Atrophy

Awilix (Closed version)

Serenity Cloverfield is a fucking good name and I will, one day, steal it as if it were my own idea.

Awilix (Closed version)

Name:

Dr. Karina Pulaski

Gender:

Female

Cycle/Age:

10 cycles | 40y/o

Appearance:

At 5’6”, seemingly average build, with light brown hair, brown eyes, and lightly tanned skin, Karina’s body has the desirable effect of “being part of the crowd”. She dresses in neutral colors and tends to keep her head down when she is in public places. Her facial features are sharp, and her resting face has often been described as unpleasant. The woman seems to shrink into herself when she stands and has a soft voice that hardly qualifies above a mutter.

Lunos:

Acid

Weapons:

The L&M P-15 Peacekeeper (colloq. “Loud & Messy”)

A personal defense weapon noted for its obnoxiously loud warm-up sound, ugly design, and its extremely explosive and gory stopping power. Similar in appearance to an old flare gun down to its garish orange color, the P-15 fires a single, large explosive slug that can punch a fist sized cavity through the chest of a lightly armored attacker and effectively stop most hostiles with a single shot. The P-15 was marketed as a self-defense weapon used to dissuade violence, and thus when the trigger lock is disengaged it begins to emit a loud noise similar to that of a turbine engine as a warning to any hostile targets that they are about to have their day ruined. In hindsight between the high-risk of collateral damage and the time it took to reload the single shot weapon, the advertising of an extremely powerful hand cannon to untrained civilians was a particularly horrible idea and the “Loud & Messy” was quietly pulled from the market. Still, the sound of a readied Peacekeeper humming inflicts the same iconic, pants-shitting fear today as one would have centuries ago when they heard the slow pump of a shotgun being cycled or the loud click of a revolver being cocked.

Equipment:

The SideALECK V2 by Zone

A grossly expensive tablet that features a data scanner that can almost instantly pull up any known information on people, places, and things just by capturing it on the scanner’s camera that can let any user of the SideALECK, to quote the advertisements, “know-it-all any time, right on time, every time.” Comes equipped with a VI (ALECK) that responds to voice commands, a nifty holographic projector, and options for an extended one-year warranty. V2 now comes with the much demanded feature of a silent mode for the VI, which was met with rather lukewarm reaction by the public due to what some considered having “the most goddamn annoyingly cheerful voice ever known to man”. It also comes preloaded with solitaire and the award winning album by everyone’s favorite pop duo JAM-n-I. (”Coming Soon: The SideALECK V2.02 optional premium upgrade which has minor bug fixes, faster load times on shop interface, and allows for the award winning album by everyone’s favorite pop duo can now be deleted from music library. The SideALECK V2.02, from Zone. Get In It.”)

The Canary Masque

A face covering gas mask resembling the beak of its namesake, the Canary Masque is a popular item that can collapse down to the pocket size of a handkerchief when not in use. The device can detect harmful toxins in the air, and will begin emitting a chirping warning like a carbon monoxide detector when the air is considered harmful for humans to breath. When worn, the chirping can be silenced in favor of the user relying solely on the HUD that displays information regarding the severity of the toxicity and the lifespan of the chargeable filter. It’s considered a must-have for Husk miners or Acid Lunos users. As does a pretty good job at just hiding a face and making someone look real suspicious when it is in use publicly.

Character Bio:

The First Cycle

Karina remembers her early life in snapshots. She was born in a place called Warsaw. She recalls not being the smartest student, but she was always the most dedicated to her studies. She cannot remember the names or faces of her childhood friends; perhaps because they never were. There was four years of university in her hometown. Four years of med school at some place called Oxford. Six years of residency in Montreal. Several hundred thousand dollars worth of debt so that she could deliver hundreds upon thousands of naked, screaming infants into the world like clockwork. A happy marriage with her college boyfriend. Trying to have a kid. The knowing winks and side nudges from her colleagues warning her that the only fun part was the trying. An ever increasing feeling of anxiety and stress. Being late. The excitement. The miscarriage. A progressively less happy marriage. An even unhappier separation. Grief counseling. Couples therapy. A surprise rekindling of their romance. Adoption. A son. Their son.

Then the comet came. It’s strange, Karina can barely pull together the faces of her husband or her son from the deep ocean of her memory, but she remembers the the day her wedding ring instantly dissolved in her hands as a small cloud of toxic gas stung her eyes and burned her nose. Within months, many of her associates from medical school found themselves being replaced by people who had been granted healing powers by Lunos. Like her colleagues, Karina remembers being distraught that her Lunos was not one that helped people. Unlike her colleagues who had gone on to become surgeons and physicians, an obstetrician’s job was not one easy replaced by people who waved their hands around and magically made that acute lead poisoning wound dislodge the bullet and seal itself shut. Evolution be damned, she still had babies to deliver.

But each year, it was less and less. Each year, there were more complications during pregnancy and birth, more cases of infertility, and a drastic decrease in the demand for contraceptives. News broke about the vast increase in infertility around the same time as the first wave of Healers began to collapse and die from overuse. Humanity, so it seemed, had been dealt a pretty terrible side effect by Lunos. Karina remembers things getting pretty dark back then. A lot of people gave up. A lot of people started to show their true nature. But some rose to the occasion. Karina was one of those people, and for that she was given a new body when hers was close to dying.

The Second and Third Cycle

Karina’s started her second cycle by burying her son. He had been on the waiting list for a new body when he had passed. She can’t even remember when her husband had died. She does remember being sad, and how she had felt the same harrowing emptiness before. Even today, there were sounds, touches, scents, and phrases that could easily rend her as much as they confused her. Most of her second cycle was spent transitioning from delivering the lucky children that were born to trying to improve the process it took for them to grow new bodies for the remainder of the population. By the end of her second cycle, she had witnessed more humans gestate in cylinders of viscous ooze for eighteen years at a time than children being born naturally from their mothers.

During both of her second and third cycle, Karina began learning more and more about DNA splicing, gene therapy, and Lunos. She spent years and years researching and experimenting on the wildlife of Awilix. She spent years and years experimenting on willing subjects—women who had been able to give birth, men who were deemed not impotent. With permission from their leaders, she and her small team of scientist were even allowed to try to alter the genetic makeup of the human doubles they were growing in an effort to revert their genomes to how they had been pre-Lunos. For years and years she racked up further failures, further embarrassments, and further distrust from her superiors.

The Fourth Cycle

She had not produced any results. Karina was told that the leaders needed all of their scientific minds focusing on methods that, while not solving the problem, helped diminish its effects. Karina’s team was dismantled, but she was kept on to work with the team of scientists and doctors. Karina had heard whispers that the only reason she had been brought back for a fourth cycle was because she was one of the few doctors who were still considered dependable enough to deliver babies when a woman did become pregnant. It made her valuable, but not if she cost more than she was worth.

The Fifth Cycle, the Sixth Cycle, the Seventh Cycle, & the Eighth Cycle

So she worked herself nearly to death just to prove her worth. No time to think about restarting a family. No time to think about her prior research. No time to think about forming friendships. No time to think about anything but what the leaders wanted her to study, really.

She worked and she worked and she worked.

The Ninth Cycle

Karina Pulaski knew what was happening. She remembered it from her youth, her first youth. The truth. She did not learn it in a medical class, she did not learn it in a hospital. It wasn’t the words of some great scholar, or some great leader. It was her husband. He had said something once, something she had forgotten. Something that had dissolved from her memory like her wedding band had dissolved from her finger, but still lingered in her senses like the phantom smell of the toxic cloud. She remembered laughing at the comment at the time because it had made her uncomfortable, playing it like it was an off-color joke.

He had said that, sometimes, extinction was a good thing.

She got it now. He wasn’t referring to the human race. He was referring to their generation, the generation the leaders belonged in. Before her time, generations would die off and the culture and mentality of society would shift, progress, and evolve. The leaders feared that. They did not want to cure infertility. They did not want humans to thrive again. They wanted things to stay the same so that they could remain in power. It’s why they did not fund her studies. It’s why they forced her to continue chasing symptoms instead of curing the disease. They were letting humanity grow stagnant, condemning it to a state of purgatory until they inevitably drained Awilix of its resources and moved on to leech off of the next habitable planet.

She had wasted hundreds of years trying to appease them with hopes that she was working towards something great while monitoring the human gardens and checking and double checking the wiring of humanoid robots. Instead, she felt as if she had just been little more than a pawn in a giant, pointless game of chess. Worst still, nobody else saw that the leaders were quietly betraying the rest of humanity. Of course, Karina had no proof and knew that shaking the status quo would take more than spirit and a soapbox. If she provided the public with a solution to the Lunos problem, however, then the leaders would be left behind in their old ways. In private, she restarted her research—but it was quickly put on halt by the announcement of a pregnancy.

It was a rather major event for the people of Awilix. The mother was essentially a celebrity (whereas most reputable news sources were kind enough to avoid airing the scandal surrounding the line of men who were claiming to be the father). It had been months, years, a decade even since Karina had delivered a child, yet she was still the most qualified for the job—secretly Karina knew that as long as there were no complications most childbirths simply handled themselves. For nearly nine months, Karina spent her days beside the new mother. And then the day came when the mother was ready to have the child.

There were complications during labor. The child was not receiving oxygen. Karina knew what had gone wrong, knew what to do to fix it, but her body refused to cooperate. It was too clumsy, too worn down from sixteen-hour long days of researching and monitoring, too used to handling dead metal instead of real life. Her tools felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. The child died. To Karina, it was a failure that could have been averted if the leaders had funded her research centuries ago. She tried her damndest to explain the situation to the media in a way that allow them to open the eyes of the public and see that the true failures here were not the doctor that had been so out of practice because there were no infants to ever deliver, but the leaders that had refused to see the bigger picture years ago.

Her explanation was not aired. Overnight, Karina went from a minor researcher and occasional obstetrician of little importance to The Landing’s most infamous and hated individual. The media twisted the story. Claimed that it had been premeditated for this reason or that reason. A tribunal was being demanded, or so she heard. She didn’t wait around for the arrest. Karina knew that the leaders would not approve of her going into a new cycle, not after she had so quickly thrown them under the bus in a moment of panic. Likewise, she knew that the public would not listen to somebody that was being painted as a child killer.

Karina Pulaski’s body was found smeared across the pavement outside of her apartment building. A note sealed the case closed pretty quickly, and the media coverage began to peter out as no sign of foul play was discovered. Meanwhile, a small clerical error made one of the new body’s in the human gardens disappear from the books, allegedly disposed of due to “technicalities”, about three hours before Karina’s reported suicide. By the time the connection was discovered, the real Karina Pulaski had disappeared into the underbelly of The Landing with nothing but a grudge, a fake name, and hundreds of years of knowledge and copied design docs for human cultivation and robotics manufacturing.

All she needed was some interested investors.

The Tenth Cycle

People talk about the Doctor in hushed tones. They say she used to work for those bigwigs up in City Hall back in the day. They say she has a warehouse hidden somewhere underground where she’s been growing bodies, and if you agree to sign a certain contract you can get yourself some of her “life insurance” and get your name put right on the spot for when your next cycle comes. No waiting lists, no being bumped for those with deeper pockets—assuming, of course, that you get on her good side. They say that nobody ever hears about those that get on her bad side. They say that lately she’s been trying to get in touch with the Children of Umbra, seeing as how they both have a mutual opponent.

People tend to say a lot of bullshit, but at least it makes most scared to come knocking.

Karina Pulaski was operating a cycle shop, and she did have a warehouse full of new bodies at one point. Of course, the woman was a doctor and a researcher, not a mastermind criminal, and at some point they found her trail. She escaped, but her research was lost, the bodies were offloaded to a government facility, and her warehouse was liquidated. Now she’s not only wanted by the authorities but by the seedier individuals who had put a body on layaway and would soon find that the woman did not offer refunds because, well, she had spent all of their money. She is seeking to get in touch with the Children of Umbra, although largely just so that she can be safely harbored by them until the heat dies down and she can continue her research.

Long Term Motivation:

At this point Karina can’t tell if she wants to find a solution for the Lunos problem and cure infertility or remove the old leaders from power more. In a way, she believes both will inevitably cause the other to happen.

Persona: Crossroads

holy FUCK its a party in here

@Attis

Yeah, but it's one of those Silent Disco type parties where everybody is just listening to their own music, nobody's talking to each other, and some dude has been in the bathroom for like the past hour.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Joy

Full Name: Vesta Debove
Nicknames: Joy
Titles: Captain (revoked)
Occupation: Bandit, former Sellsword, former Royal Guard
Birthday: March 9th
Height: 5'6”
Weight: 150 lbs
Race: Human
Sex/Gender: Female
Age: 39
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Place of Birth: Barcea

Biography: Vesta was born to a minor noble family in Barcea. The youngest of six siblings, she knew that she'd have to prove her worth to achieve any sort of acknowledgement. Unable to compete with her siblings when it came to intellectual or social pursuits, Vesta found her niche in fighting. Even from a young age she could best her eldest brother in a fight, and when she came of marrying age she insisted in dueling any of her prospective suitors much to her parent's disdain. However, their disdain soon changed when word of her martial skill got to the King. Almost instantly the story they told became of how they absolutely encouraged their daughter to pick up the sword and bow, and how they would be oh-so-honored to have her serve in his personal guard, and how it would be best if her stipend was sent to their homestead for it to be better protected.

If Vesta was thrilled to be in the service of the King it did not reflect through her attitude. Never the most socially graceful of people, Vesta's serious, all-business attitude won her the reputation of being a killjoy amongst the Royal Guard. By the time she was promoted to Captain of the Royal Guard even the King had taken to calling her by her nickname, Joy. Vesta did not mind; she firmly believed it was her seriousiness that had gotten her to be the most accomplished member out of her family. Unfortunately for Vesta, the first year of serving as Captain was the same year of the doomed campaign West. According to the surviving guardsmen, Vesta failed in her duties to protect the King. She was relinquished of her command without ever having the chance to tell her side. Disgraced, Vesta did not wait around to receive any other forms of punishment. Abandoning her family and her country, Vesta fled from Barcea with nothing but a horse, a sword, and whatever gold she could carry.

Taking up her old nickname, the first few years of Joy's self-exile was in the West. However, even in the tumoltous times after a war she was unable to find herself a foothold. Hearing of the Arena in Gurata, Joy made the harrowing journey to seek victory. What she thought would be her chance of redemption after battling her way uphill for years was instead a sheer drop off a cliff. After a fantastic win streak, an ungodly powerful blow with a war hammer shattered her budding gladiator career as well as her right knee. The rest of the year was spent using what little gold she had left was to purchase a bed in a lice-ridden inn and care for her wound.

Her injury never healed completely, preventing her from being a bodyguard; nobody wants some cripple to protect their life. Her pride prevented her from going home or seeking charity. Uneducated, uncouth, and now permanently crippled, Joy believed that the only option she could turn to was banditry. The last few years of her life have been spent in self-disgust, finding solace only in the bottom of a bottle. At some point she hit the very bottom of her downward spiral whenshe committed an atrocity that made her realize what she had become. She was last seen in H'kela working alone, trying to crawl out the grave she was digging herself into.

Personality: Stern and humorless from childbirth, the years of hardship have tempered Joy into a hardboiled and callous pessimist. Still, Joy does not let her old wounds hold her back from being a person of action. She views herself almost like a wounded animal backed into a corner, hopelessly doomed yet refusing to die. While this can be viewed as strong determination and a will to live she views it as cowardice. Joy is disgusted with herself, and would like nothing more than to undo what she has become. She has yet to see if that is even possible. Despite her fall from grace, Joy still has a sense of morality. She refuses to physically harm innocents and has gotten quite good at using threats and lies in place of actual violence. If forced to fight, she tries to be merciful and honorable, and wounds or kills only in life-or-death situations. The rare times she's in a good mood (and the less rare times when she is inebriated) Joy is prone to giving people unwanted advice that generally boils down to the reason nobody should ever try. She's a blast at parties.

Likes: Books on fighting and military tactics, long baths, horse rides, fresh bread, fair fights, and alcohol.

Dislikes: Herself, bandits, long walks, dancing, most forms of stew, dirty fights, and alcohol.

Skills/Strengths: Above all else, Joy is very convincing liar and has one of the strongest poker faces in the land. She is hard to catch off guard and has shockingly fast hands. As well, she is still a very talented archer, and is quite skilled with a sword despite being forced to use her offhand. Joy can also drink almost anybody under the table.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Joy crippled leg has greatly lowered her mobility, thus she can easily be overwhelmed by a swordsman of lesser skill with a longer reach. She also cannot carry as much weight due to the strain and is limited when it comes to wearing heavy armor. To top it off, she is an alcoholic and must have a drink or begins to suffer from withdrawals after a few hours, making it much harder to aim her bow or coherently spin a lie.

Weapons/Equipment: A longsword which scabbard doubles as a walking stick, a composite bow and a quiver with only about five arrows left, a half-empty flask of alcohol and a completely empty flask of water, a pouch full of soon to mold bread, a lantern, a tinderbox, a whittling knife, and a dangerously light gold purse.

Appearance: The last fifteen years have not done Joy any favors. Once a fair-skinned, raven haired beauty the elements have carved out much of what once made her attractive. Her black hair is now streaked with gray, caked with dirt, and amateurishly cut so that it falls around chin length. Her skin is tanned, dirty, and leathery, making her appear to be older than she actually is. She shares the sharp, noble features of her family, with gray eyes, a slight nose, and high cheekbones. Joy dresses lightly and for utility. Her leather boots are muddied, well worn, and comfortable. Her black trousers are padded for slight protection and she wears a long leather gambeson over a dirtied, sweatstained blouse. Leather gloves protect her hands. Her bow is slung over her back, her quiver hangs from her gambeson's belt, and she uses her sword's reinforced scabbard as a makeshift cane. When she speaks, her voice betrays a highborn upbringing and has an air of command to it, she walks with a noticeable limp, and often smells of sweat, liquor, and wet grass. If there is one blessing the years have done to her, it is that she is almost completely unrecognizable from the person she used to be.

Theme Song: Sufjan Stevens- The Only Thing

Main or Side: Main

Username: Atrophy

Ennis Cade

Full Name: Ennis Cade
Titles: Ambassador
Occupation: Councilman, Ambassador
Birthday: June 19th
Height: 6'2”
Weight: 130 lbs
Race: Human
Sex/Gender: Male
Age: 22
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Place of Birth: The Kirun, H'kela

Biography: Many generations ago the Cade family came into control of the Kirun, a small mountain settlement in H'kela near the border of Kyoura and Gurata. The location saw to it that the family and settlement was soon flush with wealth from trade, as well as protected from its jealous neighbors that were envious of the metal ores and magical gems harbored in the Kirun's mines. Over the years, the settlement turned into a bustling trade city, serving as a regular stop for traders and mercenaries traveling by land between H'kela and Kyoura. While lacking in numbers, their wealth allowed them to outfit their soldiers with the finest weapons. War was their largest business, and for many years having a fighting force led by a Cade almost guarenteed a victory. The warriors of the Kirun were known for their prowess, ferocity, and most important of all, loyalty. Once a contract was signed, the soldiers of the Kirun belonged to the contractor. To a Cade, your word was everything. Yet despite this, the Cade family of the Kirun were still tried and true H'kelans, and as the borders began to set and tensions with Barcea rose they strictly limited their services to their fellow countrymen. As well, the Cades were always a religious family, and believed that a united H'kela under one king was the only true way to worship Danmun. They signed one last contract and swore fealty to the right man, and helped put and keep the king on the throne. Still to this day, their family name is known across all of H'kela and even in its neighboring countries.

This legacy creates an unfortunate problem for Ennis Cade, the youngest and only living son of the current head of the Cade family and Lord of the Kirun. A magically peculiar boy afflicted with what his family referred to as “Kirun's Curse”, Ennis was forced to spend most of his youth bedridden watched over by a court mage. Due to this he (perhaps fortunately) missed much of the typical H'kela childhood for a mage. Even when he capable of casting the spells to keep his affliction at bay and free to venture out in the Kirun he was kept from being pulled into the H'kela military by his father. His two elder brothers had been slain in battle with Barcea, and Lord Cade refused to have his last son put in such a position that risked his life. Instead, he was mentored by his father and learned how to shrewdly handle business and govern a trade city like a true Cade. He took to the politicking and the games that came with dealing with the nobility and the lower classes, and since the war between the two countries was now held at an uncertain ceasefire Ennis felt that even without martial power he could still serve his family and country like his brothers had. He came to his father with his wish to serve as an adviser to the King during peace times, with bright and naive plans to find a way to establish trade and prosperity between the two countries.

His father refused vehemently, but Ennis pressed the issue. The two finally came to a compromise that neither of them initially liked. Ennis was free to go and live in the Capitol of H'kela, his father was free to settle a century long dispute between a rival family by tying them by blood through marriage. New wife in tow, Ennis moved to the Capitol where, thanks to his family name, he was given a position to serve on Gartian's small council. The man gave his word, on his family's name, that he would do everything to help H'kela. Still, despite his intentions his first year was an eventful and difficult one. Orissa, his wife, had a daughter, Avery. Ennis discovered that over the years his family had acquired several “blood feuds”, and his refusal to settle these in duels and overall lack of physical strength quickly labeled him as a coward. Worst of all, Gartian despised the man. The King of H'kela was not looking for ideas for opening up trade or peacefully resolving years and years of conflict with hope that Barcea's new prosperity would leak over. The second year he was regulated to remedial adminstrative and steward duties that were below his position and knowledge. The third year threatened to be a repeat of the second. With the sinking feeling that he was letting his family and his country down, Ennis did the only thing he could do: he persisted. It would be a disgrace to his father to do anything else. Even while serving below his position, he would pester the King whenever he was within earshot with his ideas.

The King finally cracked. Ennis knew that Gartian would probably have any other man killed, but he also knew the King wanted a war. If he was to lose the support of the Cade family he might as well march on Barcea with an outfit of drunks wielding sticks. He agreed to allow Ennis to enter into talks with Barcea. He'd even be promoted to an Ambassador, a title that H'kela rarely gave out (due to rarely ever having one). Ennis's elation was short lived. Sure, he could try to convince the Barcean nobles of his peaceful desires, but all final decisions would have to be approved by Gartian. Meaning that Ennis was effectively powerless. Any other man would see this insult as what it was, exile, and backdown, but Ennis had given his word. He would help H'kela anyway he could, even if it didn't want it. Thus, for the last year Ennis has been serving as an almost useless Ambassador as war clouds rise on the horizon. With the rise in bandit attacks and his King's troops roaming near the borders Ennis has found himself to be an unwanted guest deep within unfriendly territory. Troubling still, he cannot shake the feeling that he is under a constant watch.

Personality: Ennis is affable and openly seeks conversation whenever possible. He has learned from shadowing his father how to compromise and persuade people, and while decent at it he often thinks too much with his heart and rarely puts himself in a favorable position. A follower of Danmun and believes in the importance of control, but sees in his mind that control is very much the same as order and that order is best established through being just and righteous. The most important value he holds to him is not a religious one, but a family one: loyalty. Thus while sometimes apologetic about his country's ways, Ennis is still extremely loyal to H'kela. As well, he tries not to show it but he is deeply troubled and frustrated when people do not respect him and feels pressure to live up to his family's legacy. His wealthy and positive upbringing has left him with slightly unrealistic ideals.

Likes: H'kela, family, pleasant conversation, gardens, Barcea, commerce, balance, peaceful resolutions.

Dislikes: Gartian, homesickness, truffles, being called a coward, that constant and lingering feeling of being inadequate, battles.

Skills/Strengths: Ennis is a practiced public speaker. His family name sometimes grants him favorable treatment, especially in H'kela. He has a great amount of wealth he can fall back on if he needs it. Kirun's Curse absorbs any harmful or helpful magic casted upon or near him, preventing him from being effected by the spells and granting him the ability to use them with little effort.

Flaws/Weaknesses: The early years of his affliction have made Ennis a physically weak and sickly man, and when he gets hurt or ill he has to be taken care of the hard way. His family name sometimes grants him unfavorable treatment, especially in H'kela. If Kirun's Curse does not absorb any magic after a few hours then it begins to drain Ennis's own life energy. As well, his peculiar affliction prevents him from “remembering” more than three spells at once, and he is forced to “forget” a spell whenever a new spell is cast upon him. Once a spell is “forgotten” he can never use it again, although he is still immune to the effects. He can only learn spells through Kirun's Curse.

Equipment: Ennis travels with a sack of gold and a comfortable carriage filled with his basic needs. Namely, food, wine, literature, and finery. He has a sword that serves as more of an accessory than a weapon. He also has a driver/bodyguard/servant named Yan, but it's fairly messed up to really consider him equipment.

Appearance: Ennis is a scrawny and pale young man who makes up for his unimposing physique with lavish clothes and accessories. The noble wears a well fitted blue, hip-length tunic with gold embroidery over a black velvet shirt with padded shoulders in a somewhat obvious attempt to make him look more masculine. His trousers are a similar dark velvet, his boots look new and shined, and a saber with a jeweled hilt and scabbard is tucked into his belt. His cloak is golden in color, lined with fine furs, and pinned to his shirt with lapis brooches. A black tricorne hat lined with golden trime and large white feather sits on top of his head. His wavy dirty blonde hair is kept about chin length and his eyes are a dark brown. His nose is hooked and looks a little too large for his face. A neatly trimmed beard covers up what would otherwise be a weak jawline.

Theme Songs: Fleet Foxes– Helplessness Blues

Other: Remembered Spells-A spell that creates a blinding light, a spell that can quickly shift earth into barriers, and a spell that makes one speak gibberish.
Forgotten Spells-A rather nasty firestorm one, a healing light, a zone of healing, a ray of frost, magic missiles, and a spell that forced people to tell the truth.

Main or Side: Main
Username: Atrophy

Awilix (Closed version)

Should be finishing up my character today or tomorrow.

<Snipped quote by FantasyChic>
Awesome! (Was secretly worried no one would choose something other than tech xD)

@NuttsnBolts

Pfft, tech. I'm all about that acid, man!

_{...should probably rephrase that...}

Persona: Crossroads

Lady...fucks?

Taro’s thought process as he tried to determine whether or not that title included him was interrupted by stronger and stronger tremors. He didn’t quite get what was going on, and the back and forth on whether things here should have been dead or alive were trying to spark an existential crisis that his mind wasn’t really capable of debunking. He had, silently and proudly, told himself that he would have known if he was dead, because if he was dead then he wouldn’t be alive —which he was, fallacy aside. Taro quickly tucked out of the way of the pushy lady and raised an eyebrow as she chucked Akito over her shoulder with ease. As she turned to order the group to move their asses, Taro felt his eye twitch. Shouldn’t he have been the one telling them to get going? Surely his speech would have been much more rousing and much less dependent on using the “fuck crutch”.

“What Izuki said. Well, not word for word, I mean, I don’t think I could get away with—nevermind. We should go. Let’s go,” he said, as if he had to get in the final word before they ran from whatever nightmare thing was hunting them and their little flame friend. However, he did not beat feet right away towards the exit. Instead, he sidled past the others and made his way to Mari. If she was blind like Izuki had said, then it was a gentlemanly—the train shook with another heavy tremor—Okay, we need to just get the hell outta here.

“Hey, Mari,” he said, outstretching his hand towards her with a bright smile. “I’m Taro. Sorry you got stuck with me, but Izuki’s right,” he leaned in closer to whisper, “and she sort of scares the crap out of me. Look, er, listen, I’m sure you probably don’t really need my help, so consider this to be doing me a favor so that chick doesn’t yell at me? Cool?”

He glanced down at his outstretched hand, flushed a shade of red, and grabbed her hand. “Okay, let’s go. Nothing in our way right now, but,” the train shook again, “but we should hurry up and talk about the scenery another time. Just yell at me if pulling too fast, okay?”

And with that, Taro began half-dragging Mari after Izuki and Akito, all thoughts of playing in the engine room taking a backseat as whatever that thing’s friend grew louder and louder. His eyes fell on the blue wisp as it darted through to the next train cart, serving as some sort of guiding beacon for the group of young adults. Hopefully the thing held the pinky swear to the same level of sacredness that they did—Taro doubted it would be easy to find a way to cut off the pinky of a flame guy just for lying to them, especially if he ended up killing all of them.

That’s not a pleasant picture, thought Taro, his grip tightening on Mari’s hand as they fell in behind the others.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Vesta V. Oubera
Round Two

A wave of exclamation surfaced through the crowd as Vesta caught an explosion of energy from out of the corner of her eye, but she had no time to parse together what had actually occurred. She had to take down Oubera. The foe in front of her was acting as if, or perhaps actually incapable of, feeling any pain, whereas she could feel the aching bones in her nose and the throbbing pain in her knee. She knew exactly how much more strain she could take before she would be unable to fight any more; the man, however, probably wouldn't realize he had overexerted himself before it was too late. She could use that against him.

Shuffling forward, she feinted a strike towards his head with her scabbard before deftly drawing her blade with her left hand and slicing it towards the ligaments of one of his elbows. Her hands moved like a whirlwind. If he noticed her feint and used his mass to hold onto her blade again she would let go of her scabbard and tear at the back of his knee with her whittling knife; if he tried swinging his warhammer she would keep pushing closer and continue to slash at his joints. Either way, she was not planning on relenting her assault unless he found a way to force her back. Vesta knew that she wouldn't be able to move in on him with her bad knee much longer.

Even at Vesta's (admittedly slow) approach, Oubera held his ground and remained relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that he pulled his cut hand from his weapon again, wiping it against the furs he wore in the time he had on her approach before drawing it back over to the weapon. As she began to swing his eyes narrowed, remaining locked on the hilt of her blade rather than the scabbard itself. Perhaps he was expecting the feint, or perhaps he was simply unconcerned with a blunt blow, but whatever the reason he was prepared for the strike from the blade.

He did not attempt to catch the blade again, nor did he attempt to swing with his warhammer to strike or block, at least not immediately. Instead, he did what Vesta simply couldn't, suddenly pushing off with both feet to leap forwards in a sudden bull rush. The gap was closed and he crashed into her with his right shoulder, easily sending the smaller woman up and then down off her feet, to the ground. Only then did the man swing with his weapon, bringing it up and then down in a massive two-handed blow that was aimed to crush through her head to the ground.

Her scabbard was dislodged from her hand as the mass of muscle crashed into her, but Vesta managed to keep her grip on her sword. She felt her knee more or less give away as she landed on the ground with a hard thud. She had no time to catch her breath, and as Oubera began to bring his hammer down she was had already rolled onto her side. As chunks of rock and dirt peppered the back of her skull, Vesta twisted her right arm back and locked it around the shaft of the warhammer. She knew the man was likely strong enough to break her hold, but hoped that it would serve as enough of a distraction to keep him from noticing the movement of her left hand as she quickly slashed at his ankles.

She managed to slash one ankle with her attack, simply because the other was already moving. As soon as she had grabbed the warhammer Oubera had lashed out with a kick, and as the sharp metal of her blade cut into his flesh his heavy foot crashed into arm, a less than pleasant crack sounding out on the impact. With the slash he almost tumbled, the foot he kicked with coming down heavily to keep him from going down entirely. For the briefest of moments confusion flashed over his face, but it almost immediately passed as he instead reached out for her, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck to fling her away before he struggled to stand once again.

Vesta landed on the ground once again, twisting her body in such a way to avoid even more injury and to quickly allow herself to sweep up into a sitting position. There was no way she was going to be able to get up to her feet. Cursing under her breath and trying to ignore the pain, she let her sword fall to the ground with a clatter and slung her bow off of her body—she was extremely thankful the hard wood had not splintered during their scuffle. As Oubera struggled to stand, she unscrewed the cover on her quiver and quickly nocked and fired two arrows in quick succession at his center mass. If the man did not close the distance she would continue to try and turn him into a pin cushion; the second he began moving to her she would be ready to grab her sword, twist to mitigate whatever blow came her way, and thrust her weapon as deep into any flesh that she could find.

Oubera brought both arms up in front of his chest as he turned his body, stopping just before he could completely stand. Both arrows found their mark in his arms, though he barely flinched. His hands moved, going to each arrow to break away the fletchings of them before he started to proceed forwards once again. Moving with a staggering sort of limp, the big man closed the distance as quickly as he could. He only came to a stop as he reached the point where he could use his warhammer, already lifting the heavy weapon to bring another swing down towards her once more.

As the man staggered towards her like a wounded ox, Vesta slung her bow back over her chest and grabbed her sword. Steadying herself with her right arm and left leg, she coiled back and sprung forward and to the side as the man smashed the hammer down into the ground once more. As she landed on her shoulder, she grabbed her sword with her strong arm and thrust with all of her speed and might at his good ankle with hopes of cutting him down like a tree. If it worked, she would roll herself into a position where she could use the man's size against him and have his weight drive him through her sword.

Her blow was true, piercing through his ankle with ease. However, he still did not tumble. He swayed slightly, looking like he might go down at any moment before, suddenly, he slammed the warhammer down to prop himself up, keeping it standing only by leaning against it, gripping it tightly. Slowly, he looked down to his own legs, before to her with a rueful sort of smirk.

"Seems like the tables have turned, haven't they?"

Vesta twisted her body so that could sit, her sword drawn back and ready to strike out like a cobra. She glared at the man with a viscous intensity as he spoke, but she did not attack.

"They haven't," she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "If you surrender now, there is a woman in the Prince's entourage who can mend those injuries before it's too late. There's no shame in knowing when you're bested. Of course, the crowd would never accept that. I doubt anybody would pay for you to fight again, but an able-bodied retirement is better than a crippled one," she said, driving her blade into the ground and forcing her self up—silently hating her body for shaking under the strain of lifting her weight with one good leg. "Or I can kill you if you are unable to live with a bruised ego. Either way, you'd have lost to a crippled drunkard."

"No, I just lost to a cripple. You definitely aren't drunk today." Oubera gave a laugh then, along with a smirk. "My ego won't bruise so easily from something like this. You fought well today, and I lost, for one reason or another. Well done." With that, he finally sunk to his knees, unable to support himself even with his weapon.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

I've only just noticed this, but we have a lot of lady characters whose names begin with V.

@Kingfisher

But do we have enough?

Personally, I will not rest until all of our characters are ladies whose name begin with a V.

Awilix (Closed version)

@Atrophy

Depends if it's the European DVD release. They actually dubbed over Taco Bell with Pizza Hut. See!

@NuttsnBolts

I'm praying for the re-release where they go all in and just make it a combination Pizza Hut/Taco Bell.

Awilix (Closed version)

@NuttsnBoltsThanks for the clarifications. However, since you mentioned Demolition Man does that mean that Taco Bell will be included as the only restaurant in-universe? Because that's a thing that I can get behind.

And I got a new question that I forgot to ask and came to mind since you brought up people not knowing what to do during child birth. The sketch I have for my character right now was a former OB/GYN doctor who had spent a good part of their original life delivering babies before the comet came by and kinda ruined that whole scene. Over their following cycles, they would have shifted their focus from assisting with child birth to things like DNA splicing to try and remove the infertility gene, human cultivation to prevent the extinction of humanity, and what have you. So, the question would be:

Would people carry their abilities and knowledge between cycles? I'm imagining it would be like they would possess the knowledge of how to do something, but would not necessarily have the muscle memory or the finesse in their new bodies to be any good at it without the required amount of practice. For example, same somebody was an expert marksman and then started a new cycle. Would they know all the dos and don'ts of handling and discharging a firearm, but have to deal with their hands shaking while they are trying to shoot?