Obscene's Scratchpad

[Obscene Symphony]

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Character’s Name

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[color=???]“Quote by your character”[/color]
[color=???]“Quote by someone, about your character”[/color]

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Basic Information

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[color=???]Name[/color]

Put their name here!

[color=???]Nickname[/color]

Do people call your character Shithead? Well put it down here!

[color=???]G E N D E R[/color]

Whatever tickles your peach

[color=???]A G E[/color]

12-18 but you know a 12 year old probably isn't gonna be kicking ass and taking names

[color=???]S E X U A L I T Y[/color]

What kind of people does your character want to bang? Do they want to bang?

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Home

[color=???]Father[/color]

Everyone's got one!

[color=???]Mother[/color]

Coincidentally, everyone has one of these two!

[color=???]Siblings[/color]

Only some people have these!

[color=???]Religion[/color]

Dependent on family in most cases. Starks are most likely Old Gods, where as everyone in the South are probably Faith of the Seven, except for the Baratheons. They could very well be R'hollor. The Greyjoys are probably Drowned God.

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Skills

[color=???]Strengths[/color]

What's your character good at? Something? Nothing?

[color=???]Weaknesses[/color]

What's your character not so good at? Should have at least three things here cause, as I like to say, "Nobody's perfect, I've gotta work it, again and again til I get it right."

[color=???]Weapon[/color]

What weapon do they use? Do they even use one?

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Mannerisms

[color=???]Likes[/color]

• Some things that they like. At least 5

[color=????]Dislikes[/color]

• Some things that they dislike. At least 5

[color=???]Habits[/color]

• Some habits that they have. At least three

[color=????]Hobbies[/color]

• What do they do in their free time? At least three

[color=???]Fears[/color]

• What makes them freak out?

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Digging Deeper

[color=???]Personality[/color]

A full paragraph. Flaws, and good things too.

[color=????]History[/color]

A full paragraph as well, more if you're into that sorta thing. What was your character doing up until now? Just chilling? Put that down!

[color=???]Theme Song[/color]

[url=http://???]Song – Artist[/url]
_{lyrics from the song}

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[color=???]Extra Stuff[/color]

Anything extra that didn't get covered up there.

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[Obscene Symphony]

Prince Artoran Tritan Sand

Played by @Obscene Symphony

Appearance

_{Pictured here in rare condition: Frowning, and with minimal adornments. Photo pre-scarring (see Other). He stands at 5'11 with the lean, well-muscled form of an acrobat and boasts brown eyes with copper flecks that give them a strange reddish hue from a distance, not unlike rust. His skin is slightly darker than in the picture.}

”The boy has fire in his blood, to say the least. Fire and wine, and no small amount of venom."

”What good is a life without pleasures? Pleasures of drink, of combat, of flesh, anything to keep the blood boiling, really.”

Name
Prince Artoran Tritan Sand

Nickname
Toran (used by his friends and family)
Scorched One (used by peasants and lesser nobility - widely known, never said to his face lest the speaker value his tongue)

Age
17

House
Martell

Parents
Toran’s father, Prince Mikael Martell, could have competed even with his great uncle Oberyn in his lustful tendencies; he had many children by many women, and loved and cared for all of his children and their mothers.

Toran’s mother, Dardana Namieith, was no different. She cared greatly for Mikael, and he in return, though the Prince was too unsettling in his desires to choose any single bride and thus, never married.

Siblings
Three half-sisters and four half-brothers, some as old as twenty-seven or as young as two. He is the eldest known son, and the third child.

Personality
Toran is firstly and most predominantly charming. A savvy ladies man (well, anyone’s man, really) he is most often found enjoying himself in some way or another, be it training, lounging, or endlessly flirting. His soul is as light as his feet, and he has few cares in the world. His anger bears striking likeness to a whip; fast, loud and painful. Like any self-respecting Dornishman, he is deeply rooted to his family. He believes that kindness is never wasted, although he's been known to hold grudges over long-kept family fueds (COUGH COUGH Lannisters).

Skills
Strange as it sounds, Toran adores acrobatics, and implements it in spear fighting (any true Dornishman would know how to fight with a spear) and hand-to-hand combat. Lately, he's been particularly enjoying the challenge of fighting with a staff or a dagger, and often carries his staff with him. He is quite gifted with animals (particularly Toruk, his pet and companion of sorts) and has learned much from his maester-in-training sister about fire and every way he can get his hands on to make and control it. He has trained long and hard to use fire smoothly in combat, but is still restricted in this skill to simple manoeuvres.

Religion
Born into the Faith of The Seven, though he does not actively practice.

Bio
Born the bastard son of Prince Mikael Martell, Toran grew up with a life unheard of for bastards in any other country in Westeros. Where a bastard in King’s Landing or Winterfell would face disgrace and shun, he enjoyed nobility and luxury, a large family and boastful wealth. With his family’s standing greatly improved after King Daerys took a Martell, Toran’s aunt no less, as his Queen, his life was easy and relatively free of court drama. He spent his days enjoying the best food and wine, learning and training with court Maesters and fine combat teachers, and endlessly flirting with whatever beauty happened to catch his eye. He travelled often to King’s Landing, as his father and the Queen were quite close.
His father answered the King’s summons, and with help from his queen aunt, Toran was in. He looks forward to seeing his aunt and Targaryen cousins, enjoying King’s Landing and perhaps earning some ‘favour’ with the other wards.

Other
Toran gets his name “Scorched One” from an accident that happened when he first started training with fire. He received severe burns on his arms, left hip and the right side of his neck/face. Luckily, due to a talented maester, his wounds healed with very little disfiguration; really, the most noticeable feature of these scars are that they are starkly pale in comparison to his otherwise richly brown skin. While he doesn’t really resent the scars, he despises the name; it implies his failure. Few people have called him that name sincerely and left the room intact.

[Obscene Symphony]

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[Obscene Symphony]

i.imgur.com/qbG0AXM.jpg

[Obscene Symphony]

[Obscene Symphony]

Artoran Sand

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Artoran Sand

"The boy has fire in his blood, to say the least. Fire and wine, and no small amount of venom."

"What good is a life without pleasure, without excitement? Thrills of victory, pleasures of drink, indulgences of flesh... Anything to keep the blood boiling."

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Basic Information

N A M E
Artoran Tritan Sand

N I C K N A M E S
Toran - Used by his family and friends, and almost anyone in a non-formal setting.
Snake Charmer - Used by well-meaning commonfolk, nobility, and friends, in reference to his affinity with both his animals and his family members.
The Scorched One - Used by ill-meaning peasants and lesser nobility, rarely said to his face lest the user wish to retain their tongue. This name stems from the scarring that mars his skin from an old burn injury.

G E N D E R
Male

A G E
18

S E X U A L I T Y
"I want what I want, when I want it. That is all."

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Home

F A T H E R
"Do not listen to the scorns of outsiders, Toran. You were born of love and passion, and just as much a Martell as any other. Never be ashamed of that; your name may make outsiders turn their backs on you, but that only makes them easier to cut down."
Prince Mikael Martell, the son of Trystane Martell, brother of Nymeria Targaryen and the youngest Prince of Dorne.
Prince Mikael could have rivalled his great-uncle Oberyn Martell in his lustful tendencies; his escapades with various partners led him to sire many bastards, all of whom he took into his home, along with their mothers, and cared for lovingly. However, he could not simply pledge his love to only one partner and thus, never thought it fair to marry.
Mikael is looked upon strangely by his more noble and reserved cousins, is very close to his sister and her husband, and loves all of his nieces and nephews. He is a passionate man, both in love and in war, delighting in combat and excitement as much as in family and flesh. Many of these traits he passed on to Toran, who greatly resembles his father. Mikael lives his life for himself; far from the line of Dornish succession, he is mostly content to leave the stresses of politics to his cousins and offer advice if called upon. This “Pirate King” does not intimidate him much, though if he were to become a problem for his family and for Dorne, Mikael would be first in the vanguard to cut him down.

M O T H E R
"Enjoy this fantastic life we are so lucky to have, my son. Enjoy it to its fullest, for you have been given an opportunity that thousands like you can only dream of."
Dardana Namieth, daughter of a lesser Dornish merchant.
She had been accompanying her father to Sunspear on business and quickly caught the eye of Prince Mikael. From their passion came Toran, who would be Mikael’s third child and first son. From the moment Dardana had shared that she was with child, Mikael took her in as well as any wife and promised to care for them for their entire lives. He made good on his promise, and Dardana and Toran have been living the lives of royalty since.
Dardana is a clever beauty, who pays little mind to Mikael’s non-monogamous tendencies and tends to similarly indulge herself. As a mother she is watchfully fierce; she offers advice when she is needed, and knows when to leave well enough alone. She is aware that her son must make his own choices, but offers council when she knows those choices are unwise.
She gets along well with the mothers of Mikael’s other children and treats those other children like her own. Theirs may be an odd family, but they are thick as thieves and fiercely protective of their own, by blood or otherwise.

S I B L I N G S
Three half-sisters: Dalia Sand (27), Retilla Sand (20), and Nyra Sand (5).
Four half-brothers: Jorus Sand (13), Mytchell Sand (12), Dorian Sand (10), and Dardan Sand (5).
Dalia has left Sunspear to study under the Maesters at the Citadel, and Retilla fell in love with and married a young nobleman from Braavos and spends much of her time sailing the Narrow Sea. This leaves Toran as the oldest offspring in Sunspear, his cousins included.
Toran is relatively close to all of his siblings, particularly his sisters, over whom he is extremely protective (although Dalia and Retilla are more than capable of taking care of themselves). He revels in his large family, considering himself a son with many mothers and throwing the notion of “half” siblings to the wind.

R E L I G I O N
Born into the Faith of the Seven, although he doesn’t actively practice.

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Skills

S T R E N G T H S
Having taken an old Dornish tradition and made it new, Toran is a skilled acrobat, using creative movement and taking advantage of his environment to bring great agility and speed into combat. He has a tendency not only to use his acrobatic skill to be an effective warrior, but also to impress onlookers by turning the battle into an impressive acrobatic spectacle. He has been a crowd pleaser at tournaments since he first began using the technique, and loves the unique flare it lends his fighting. His battle technique consists mostly of artfully dodging attacks until his opponent grows tired or frustrated, and then going offensive. These techniques work together to create a greatly unpredictable and entertaining fighting style.
Toran also has a great affinity for animals, going so far as to have taken Toruk, a deadly young desert viper, as a pet and companion. Rumours circulate among those who have watched Toran with the snake, that he is immune to his venom; many have seen the snake bite him (mostly by accident, if Toran is trying to stop him from biting someone else) and walk away unharmed and unconcerned. Toran has not confirmed or denied these suspicions. anyone get that old thread reference?
Rather than dip his blade in poison like Oberyn before him, Toran has taken a more upfront approach to combat: Fire. With the help of Dalia, his maester-in-training sister, he has learned to use special ores and powders to throw fire at his opponents. This is mostly for show and to confuse the enemy; this fire quickly extinguishes itself in the air. An accident while training with fire years ago resulted in a patchwork of jagged burns on his arms, torso and part of his right-side jaw. Luckily, due to skilled court maesters, Toran healed with little more disfiguration than pale scar tissue, which contrasts starkly with the rich brown of his skin. Still, this interest in fire borders on obsessive and he continues to train long and hard to bend it to his will.

W E A K N E S S E S
Toran is nothing if not prideful, and it can sometimes get in the way. His otherwise low temper can be sparked in an instant by a slight against his family or his nature as a bastard, though he is capable of hiding his loathing behind an insincere smile and another name added to his shit list when the stakes are as high as they are in King’s Landing.
Toran’s lust, both for people and for life in general, rivals his father’s, and he’s been known to shirk responsibilities in favour of pursuing his hedonistic goal of enjoying himself as much as possible before he dies. He is sinfully irresponsible in this regard, which will undoubtedly turn to bite him in King’s Landing.
Finally, Toran wears his emotions on his sleeve. Far from stoic, Toran feels everything deeply, be it voracious delight or crushing sorrow. He despises all the sneaking and backstabbing of upper Westerosi court, and sees no merit in trickery or underhandedness. This is the type of quality that can make a weak player in the game of thrones, but he holds to his (albeit few and sideways) morals nonetheless.

W E A P O N
Toran has taken to the challenge of fighting with a staff or dagger, but also adores the history and fluidity of the Dornish spear. His answer? A weapon that can be all three! His dark, strong wooden staff, short for a spear at only six feet long, bears ornate copper and steel inlay along its length, like a coiled snake that shines like flame in the sunlight. This inlay gives way to a heavy steel cap on one end, acting as the foot of the staff. The opposite end is also capped with steel, in a jagged pattern.
Toran’s dagger is a wicked seven-inch affair worn on his belt. The glossy, black dragonglass blade is wide and curved, wickedly sharp on both sides with an edge like curved broken glass, as dragonglass blades tend to be. The hilt and handle are made from the same wood and metal inlay as the staff, including an inlaid snake’s head baring its fangs. The handle, however, is hollow with a steel pattern on the inside (corresponding to that on the staff) and a spring. These inner fixtures act as the counterbalance to the blade and as an interlocking mechanism for connecting the staff and dagger to form a spear.
This connection can be made in one fluid, well-practiced move either before or during battle. In this form, it is clear that the weighted foot of the staff (which is somewhat imbalanced on its own) acts as a counterbalance for the spear. The weapon is of Toran's own design; he even helped the armourer shape it.

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Mannerisms

L I K E S
Beautiful people
Parties/celebrations
Fine food and drink
Tournaments
Showing off
Animals
Sunlight/heat
Luxury

D I S L I K E S
Rain and cold
Rough seas (he gets horrible sick)
Miscommunication
Lies, deceit, and underhanded trickery
Being looked down upon
Most nuts (he has a soft spot for pistachios)
Overbearing responsibilities

H A B I T S
Talking to Toruk
Spinning his ring
Pulling his earlobe
Drumming his fingers

H O B B I E S
Training with his spear and his fire
Training/interacting with Toruk
Playing with his young siblings and cousins (he's very good with children)
Slight of hand

F E A R S
Drowning
Death (of himself or loved ones)
Losing his mind
Losing his wealthy position
Fading into history, forgotten
Losing Toruk and him biting someone

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Digging Deeper

P E R S O N A L I T Y
Toran is firstly and most predominantly charming. A savvy ladies man (well, anyone’s man, really) he is most often found enjoying himself in some way or another, be it training, lounging, or endlessly flirting. His soul is as light as his feet, and he has few cares in the world. His anger bears striking likeness to a whip; fast, loud and painful, but gone as quickly as it came. Like any self-respecting Dornishman, he is deeply rooted to his family. He believes that kindness is never wasted, though he knows the value of some well-placed acidity.
Brutally honest, Toran's straightforward look at the world has been known to get him into trouble with more uptight nobles who are used to the fancy words and sugar-coated reports of court life. While he isn't entirely clueless on when it is best just to say nothing, Toran tends to err on the side of speaking, an easy comment or jibe always on the tip of his tongue.
Despite his abundant pride and confidence, Toran is still somewhat insecure about his nature as a bastard. Whereas in Dorne nobody questions it, in King's Landing it's much more of a slight against him. This doesn't bother him at home in Dorne, but elsewhere deep down he is self-conscious and sensitive about it (despite knowing that it is not his fault and being encouraged by his family that it is far from a bad thing) and secretly hopes that someday, his father will legitimize him. If asked about such hopes, he would fervently deny them. Nonetheless, he can't say the stigma doesn't get to him. Even with the Queen as his aunt, he still feels every sideways look, hears every underhanded comment about the Martell bastard who likes to pretend he's royalty. He tries his best to follow his father's advice and ignore it, "Wear it like armour," as Oberyn's Lannister friend had said, but there's only so much a teenager can handle.

H I S T O R Y
Born the bastard son of Prince Mikael Martell, Toran grew up with a life unheard of for bastards in any other country in Westeros. Where a bastard in King’s Landing or Winterfell would face disgrace and shun, he enjoyed nobility and luxury, a large family and boastful wealth. With his family’s standing greatly improved after King Daerys took a Martell (Toran's beloved aunt, no less) as his Queen, his life was easy and relatively free of court drama. He spent his days enjoying the best food and wine, learning and training with court Maesters and fine combat teachers, and endlessly flirting with whatever beauty happened to catch his eye. As his father and Queen Nymeria were thick as thieves, Toran travelled to King's landing often throughout his life and is very familiar with his Targaryen uncle and cousins.
When King Daerys sent a summons for the heirs of the great houses to gather, Toran's father saw a great opportunity. Some clever placement and a few letters to Queen Nymeria got Toran a seat at the heir's table, albeit formally as a guard to his cousin Gabriel. Toran isn't overly fond of his position as a guard (it was so Northern to send a bastard to guard the important children) but he knows his father means nothing by it, and looks forward to seeing his family and forming some connections with the other wards.

T H E M E
King – Lauren Aquilina
Glass half empty, glass half full
Well either way you won't be going thirsty
Count your blessings not your flaws

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E X T R A
Toran generally has one or two fingernails painted with a rust-coloured substance that resembles clay.
Toruk accompanies Toran almost everywhere, generally hiding in his sleeves or coiling around his hands and lower arms.
He wears a gold and copper ring with the house words "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken" engraved around it in the old tongue of the Rhoynar.
A regular feature in Toran's wardrobe are hardened leather armguards, resembling falconer's greaves. He also currently wears a modest and becoming goatee, but also commonly goes clean-shaven.

[Obscene Symphony]

[Obscene Symphony]

size 60 in 'daniel' under handwriting ^

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Twitch Felidae

"Careful, buddy. Even house cats have claws."

Mitchell "Twitch" Felidae

Male | House Cat | 24 | 6'6" | 180lbs

Occupation
Stripper and Prostitute, works out of a multi-sexual strip joint within The Hole called "Glory".

Personality
Despite his morally questionable lifestyle, the first thing one will notice about Mitchell is that no matter what, he holds himself not with pride, but with dignity. He walks with his head high, unafraid to meet a stranger's accusing gaze; he won't hesitate for a second to tell anyone just exactly what he is. He may not be proud of it, but he will not be ashamed and he will not be pushed around. This is an attitude that took him years to develop, and that he works hard to maintain. After all, it's easy for a stripper, prostitute and drug addict to slip into a pit of shame and self-pity, and it sometimes still gets to him.
Aside from a dignified exterior, Mitch

Biography
It's a simple story really, he would say. Born half a set of twins to a prostitute and a John who never did find out, Mitchell was sent careening into the underbelly of city life from a ripe young age. His mother tried her best to care for her sons, but life as a sex worker with substance abuse thrown in made it a bit more difficult. Still, Mitchell carries several happy memories of his early life, largely due to the presence of his twin brother, Aaron. He was a yellow-and-white patched boy with bright blue eyes and deafness to match, and from birth the two were inseparable. They both learned sign language and started caring for themselves and their mother as soon as they were able; with their mother's age, her customer base was dwindling and her appetite for gin was growing fast. Often it was left to them to cook, clean and keep mom in one place until she cried herself to sleep.
It was during one of these bouts that Mitchell's life started its downward spiral. One of Mom's bad habits was smoking, and when she was too drunk to stand, she simply did it in bed. Now, the apartment that housed the happy family was far from high-end: with peeling wallpaper, leaky ceilings and drafty windows, many residents weren't even sure it was up to code. Add that to a domed city where rain is impossible, and it wasn't hard for a cigarette falling on sheets to light the place up like a tinderbox.
When the smoke cleared days later, it found Mitchell in a hospital, covered in burns and hooked up to a steady flow of pain medication, which he later learned had been intravenous Dilaudid. His mother's remains had been found in the wreckage (she had never even stirred from her slumber) and Aaron was missing, assumed dead. Mitchell was alone in the world, for all it seemed to matter.
Many painstaking skin graphs, surgeries, hours of physical therapy and weeks later, Mitchell was released from the hospital at 14 years old, with a miraculously uninterrupted coat of fur, a developing Dilaudid addiction and a stack of medical bills taller than he was. He made the rounds of kids in his predicament: some petty theft here, some lying there, a few questionable dealings mixed in. By the time he was eighteen he was living alone in an apartment that was little more than a milk crate under a landlord who liked to add interest to missing rent. Struggling with his substance abuse and drowning in debt, something had to be done - so, it seemed only natural to respond to hearsay that The Hole's in-house strip joint was looking for new talent.
On his worst night at the club, he earned $50 in salary and tips. On his best, he surpassed $900.
Steadily repaying his debts but still on the rocks, it seemed an eerily smooth transition from dancing for Glory's clientele to responding to their requests for "one-on-one" meetings with him. These "meetings" normally started with a drink after his shift and often ended with a walk of shame through an unfamiliar part of the city the next morning, with a pit in his stomach and a wad of cash in his bag.

Hey, it's a living.

Inventory/Equipment
A backpack containing:
- A green plastic case containing clean syringes
- A red plastic case featuring the biohazard symbol, containing dirty syringes (he got the cases/needles under the guise of being diabetic)
- Small vial(s) of Dilaudid, either liquid or pill form (not always present, attained through forged prescriptions)
- A heavy-duty cash clip, sometimes stuffed with bills
- A change of clothes and small bag of toiletries
- Nail clipper and file
- A fine-toothed comb, metal
- A collapsible water bottle
- A small bottle of pain killers
- A stack of coy business cards, held together by a rubber band
- Assorted supplies for extended business dealings
On his person:
- A leather wallet containing his ID, bank card, driver's licence, cash, etc.
- Apartment keys
- A small switchblade
- A whistle
- A cheap "survival bracelet" made of knotted rope

Other
His stripper name is "Stranger", based on the saying "Tall, dark stranger."
His nickname ("Twitch") was founded upon occasional agitated and 'twitchy' states, which are symptoms of withdrawal underwent during long periods of time between Dilaudid hits.
The apparent lack of weapons is due to the fact that Mitchell's first choice in a fight is to get away, and as a cat with stripping experience (pole dancing takes a lot of muscle and flexibility) he is very naturally well equipped for it. If it comes to fighting, he'll use his claws before his knife, and relies on speed and agility to dodge and escape his attackers. Besides, most potential muggers and the like tend to be intimidated by his towering height and disdainful 'walking attitude'.

Additional Image

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[Obscene Symphony]

Sekh, WIP

The Pestilent | The Sufferer | The Cursed

The Pestilent God Sekh (Description included)

Sekh stands at a respectable 14'6", resembling a dying tree in his height and lankiness. While be bore some colour once, his hues have now all faded into monochrome: His skin is ashen grey, and his hair, once shining, hangs starkly white, dull, and limp. His eyes, black and bloodshot, are rimmed with dark circles, and his skin is marred by a creeping pattern of blackened veins. His robes, inky black with decorations in gold (the only colour that remains on his body) wraps around him like a tattered gossamer shawl with many layers (see "Additional Lore" for an image more accurately representing his robes). From tattered sleeves protrude skinny arms and bony hands. His fingers, abnormally long, seem to taper to a claw-like point with unsettling long fingernails. A noxious smoke seems to rise in thin tendrils from the folds of his robes, as if the fabric beneath is constantly smoldering.
Sekh would look like a miserably dying creature if not for the nonchalant mannerisms and commanding, authoritative presence. However, if thinking that Sekh himself is sick, one would be right - a curse from eons ago left him ill and in constant misery (more information on this at the bottom of the sheet) - but he hides his misery well, and has grown somewhat used to it.

Gender
Male

Personality
"If I let everyone succumb to illness, who would be left to worship me?"
Sekh comes off as a tired god, exhausted and disinterested with the world. However, he does care for his people, and wants them to succeed, but en lieu of directly teaching them, he provides challenges that they must learn to overcome in order to better themselves and their technology. Toward most other gods, Sekh is dismissive and sarcastic, and his distaste is barely hidden.
Normally a patient god, Sekh is in constant pain, and this often bleeds into his personality in the form of impatience, frustration and short-temperedness.

Pestilence

Suffering | Healing
Death | Defilement | Famine | Medicine | Poison | Resilience

Avatar
"Scourge"
Sekh's avatar is a massive black swarm of every pestilence and plague he controls, from disease to locusts and other vile creatures. It can take on any shape, and act either as a group of individuals or as one collective unit. It is large enough to spread through entire cities, or blot out the sun in an enormous black cloud above.
While not necessarily good for one-on-one combat, it can level entire populations with its plagues, should any city or civilization induce the rage of Sekh.
The Scourge is capable of dispersing itself into as small and spread-out a unit as a single insect. Therefore, it often acts as an overseer for Sekh; when it spreads, nothing in Xepthys can escape its watch. Its flying insects often even act as heralds for Sekh, conveying messages from around the nation and even outside its borders.

Stance
While not quite yet taking a stand nor supporting another, Sekh does like the idea of a ruling alliance of gods with dark domains, after having endured so many eons of distaste and disgust from the other gods. There are rumours that he and Azo'do, the god of Death, have been plotting something, but nothing concrete has happened yet.

Loyalty During the Rebellion
When the God of War was scheming to usurp their father's throne, Sekh, in his simmering anger at his father over his curse, sided secretly with his brother and helped him in his scheming. However, when it came the time to take sides in battle, Sekh sided with his father: War was too strong to defeat through force alone, so Sekh was charged with inflicting War with a sickness to weaken him. Fearing further punishment if he refused to comply, Sekh betrayed his brother and did as he was asked. In retrospect, Sekh recognizes that it would have been unwise to allow his warring brother to rule the cosmos, but still regrets that he couldn't defeat his father and sister.

Centre of Power
Sekh's centre of power is a large feather. This feather was the one plucked from his wing when his sister, Oksana, dripped a cursed poison into the follicle from which it was torn. Once white, it is now streaked with inky black - notably different than the still-white feathers that float about the floors of his home temple.

Relations

Azo'do
Xepthys shares borders with [Death Nation], one of its few trade partners. Sekh and Azo'do share a brotherly camaraderie.

Oksana
Sekh despises Oksana, goddess of Storms and enforcer of cosmic order, for she was the one who administered his curse.

Illyona
Sekh has a civil relationship with this sister. Though they are strained at times due to conflicting outlooks and beliefs, they can understand each other's suffering, and that links them together.

Naqqash
Sekh takes an indirect fatherly interest in Naqqash. He reminds Sekh of what his own children might have been like, and does his best to give him guidance.

Powers
As could be assumed, Sekh has power to control pests and disease. He can send a swarm of locusts to besiege a field, a troupe of plague rats to a quarreling city, and of course, set illness into any mortal being, including humans, animals, and even plants (or infect water).
However, an unexpected feature of Sekh's power is his ability to heal and cure illness. He can strike mortals ill, but also cure them; he can set a scourge of pests to a crop, but also restore a bountiful harvest. Anything he gives, be it illness or health, he also has the power to take away.
As well, Sekh can dissipate his body into a noxious smoke, and rematerialize again. When he walks, he seems to glide along the ground, with his robes from the waist down dissolving into a mass of sinking smoke. Traversing any distance further than a few steps, his body seems to dissolve into this same inky black smoke and re-materialize at his destination. Since his curse leaves him physically weak and inept in combat, he often uses this technique to evade attackers if necessary. He also employs this tactic to transform smoothly down to mortal size or scale himself up to heights of multiple storeys (however, at greater sizes than his natural height, he does not materialize as an entire body, but more often as a figure from the waist up or a bust; he doesn't tend to hold these forms for very long, and normally uses them to intimidate mortals).

examples, courtesy of Eris, Goddess of Discord

Godly Equipment
Sekh's curse makes him physically weak in direct combat, so he tends to avoid it. In the place of sword or shield, Sekh creates poisons and diseases powerful enough to strike even his siblings ill. He has a few ways to administer these: sometimes he will send a flying insect from Scourge to carry the pestilence and bite his victim, or fill a dart with his mixture and throw it. In situations that require more force, he has a dagger. This god's bane dagger is a flamberge style, the blade able to be laced with whatever pestilence he needs.
His dagger, insects and darts are all god's bane weapons, however they (with possible exception of the dagger) do not have the power on their own to do any significant damage to a god.

Demi Gods
Sekh's curse makes him unable to sire children: Any and every mortal to lay with him dies of the same god's bane disease that plagues him before they had any chance for childbirth; if they should miraculously survive, any children to come forth from him would be sickly, deformed, and unfit to live.

Xepthys, Pestilent Land of Sekh

Lands
Most of Xepthys is barren wasteland, teeming with vermin and disease, and unfit to sustain civilized life. The soul is nutrient-rich (due to the frequent death and decomposition of creatures) but dry, pockmarked with spindly trees, and near-impossible to farm; any water found on the surface is stale, stagnant and unsafe to drink. Dotted across this land are dense pockets of civilization linked by dusty, unguarded roads, twisting like veins across the desert-esque lands of Xepthys. These cities and towns are almost exclusively founded on top of underground water deposits, which re the only source of drinkable water in Xepthys. These settlements also often feature plots of carefully cultivated farmland, tiny herds of livestock and small temple hospitals.
While the stagnant ponds and lakes of Xepthys create small oases, the people of Xepthys adamantly avoid them: These oases are always teeming with disease-spreading insects, rabid wild creatures, and venomous desert reptiles.
Most of Xepthys' vegetation is rather plain, (such as spindly, leafless trees which appear to be dead, but actually thrive in the deserts and various skinny cacti with long thorns) there is a vibrant blue flower called the Mahat Blossom that thrives in Xepthys: These flowers are highly valuable for medicine, and are sought after by brave Xeps, willing to face the dangers of he oases where they bloom. These flowers and their seeds are easily the most expensive good in Xepthys, and having them growing in one's garden is a sure sign of wealth or nobility.

People
The people of Xepthys, called Xeps, are resilient humanoids with monochromatic skin and hair colours varying from stark white to coal black. They are extremely adaptable and have grown immune to a wide variety of diseases that most other civilizations would never have come into contact with. As such, Xepthys makes an unpopular trade partner, as its citizens will often carry diseases and spread them among their trade contacts.

Culture
Xepthys is widely known for two things: Highly advanced medicine and impressive, alternative agriculture. Being in the domain of Pestilence, it was necessary for the people of Xepthys to develop good techniques of treating disease; otherwise, they would all succumb to it. As well, while the soil of Xepthys is fertile, it is unyielding and dry. As such, the Xeps have developed techniques of well digging and irrigation that have made agriculture and farming possible. They also make a habit of growing medicinal plants in potted gardens; it is considered normal for every home in Xepthys to have a rooftop potted garden, filled with assorted medicinal herbs.
Even living in desolate lands, the people of Xepthys have adapted and thrived. They hold no contempt for their god, but only gratitude for his healing and respect for his power to destroy. They believe it is by his good grace that they prosper, and by his unyielding rule that they have learned to sustain themselves so effectively.
Twice a year, all of Xepthys participated in a nameless festival, often dubbed by Xeps as "Medicine Day", during which the citizens of Xepthys harvest their medicinal plants and make them into medicines. It's a social event, in which communities gather in a central place and make an event out of fashioning their treatments: Sharing recipes, remedies and supplies, selling wares, playing music and making large meals for the entire community to share. These are days of music, fellowship, and community, and looked forward to by all.

Technology
Post-Classical Era-style governing and philosophy with technological echoes of the Medieval. (Basically the time period of the black plague with some technologies advanced beyond their time, closer to medieval level)

Sephtun, The Capital

A monument erected to Sekh in Sephtun's city centre

This monument, in the courtyard preceding the temple in which Sekh himself resides, stands roughly two stories tall and is fashioned from glossy petrified grey wood, rare ivory, onyx, and flecks of gleaming amber. It is designed in the likeness of the spindly, dead-looking trees that can be found in the wastelands of Xepthys (a motif that is carried on within Sekh's temple). The top figure is shaped in the image of Sekh; the lower figure has no official identification, but it is often assumed to be a strangely humanoid likeness of Azo'do, God of Death, with whom Sekh retains a close relationship.

Named in part for its founder, this is where Sekh himself resides. It is a dense urban centre with many interesting amenities, including a state-of-the-art sewer system, created in order to reduce the possibility of waste-induced disease. The capital is a centre for all goings-on within the nation, from trade to government, but most of all, worship.
There are two main sects in the worship of Sekh, both centered in Sephtun. These two sects can be found across Xephtys, though many smaller, regional sects also exist. One sect, called the Compassionates, worships the aspects of Sekh's power related to healing and resilience. Their temple is somewhat of a hospital, where the sick and dying go to seek refuge and care, or to make their peace with Sekh himself. Priests and Priestesses of this sect care for the sick and come to Sekh to pray for health and other such favours.
The Sufferers, a group of Sekh-fearing fanatics, worship and revere his power to destroy, from scourging crops to inflicting plagues and everything in between. They give him routine offerings to keep themselves and their followers in Sekh's favour; they believe that Xepthys survives due to Sekh's mercy and sparing them from his pestilence. They preach subservience and reverence to Sekh in order to keep Xepthys safe from his horrors. They have taken to seeking out infection by every disease in Xepthys, hoping that by suffering them and surviving them, they can grow closer to their god.
Sekh pays heed to both of these sects equally, and acts slightly different with each of them, to better keep within their unique perceptions of him.

Beings
While Xepthys lacks any immortal life aside from Sekh himself, it does house various unsettling and often terrifying creatures. One such creature is the Harrowed Wasp: Believed to be the offspring of the Scourge itself, Harrowed Wasps are ruthlessly violent wasps that will actively attack any creature in a one-hundred-metre vicinity of their nest, even if said creature is not disturbing the nest. Its sting has been acclaimed to be the most painful experience known to Xeps, and its venom can easily kill in one sting. This venom is often used in poisons, and must be harvested extremely carefully; many an alchemist's apprentice has died trying to harvest this venom.

Lore and additional images

Sekh was born as a god of healing, under the name Sekhmahat ("Sekh" meaning "illness" and "mahat" meaning "cure/curer of"). For eons he flew about the mortal realm on his white feathered wings, in an endless quest to relieve suffering and cure illness. He was passionate in this endeavor, to the point of compulsion: he became obsessed with eradicating all disease from the mortal realm, and creating a world without suffering or untimely death.
Sekhmahat very nearly completed his mission; however, when his father Rieth, King of all gods, got word of his mission, he was outraged. Disease was part of the natural order of the cosmos, and as king of the cosmos, Rieth could not allow that order to be disrupted. So, he cast upon Sekhmahat a curse: He would be forced to spread the plagues he had worked to hard to eradicate, and would eternally suffer from an illness that even he could not cure. Rieth charged his second child, Oksana, with the administering of this curse.
Oksana found her brother in his temple, poring still over his notes and records, searching for a final cure. She informed her brother of the charges laid upon him, but Sekhmahat could not retaliate: for the will of Rieth was absolute, and Sekhmahat was helpless to disobey. Even as she plucked a feather from his wing and dropped Rieth's plague into the wound, and stripped him of his name's suffix of "cure", all he could do was stare his sister in the eye and swear a divine vow that he would have his revenge.
In the time that followed, Sekh's shining white feathers grew dull and fell to the floor of his temple, where he hid himself ad his wings shriveled and shrunk to nothing, his body weakened, and pain filled his veins, and sickness claimed his heart. A century he stayed hidden away, while the sick and dying cried for his help, as he himself withered to a sickened shell of his former glory. It broke his heart, and hardened it; when he finally emerged, his land grew sick and weak, and he was left to coldly rule as a husk of his former glory.
To this day every breath, every step, every beat of his charred and shrivelled heart sends pain shooting through Sekh's blackened veins, like ground glass in his blood; mouth forever dry, though wine and water repulse him; eternally starving, though his stomach turns at the sight of food. The shed feathers that mock him of days past still litter his temple floor.

[Obscene Symphony]

Pastor Aaron

_{Eye colour inaccurate.}

Name: Aaron Bachmeier

Nickname(s): Pastor, Pastor Aaron

Race: Human

Age: 22

Appearance: Aaron is a beanpole if you've ever seen one. Standing at a staggering 6'5" and weighing a measly 150lbs, he's long and lean and undeniably scrawny. He has the build of a man who hasn't had a proper meal in a long time, and the look of someone who loses too much sleep to stress. His skin is pale, his eyes very blue and somewhat sunken, his hair limp blonde.
He tries to dress nicely as much as possible, struggling to keep himself in a clean shirt and slacks. At all times, he wears a small, worn wooden cross on a long fibre cord under his shirt (or openly in the relative safety of his church), and the telltale collar of a pastor. However, his clothes are well-worn and sometimes damaged or stained, which he tries desperately to hide.

Personality: Aaron is a devout Anglican, and strives to be the best and kindest man he can be. He believes that all life has value and that no one is a lost cause. While he believes wholeheartedly in the power and mercy of God, he does not push his beliefs onto others; his church is always open to whomever would enter, regardless of faith, gender, race, sexuality, or beliefs.

Aaron wants, with his whole being, to help people. As such, he has taken an interest in medicine and studies medical texts when he can. He absolutely detests violence, and even if being slandered or even attacked, he will not raise his hand to another living thing. This has led to many issues, as he refuses to defend himself in an effort to keep himself pure.

Aaron detests those who draw pleasure from the pain of others and tries his best to keep out of the mob dealings that go on around him. However, with his morals, it becomes harder and harder to keep himself from getting caught up in the fray.

Bio: Aaron was born half of a set of unwanted twins, to a Demon's Blood-addicted prostitute in one of the poorest and most crime-ridden areas of Santa Somabra. For the first twelve years of their lives, the two brothers were very close and relied on each other for companionship and protection from their mother's
Ess-than-savoury clientele and her increasingly violent highs. When they were thirteen, their apartment, a sad, rundown excuse for a home, caught fire when their mother fell asleep while smoking. Aaron escaped the fire, but both his mother and twin brother were lost in the ashes. Blinded by smoke and tears, he ran to the nearest sanctuary: A small church, deep in the heart of the poor community.

The pastor there, a kind old woman named Lisa, took Aaron in and kept him with her in the church. She told him that his survival of the fire was a deliverance from God, and that he was meant to do good in the name of The Lord. Aaron latched onto her words and to her, revering her as the mother he'd dreamed of having. He mourned his brother for a year, finding comfort in his new religion and seeking guidance through it.

Over the years, Aaron learned the trade and helped Lisa wherever he could. He taught Sunday School to a dwindling group of children, assisted in sermons and prayers, and spearheaded charity efforts. He saw few marriages, fewer christenings and many funerals, but felt fulfilled by the work he did.

When he was twenty, Lisa succumbed to illness. Aaron held the funeral service and burial himself and took on her torch, having been ordained as a pastor when Lisa felt her death approaching. For the past two years, he's tried his best to keep the church running, but with his congregation having dwindled to almost no one and the community steadily becoming more and more hostile toward him and his church, his job is growing harder and harder by the day.

Other:
- Anglican pastors can marry and have children, and can be both men and women, of any sexuality.
- While confession isn't necessarily something Anglicans do, Aaron will listen to and keep secret anything someone feels the need to confess.
- Aaron believes that God is loving and accepting, and believes that no one is beyond hope of improving themselves in the Lord's eyes, regardless of their beliefs or past actions.
- Though he escaped the fire virtually unscathed, he has developed an occasional, lingering cough from the excess of smoke he'd inhaled. This also makes breathing more laborious while exerting himself.
- Increasingly hated by a community that sees itself rejected by religion, Aaron and his church regularly fall victim to attacks. These range from the more common slandering and graffiti on the walls of his church to actual, physical attacks to both the structure and Aaron himself. Running on donations alone, he has little to no money left for upkeep of the church or his own sustenance.
- Galatians 6:9

[Obscene Symphony]

Aaron Bachmeier

Name: Aaron Bachmeier

Age: 23

Sexuality: Gay & Demisexual (does not experience sexual attraction until he forms a personal connection)
Place of Residence: Krishnov Castle

Appearance: Aaron is a beanpole if you've ever seen one. Standing at a staggering 6'5" and weighing a measly 150lbs for most of his adult life, he's long and lean and undeniably lanky. However, the strict diet and exercise regime he’s been on for the past two years have put a layer of wiry muscle under his mottled skin and brought him up to a healthier weight of 165lbs. His skin is a common German white, although the hypopigmented patches on his hips, legs, hands and face make the rest of his skin look a little tanner by comparison. His eyes are an eerily vibrant blue, though his left eye has a wide band of dull hazel on the bottom right (example). His dirty blonde hair falls a bit over his ears and just under his eyebrows, and is dotted with premature grey. A starkly white forelock grows above his right eyebrow. (more on these abnormalities in Extras)

Personality: Aaron was once a gentle and trusting soul, a passive individual who couldn’t stand the idea of violence. Now, he isn’t so trusting, and much of the vibrant and excitable young man he used to be is buried under a bowed head and downcast eyes. He does what he’s told, eats what he’s given, and does his best to minimize his suffering. (to be developed further IC)

Bio (went a little ham whoops)

Bio: Aaron was born one half of a set of twins to a single mother in Munich, Germany. Born deaf, his fascination with language developed early: by the time he was ten he had mastered German Sign Language, had a decent (though hard-earned) grasp on spoken German and was working on ASL and English with a tutor in school. Growing up, Aaron and his brother, Mitchell, were inseparable. Mitchell learned to sign right along with him, and the two could often be seen in the corners of schoolyards, chattering away with their hands and snickering at the other children who couldn’t understand them. While Aaron had always been a kind and passive soul, Mitchell was fiery: If anything happened to his brother, he was the first on the scene to stand up for him. Their relationship was the most important in Aaron’s world.

As he grew older, Aaron became fascinated with music. At first, he would sit at the old harpsicord in their Munich apartment for hours, slamming the keys to feel the different vibrations. Later, he learned to play properly (though he still enjoyed playing odd melodies that were fun to feel vibrating through the floor) and revealed himself to be quite the prodigy. By the end of high school, he was an accomplished young pianist and blossoming composer, and landed a complete scholarship to a prestigious music school in Stockholm, Sweden. The goodbye to his mom and brother was tearful, but he quickly fell in love with his studies as he worked to become an ordained conductor and composer.

Two years into his schooling, Aaron was well on his way to becoming one of the youngest professional composers in Germany, not to mention the Deaf community, and his university was proud to have his name attached to theirs.
Unfortunately, good things don’t last forever.

Aaron was waiting at a train station to go home for the summer at the end of his second year. He had just been leaving the restroom when someone grabbed him with incredible strength and covered his mouth with a foul-smelling rag. With all the people in the station, he hadn’t felt the vibrations of their footsteps approaching behind him.

The captor was a vampire, ten times stronger than Aaron could ever hope to be. It only took seconds for Aaron’s futile struggling to subside to clumsy efforts and eventually to unconsciousness. When he finally woke up, it was days later, and he was weak from blood loss after his first ‘feeding’.

The vampire woman who had kidnapped him would have torn him apart and eaten the pieces had she not been strangely calmed after the first few gulps of his blood. Aaron’s memory of that night, and the few days afterward, is hazy at best, but he did come around eventually in one piece aside from some cuts and bite marks, and a lot of lost blood. This vampire woman was smart, and she knew that whatever intoxicating effect his blood had could fetch a good price with the right buyer. After keeping him to herself for a few very draining months (most of which is a blur to Aaron) she sold him to a noble vampire family for a very pretty price. The family put him on a very strict diet and exercise regime to keep his blood at optimal quality, and kept him around for two or so years. Understandably Aaron wasn’t thrilled about the arrangement, and missed his family dearly. However, he knew better than to try and fight these creatures, so he did what he was told and kept his head down.

Eventually, the family came upon some financial scandal and decided to sell Aaron once again to avoid losing everything to their name. The Krishnovs paid handsomely for Aaron, and he’s been living under a similarly strict regime in the Krishnov castle for a few weeks now.

TL;DR He’s a musical genius with weird blood that apparently makes vampires high. He’s new in Krishnov castle.

Likes & Dislikes (I got a bit carried away)

Likes:
- Playing piano (he likes to feel the vibrations)
- Drawing
- Writing music/music theory
- Conducting
- Thunderstorms (he loves the smell of rain and the rumbling of thunder)
- Sunshine (he likes it more now than he used to - he doesn't see it much nowadays)
- Smooth fabrics, like silk or fine linen
- Anything that makes him think
- Anything visually engaging (puzzles, things that refract light, beautiful scenery, etc.)
- Deep voices
- Languages
- Nice clothing
- Warm drinks (especially ciders)
- Sweet pastries
- Percussion and bass instruments

Dislikes:
- Lip reading (that shit's difficult!)
- Being forced to speak (he has great trouble speaking and it makes him feel foolish)
- Drawing
- Darkness (it makes him feel helpless and unsafe)
- Busy places
- Being talked to by more than one person at a time
- Coffee
- Flutes
- That weak/woozy feeling after losing a good amount of blood
- Being mocked for his condition (both his deafness and his appearance)
- Most alcohol
- Being separated from his brother
- Butter
- People talking behind his back (literally)
- Lawnmowers

Extra:
- Aaron was born with a genetic abnormality called Type II Waardenburg Syndrome. As such, he was born deaf in both ears, and possesses some cosmetic abnormalities. These include patches of hypopigmented (read: lack of pigment) skin, prematurely greying hair, mildly heterochromic eyes and a white forelock of hair.
This genetic abnormality had another effect on his physiology, one that would never have been noted had he not been taken as a vampiric food source: an intoxicating effect of the blood. While he has a very common blood type (A+), a vampire who drinks his blood will experience an intoxicating effect. Some only experience it mildly, finding themselves calmed and relaxed, like a human smoking a cigarette. Some experience a more intense sensation . This effect lasts roughly an hour and the feeling of satiation brought on by drinking his blood tends to last longer than drinking genetically normal blood.
- Aaron can read and write German, English, French and Swedish, can speak German and English (although his speech is notably… different) and can sign ASL (American Sign Language) and GSL (German Sign Language)

[Obscene Symphony]

Nagas: Enormous snakes with humanoid torsos, Nagas were the last of the Beast races to arrive in the Five Realms before the creation of the Heart Tree. Once living and thriving in all but the coldest and darkest environments, a booming skin trade found the nagas hunted almost to extinction for their valuable skins. While the trade has been outlawed, poaching is still common and has reduced their numbers to loners and small family groups roving the deserts of Ashar. Magical prowess varies among Nagas from none at all to moderate power - though little to none is most common.

[Obscene Symphony]

Naea, Who Strikes

_{Note: There are some differences between this image and her actual appearance.}

Naea, Who Strikes

”Strike fast and true, or not at all.”

Profile

Full Name: Naea, of Ishtar
Titles/Nicknames: Who Strikes, the Whipmaker (these likely wouldn't precede her; it's only those of her kind that she's met and those of other races she's traded with that would ever have learned them)
Age: 12 (human equivalent: ~25-30)
Race: Naga
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Polyamorous (vague, I know. Shhh)

Scale Color: Dark grey-blue, dark grey-brown underside, black markings outlined in white
Eye Color: Rust
Height (resting posture): ~6'
Overall Length (nose to tail): ~18'
Weight: ~600lbs

Appearance: To the uninitiated, Naea has nothing visually female about her. Her torso, much resembling a human man's in shape, boasts strong arms and a muscular chest and back. However, nagas or those familiar with them would notice her flat head (forming a slight curve from her crown to the tip of her nose - her jaw curves in much the same way, as a smooth curve from neck to chin) and pronounced waist, both feminine naga features. Her hood, open only when angry, threatened, or as a show of might, is wide and beautiful, patterned on the front with two half-circles, and on the back by two large false eyes. Her scales, the colour of a midnight sky, have been polished to a shine by the blowing sands of Ashar, and stand in stark contrast to her intense, rust-coloured eyes.

Personality: Nagas are a stoic and cordial people, and Naea is no exception. Upon first meeting, many are taken aback by the intensity of her unblinking gaze. She is not quick to show emotion, least of all affection, and will often default on aggression in an unknown or threatening situation. To others, she is curt and to the point, unlikely to include unnecessary flourish in anything but dance. In combat, she's quite the opposite: many would call her a show-0ff, with her eye-catching movements and excessive flare, all to catch the eye of the beholder. If one were to get to know her, they'd find that she has her passions, and puts all of herself into everything she does, be it dancing, fighting, or plaiting a whip. Her temper is slow to burn, but sufficiently provoked, the object of her anger will find it to strike hard and fast. As a rule, she holds her head high and carries herself with an elegance that betrays her muscular form; to those around her, she exudes dignity and pride.

Combat

Strength: 5
Dexterity: 9
Intelligence: 7
Cunning: 9
Magic: 1
Willpower: 7
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 7

Weapons of Choice: Two sun-bleached, six-foot stockwhips and a ten-foot, dark leather bullwhip. She also carries a sleek khopesh with a leather-wrapped stone handle.

Armor/Combat Apparel: With her tough scales to protect her, Naea wears very little into battle: a simple dark brown leather sash around the waist to hold her khopesh and whips, painted with spots and dashes of bright orange and white; hardened leather bracers (similarly painted), and a scale mail medallion hanging at her sternum.. She also often paints her scales with white, orange and bright blue war paint.

Fighting Style: Due to the nature of her weapons, Naea excels at both keeping her enemies at a distance when necessary, and drawing them in close when she's ready for the kill - this alone makes her a versatile fighter who can often fill the roles of buffer and infiltrator alike. In addition, nagas are notoriously dirty fighters: Naea is no different, and as such, underhanded moves and cunning strategy are second nature to her.
Another popular naga tradition is to incorporate fluid, dance-like motion - for dance is the highest form of art in naga culture - into combat styles. Naea takes this showmanship a step further with her whips, using them both to dazzle the audience and confuse and intimidate her opponent before using her dagger to finish them off.

Magical Affinity: None at this time.

Legacy

Place of Birth: Ashar
Social Status: Nomad, respected in her group
Alignment: Water

History: Naea was born into a proud family group of nagas who, like so many of their kind, made a life out of roaming the vast deserts of Ashar. By way of naga culture, her family was a typical one: they took well-traveled routes from oasis to oasis, trading what they could along the way. Crossing paths with other groups or loners was common, and usually involved music, dancing, and much storytelling. She passed many happy nights this way, dancing to the drums and the flicker of the firelight, listening to tales of heroes and monsters and travels under the vast desert sky. In between short stops at oaeses, most days were spent tirelessly moving towards a new destination, doing everything from hunting to carving along the way.

For the shortness of their lives, nagas are exceptionally fast learners. It was tradition for a naga to take up a craft, and Naea quickly learned and settled on whip-making. She had a natural talent with whips, both making and using them; soon enough, her whips were a popular trade item, and passerby who recognized her would stop to watch her dance, surrounded by the flourish and cracking of her whips. Routines such as this made her arms and torso strong, and her reflexes quick - after all, losing track of a whip's tail is a painful mistake nobody wants to repeat.

Of course, dance was not her only pursuit. Sparring was a common and honoured pastime in her culture, and as an adolescent, she trained with other naga youth in the art of combat with traditional weapons: short blades, staffs, and the khopesh. Soon enough she grew from a slender youth to a strong, substantial adult, respected among her kin as a skilled dancer and a capable fighter. At length she took to using her whips in sparring matches, attracting onlookers in oases and villages when she met khopesh with whip in friendly competition. Though she loved it, she never considered a professional career as a gladiator until an onlooker mentioned that audiences would love her style.

The idea of being a gladiator stuck with her for some time, and she found herself unconsciously training harder and challenging more and more skilled opponents. Perhaps she was working toward a goal without knowing it, but at last, it was encouragement from her younger brother Enlil that sent her to Risha seeking fame. Now, she hopes to catch the eye of sponsors at the Risha tournament, and will be giving her all to make that happen.

Other:
- Due to their dwindling numbers, frightening appearance and stereotypes of a quick temper and a deadly bite, many humans and Beasts alike fear nagas or write them off as indiscriminately dangerous. Naea cuts an intimidating figure, which does not exactly help her in this respect.
- Nagas and harpies have been at each others' throats for as long as nagas have been in the Five Realms. Naea is no exception.
- Naea bears a host of raised lash marks on her arms, torso and tail, almost all of which were clumsily self-inflicted years ago.
- For reference: female nagas are almost always larger and stronger than males.

[Obscene Symphony]

Pastor things:
- Self reflection (keeps a detailed diary)
- I don't remember Anglicans talking much about the devil or hell, maybe I should try to go to church a bit and see if I remember
- Anglicans don't have confession - he thinks that it doesn't matter what horrible thoughts or ideas pop into your head (devil whispering in your ear? see above point) but rather how you respond to them (do you act on them/ignore them/act against them by doing good?)
- Synod stresses competency AND passion