[hider=Rachel Backe of Wool and Flame] Name: Rachel Backe Titles: Mundane, Prime Points Earned at Start: 105 Points Spent: 105 Points Earned: 0 Strength: E Precision: F Intelligence: D Vitality: E Speed: F Character Grade: F Standing Grade: F [u]Skills[/u] Type Affinity - Fire [F] 7 Type Affinity - Indirect [F] 7 Fighting Style Melee [F] 7 Magic [E] 14 Selective Magic [F] 7 Magic Targets [F] 7 Magic AoE [F] (Born For This) Ritual Fighting Style (Knife) - Technique: Blight - Fire [F] 7 Discount [u]Abilities[/u] Hellblight [E] - [Magic] E, [Type Affinity - Fire] F, [Type Affinity - Indirect] F, [Selective Magic] F, [Magic AoE] F ; causes target to combust in hellish fire - 1 Post Cooldown Blessing of Lightbane [E] - [Magic] E, [Type Affinity - Fire] F, [Selective Magic] F ; the blade of the ritual dagger becomes coated in hellish flame, burning anything that touches it - 1 Post Cooldown Body Torch [E] - [Magic] E, [Type Affinity - Fire] F, [Selective Magic] F ; Caster’s body warm up intensely until its touch is hot enough to leave a lasting mark and potentially smelt - 1 Post Cooldown [u]Equipment[/u] Catalyst [E] 14 Ritual Dagger [F] 7 [u]Assets[/u] [u]Character Background[/u] [u]Personality:[/u] Rachel is–true to her name of origin–a sheepish girl. She is soft-spoken and appears fragile. She is reluctant to interact with just about anybody, avoiding eye contact whenever possible, but she isn’t necessarily averse to social interaction, rather it’s any sort of confrontation that makes her feel fainthearted. However, she does have the capacity to steel herself should it be needed of her, it just takes until the mysterious voice in her head to convince her. Despite this, she hasn’t lost fully the innocence of her youth. There’s still kindness in her heart that may come out in more sensitive moments, but she can still be quite gullible and oblivious of things that may threaten her due to having lived most of her life in closed-off communities. [u]Goals:[/u] -Find herself in her spiritual journey. -Find a new home where she feels she can truly belong. [u]Backstory:[/u] Rachel once lived in a remote town where she would visit a local church every day and for most of her childhood had lived praying to a god whose name she no longer remembers. As far as her sparse memory goes, it was a relatively peaceful childhood. However, as she grew and disease struck her family, her faith dwindled and one day, she ran away from home in an act of defiance. Of course, a girl like her shouldn’t be running out of town by herself. Wolves, bears, or worse could hunt her down from behind the treeline. That was when she stumbled upon a house and was suddenly met with a community of people who immediately welcomed her with open arms and gave her a new place to live in. Days turned to months turned to years, a happy life in a large family who loved her always and forever. They took her to their garden, let her pick out her favorite flowers and asked her about her favorite food and favorite animal. It ended up being the same as everyone else’s. Then, that fateful moment, it would be her special day, as she was told. She was lovingly dressed in a white fluffy coat with ornate frills like a sheep, it was warmer and softer than any dress she had ever worn back home. Behind the smile she held as bright as the others before her, there’s a small sense of unease in the back of her mind as she stepped forward past the vases of lilies lined up across the hall. A feeling well confirmed in the coming moments. Loud chants echoed throughout the room as faceless men of cloth raised their hands in unison. She looked around wildly, eyes darting in panic until they landed on one of them, clad in a much more elaborate outfit as he stepped out from the crowd with something sharp in his hand. A dagger. Her eyes, wide open, fixed solely on the crooked blade, ignoring everything else that was happening. It’s as if the world around her was blurring and fading rapidly. Everything turned black, and with her fear overwhelming her senses, she felt no pain, as if she had merely fallen asleep. When she came to once more, what she felt was the flat wooden floor of that house is now the cold grass wet from the rain. She looked around only to find trees surrounding her. Had she not known any better, she’d assume it was all just a terrible guilt-induced dream. She clenched her fingers to feel the ground again, they touched something wooden. But not quite the same texture, it was smooth. She slowly wrapped them around it, an eloquently carved hilt likely made from an impossibly old tree, charred from what might have been fire. When she picked it up, she recognized the shape of its blade. The crooked blade of the ritual dagger once held against her, now in her hands. Then, something blew through her ears. It was not merely wind, she heard something beyond a simple gust, a whisper smooth yet guttural like a snake. It spoke to her. [i]Do not be afraid. Let me shed light on your way to a path void of uncertainty or betrayal. Use my fire to protect yourself, show them that you are more than just a sheep.[/i] [i] Strike fear in their wicked souls if you may, the power you now possess is the gift that I give to you, my special child.[/i] Her fist tightened on the hilt, then she got up to her feet. [/hider]