[OOC] Starkissed

[Inertia]

Oh god it's back. It's been a long time coming.

Any place left for little old me?

[Melo]

Oh god it's back. It's been a long time coming.

Any place left for little old me?

@Inertia

NO

Hider

Totally, welcome back swabby <3

[MiddleEarthRoze]

@Mae

That table is amazing. I tend to make tables to keep track of my own roleplays, but that's one awesome one you've got there.

[Leos Klien]

@MaeThank you for addressing my concerns, you've put my unease about the matter to rest ^_^

[ihinka]

This is obviously a WIP... It's the most elaborate CS I've had to produce since I've been on the guild Just the most basic of outlines for starters. The fluff - later

Blaine Carrigan/ Maeve/ Goddess of balance, harmony and cycles

IMAGE
⍚ BLAINE CARRIGAN ⥥ 30 ⥥ FEMALE⥥ BISEXUAL⍚

"What comes around, goes around."

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

At 5'9 Blaine is a tall woman with medium build, fit and athletic. Her short, straight hair is jet black, offset by indigo blue eyes. Her facial features are somewhat sharp, with high cheekbones, square-ish chin, and straight nose. Her lips are full and pink, with the lower lip having a slight indent in the middle. When she smiles a dimple will appear on her left cheek. Unlike most people of high stature Blaine walks tall and doesn't slouch. At first glance this causes her to look too imposing with her broader than usual for a woman shoulders and her fit physique. But once you get past that and dare to look into her eyes you'll find an ocean of gentleness there, belying her imposing figure.

Blaine has a barely visible scar across her lower lip on the left side, a visible scar on her forehead, to the right of the third eye region. She also has a tusk scar on the right of her abdomen from a wild boar. Her ears are pierced, as well as her right eyebrow and left nipple - signifying her inability to give birth.

Blaine has a few tribal tattoos representing harmony, balance and the cycle of life /the style of these and the symbols will change with each incarnation but the meaning will remain the same/.

Blaine will generally wear pants and shirts with the length of the pant legs and shirt sleeves depending on the season.

The mark of her curse looks like an acacia nilotica leaf on her nape from where new connected leaves will appear across her body when she uses her abilities.

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

Blaine is solitary and quiet, but she is not unwelcoming and is a very warm person. She is very helpful and polite and her impulse is always to lead with good. She will try to mediate and diffuse a situation first before resorting to more drastic measures. She is a peacemaker at heart and will seek out harmonious resolution to arguments and debates. She is however no pushover. The medal has two sides and when all other resources have been exhausted, she will consider more severe measures. Even if the employment of said measures always brings her sorrow and sadness simply due to the inability to resolve a conflict in a peaceful manner. Her own inability as well as the other party's. She will allow herself to feel the full repercussions of her actions, because there are lessons to be learned. Hence why she usually will struggle to the very last moment before forced to use drastic measures. She will find the fault within herself more often then within her opponent.

Driven to improve herself constantly, to seek inner peace, balance and harmony she will often try to transmit that state of mind and being to her surroundings - flora and fauna included. She knows bad things happen in life and does not labor to understand why, but rather to find a way to balance their effects. Because ultimately good and bad exist. She considers it arrogant to demand a reason for this existence. She believes that one must rather strive to find within themselves the strength to seek out ways to equalize the scale, to offset the bad with the good and to accept the bad when there is also good. This outview on life makes her a very calm and patient person.

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

Member of the Altose clan, Blaine became orphaned at a very young age. Her mother died during child birth and her father, one of the clan's hunters, died when Blaine was but five years old. The girl was adopted by the clan's shaman. The old crone soon realized the girl's natural shamanic gifts and set out to train her in the craft. Blaine adored nature and everything that had to do with it. She loved her lessons about herbs, plants and flora in general. She became especially gifted with the healing magics the shaman was training her in.

She would disappear for hours on end in the forests in search of herbs, healing plants, shamanic mushrooms. On one such faithful outing she was attacked by a vagrant clanless monster of a man, who in one foul act took her childish innocence, her shamanic gift, as well as her ability to bear life. Hunters of her clan found her broken, barely alive, clutching a stone in one hand, the monster passed out next to her, his head bashed in.

The hunters rushed her to the shaman, her adoptive mother, who labored for days on end to bring the young girl to full health. Her violator they put in a cage to await his just punishment. When Blaine had healed enough it was time for justice to be served. The beast that had taken so much from her was broth forth, the entire clan gathered to witness and participate in the ritual. The hunters who had found Blaine stripped him bare, strapped his legs and arms to two poles so that he hung helpless in the air.

Blaine stood, brave and terrified, her chin and lower lip trembling imperceptibly. She knew well the punishment for violators such as hers. Castration by a thousand cuts. Every member of the clan, save for the most innocent, would participate. The final cut, reserved for the one the violator had wronged. While the shaman was there to officiate the ritual as well as make sure the guilty one would stay alive long enough to receive the final cut completely conscious.

Thus ended the life of Blaine the shaman trainee and young healer and began the life of Blaine the warrior-hunter. Losing her purpose in one with her shamanic gift Blaine had to find a new path for herself in aid of her clan. Not able to bear children the only thing left for her was the path of warrior or hunter. She asked her adoptive mother to pierce her left nipple to symbolize her loss, but also as a sign of her new status in the clan. It was common practice for male warriors to pierce their nipples, while women who would have to care for children could not.

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

OPTIONAL IMAGE

⍚ MEAVE ⥥ GODDESS OF BALANCE, HARMONY AND CYCLES ⥥ FEMALE ⥥ PANSEXUAL ⍚

<She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her, and those who hold on to her are blessed!>

Proverb

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

"What you looked like as an immortal. You can go as mad as you want with this."

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

This can include personality traits, what they are assosciated with ect. This may also include significant events that had impacts on mortals. You may list if you wish. You may add to this as the RP continues as well as you flashback to things you did as a God/Goddess.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

"What are the notable events in your God's history? Do they come from a "family" (example:zeus is siblings with hades and posseiden in mythology) or how did they come to be? How where they tricked by the Dark Gods? Any particular moments they shared with their Starkissed? You may add to this as the RP continues as well as you flashback to things you did as a God/Goddess. "

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}
Three General skills to start and up to two combat abilities. Due to the setting you may also have 1 Survival ability.

• Soothing voice Blaine has the ability to draw people and animal alike and they will at least listen to what she has to say
• Empathy Blaine will attune to a person's emotional state almost immediately
• Healing Although her magic is gone, Blaine can still brew healing potions and tend to wounds

• Hunting prowess Blaine can track a quarry through almost any terrain
• Awareness Having spent hours upon end alone in the forest Blaine's awareness is among the sharpest there is
• Patience Blaine is a patient warrior, she never attacks recklessly, in anger or in provocation

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}
These will unlock as we continue.

Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)

The Scale Of Things: Weakest Ability
Affects balance within and without, swaps between extremes. Blaine has the ability to manipulate balance within a person and the balance of a person in relation to his/her surroundings

A Leaf On The Wind: Blaine can use this ability to instill a person with a moment of inner peace and grant them reprieve from the effects of angst, stress, sorrow. It can also cause a moment of calmness within an antagonistic character, dissuading them from their negative endeavors.
Seesaw: When there's an up, there must be a down. Blaine can swap between those states of extreme. She can grant courage to a person paralyzed by fear. Someone enraged can be calmed down in an instant.
Open Your Eye: Blaine can affect the chemistry of the brain to produce a chemical balance within the pineal gland allowing the person a flash view of their reincarnation path. Depending on the target this has either beneficial effects or detrimental.

Harmonic Resonance: Moderate Ability
Using her voice Blaine can affect throught harmonic ressonance a person's brainwaves

Slow Harmonics /0-8 Hz/: Manipulating the slowest brainwaves Blaine can cause injury or promote healing /0-4 Hz/; grant the gift of heightened intuition or detrimental impulsive behavior /4-8 Hz/.
High Harmonics /8-40 Hz/: Tampering with the mid to high frequencies Blaine can render a person inactive for a medium amount of time by either causing them to completely lose focus or launch them in a state of hyper/OCD focus /8-12 Hz/; playing with the higher frequencies /12-40Hz/ Blaine can modify the production of adrenaline either depriving one of it or over-flooding the person's system with it; using these frequencies she can also cause a short to mid memory loss or rather the inability to access the memories.
Harmonic Flash: A bit of a wild card ability type of deal. When Blaine uses it it can produce the effect of any of the two abilities above regardless of the target and Blaine's intent.

The Tree Of Life: Strongest Ability
You can bend laws, brake them even, but their effects are ultimately inescapable! The system will achieve balance one way or the other.

Threefold: Blain has the ability to invoke the law of threefold return. What one does returns to them threefold. Good or bad.
Enter Akasha /40-100 Hz/: Through harmonic frequencies Blaine can launch a person into the Akashic records, the repository of all knowledge for full review of their karmic path. That person will be unable to do anything for a certain amount of time as the brain will be entirely occupied with processing the information.
Death Is Only The Beginning: Since I don't want it to be OP I'm open to ideas... but it's pretty straightforward... She can bring the life cycle to its end or beginning - life/death. But it will kill her immediately not shortly afterwards.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}
What is on your person

[ ⍚ ] O _{T H E R}
Colour Code: other information.

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: REQUIRED
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

[Mae]

@inertia *tacklehug* I get to put Craenek back on the map :D? Or are you thinking of creating a new character?

@Leos Klien I'm so glad I could help! Looking forward to roleplaying with you <3

@MiddleEarthRoze Complementing my tables? You know how to reach my heart!! _{I had a few other tables for other stuff too but uhm} *shuffles feet, abashed*

Ok guys, having a look at the CS's so far now :D EDIT: I'll get to a proper reply tommorrow, sorry guys!

[Inertia]

@Mae

Aha i think you meang Longear's but go ahead! Just correcting my CS a bit before submitting.

[13org]

OOps wrong CS lol

[Leos Klien]

And it's done! :D

Geraldvardis / Voriskimaar / The eternal follower, The God of Shadows

⍚ Geraldvardis ⥥ AGE: 28 ⥥ GENDER: Male ⥥ SEXUALITY: Heterosexual ⍚

"Without light, we are nought but lost sheep"

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

Gerald stands at 6'1 and weighs in at around 11 stone, his frame is slight and wiry and whilst not weak, it wouldn't take much for someone stronger than him to overpower him, he relies on skill rather than strength, he has various light scarring around his abdomen from both man and beast, most gained from his days spent travelling and his time spent guarding caravans, although some were made by attempts on his life from villagers at his home, to a lot of people he was an unknown entity, and that which they do not know made them fear him, thankfully no one capable tried to end his life.
The clothes he wears most often that not are light brown breeches made from a rather fine cotton, and a white woollen shirt that he wears underneath his leather armour, all of it is meant for light carrying, and to keep him cool during the spring and summer.
He also wears leather walking boots, that get replaced fairly quickly due to the amount of travelling and walking he does.
His skin is pale up until it gets to where his chest is, a dark spot covers the flesh where his heart is, it's not overly large but it's almost as the colour is like staring into the void itself, one of the few reasons why exile or death almost befell him at a young age, as he uses his powers this grows, in a haphazard manner spreading over his body like thin snaky tendrils, eventually when he has used his powers to the point of death, his body simply vanishes in the wind as he was made of nothing but ash.

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

Geraldvardis, or Gerald to those who know him is typically a quiet person, he prefers to observe and watch rather than act or perform in any form of activity.
This is mostly down to his upbringing and where he grew up in the world, regarded as "different" even amongst the witches of the Altose he has been kept at arms reach for most of his life, close, but not too close, even to his parents.
As such Geraldvardis prefers to stay away from people but is more than aware that many customs do not allow such a thing to happen, he begrudgingly, and with a strained smile partakes in anything that requires excessive human interaction, the main exception to this rule is when interacting with a woman, he will typically obey most commands given to him if it from a woman because of the matriarchal society that he grew up in, to disobey an order given by a matriarch was... not wise, nor healthy if the tales that circulated were true.
When before a Lord and Lady, he will address the woman first and act as if she was the one who actually ruled, in place of the man, where in many places that is not usually the case.

Other than that Geraldvardis takes a while to get "close" to, but he will open up when you do, trust is a difficult thing to form when you've looked at with a suspicious eye for your entire life.
His sense of humour is quite dark mirrored by his outlook on the world, his travels across the land have shown him much and for a relatively young age he has experienced a lot, although still reclusive in nature he is slowly becoming more outward as he travels the world more, seeing that the ways of the crones and witches of Altose is not exactly the best to live life, especially given how the rest of the world views them.

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

Geraldvardis was born to the Altose clan, and explains a lot for how he acts in today's world.
His upbringing was not exactly the best, it was always felt that something was slightly off with Geraldvardis, to the point when the Matriarchs or Crones couldn't explain it, given their wisdom and power over typical mortals this was considered very strange.
His mother and father were not exactly pleased with this development, their first born was in essence an outcast at an exceptionally young age.
Geraldvardis was kept alive, and not exiled for this anomaly although it was a close call, throughout his childhood Gerald was always kept at a distance, close enough to be kept an eye on, but never close enough to get attached.
As such, the same for Gerald applied, he never got attached to people as he never really got to know them.
Through out most of his early childhood his mother tried to do as much as she could for him, without actually looking as if she truly cared for her own son, her position, and indeed the families position in the clan would have been in jeopardy if she disobeyed the Matriarchs will, whilst no order was explicitly given to ostracise Gerald, the discomfort he caused the Matriarchs was evident, his presence was tolerated, and little more.

During this time Geraldvardis was a fortunate one to be taught how to read and write, there were no shortages of books, vellum or ink and quills in a place like Altose, and whilst he was not taught magic he learnt how to handle himself with a blade, typically taking up any form of job that meant guarding a caravan, something he thanked his father whenever he could for arranging on his behalf, Gerald's being in any place but Altose proved to be beneficial both for his family and indeed himself, he got paid, he learned many a great deal from other clans and travellers and for once in his life he was actually treated somewhat normally, so long as he left out the detail of where he was from.

At 28, he rarely goes to Altose and that's something both he and the Crones prefer.

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

⍚ Voriskimaar ⥥ The eternal follower, The Shadow God. ⥥ Male ⥥ Hetero-Romantic Asexual ⍚
_{DARK GOD}

"Have you ever had that glance around the camp fire, off into the darkness and suspect you're being watched? Ever had that double take when you think a shadow moves? Shout out into the darkness for the coward hiding out there to appear, but to no avail? That.. That is the Shadow God, stalking you, teasing you,
watching and waiting for madness to consume your mind, for fear to set in and control your fevered mind and when you drop your light, and break into a delirious sprint 'away' from him, it's then he gets you, when your Shadow is magnified by the light you just left behind, without a sound you vanish from this world.
We use fire to to feel safe at night, but little do we realise, that we merely create a new danger for him to come. Light is his friend and ally, without it he cannot manifest, the joke is that we think light keeps him at bay,
when instead we open the door for him.
The God of Shadows, the eternal follower...

"Excerpt from an age old tome: Author unknown"

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

Shadows are formless, and yet they cannot exist without an entity to form from,
no two shadows are alike, and yet they all appear the same if coming from a similar object.
How can a being that embodies the very shadows itself have a form? In this case, the fact that he is a God allows him the power to manifest as a perpetual darkness, a shroud that is both a shadow and is not, his formless form absorbs light just as those Stars that perish from their own strength do.
His voice is spectral and ominous, it sounds as if it is carried upon a cold wind.
This being, if you could call it such, is a misnomer, a paradox, a being that exists but should not, for no light creates his form, he exists without it, and yet his power lies within the very thing that he absorbs.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

In the mortal lands, he is most associated with the rare event of an Eclipse, the very moment when the world that should be bathed in light is consumed in an eerie half darkness, a shadow.
It is in these brief moments that are attributed to him as his attempt to consume the very world into shadow,
and end everything in the mortal realm, it is not entirely the case. An eclipse is his strongest moment, the peak of his power and influence on the world.
He is typically associated with paranoia, disappearances, that inescapable feeling that you're being watched, "that movement in the corner of your eye", figures in the dark, dark omens... He is regarded as a harbinger and never regarded as a good sign if anything of this sort happens to you.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

The origins of Voriskimaar is disputed, some say he existed when Light first bloomed, the first moment the cold void lit up was the moment he was born, always hiding from the light, but also dependent on it for his existence, others say that he formed from the soul of a dead god, some believe he was once a extremely powerful mage who ascended to god hood from a ritual that went wrong, others believe that he represents the duality of man, bad and good, that he is nothing more than myth used to represent good and bad.
So many different stories, so many different tales and beliefs of who he is and how he came to be, that is something alone that backs up just how ancient he is.

Light, is something of a anomaly with Voriskimaar, he needs it to exist, without it he will eventually dissipate into nothingness, but despite that he can never touch it.
He must always hide from it, that is how he exists that is how he came to being, he has always had a lust for light, he wants it badly, but alas, he can never have it.
Always just out of reach, he is barely able to grab a glimpse of it before his shadowy form is dispelled and he must reform where there is shadow.
As such, both the Moon and the Sun (light) both hold dear places in his 'heart', as they provide, in part the very thing he seeks.
It is thought that he voluntarily cursed himself so he could walk the land and drink in the sun without being cast away like he normally would, or so he could finally meet the God/Goddess that represented Light and the Moon, equally, it is also thought that his intentions are far more sinister, to create a perpetual Eclipse on Earth, or to capture the God/Goddess of the sun for him to keep for all eternity.

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

• Herablism: Can make poison and restorative agents alike, his knowledge on flora and wildlife is fairly expansive.
• Skilled with a spear: Exactly as it appears, he had a knack for his capabilities with this weapon and over the years of travelling the lands he has become quite proficient with it.
• Hunting: Can hunt most game with relative ease.

• Reading and Writing: Fairly standard and typically taught in the Altose clan.
• Dexterous: Is quite agile and if he honed his skills a bit more would make an adept thief or even assassin, although the thought has never entered his mind.
• Always one with the shadows: Almost impossible to see him when he is covered by a shadow, strangely affected by his will to not be seen, but he has long dismissed this as coincidence.

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}
These will unlock as we continue.

Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)

One with the Shadows.
Description: Various utility and stealth based abilities that allow Voriskimaar to remain undetected or escape.

Shadow Sight: Any shadow within a 10 meter radius confers vision to Voriskimaar, lasts for 10 minutes, but it doesn't cost a lot of energy to perform so more often that not (at least when it's needed) he has almost complete vision around him.

Tendrils of Darkness: Makes a single person feel as if the shadows are trying to grab them, instils the feeling of paranoia for a short period of time.

Reaper: Using the shadows, Voroskismaar assumes the form of a large cloaked entity, piercing red eyes can be seen under the hood that seems to contain nothing but the void, the scream this form can emit is extremely harrowing and will break lesser mens will if they have not already ran from the sight, it's little more than an illusion, but it does exert an extreme sense of dread to those near by.

Embrace the Shadows
Description: Allows Voriskimaar to manipulate the shadows around him to various things, manipulating a shadow to keep it's form, whilst may seem simple from afar, is a complex and difficult task, and requires a great deal of effort on Voriskimaar's behalf.

Shadow Form: Allows him to dissipate into nothingness and reform from a shadow that he has direct sight of.

Shadow Lance: Fires a bolt of shadow energy at high speed, deals a nasty concussive blow with a large amount of force.

Shadow Blade: Allows Voriskimaar to arm himself with a blade made from shadows, a blade on itself may seem a bit weak for it to take so much energy out of him, but this weapon is far superior to any blade that mortals can create, or magic for that matter, it's lighter than the wind and is sharper than steel, swift and powerful.

The eternal shadow.
Description: Using as much energy he can muster from the shadows Voriskimaar unleashes his most powerful abilities

Shadow Mark - Upon skin to skin contact with another person, Voriskimaar can mark them with Shadow Energy. Itis a small visible dark mark on the skin, often around the shoulders or on the back. He may only mark one person at a time. He will be aware of their location, general mood and a rough idea of what they are doing. While marked, the person is more susceptible to paranoia inducing effects Voriskimaar can create. In darkness they will see shadows moving, small sighs of the wind will sound like footsteps, and they experience the sensation of being watched most strongly of all.

The First Shadow: Nearby Shadows begin to seep out a pitch black fog, dependent on the number of shadows nearby determines the speed of how long the fog takes to accumulate into a ground based fog bank, thickness, depth and height are all variable, but inevitably serves the same function.
Walking into the fog causes your vision to blur almost immediately, not that you can see anything as all light cast into the Fog acts as if it hit a brick wall, no Light can pass through this shadowy mist.
The mist eventually starts to cause those caught inside it to cough, the air they are breathing in becomes terse; as if they were breathing in ash.
The longer they stay in the fog the worse their condition gets, each breath is slowly killing all those contained within, a rough estimate is that failing to clear through the fog after 15 minutes, will result in death, dependent on the time spent inside the fog decides how long it takes you to recover properly once you emerge from it.
If you were in there for a minute, then you'll be slightly out of breath, in there for 7, then you'll be gasping for air on the ground as if you got headbutted in chest by a Ram.
The wind can affect the mist, but with difficulty.

Blighted Winter Night: A shadow is cast on the land for a week. A small contained black hole can be created in the shadowed land that decimates anything nearby before violently exploding. Voriskimaar lives long enough to decide where the hole happens only, and if no choice is made within the first few minutes the black hole forms in the center and his life is taken for the ability regardless. The black hole decimates anything nearby, before violently exploding and releasing a number of "Shadowkin" equal to the dead killed. While some of these Shadowkin survive until the end of the week some dissipate over time and others are killed. After the shadowy influence ends, the land is still tainted for many years to come.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}
Numerous tomes on wildlife and flora kept in a leather satchel, a belt with numerous pouches for anything he forages, a skinning knife made from iron (enchanted to prevent rusting or dulling of the blade), Spear, light leather armour as well as a wool cloak, light and designed to fend off the elements of the weather.

[ ⍚ ] O _{T H E R}
Colour Code:696969

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?:Yes
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

[McHaggis]

.

[Melo]

@Leos Klien If I may make one suggestion. can you use a colour that's a little easier on the eyes? I have a hard time seeing that shade of green against the dark background.

Though I'd like to hear others about it, I might be the only one.

[Leos Klien]

@MeloYeah, I was a bit dubious about it myself, but I was like - "My guy likes shadows... so I need a font that's also ... shadowy?" >.>"
I'll change it no worries.

[Leos Klien]

okey doki, hopefully that's better.

[luckofthedraw]

Far from finished, but here is what I have on my CS so far. You'll probably have to review the heck out of it since... it's... an odd one...

Mado / Vodahil / God of Voids and Nothingness

⍚ Mado ⥥ 19 ⥥ Male⥥ Hetrosexual ⍚

"I Seem to Have Lost All Purpose"

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

"Mado stands at 5' 10". The young man is light, but not in the least bit weak. His hair is a jet black and cut short. Amongst others he could be easily unnoticed, if it weren't for his eyes. Deep, cold and empty, they are of a blue so dark, they seem to be black. His gaze alone makes a few hardened warriors turn away. Still, standing shorter among the warriors of his land, he is easily lost and forgotten.

The only other thing of note is his scars, plastered down his back and centered on the lower part of it. They are not just gashes and slices, but holes, knots, and grooves...

His curse mark rests near the bottom of his back and indeed he himself has only seen it in the reflection of water. It shines whitish and appears different each time, probably due to the reflection of the water. Upon contact the whitish symbol simply vanishes as if it was never there to begin with.

That's when it starts spreading. Instead of the whitish color radiating out, however, 'colorlessness' radiates up his back and to his neck. The 'colorlessness' seems to suck the very color out of his skin, and his muscles. It makes his skin turn transparent until one can see his bones straight through his body. This goes up to his neck and, in extreme situations, can reach up to his face. Revealing the skull beneath.

Because of this he wears a lot of clothing to hide his back and neck. He wears the traditional robe of the Altose Clan, and wears a heavy (black wolf) fur scarf over that, which drapes down his back. He dresses to disguise not only his mark, but his scars surrounding it.

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

"Does Mado even have a personality? Used to be a common question. And for the most part the answer was no. Until one day Mado seemed to grow odd. He seemed to become slightly crazy and unhinged. He would laugh in the oddest of times and would cry when no tears were to be shed.

It seemed to everyone that Mado could simply not understand even the simplest social queues of the people around him. Because of this he became extremely fearful and concerned with himself.

Mado tries to keep to himself, knowing this. However, when he gets excited it is not uncommon for him to behave oddly as if he finds it impossible to read the situation at hand. If this is drawn to his attention he becomes worried and frustrated with himself."

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

"The Altose Clan is where he was born. And it could've been great. Lovely. Maybe even wonderful. Except he was born to his family. A family which has, since his 12th birthday been disavowed by the entirety of the Clan. His father had an intense fascination with his cursed mark. Coupled with his intense interest in magic, Mado found himself in hours of torturous pain as his father found ways of dissecting Mado for this magic.

Indeed, he remembers the terrified screams of his mother as his mother laid him onto something soft and the blood would run over and soak into it. Only the pain drowned it all out. Yet, the young boy did not scream nor twitch. In some senses he welcomed the pain, until the pain itself was nothing.

His family must've been poor, for the food handed to him under his door, while he whimpered in his pitch black room, was not enough to feed a baby. And he ate the same meal everyday until he could no longer taste the food. Indeed in the unlit room everything around him seemed bland and flavorless.

Ever since his father was sentenced by the Clan for his crimes, the boy has been recuperating. Six years later the pain and scars are still there. And that is when the strange feelings set in. As if he was missing something. As if his very soul held nothing at all. He could not cry. He could not feel anger. He could not laugh. Many of the people of Altose attempted to comfort him, but even to them he felt nothing. His attempts at conversation and feeling came off as misplaced since all his emotions seemed to die. In fear he would throw them out there trying to reproduce something of these emotions.

His panic would set back in when he overhears a discussion by several high ranking Altosians. They were talking about his father and how he may have made the right decision in exploring the possible depths of magic. The few people around Mado (for he had no friends to speak of) agreed at once that he needed to get away from Altose for fear that he might lose his mind amongst his memories among the Altosians."

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

⍚ Vodahil ⥥ GOD OF NOTHING ⥥ Male ⥥ N/A ⍚

<"Where did the gods live before there was anything? The answer is in the bosom of Vodahil. Vodahil wrapped everything and everyone in its arms. In a strange, unearthly sense it was the god's loving father. Nothing, nothing was the only thing that was there with the gods. And it too was one of them. And it loved each of the gods, doting upon them one at a time. It knew each of them by name and loved each one dearly. That is, until something was created.

Once the gods began creating, Vodahil found itself left behind, and when the gods entered their own creation, they left Vodahil behind. And alone. Nothingness then fell from its place as a doting mother and became like a child, small and out of the way. Not even bitter and hatred had it for the gods. For it was nothing. But it was hungry and it could consume. And so nothingness began consuming existence wherever it found itself.

Sometimes, it is said, the Void cries out with the voice of a child. Singing a solemn song:
"Out of Nothing
Nothing Comes
And to Nothing
it Returns">

A Forgotten Story

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

"
- Altered Form: Vodahil sometimes appears as a massive black hole that sucks inward, consuming all in its path. Other times it is seen as a green mist that can appear in the form of a strong warrior.

- True Form: The absence of everything.

No light, no air, no sound, no smell, no taste.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

Nothingness
Loss
Absence
Voids
Endlessness

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

"Vodahil was there in the beginning, nurturing the gods. And the gods nurtured him, for they were eternal, allowing him to exist without needing to feed. Giving them a place to stay within himself and they likewise. When the gods abandoned him for the pleasures of reality. He found himself confused and alone, he would begin eating away at existence. Disliking it for taking away the only family he had ever known.

That is when the gods fought back. They created another world where Vodahil could exist A world that he could eat and consume all by himself. And this is what he did for a millennium. The gods would continue to chain him up, fearing the havoc he could wreak upon the mortal realms. And he would continue to consume and to eat.

There are more than several account of the gods stopping him from breaking through into the mortal realm and consuming everything. These battles always ended in sorrow as the gods remembered who Vodahil once was and Vodahil once again feels the fulfilling presence of the gods (a warm familial feeling), only for it to end with cold, hard existence.

It all changed for Vodahil when one god(dess) came to visit him (but in his childish and weekend state, he forgot whomever this was). S/he would sit by him and talk to him, talk to the void, and comfort him. S/he would never feed him, though he had plenty of dry existence as it was.

At the very least that one feeling, of family, that nothing itself couldn't shake, came back. It began to feed less and slow down. Until the god/dess who kept him company vanished and did not return to visit.

Vodahil, fearful of losing this unknown immortal soul, separated himself from the Void he once was. A feat that the gods would have deemed improbable, nay impossible. Vodahil, no longer connected to the void he once was descended into reality. In hopes of finding comfort. In hopes of finding a family. In hopes of finding love."

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

• Empty Mado can more easily ignore distractions
• Fearless He is not easily terrified
• Hopeless Mado cannot be demoralized, he has felt the worst at the weakest point in his life.

• Forgotten He can disappear easily or blend into a crowd
• Tortured Because of his past and his nature, he cannot easily feel pain
• Company Due to his desire for company he fights better alongside others

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}

These will unlock as we continue.

Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)

Out of Nothing
Reflection on The Definition of Nothing

The Empty Set: Mado can choose one immortal to bond with (see future skills). The Immortal is able to refuse the bond. If this happens, refund the cost of the ability. Empty Set cannot be attempted again on the same character until two hours have passed.
Silence: Mado can drown out the noise around him for ten minutes. The very being of noise ceases.
Lost: Allows him to move slightly faster and hit slightly harder for a short period of time.

Nothing Comes
The Encroaching Nature of Nothingness

Unknowable: Mado reveals the nature of nothing to a person and they becomes subdued, unsure of themselves and thoughtful, though any physical pain or strong emotions might arouse them. After 20 minutes they snap out of the trance.
Endless Revenge: If this is activated and Mado's bonded partner takes damage from an enemy (cannot be a friendly or self inflicted). Mado is able to teleport to his partner.
No Boundaries: Mado can temporarily move through objects

And To Nothing It Returns
Nothingness is the end of all things

Nearing the Breaking Point: His cursed mark, instead of cutting through the coloring of his skin and muscles, cuts through the very fabric of reality around him. Turning parts of Mado's body into swirling black holes. He can rend the very fabric of space with these black-holes, moving incredibly fast.
The Number Zero: Mado can become partially one with a bonded immortal. They are in a mental link together and can gain smaller bonuses from each other's usual skills, as well as accessing each other's memories, hopes, fears and dreams if they both volunteer that access. Also, when this happens they are able to see through each other's eyes for a short period of time. If one of the pair die while this ability is active, they will have a vague sense of familiarity with each other in the next life, as if they are two parts of a whole.
Absolute Nothingness: Death: Mado reverts to his pure god fo rm for a short while. This tears his own body asunder instantly and sends out a radial dome of absolute nothingness sucking everything within it (outside of fellow immortals) and, all who see it (including immortals) are blinded and dazed by the very image (which there is none) of nothingness. If he had bonded to a partner before this, that partner forgets everything about Mado, even of his existence.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}

Mado has very little on him, and certainly nothing that reminds him of his tribe.
His own travelling clothes, which are nice and well made.
Nothing of personal value. Nothing...

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: YES
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

EDIT: More or less finished, just needs to be reviewed.

[Thecrash20]

Magus/Xanuun/Dark God of of Pain, Suffering, and Gripe WIP

⍚Magus ⥥ 20 ⥥ Male ⥥ Hetrosexual⍚

"Only time… Time heals all wounds..."

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

Magus stands tall at about 72 Inches and weighs 200Lbs. His long thick Black hair can cover his whole head, but is usually brushed back to reveal his face to others. His jawline is sharp and his face looks soft and quite beautiful, as intended. His bright blue eyes contrast against his pale white skin as so does his dark red lips.

When his curse begins to inflict his body, the first symptoms appear in his eyes. They lose their brightness and become completely dull. Shortly after they will fade away to white and then an all consuming black. Then dark deep lines begin to mark his face almost as heavy wrinkles around his face, including his eyes, mouth, cheeks, and forehead. Finally his whole body begins to look like a shriveled mess as heavy fabricated wrinkles appear.

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

Magus is quite a simple man in his mortal form. He desires very little from life, just living day through day. He is never happy it seems, maybe a smile might paint his face once or twice a day from a dark thought or a good joke. The usual tired frown is worn on him even the luckiest days. He isn’t necessarily sad, just… He would call himself a ‘realist’. Realising there is very little things in the world that can cause anyone of permanent happiness, only things that give a person temporary happiness. In his eyes people are born, work, pay taxes, and then die, usually in a way they didn’t want.

Magus doesn’t hide this fact ethier. Most interactions with him for the first time, he seems serious at times, very prideful with his work, cynical, and honestly quite sad. He is still a person though, and finds happiness in his work or in his personal or family achievements. Although it doesn’t last for very long. His motivation is produced from just himself. He never had much growing up and nothing was ever promised to him, but to take care of his love ones. He feels that their is something more for him in life and just waiting to find it. Maybe it will never come, but if so, it just another part of life then.

He still can be considered as kind and gentle by his Family. Always going out of his way to help the ones he loved. Never really bearing much hate for the outsiders, just general indifference. Making his personality strange to the outsider who might see his interactions with the ones close to him. Expecting cynicism and harshness, but seeing kindness and a general happy vibe.

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}
Magus was found in the woods alone and crying. Found by what became his Father in a hunting party in the woods. While some would consider that a blessing to be saved at such a dangerous situation, for awhile Magus wished he was just eaten by the Wolves.

He grew up with his adopted Mother, Father, and four Sisters. His appearance was strange for his fathering Clan, being a very pale child with bright blue eyes and long black hair. While his clan’s natural skin color was dark brown with Hazel eyes and curly hair. Him being so unique, had him subjected to much prejudice and bigotry by his fellow clanmates. The fact that he was found in the woods didn’t help and was deemed ‘cursed’, even when bad luck or misfortune didn’t really follow him. His adopted Mother and Father found pride in this and raised him lovingly even with that hate from the other Clan members.

His father gave him advice that shaped his overall life style: “All is temporary, what brings you sadness will not last forever and what brings happiness will eventually end or even change. If you can’t be accepted by your looks, then be accepted by your skills and personality.” This sparked a desire to become one of the strongest and most skilled in forestry. Bringing the most food and meat than any other clansman can muster in a single hunt. At this point he finally earned his place in the Village, even if it was just for what he brought and not for his existence.

After turning the age 19 he decided that he could do better on his own. While he would never admit it, he held great hate for his Clan and wished terrible things upon them in the future. A hate his couldn't reliably explain. All but his beloved family of course. So he offered them to leave with him, of course to his displeasure, they declined and instead wished him good luck in the road ahead. His father gave him his family’s heirlooms that were to be passed down to the first son of each of this family. While technically not his true child, his Father gladly passed down his Family Bow and Hunting knife. Magus took his it with pride and left his Clan, never turning back.

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

⍚ Xanuun ⥥ Dark God of Pain, Suffering, and Gripe ⥥ Male ⥥ HetroSexual ⍚
_{DARK GOD}

Pain... What do you know of pain?

Xanuun the creator of pain, he only knows pain.

Everything experiences pain, but it fades as everything does.

Not Xanuun. His pain is eternal. Suffering beyond any mortal concept.

I fell down the dark trench of pain.

I was greeted by a mighty beast.

Xanuun was his name.

Surrounded by suffering souls. Some begged for mercy while some begged for more as the pain had stolen their sanity. He only spoke once to me. In a deep roar he spoke out.

"Pain is only temporary... but here... pain is forever!

-Exerpt From 'The Trench of Despair' Epic Poem

[ ⍚ ] G _{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

Xanuun sits upon a great throne in his realm. Surrounded by Long Spires that have branches, where men impaled and suffering. His Skin is thick like leather and a Crimson red color. He adorns armor Pauldrons, Greaves, and bracers crafted from Bone and Metal. Atop his head, he dons a huge crown of Thorns, crafted by human flesh and bounded together by soul string. He has not two, but four arms, usually two rest on his thorns while the other two feed or used for interaction. His eye are ruby red and somewhat minuscule compared to his huge maw, filled with hundreds of hooked shaped teeth. Some say he stands as huge as 1500 meters while other times he can be depicted at about 100 feet.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

• Know as the Dark Lord of Pain
• His curiosity with the Mortal Realm
• Hated by some God and Goddesses for him giving them judgment in his realm.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

Xanuun wasn’t technically created by anyone specifically. From his knowledge or anyone's else for that matter. He was born from the cumulative pain of all the pain and suffering. Being almost the righteous punishment to those before they are sent to the realm or underworld that fate had given them. Xanuun sits in his self created throne in the realm known as the ‘Trench’. The realm could be visited only by breaking down his mighty Gate that contains his realm or by asking for entry. Xanuun doesn’t really get to many visitors.

God and Human. Those that cause great suffering to others would serve punishment with Xanuun before being consumed by him and sent off. They would suffer for what seems like a lifetime, never numbing from the pain. Hung choking off spires for the least offenders or Being impaled and wrapped in thorns for the worst. After their toll was paid, he consumed them, gaining strength from the stored pain in their body.

After long, Xanuun began to talk to these cursed. Learning about Humans and even offering a break from the Pain for a story. Xanuun found the Mortals quite interesting, their lives a lot more exciting and fulfilling then his own existence. He never asked to be here, just always was since he could remember. So he explored outside his realm to learn more about the Universe.

Almost a Millennium later he followed several other Dark Gods through with other Immortals. Some to find power, Xanuun to find Purpose.

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

• Hunting: With his skills he has developed over childhood Magus is a Fine Hunter.
• Forestry: Spending so much time in the woods alone as a child. Magus has had a natural affinity for Nature.
• Sadness: Every stranger that cast their gaze at Magus, usually feels a subtle sadness. Whether for him or themselves.

• Feel No Pain: Since Birth, Magus has always had a high pain tolerance. When true pain is inflicted on him that would kill a man or cripple him, he usually can can shrug it off.
• Marksmanship: With a Bow, knife, spear, or cup he can hit the target with it. Magus has a sharp eye for aim and a good arm to follow through.
• Quick Reflexes: Almost moving as if he could see the Future. Magus with a Knife is like a Tornado of Blades.

[ ⍚ ] ]A _{B I L I T I E S}

Life Force: (ignore for now)

Suffer Siphon
Yes...Yes! Let me feel your pain!

Gripe:
When used Magus may feed off the physical pain felt by of others. This will replenish his stamina and vitality.

Torment:
Magus can make the target relive the most traumatizing life experience they had. The mental pain shown in their face and movement.

Suffer:
Magus will temporarily gain strength and speed through the Mental and Physical Pain of the others around him.. The stronger the pain and the amount of people the stronger he will become. This even includes his own pain...

Shared suffering
Only through hardship do bonds grow

Pain Link: Magus links with others and is able to absorb their pain. Magus Feeling the effects rather than the ones that are linked to him.

Shared Suffering:
When linked to another, the Magus may give them the ability of Gripe. Healing them instead of Magus.

Soul Proxy:
If an ability is used by a linked target, Magus will spend Life force to cancel out their ability.

The Dark Lord of Pain
The Time of Reckoning is upon you!

The Transformation:
Magus will start assuming a smaller sized version of his Godly form. He will grow to a height of Nine feet, hair falling out, his skin will become a leathery Crimson, and two more arms will spread from his original. Each finger will be encased in bones and sharp as steel.

Crown of thorns:
A smaller version of his crown of thorns will be adorned on his head. The half meter long Thorns can be fired at targets, attempting to impale them. If a mortal is hit they will almost always die from the Pain the thorns will inflict. To a immortal it is possible to take away life force for a single point if not removed fast enough.

Through pain comes strength:Mighty Spires of Agony will arise from the areas surrounding Magus. With them painful screams of trapped souls will be impaled on each Spire. A chorus of cries of mercy and of pain echo, fueling Magus. He can use the Spires as an infinite pool to siphon pain from. Maxing out the full potential of his other Abilities. After Magus’s death, the area will forever contain spirits of those who were called and for centuries their hallowed screams can be heard in the wind.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}

• Bow and Arrows
• Hunting Knife
• Leather chest piece
• Map
• Long sleeve woven shirt and Leather Pants

Relationship

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: Yesssss
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

This is the biggest CS I ever had to fill out on this site and the most effort probably. This is what I got so far if the GMs would like to critique before I go any further. Giving my brain a slight break before I lose inspiration or get writer's fatigue.

[Apokalipse]

EVERYONE STEP BACK, BECAUSE IM BRINGING THE EDGIEST WIP YOU'VE EVER SEEN

Ursine / Sobeki / Dark Goddess of the Scarred, Predatorial, and Misunderstood

⍚ Ursine ⥥ Nineteen ⥥ Female ⥥ Panromantic-Asexual ⍚

"Quote."

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

---

Ursine was born cursed, with the scar of evil laid bare on her face. Her fellow tribesmen told stories about her to their children: “stay away from the girl with a wrong face, she will infect you with devilry when her blind eye meets yours.”

She may have been pretty, maybe even beautiful, if she as not born with that damned scar. Instead, her soft cheek was rough and misshapen with the twisted indents and ridges of the deformity. Pink lips that may have been able to smile can now only form a bent hellish grin, the tissue so damaged on her left that the lips can barely move except to scowl. The only untouched feature is her sharply pointed nose and the flecks dotting her face.

As a child, her right eye was considered the perfect shape – when the left one was covered – but now the wide wondered eyes are hollow, sunken, purple bruises beneath. The soft hazel color which held sensitivity, like a puppy, was a stark contrast to the eerie, unshaken eye of her other: her blind eye. She is not completely blind in that eye though; she sees the vague outlines of things, dancing darkness and shapes that scare her more than the complete darkness ever could. Ursine doesn’t like seeing, sight is corrupted and grotesque.

Without her scar, Ursine would be pretty – not exceptionally beautiful, but an average attractiveness that felt like home. Her body is willowy and tall, being five feet and nine inches in height. Her figure moves awkwardly, foreign under her skin, and there’s a disjointedness to her movements that speak levels of her insecurity. Yet, it’s endearing in the way a clumsy friend is endearing. Ursine’s thick red hair is twined to frame her face, the thick two braids hanging about her navel. Underneath the snow sunlight, the red hair seems golden and heavenly, but is oily and demented in the dark.

Like most of the Ursidae clansmen, Ursine wears furs and leather in the winter time. She enjoys the comfort that being held in a bear’s skin brings her, the feeling of rightness and origin. Ursine detests the warmer climates though, for she has to shed her bear and wolf fur to wear deer hide and woven fabric. It feels uncomfortable and exposed on her skin. She wears very little jewelry, preferring simple things over material jewels, though she enjoys looking at golden bands and transparent gems.

Ursine was born with a curse: her clansmen say there is an evil hiding in her scar, but in truth, Ursine was born with a very different curse. When Ursine uses her powers, the scar she was born with stretches and replaces her smooth skin. The pathway begins with her face, moving outwards until her scalp and chin are covered, then travels down her neck and shoulders like sticky strawberry jam trickling down her body.

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

"2 paragraphs minimum, please."

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

---

"Bearing in mind we start in a tribal era: You are most likely part of a small, primitive settlement or maybe a lone wolf. The world is bursting to the brim with powerful magical creatures, many of which would probably like to feast on you. Magic and mystery abound all around you and superstition isn't just a way of life - it can help you survive.

What has your human life been like growing up? What are your family and clan like?"

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

⍚ Sobeki ⥥ Goddess of the Scarred, Predatorial, and the Misunderstood ⥥ Female ⥥ Polyamorous-Asexual ⍚

Do you want to hear a riddle, Sobeki? Of course you do, of course you do. You always loved riddles – mind like a crow. Like a crow, I said. Did you hear me Sobeki? Like a crow. Aha! But the riddle, the riddle, can’t be solved by a crow. Only Sobeki, only Sobeki! Here’s the riddle, are you ready, Sobeki? Of course, you’re ready.

The rich men want it, the wise men know it, the poor all need it, and the kind men show it.

Can you tell me what it is, Sobeki? I need to know what it is, Sobeki. Sobeki, Sobeki, Sobeki. Do you hear me? Tell me the answer to the riddle! I need the answer! The answer, hurry, hurry, hurry. Mind like a crow, Sobeki. Milky, milky, milky. Do you have the answer? I knew you were smart, Sobeki. Smart, smart, smart, smart, smart Sobeki. The answer is love! Love, love, love. I love you, Sobeki. Milky, milky, milky.

Journal of Ammit

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Ashen gray skin that feels like leather on fingertips, clammy and cold to the touch, stretches across a thin frame, clinging to every fissure and fold of bone and muscle. Sobeki’s skin is blemish free, except for the white dip of paint between her brows which shines like snakeskin and feels like the scale of a crocodile. Hair, small cobweb thin wisps, frames her face like dead strands on a corpse. The majority of her locks are snagged in branches and roses gold, tangled around the decorative items until it appears almost as a deliberate artistic chignon du cou. Sobeki has lips that always seem to frown, a flushed pink color dancing at the crevice in which her lips meet. Her lips are situated under a beak-like nose, strong and pointed, regal and intimidating. The most daunting of her appearance is her eyes. Wide, doe-like eyes that are as white as milk; like the eyes of a cataracted dog.

Upon her lithe and graceful frame, Sobeki dresses herself in dull sheening gold that embroiders her dark clothes and wraps around her boney fingers and wrist. Cloth of black and dull gray swathe her full six feet and six inches height. The drag of her robes on the floor disturbs the air and creates a rattling dissonance, a snake slithering on floorboards sound. Her feet are never heard, only that damn sliding sound.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

---

҉ Predatory animals, particularly wolves and crows.
҉ Protection for outliers.
҉ Consoling the lonely.
҉ Patron of predatorial animals, misunderstood people, and those with wounds that won't heal.

҉ Blind and highly intelligent.
҉ Gentle and compassionate.
҉ Impassive mask, but an emotional soul.
҉ Trusting and possessing a soft heart.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

---

A Dead Woman's Name: The Beginning

Sobeki was not born, she was created, from splinters and scars and blood.

Her creator was many things: a hunter, a woodworker, a miner, and a mortal. His life disappeared before his eyes as he worked until his nailbeds were wet and his skin pruned. Yet, he did not know why he slaved. There was no family for him to feed; there was just him and the howl of wolves, feathers of crows, and whispers of spiders.

The sounds drove him mad, taunted him with their companionship while he suffered in his own silence. He heard their cries of joy when they feasted on a deer, the resounding call of mate to mate, the roars of bears as they played by the brook. He was alone and haunted.

Her creator was not of right mind when he pieced her together, limb by limb.

It was a midsummer night, when the predators woke from slumber and prowled the woods again. They would not stop taunting him with their discordant music, so he left his hut that night with an ax. He slayed every beast he laid his eyes on, splitting their fur and bones with the humble blade of a worn-down ax. He collected the limbs in a rucksack, blood marking his bloody path.

The sounds stopped, but he was still lonely. The creator wanted a wife, to share the last of his years with, and he took the rotting flesh and bones of his prey to create one.

He gave her the torso of a bear, with the legs and arms chopped off and placed in the fire. With the heart of a bear, she would be a ferocious but loving woman. He twined the bodies of spiders and cobweb into thin arms, silver strands streaked with gore. With the arms of spiders she would move elegantly and mesmerizing. He stuffed snakes with the bones of a cougar and affixed them as her legs. She would glide upon this land, unearthly and beautiful. Her head was that of a crow, sewn into the fur of her torso. She would be intelligent, willing to teach him and guide him to enlightenment. Lastly, he plucked the eyes of a wolf – damaged with cataracts – and pushed them into the crow’s sockets. With these eyes, she would never see her dying, repulsive husband.

He named her the most beautiful name he’s ever heard – Sobeki.

Her creator carried her husk around his hut and the woods, talked to her empty shell and fed her the infested meat of her body’s brethren. When he gazed into her eyes, he did not see the emptiness of a doll, but saw a beautiful glowing image that made him cry. At night, he held her rotting amalgamation close to his chest and sobbed her name like a prayer.

She was with him with every step, in body but not in mind.

On his death bed, he held the broken bodies of spiders as he twisted his fingers in hers. Her creator choked back his tears as he stared at his creation, with only love in his heart. With his dying breath, he whispered “Sobeki.”

The milky eyes of a wolf blinked and then closed. For months, they rotted together in silence, until flesh peeled from Sobeki’s bones and fur slipped from her ribcage. Underneath the hideous creation, Sobeki opened her milky eyes once again and standing on her feet, she left.

Sobeki was created from the scars of predators and the misplaced love of an old man. She was always watching him and she understood his pain.

He could shape her with the bones of the dead, attribute her with traits of godliness and beauty, love her with everything he had, but it would not bring back the woman he once loved. Instead, she became a sickly, walking cadaver; a misshapen, repulsive deity not meant to exist.

The Blind Eye Can See: The Interlude

Sobeki is a kind god, a loving god. She has no wrath, no anger, but patience and understanding. That is what she does for those who are misunderstood: she understands.

In the night, she seeks those who need her – need her in the way her creator needed her. She consoles them, she embraces them, shows them the love that she has to give in the way only she can. Sobeki cannot see the ugly that others see, she cannot judge one of things she is ignorant to, so she holds them as they explain.

Sobeki is not a mother, she is not an avenger – she is a counselor, an advisor. When she presses her hand against a mortal’s chest, she feels the same thump, thump, thump that is in hers. She eases their minds and provides companionship to those who have none.

Sobeki knows of their scars, can feel them in their heart and body, but Sobeki sees more than scars on them. She sees won battles and pain that can be lifted.

Sobeki is a friend, a lover, a guardian.

The Darkness of the Ungodly Cave: An Allegory

The gods are discontent with Sobeki. An amalgamation, a jumble of flesh and bones and ungodliness. The Pariahs of Ammit follow her religiously, pray to her in their moments of loneliness, worship a monster who was not meant to be. Sobeki is the error of an old mad man and her touch on the earth is tainted, repulsive.

They cast her away as punishment – penalty for associating her sacrilegious body with their names. Sobeki is sentenced to live in a cave, chained to a rock and stare at the dark walls for as long as they see fit.

But Sobeki is familiar with the darkness and the cold. It is all she has ever known and Sobeki lives quietly for three years in her hole. To punish herself for her wishful thinking, Sobeki subjected herself to three years of meditation without food, drink, or sleep. Sobeki reaches for inner truth until she finds the light in the eyes of her familiars.

Sobeki can see for the first time through the sharp balls of a crow, the wide eyes of a wolf, the eight beads of a spider. Sobeki can see the world and how it is tarnished. Sobeki does not know the tainted. She only knows the sweet embrace of odd ones, the whispered stories of her pariahs, the love she gives and receives.

For a hundred days, Sobeki presses her knees into the rocks and bashes her head against the cave wall. She pushes the unknown from her mind with pain and stupidity until she no longer finds the eyes of her predators, living in blissful ignorance.

The Starkissed Descent: A Transcendence

Sobeki is starkissed, though she did not expect it. She never met the one who her soul belonged to; perhaps, Sobeki did not want to meet them, either. Sobeki only had love to give to her followers, only sought to please those that are misguided and ostracized. There was no room for a soulmate in her heart when she was giving it to the ones who needed it.

Sobeki was torn from her loves, her followers, when the dark gods cast their damned spell. Bitterness enveloped her heart as her memories slowly faded from her mind. It was wrong of them; some of them were misunderstood, Sobeki saw it as she fell, but she did not care in the least. Not when they tore her from those who needed her most.

Sobeki felt a heartbreak that she never felt before as she melted and folded into another being, a mortal being.

She was too late to give her love to Ammit, but she cannot be late for the pariahs. Sobeki will make her way to them, even if she has to enter that ungodly cave once more. She will find them, in this life and the next.

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

---

Three General skills to start and up to two combat abilities. Due to the setting you may also have 1 Survival ability.

• Skill 1
• Skill 2
• Skill 3

• Hunting
• Combat 1
• Combat 2

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}

---

These will unlock as we continue.

Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)

Ability 1: Weakest Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3

Ability 2: Moderate Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3

Ability 3: Strongest Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3: This is your most powerful ability in it's most powerful form. Using this ability at this strength will kill your character shortly afterwards.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}

---

What is on your person

[ ⍚ ] O _{T H E R}

---

Colour Code: other information.

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: REQUIRED
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

[luckofthedraw]

^edited the entirety of my gods gender and alignment. I don't think dark god is quite right for this one...

[13org]

Ok, found the correct CS.

Here it is @Mae

Nanna / Brynhildr, the chooser of the slain, goddess of war, honor and battles

⍚ Nanna "The Walküre" ⥥ 20 ⥥ Female ⥥ Heterosexual ⍚

"Cattle die, kinsmen die; the self must also die. But there is one thing which never dies: the judgement of a dead man's life."

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𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

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[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

---

Nanna stands at 1.98m, has blonde, almost silver, long hair she uses tied, adorned with a couple of wooden carved hair beads, and a pair of bone carved earrings, with a spiral pattern on them.
She has a very strong body with defined muscles, yet It os still slender and feminine. The body of a battle tried skjaldmær. Her grey eyes are famed for their enigmatic and piercing stare. If one looked at her they would say she is just a beautiful woman, only uf wasnt for the imposing aura she emanated, the full leather and fur armor she wore or the long spear that were always with her.
Her curse takes form of the Helreið Brynhildar poem from the Poetic Edda. Each time she uses her powers, a part of the poem begins glowing, with a fiery red, like it os on fire.

Helreið Brynhildar

Munu við ofstríð
alls til lengi
konur ok karlar
kvikvir fæðask;
við skulum okkrum
aldri slíta
Sigurðr saman.
Sökkstu, gýgjar kyn.

Ever with grief
and all too long
Are men and women
born in the world;
But yet we shall live
our lives together,
Sigurth and I.
Sink down, Giantess!

Additionally, inside her heart, there is a small, blood red crystal fragment. It pulsates together with her heart, almost like it is a living thing.

Nanna usually wears a full leather armor. She always said that dresses are unpractical and would hinder her in combat. Her armor Is currently in tatters. The lower part of her armor and the fur pants she wear underneath it are the only parts that are relatively unscathed. the upper torso of it is completely destroyed. She is currently using bandages to cover her upper torso.

Armor

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Nanna is a very brave woman, exactly how her name says. In battle, she is fearless, concentrated, believes that one should never fear death in battle, as it is the right and most honorable way to die. Her allies see in her an inspiration, as the brightest and biggest presence on the battlefield. Her foes' spirits falter at the sight of her imposing figure and aura.
Normally Nanna is very serious when dealing with strangers or when issuing orders, due to her position as shieldmaiden and the champion of her clan. If you're a stranger, chances are that you will never see her smiling, but when she is with friends or her soldiers, drinking and commemorating after a successful battle, she is very kind, cheerful and sweet (especially when she gets drunk after drinking far too many horns of mead). The ones who saw her smile say that is bright as the sun, heating the heart of even a veteran soldier.
Many men already tried to have her for their own, but Nanna, the Walküre, is not just a regular woman, and her heart is a battlefield that has already seen many battles.

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

---

Nanna was born in the cold mountains of north, where the frozen winds blow all year long, a place where only the strong survive. Since she was a child she had an unusual attraction to spears. Even as baby, she always was trying to get to her father's spear to play with it. A she grew up, she began showing an incredible prowess in fighting with one, going as far as being declared champion of her clan with only 15 years old.

As Nanna grew older, she turned into an exemplar skjaldmær. Every battle she participated she brought victory to her clan. Fearless in battle, her eyes pierced her enemies, only her presence was enough to change the battle. The tales of a skjaldmær whose spear never misses her target began to spread in the north clans. With her fame spreading, she got the title of "The Walküre", as a skjaldmær who had the spirit of a true warrior.

Using a very unique style of fighting, It was frightening yet beautiful to watch. Fierce, strong and graceful, she used her spear and shield like extensions of her body, using her entire body together with it. Powerful shield bash to disorientate and break her opponent's guard, fierce strikes with the shield's rim to knock them down, powerful thrusts that carried all her weight, strength, spirit and experience, beautiful circular motions to cut her opponent's down, wide sweeps to make them fall, using even the shaft of the spear to fight. No one had ever seen a warrior like her. Naturally, she was offered the seat of Jarl on her tribe, but she declined, she didn't felt worthy of leading the clan. Her place was in the battlefield, she felt a connection to that place. It was a holy place. Somewhere were kings and slaves were equals, the true location where one could show how much he worth. His bravery, his valor and his honour.

When she turned 20 though, the clan began changing... The previous Jarl had died, and his son wasn't meant to rule. He didn't respected the gods or the holiness of the battlefield. The unspoken laws of war, the ones who every single warrior who had even an ounce of honor was bound to follow, even those he broke when he cowardly murdered the enemy chief after inviting him to a dinner, in a blatant lie to sign a truce.
No good could come of that. Disrespecting the ancient traditions wasn't something that the gods would be happy to see.

Nanna and her most trusted soldiers went to the Jarl to declare their secession from the clan, but the corrupt Jarl wouldn't let them, and in a coward move, he gave the order to kill Nanna and her trusty warriors. A thousand arrows began to fly on their direction. Hopelessly, Nanna watched as her warriors charged, fearlessly to the certain death, protecting her and falling one after another.

Seeing that affront to the honor and the gods, something snapped inside Nanna... With a roar, she charged her old clan, ahead of her warriors. In a beautiful and deadly dance, her spear danced with a hissing sound, her body followed the dance. A silver streak dancing in the middle of the battle, her spear slew enemies without distinction.

As he saw the Jarl, she ran towards him. Spear in hand, with circular motions she charged. The silver blade cutting the throat of her enemies, her blonde hair sprinkled with blood, her body full of cuts and arrows piercing it, ignoring the pain she kept running, leaving a trail of bodies behind, in her incontrollable rage. As she got near the Jarl, so close she could see the white of his eyes, her spear followed her, piercing his neck. Looking to his eyes, she watched as he hopelessly grasped the spear shaft, his blood flowing through it as he tried to breathe. Twisting the spear with a sound of bones breaking and tearing flesh, she ended his life.

Nanna knelt on the ground, wounded and exhausted. Behind her a trail of dead bodies laid, as her allies looked at her, without words. Without strenght to get up, she dropped her spear, falling on the ground, unconscious.

Slowly approaching her, her warriors made an oath to themselves, they would follow her till the end. The one who never fled from battle, her allies are stronger with her, and her enemies tremble with her mighty roar. A woman who was born to battle. A true Walküre.

After spending a long time recovering, she went to the only place where she could: the clan gathering. There she would meet the Wolfrahg. The other clan that lived not too far from her old clan, and she could formally announce the Wulfing tribe's extinction.
Maybe she could enter their ranks. They were a honorable tribe, unlike what the Wulfing became. Maybe she would start her own tribe...

With her mind full of doubts, she and her warriors began the lengthy journey to the gathering. She didn't knew what she would find there, neither how the other clans would react to the news of the Wulfing's extinction.

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

---

---

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

---

---

⍚ Brynhildr ⥥ The chooser of the slain, goddess of war, honor and battles. ⥥ Female ⥥ Heterosexual ⍚

"Then light shone from Logafell,
and from that radiance there came bolts of lightning;
wearing helmets at Himingvani [came the valkyries].
Their byrnies were drenched in blood;
and rays shone from their spears.

[...]

Helmeted valkyries came down from the sky
—the noise of spears grew loud—they protected the prince;
then said Sigrun—the wound-giving valkyries flew,
the troll-woman's mount was feasting on the fodder of ravens.

Helgakviða Hundingsbana I

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Brynhildr stands at over 2,00m. Wearing a full set of armor. Her presence on a battlefield can be a blessing or a curse, as she is known to partake in those battles, to test who is worthy and who is not. Spear in her left hand, its blade coated with blood of the fallen, shield on her right hand, unbreakable, impenetrable. A beautiful golden hair can be seen under her horned helmet, blowing with the wind.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

---

+ Appearing on great battles to watch over and decide who is worthy of going to the Valhöll
+ Going to the battle herself, favoring the most honorable ones.
+ Spears and martial arts that utilizes them.
+ Honor both in war and life.
+ Having favorite warriors / clans.
+ If enraged, causes great bloodbaths.
+ Some say that the "battle frenzy" the Úlfhéðnar experience is caused by the goddess taking control of that warrior's body.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

---

From the second humans were born, there was war. Some say that Brynhildr firstly appeared when humans had their first discussion. Teaching them the right and honorable ways both of war and peace, telling the young human race that the battlefield was a sacred ground and should not be used to dishonorable fights.
As the human race grew both in numbers and in age, Brynhildr kept doing her work.
Battle over battle, Brynhildr was present. Every great battle of history she was there. Be as a goddess watching the battle and taking the worthy souls to the afterlife or possessing a mortal, amidst the bloodshed, with a smile on her face.

She was loved the war with all her heart. It was a place were one could show his true worth, defying even fate itself. On the battlefield, everything was possible and for a long time, it was the only love of her life. But one day, this changed.
A certain warrior captured her heart. His bravery, his honor, he didn't had a reason to go to war. He wasn't there for fame, fortune or power. He simply loved the battlefield as much as she did. She began to fight by his side, always together with him. Every battle he was present, she was there, fighting by his side. Like that, she fell in love with him. A love that needed no words, she knew him solely by sharing the battlefield with him.
She saw that beautiful soul live and die many times. Each death was a glorious one, on the battlefield surrounded with his friends and foes.

Seeing that beautiful relationship between Brynhildr and that soul, a relationship so pure it didn't needed words, the dark gods got envious. If they couldn't have that, no one could. Then they began plotting against Brynhildr.

Disguised as a shieldmaiden, she was again in the battlefield besides her loved one, when a black arrow coming from the sky pierced her heart. She had already died in her mortal disguise before, but that was different, her divine essence was also struck with the arrow.
Losing all her memories, she was reborn as Nanna.

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𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

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[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

---

• Presence: Nanna is a fierce warrior, and even with her sweet looks, her presence is very impacting.
• Skjaldmær: Nanna Is the perfect shieldmaiden. Agile and focused, she is hardly matched on the battlefield, wielding her spear and shield like an extension of her body, she utilizes both her body, weapon and shield to their full potential.
• Field Dressing: Living in such a harsh and tough environment, it is a necessity to know how to treat your own wounds if you want to survive, be them small wounds, deep wounds or even broken bones.
• Asgardian Bulwark: Nanna wields her shield not only as something to defend herself, but also as a weapon, using its rim to make powerful punches, shield bash & etc. When fighting with her shield, she is not as aggressive when she fights without it, but she is able to take complete control of the battle.
• Flexibility - Nanna has a very good control over her own body, being able to perform jumps, acrobatics and having a very good balance.
• Natural Compass - Living in the highest mountains, travelling and knowing how to orientate herself is a must. She hardly ever gets lost.

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}

---

These will unlock. Only the first ability shall be available in their first life.

Life Force: 15/15 (ignore for now)

Walküre's Embodiment: Weakest Ability

---

Nanna is no ordinary warrior. She is the embodiment of a Walküre.

Úlfheðinn's Might: The Úlfhéðnar are warriors who threw themselves into battle with all their spirit. One enters in a trance-like fury enhancing her physical capabilities and toughening her body for battle.

Spearmaiden's Lunge: One moves with superhuman speed and agility, lunging with (Or without her spear when outside combat) her spear in a devastating strike.

Walküre's Bloodlust: The presence of a Walküre on the battlefield can unsettle her enemies. Some enemies are struck with a deep fear and respect, while other hardened enemies only unsettled by her presence.

Yggdrasil's Favor: Moderate Ability

---

The world tree reveals itself for those who are worthy and able to tap on its power.

Yggdrasil's Roots:: The roots of the world tree, where everything began. One is able to tap into the world tree's knowledge. The tree will answer one question, and it will not be the one she wishes, but the one she needs.

Yggdrasil's Dew:: The spirits of those who were denied a honorable death are summoned to the earth once more, restraining their foes and possibly causing mental damage.

Yggdrasil's Blessing:: Borrowing the power of the legendary tree, cure minor to moderate wounds to one person, with more serious injuries requiring more lifeforce to fully heal. If the wound is fully healed, the character feels invigorated for a while.

Ymyr's Heart: Strongest Ability

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Sometimes, a mortal is born with a unique physiology. Deep within this human's heart, a fragment of Ymyr's heard can be found, pulsating with the energy that created Midgard itself, linking this mere mortal's existence to the gods themselves.

Summon Gungnir: Strongest Ability

Summons Gungnir, the legendary spear made of the world tree's wood, a weapon able to hurt a living being's essence, ignoring any defensive magic, piercing everything on its path.

Wotan's Left Eye:: Wotan's lost eye. The same eye he sacrificed in exchange for an unspoken and forbidden knowledge. Nanna's right eye shines with a white fire, giving her the ability to see and perceive everything in an area of 30m around her, and react according to that, regardless of its speed.

Wrath of Asgard:: White wings on her back, as she soars high on the sky, looking at the battlefield below. Throwing Gungnir with all one's might, it flies true to its target, piercing everything on its path, be it magical or physical. Its a devastating attack, but it also comes with a great cost to the one who threw the spear.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}

---

What is on your person

• A circular shield.
  
  Shield

  
• Her favourite spear. Made by her, it fits perfectly with her needs and fighting style.
  
  
  Spear

  
• Bandages
• A drinking horn for... well... drinking of course!
  
  Horn

  

[ ⍚ ] O _{T H E R}

---

368bc1 is her colour code

-List of old norse words with their translation:

\/ \/ \/ \/

Skjaldmær (Shieldmaiden, the women who chose to fight.)
Walküre (Valkyrie)
Valhöll (Valhalla)
Alföðr (The Allfather)
Úlfhéðnar (Berserkers, the warriors from the old norse. They charged the battlefield without armor, in an unstoppable fury
Úlfheðinn (Singular for Berserkers)
Wotan (Odin)

-Brynhildr's realm is Asgard. You know the drill... Gods' city, very big city. She often hangs on Valhöll (Valhalla. Enormous hall in asgard where the spirit of those who fell in battle eat, drink and fight for their eternity, waiting for the Ragnarök.

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: REQUIRED Of course!
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

[Angel Eyes]

-

[Framing A Moose]

EVERYONE STEP BACK, BECAUSE IM BRINGING THE EDGIEST WIP YOU'VE EVER SEEN

Ursine / Sobeki / Goddess of the Scarred, Predators, and Misunderstood

⍚ URSINE ⥥ NINETEEN ⥥ FEMALE ⥥ PANROMANTIC-ASEXUAL ⍚

"Quote."

𝔐y 𝔐ortal ℭ𝔬𝔦𝔩

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E}

---

"What your character looks like. Please include things like: height, build, hair style: colour and length, eyecolour, facial features, posture, tattoos, scars, wounds, piercings, clothing style, and anything else you believe is important."

You must include what the mark of your curse looks like, where it is and how it spreads across your body when you use your abilities. This is very thematically important, as the curse affects everyone differently :D

[ ⍚ ] P _{E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

"2 paragraphs minimum, please."

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y}

---

"Bearing in mind we start in a tribal era: You are most likely part of a small, primitive settlement or maybe a lone wolf. The world is bursting to the brim with powerful magical creatures, many of which would probably like to feast on you. Magic and mystery abound all around you and superstition isn't just a way of life - it can help you survive.

What has your human life been like growing up? What are your family and clan like?"

Memories Retained: Ignore for now

𝔐y ℑmmortal 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩

⍚ Sobeki ⥥ Goddess of the Scarred, Predators, and the Misunderstood ⥥ Female ⥥ Polyamorous-Asexual ⍚

<Snipped quote by Unknown>

[ ⍚ ] G_{O D L Y A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Ashen gray skin that feels like leather on fingertips, clammy and cold to the touch, stretches across a thin frame, clinging to every fissure and fold of bone and muscle. Sobeki’s skin is blemish free, except for the white dip of paint between her brows which shines like snakeskin and feels like the scale of a crocodile. Hair, small cobweb thin wisps, frames her face like dead strands on a corpse. The majority of her locks are snagged in branches and roses gold, tangled around the decorative items until it appears almost as a deliberate artistic chignon du cou. Sobeki has lips that always seem to frown, a flushed pink color dancing at the crevice in which her lips meet. Her lips are situated under a beak-like nose, strong and pointed, regal and intimidating. The most daunting of her appearance is her eyes. Wide, doe-like eyes that are as white as milk; like the eyes of a cataracted dog.

Upon her lithe and graceful frame, Sobeki dresses herself in dull sheening gold that embroiders her dark clothes and wraps around her boney fingers and wrist. Cloth of black and dull gray swathe her full six feet and six inches height. The drag of her robes on the floor disturbs the air and creates a rattling dissonance, a snake slithering on floorboards sound. Her feet are never heard, only that damn sliding sound.

[ ⍚ ] K _{N O W N F O R}

---

This can include personality traits, what they are assosciated with ect. This may also include significant events that had impacts on mortals. You may list if you wish. You may add to this as the RP continues as well as you flashback to things you did as a God/Goddess.

[ ⍚ ] F _{O R M A T I V E M O M E N T S I N H I S T O R Y}

---

A Dead Woman's Name: The Beginning

Sobeki was not born, she was created, from splinters and scars and blood.

Her creator was many things: a hunter, a woodworker, a miner, and a mortal. His life disappeared before his eyes as he worked until his nailbeds were wet and his skin pruned. Yet, he did not know why he slaved. There was no family for him to feed; there was just him and the howl of wolves, feathers of crows, and whispers of spiders.

The sounds drove him mad, taunted him with their companionship while he suffered in his own silence. He heard their cries of joy when they feasted on a deer, the resounding call of mate to mate, the roars of bears as they played by the brook. He was alone and haunted.

Her creator was not of right mind when he pieced her together, limb by limb.

It was a midsummer night, when the predators woke from slumber and prowled the woods again. They would not stop taunting him with their discordant music, so he left his hut that night with an ax. He slayed every beast he laid his eyes on, splitting their fur and bones with the humble blade of a worn-down ax. He collected the limbs in a rucksack, blood marking his bloody path.

The sounds stopped, but he was still lonely. The creator wanted a wife, to share the last of his years with, and he took the rotting flesh and bones of his prey to create one.

He gave her the torso of a bear, with the legs and arms chopped off and placed in the fire. With the heart of a bear, she would be a ferocious but loving woman. He twined the bodies of spiders and cobweb into thin arms, silver strands streaked with gore. With the arms of spiders she would move elegantly and mesmerizing. He stuffed snakes with the bones of a cougar and affixed them as her legs. She would glide upon this land, unearthly and beautiful. Her head was that of a crow, sewn into the fur of her torso. She would be intelligent, willing to teach him and guide him to enlightenment. Lastly, he plucked the eyes of a wolf – damaged with cataracts – and pushed them into the crow’s sockets. With these eyes, she would never see her dying, repulsive husband.

He named her the most beautiful name he’s ever heard – Sobeki.

Her creator carried her husk around his hut and the woods, talked to her empty shell and fed her the infested meat of her body’s brethren. When he gazed into her eyes, he did not see the emptiness of a doll, but saw a beautiful glowing image that made him cry. At night, he held her rotting amalgamation close to his chest and sobbed her name like a prayer.

She was with him with every step, in body but not in mind.

On his death bed, he held the broken bodies of spiders as he twisted his fingers in hers. Her creator choked back his tears as he stared at his creation, with only love in his heart. With his dying breath, he whispered “Sobeki.”

The milky eyes of a wolf blinked and then closed. For months, they rotted together in silence, until flesh peeled from Sobeki’s bones and fur slipped from her ribcage. Underneath the hideous creation, Sobeki opened her milky eyes once again and standing on her feet, she left.

Sobeki was created from the scars of predators and the misplaced love of an old man. She was always watching him and she understood his pain.

He could shape her with the bones of the dead, attribute her with traits of godliness and beauty, love her with everything he had, but it would not bring back the woman he once loved. Instead, she became a sickly, walking cadaver; a misshapen, repulsive deity not meant to exist.

𝔐y 𝔊ifts 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S E T}

---

Three General skills to start and up to two combat abilities. Due to the setting you may also have 1 Survival ability.

• Skill 1
• Skill 2
• Skill 3

• Survival 1
• Combat 1
• Combat 2

[ ⍚ ] A _{B I L I T I E S}

---

These will unlock as we continue.

Life Force: 0/0 (ignore for now)

Ability 1: Weakest Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3

Ability 2: Moderate Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3

Ability 3: Strongest Ability
Description

Potency 1
Potentcy 2
Potentcy 3: This is your most powerful ability in it's most powerful form. Using this ability at this strength will kill your character shortly afterwards.

[ ⍚ ] I _{N V E N T O R Y}

---

What is on your person

[ ⍚ ] O _{T H E R}

---

Colour Code: other information.

[ ⍚ ] R _{E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Will you participate in the Relationship Assignment?: REQUIRED
This section will be replaced with a Relation Sheet.

@Apokalipse

Woah...that was...a bumpy ride...