lipped boy who sought only to stay alive. The band, headed by its enigmatic and supposedly merciless leader [i]The Son[/i] usually replenished his forces by raiding villages off the radar of most authorities and governing forces. He migrated throughout the Earth Land and before long had collected an assortment of youngsters. 

The tasks of the 'Little Jokes' were to steal and sow chaos within the unsuspecting villages they planned to raid a month or so in advance. They were pickpockets mostly but some of the more sadistic tykes were killers. Cloven in particular was a lousy pickpocket which explained his extended stays in various cells and dungeons. Before the deadly screams, fires, and rapturous laughter would inevitably erupt on raid night, he would come to enjoy familiarizing himself with the patterns and inconsequential ticks of the people watching him. On the dreaded raid night, he was usually found by [i]The Son's[/i] right-hand--his daughter; [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bc/00/9f/bc009fc3f410bcb034cdc63aa4bc50b3.jpg]Syra[/url]--and ceremoniously released and told to return to the pens (the Little Jokes holding tent).

It was a stale, golden leaf day when Syra called him away from the other Jokes. With melted-ice in her eyes, Syra recounted the near gloried hope that her father had for Cloven. That on the day they had whisked him from his decrepit home, there was a numbness in Cloven's eyes that her father found familiar. There was notes and journals that her father kept from his past. One of which he kept closer than the others. One that was foretold by a desert witch of his encounter with [i]True Black [/i]. Syra, with the mute compassion she usually handled Cloven with, reassured him that he was that [i]True Black[/i]. 

And in her words that, [i]"The dawn's dead 'Little Devil', you start training with [/i]The Son[i] tomorrow."[/i]

Within a hour he was introduced formally to his one-time mentor, [i][url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/d0/98/06d098dad915793e70645d7a4ba89eb7.jpg]The Son[/url][/i]. To his silent surprised, The Son was actually a women and all the secrecy behind her was warranted. Of course now all those velvet locks were unlocked, blown wide open by his supposed importance to her. [i]The Son[/i] assumed she was a cursed wizard, a Demon of sorts. She was ageless and apparently, if not already obvious, deviously smart. The Black Jesters were an excuse at most, a shelter for her very existence. And everything she had done was tempered with patience and a keen eye. Syra was a [i]fragment[/i] of her, splintered off using her own power. As for Cloven, he was apart of a fortune telling that happened a decades ago and made The Son [i]feel[/i] a sensation upon glance, when she had believed sensations had left her all together. So on a whim she took him. 

[i]"You are little more than a trinket to me, Cloven. You are not chosen, you are not special, and lord knows you'll become less than feed for the animals at the end of your path. Even still... I cherish you. So I will help you live until the time of your death comes."[/i] That was the kind of teacher, The Son had turned out to be. She did her job and she did it well; teaching him the magic that came easiest to him, fortifying positive habits, and beating negative ones out of him. Randomly, The Son sent him off to Fiore to join a guild in Crocus. He obliged to her demands as usual, now softened with years of companionship from herself and Syra. 

He joined Fenixtears a month ago, sliding into their daily lives in much the way a echo stalks sound. He has yet to make much of an impression on anyone but he feels an odd gravity towards one of S-Rank mages. The oddity has spooked him into an opposite reaction, resisting the urge to be around her and instead shying from her very presence.[/hider]

Posting for your reviewing pleasure.