Name:Hume
Type:Monstrous
Appearance:
Personality:Quiet and softspoken, Hume is a loving and caring individual. He loves to teach, to inspire, to bring hope, to make things easy, and to warm hearts. While not the most outgoing, and therefore not some exaggerated 'bringer of love to all', he can be very passionate about the wellbeing of those close to him, and he has few compunctions about bringing people closer. Hume has an eye for the suffering, sick, and restless, and aims to bring comfort to those especially. While he dislikes fighting, his passion can lead him to fight with brutal strength for the sake of others, and with a heavy heart he can bring himself to eliminate those he judges too evil to continue afflicting the world.
Core:Peace
Background:The spark that brought Hume to life was the singular wish of one on the precipice of death.
A woman was forced to flee with her husband and their three young children from their home city. With a gang of merciless men with cruel intent never far behind, they plunged into the hateful wilderness until they left their pursuers far, far behind. Ragged and torn, exhausted and unwell, they stumbled upon a miracle: a safe haven, secreted away from the ruinous elements and hungry eyes of beasts. There they enjoyed a time of rest, free from the years of persecution—all too brief, for the ingenuity of man found a way.
In the dead of night the escapee's dogged pursuers, guided by their conduit partners, descended upon their haven. The husband fought back, revealing his true nature in full, and though he fought with true desperation and incredible strength he was driven to the brink beneath their onslaught. Choking back tears, the wife enacted the plan they'd hoped would never need come to fruition; she assembled the conduits and allowed her life to flow through them, and as the blades fell upon her she shrieked her final plea.
“Protection!”
But in her heart of hearts, she'd already given up. In that moment, her soul wished not for protection -for the strength to withstand all comers- but for peace, an end to suffering. A construct awoke, big and round and soft, and stared at its creators and their destroyers with wide eyes. When they struck him, his snow-white flesh bled a soothing mist, and they lost their will to fight. One by one Hume embraced them, reducing them to nothingness beneath his heavy arms, wondering all the while why humans would kill one another in such a vicious world. When he turned with great sadness to meet his makers, he found them side by side, painlessly fallen asleep, and never to awaken.
Guilt plagued him the rest of his days, though even if otherwise, he would have still taken the same path. He bonded with the children, not just to preserve his own existence, but to be for them what they had lost. He cared for them over the years, taught them all he could from reason to emotion, and grew to love them dearly. As they grew, they were able to live in safety thanks to Hume, and little by little other outcasts found their home. Humans and constructs alike, adrift or in search of a rumored paradise, discovered what came to be known as the remote settlement of Foghome. There they found solace, comfort, and safety, for none who came with hatred or sword could oppose their construct protectors, with the peace-loving but firm Hume leading the way. Eventually, even the constructs who originally pursued the first family reawoke and found forgiveness. In Foghome, just as it had for that family who fled so long ago, the line between human and construct blurred. Perhaps its villagers came as close to harmony as anyone in this world ever could.
It started slow and weak, the sickness. So slow and weak that nobody noticed until its knives were at their throats. The plague ate humans up from within, numbing their minds and dimming their life forces. Within a few days, none remained free of its grip. Fear filled the construct villagers, as they knew that none of their companions would be able to make it to the nearest city. Even if they did nothing but rest, they'd be gone in less than a fortnight. Hume, strongest and heartiest among them, vowed to go alone and find help. Sustained by his reserve of life energy, he trudged tirelessly through wood and vale, through day and night, until he reached the city. “Please,” he asked them, “Bring your doctors and physicians. My friends are sick. My children are dying. I will protect you, so please, come!”
He offered the citizens everything, begging and pleading, and at last some agreed. True to his word, he protected them as he made the trek, though he could only do so much. At length he and the few remaining volunteers staggered into Foghome, and there they found peace. They were all dead—dead by their own hands, having been consumed by their fear and pain. They had chosen to kill themselves rather than waste away, watching their loved ones succumb one by one, in terror and loneliness, convinced that no rescue would come. Hume wept, and wept, and wept, and wondered why.
Eventually, he returned to the city. His broken heart remained, but he needed children to protect, pain to take away, and troubles to put at ease.
Abilities:Hume has incredible natural strength. While he's quite slow, and therefore not a good fighter, he can quite literally annihilate almost anything he gets his hands on or arms around if he so chooses. He's also pretty sturdy; while he can be cut easily, it takes a lot to really hurt him. His body circulates a cool numbing mist, which he can exhale, or bleed in large quantities if hurt. Organisms -including constructs- exposed to it find their movements slowed as their muscles loosen and relax, and it exerts a soporific effect on the mind. In small quantities it can sedate and bring peaceful sleep, but too much (particularly against already-weakened targets) can cause the body to shut down, causing comas or even death. However, if Hume releases it consciously, he can fine-tune its dosage, allowing him to blanket vast areas with what's essentially normal fog. When inside his own fog clouds, Hume has been observed disappearing and moving at unnaturally high speed, making him extremely hard to pin down; it's almost as if he can become fog himself.
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