Name: Elizabeth Hawkins
Birthdate: 31 July
Gender: Female
Age: 17 (In appearance)
Parental Involvement: Nonexistent in the best, or worst kind of way. She hasn't seen her father for many years, and her mother passed from a disease when she was a child.
Appearance:
Item: A Sorceror's Stone Embedded in her Chest. Just below the collarbone and deep within her. Without its power, or if she drains it completely without reprieve, she will die. It is a glistening, oval gem that can only be seen if she wills it.
Compass: Nonsense 1, Wicked 1
Short history/personality:
Alchemy.
In her world, it is a science that combines both chemistry and mysticism. A place in which those who would draw circles would create an exchange. One item can become another, as long as they share similar atomic structure. A steel bemch can become a spear, a brick floor can sprout up and become a wall, living flesh can be combined to create horrible abominations.
It is a science that Elizabeth had been taught from a very young age. After all, she was a descendant of Flamel, her father always purpoted proudly. The only Alchemist ever to create a Philosopher's stone.
Only to vanish moments after.
Alchemists everywhere sought the stone, and her father was no exception. While Elizabeth was content with the beginning knowledge of alchemy at first, her father sunk further and further into madness to try and find the stone. He was called the crystal alchemist by the monarchy which ruled the land. As he was adept at creating beautiful gems and stones with alchemy.
Little did they know, and little did she know, that ut was practice for something greater, something far more horrific. One day after finally decoding the last pages of Flamel's texts, her father disappeared with the book clutched to his chest. Leaving her alone for three days straight. Both peculiar and troubling, she soon found out the reason why.
Sporting events, while rare, practucally drew the whole kingdom to watch the athletes compete. Hundreds of thousands of people clustered together in one place with the entire Royal Family to boot.
Elizabeth was there as well, watching from the nosebleeds because the tickets were at least affordable. There, in all the madness her father appeared. He strode out into the midst of the field, and there, as the gameplay paused with his interruption, he disrobed. Along his legs and back were wicked, jagged lines of black and white, and in a maddened scream, he brought death to the kingdom. Just as they were once standing, hundreds of thousands of people ceased to exist in the blink of an eye.
He had taken their body and souls to craft a gem. A small, oval gem which he took into his seedy grasp. And as the government ceased to exist, the kingdom fell into ruin as the last remnants would soon be absorbed into the stone as well. One man had wrought total genocide to a country, and when he turned.to proudly show his daughter his horrific accomplishment, he realized that she was no longer there.
She was in the abyss, her soul a prison in the gem, but now rife with new alchemic knowledge.
Through the chaotic torrent of death she swam, until she rose to the surface. Out of the gem she reformed, literally growing from nothingness as her soul willed it greater than anyone else in existence within the gem, and in her struggle to seize control, she lashed out. For hundreds of feet the world was torn asunder, and it engulfed her father. Hoping to never see him again, she fled.
But she was no fool. She ran, desperately seeking someone who might help her, hoping for someone who could possibly explain all the whispers, all the screams and woe, but in her loneliness, she began to talk to the myriad of souls now trapped inside her body.
So she ran.
Until she found a door standing alone.
No walls or frame to support it, it just simply stood. Further examination of the intricate engravings revealed something alchemical, or maybe even magical about it. So bravely she took the handle, turned the brass knob, and stepped into silence.
Pure, uninterrupted silence. No souls whispering, no kingdom of death. Nothing. It was bliss. For she soon found herself standing before a school, with an invitation that appeared magically in her grasp. As if the school wanted her to be there. A living philsopher's stone, and it wanted her there.
Who was she to refuse it?
Birthdate: 31 July
Gender: Female
Age: 17 (In appearance)
Parental Involvement: Nonexistent in the best, or worst kind of way. She hasn't seen her father for many years, and her mother passed from a disease when she was a child.
Appearance:
Item: A Sorceror's Stone Embedded in her Chest. Just below the collarbone and deep within her. Without its power, or if she drains it completely without reprieve, she will die. It is a glistening, oval gem that can only be seen if she wills it.
Compass: Nonsense 1, Wicked 1
Short history/personality:
Alchemy.
In her world, it is a science that combines both chemistry and mysticism. A place in which those who would draw circles would create an exchange. One item can become another, as long as they share similar atomic structure. A steel bemch can become a spear, a brick floor can sprout up and become a wall, living flesh can be combined to create horrible abominations.
It is a science that Elizabeth had been taught from a very young age. After all, she was a descendant of Flamel, her father always purpoted proudly. The only Alchemist ever to create a Philosopher's stone.
Only to vanish moments after.
Alchemists everywhere sought the stone, and her father was no exception. While Elizabeth was content with the beginning knowledge of alchemy at first, her father sunk further and further into madness to try and find the stone. He was called the crystal alchemist by the monarchy which ruled the land. As he was adept at creating beautiful gems and stones with alchemy.
Little did they know, and little did she know, that ut was practice for something greater, something far more horrific. One day after finally decoding the last pages of Flamel's texts, her father disappeared with the book clutched to his chest. Leaving her alone for three days straight. Both peculiar and troubling, she soon found out the reason why.
Sporting events, while rare, practucally drew the whole kingdom to watch the athletes compete. Hundreds of thousands of people clustered together in one place with the entire Royal Family to boot.
Elizabeth was there as well, watching from the nosebleeds because the tickets were at least affordable. There, in all the madness her father appeared. He strode out into the midst of the field, and there, as the gameplay paused with his interruption, he disrobed. Along his legs and back were wicked, jagged lines of black and white, and in a maddened scream, he brought death to the kingdom. Just as they were once standing, hundreds of thousands of people ceased to exist in the blink of an eye.
He had taken their body and souls to craft a gem. A small, oval gem which he took into his seedy grasp. And as the government ceased to exist, the kingdom fell into ruin as the last remnants would soon be absorbed into the stone as well. One man had wrought total genocide to a country, and when he turned.to proudly show his daughter his horrific accomplishment, he realized that she was no longer there.
She was in the abyss, her soul a prison in the gem, but now rife with new alchemic knowledge.
Through the chaotic torrent of death she swam, until she rose to the surface. Out of the gem she reformed, literally growing from nothingness as her soul willed it greater than anyone else in existence within the gem, and in her struggle to seize control, she lashed out. For hundreds of feet the world was torn asunder, and it engulfed her father. Hoping to never see him again, she fled.
But she was no fool. She ran, desperately seeking someone who might help her, hoping for someone who could possibly explain all the whispers, all the screams and woe, but in her loneliness, she began to talk to the myriad of souls now trapped inside her body.
So she ran.
Until she found a door standing alone.
No walls or frame to support it, it just simply stood. Further examination of the intricate engravings revealed something alchemical, or maybe even magical about it. So bravely she took the handle, turned the brass knob, and stepped into silence.
Pure, uninterrupted silence. No souls whispering, no kingdom of death. Nothing. It was bliss. For she soon found herself standing before a school, with an invitation that appeared magically in her grasp. As if the school wanted her to be there. A living philsopher's stone, and it wanted her there.
Who was she to refuse it?
How is that?
