Fallenreaper

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

An Unexpected Roadtrip

&

Location: On a side road heading out of NY
Time: Morning (1 am -)

Ben sat upright in the back seat of the moving car, fully human now. His naked figure was mostly cleaned of any bloody remains and modesty provided by what he assumed was a purloined blanket from the truck. It tormented him with itchy flesh much to his already irritated mood causing him to scratch every few minutes at something on this shoulders or legs before he readjusted, mainly to stop any extended touch for brief relief. He continued to stare at both Otto and Rune, their names introduced to him upon transforming back, while he was careful to use the blanket to shield himself from any moonlight.

According to Rune, if he did then he would transform back. He didn’t really want to become a bloody mess again since he still felt filthy. For the most part… he looked like something they picked up directly off the street.

Drinking the herbs provided in the water, his mind was finally clear to ask the two most important questions that lingered on his mind, “Who in the world, are you two? And what insane force drove you to believing kidnapping me was a good idea?”

Naturally he thought they were purely crazy for believing kidnapping a newborn werewolf like himself would result in anything good.

Otto and Rune had been driving for a while now, just away from the Vampire in general and only just now turned the car towards the Stateline. They had ways to make it to Nevada faster than by driving cross country, but the closest shortcut was outside city limits.

“We already gave you our names Kid. I’m Rune. This is Otto.” Rune said as he looked back from where he was driving. “As for why. We need to borrow that nose of yours. Me and Otto are magicians. Not the rabbit out of a hat kind, the real kind.” He said with a grin that was strained to say the least.

Ben’s eyebrow raised at the word magicians. A bit of irony considering he could turn into a looming tall werewolf as his arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes sizing both of them up. It didn’t help his head was on fire despite being human again and a fogginess hurt his focus.

“Something terrible is about to go down, and we need to stop it.” Otto said, ever the calm and collected one. “Turns out a major league demon got a hold of something very powerful. “

“Yeah. Thanks to some snotnosed Witch who cannot see pass her payday” Rune muttered, not aware that Marie and Ben knew each other. “Not that we can do anything about her now, I promised Puck we weren’t gonna hurt her.”

“I doubt kidnapping a minor will really help you save the ‘day’,” Ben said in a sarcastic tone, “Besides there’s a huge over sight with your little idea: I can’t control my shifts. What happens if I’m in the middle of a room full of people and I begin to shift forms? I can’t exactly stop in the middle and go back to human. Another issue is that I can barely recall anything when I go wolf, save for recently and those are hazier than a guy on acid. I won’t remember what you want me to do, let alone not become distracted.”

Rune and Otto looked at each other, then at the teen werewolf then back at one another. Then they began cackling. The cackle turned into full manic laughter, so violent they had to pull the car over. Once they got control over themselves they coughed.

“Ok. So you clearly are new to this.” Otto said trough wheezing, coughing gasps.

“I literally got bitten almost yesterday, so you think?” Ben snapped with an irritation created at being laughed at, his teeth subtly gashed under his pressed lips.

“What he means kid, is that We been doing this for somewhere around 30 years, give or take five.” Rune smirked. “We won’t bring a teen werewolf into a room full of people who aren’t clued in. And Otto here,” He motioned to his friend. “Know a few things about wolfing out. Show the lad your stuff Otto.”

Otto nodded, as he had remained in human form. Stepping out of the car, he clasped an amulet he wore around his neck and closed his eyes. Then he started to change, hair growing thick and black, spreading down his back. His arms swelling with muscle, his teeth elongating. In less than a minute, his hexenwulf form stared at Ben amused.

Instinctively, Ben turned to face outside the window. At the sight of the change, his lips curled back and his teeth bared as he let out a feral growl that surprised even him. It took a moment or two for him to realize it was actually him doing it before he inhaled then took another sip of the water in hopes to brush off the experience. Inside it worried him deeply but he wasn’t about to show that on the outside.

“He ain’t no American Werewolf like you. He is a Hexenwolf, a sort of shaman that imitates or mimics lycanthropy. His amulet was made by a European Gristlehair Werewolf, if that helps. But he is tight with the werewolf community. And he is no threat to you. Neither am I.”

“You’re still expecting me to be able to identify whatever you’re looking for, which means I need to learn to how to do whatever wolves do to track,” The teenager pointed out as he shifted his attention between the two.

“You can smell magic, correct? Your werewolf form was all but drunk of my arcane energies.” Rune said, now with a much easier smile on his lips. “That gives us somewhere to start. All natural werewolves can track, its in their blood. You can to.”

“I don’t… recall that? I mean, I do remember, vaguely, the emotion and it seems to have stuck around because it is why I haven’t literally bolted yet. However… I can’t figure out how to tell one magical source from another, merely if it’s magic. That’s it,” Ben commented, trying to consider what to do as his arms uncrossed. His eyes caught the ring on his finger for a moment and recalled what Marie had said. Without drawing too much attention to it, he ‘made’ a nervous gesture out of it as his fingers rotated it once, twice, then thrice with a deep thought over how to say what he was about to. Alright, it seems two ‘magicians’ have saved me from a vampire and taking me to Nevada… They need my help or so they say, I don’t fully trust them.

“You said you turned and wolf out yesterday, right. You shouldn’t shift on a dime like that.” Otto said, his voice a whole lot more hoarse and rough in his wolf form. His form was seemingly relaxed, he showed no outer signs of hostility whatsoever.

“I’ve literally wolfed out about at least three times already, counting the full moon. None by choice, believe me,” Benjamin explained, honestly. His fingers removed from the ring as he settled into the seat, but his eyes was mindful of both of them.

“Unless…” Rune mumbled. “What if the Soul Stones creation messed him up. That would explain the Pax-Luna stuff.”

“Wait… Pax-Luna what?”

“...Aw shit. It means Peace of the Moon. As in, werewolves shouldn’t turn when the moon isn’t full unless they really want to.” Otto rubbed the bridge of his snout. “Yeah. That would do it. A great mystical nuke being created would mess with a newly formed werewolfs senses.” Otto began to turning back to human again. “Ok, Ben was it? I think we can help you get some more control over it. At least for a while. Turns out, the reason we are on this entire trip, might be the same reason your shifting is out of control.”

“Benjamin,” Ben corrected, not liking anyone besides his dead mother using the shorten version of his name. Even Daniel got the same dirty look he was now showing Otto whenever the mistake was made after his mother died and the man tried to create the illusion of a perfect father, “No one calls me Ben. And if you need someone to smell it out, why can’t you just use yourself? Or another werewolf.”

Otto was about to answer but Rune had picked up on the pained edge of Ben’s voice and spoke instead. “Benjamin it is kid, don’t worry about it.” He said then settled against the hood of the car. “Because I never heard of a werewolf able to track magic before. You are exceedingly rare and just what we need right now.” He said as he went to the trunk of the car and picked up a small plastic jug and some bowls.

“So I’m a freak even among freaks?” He asked, through it wasn’t really a question.

“ Freak? Boy, I am the lover of a Elven King. I am so gay, even the faeries look at me weirdly. Not to mention humans.” Rune chuckled. “You aren’t even registering on the freak scale.”

“Well you’re not cheerful that’s for sure,” He shot back in a smartass fashion, referring to the other meaning of ‘gay’.

Ben’s words made Otto chuckle and Rune rolled his eyes. “Yeah. No. I am an cynic at heart. I just love beautiful pointy eared men too much. Now, Kid. You wanna know what real magic feels like?” He shot him a grin that nobody had ever trusted, but all had caved to in time. The grin of a man who really seen it all. He shook the jug as Otto eyed him wearily.

At seeing the grin, Ben let his blanket slip a bit from his shoulder and prepared to lean back. He didn’t trust it and the fact he was prepared to turn wolf made that very clear.

“We really going to do this?” Otto asked. “Kid’s strung up tighter than a circus rope.”

“It is the fastest way the help the Kid.” Rune shot back. “A little Peyote never hurt anyone.”

“Or give him another reason to never trust us again. And it has. Bad trips are no fun.”

“Its russian roulette for the magical!” Rune exclaimed. “Look. Why don’t we ask Benjamin.” He turned to Ben and said, suddenly serious. “You want to control your beast kid?”

“Yes, but not enough to fully trust two individuals that literally kidnapped me,” Benjamin stated bluntly as he pressed closer to the door. His arm reached out to the handle, mentally bracing himself for the pain when he hit the pavement with his back and make a break for it.

Rune flicked his finger and there was a click from the door. “You shouldn’t trust anybody but your pack kid, the supernatural world is cut throat and full of killers, crooks and worse.” He opened the door closest to him instead.

“But what you can trust, is our need to stop someone very evil from setting off the magical equivalent of a nuke. And the fact that we wish to help so you can help us. We scratch your back, you refrain from calling the CPS about a kidnapping.”

“One, I don’t know you so anything you said could be a lie. A fact you, yourself pointed out was that in the magic world was not to trust anyone. Two, I’ve already been dropped by enough people that I learned not to rely on anyone but myself. It’s pointless to pretend that fact isn’t true for everyone and more of a child’s illusion to pretend people care at all about each other,” Benjamin said as he spoke from experience, his voice held a hardness unfitting a youth his age, “Three, you want to take me to a place I don’t even know, without giving me proof you can even help me.”

“Oh. Look Rune. He is not even half your age and as cynical as you are.” Otto said, not moved in the slightest by the teens existential angst. Truth to be told, they had both seen more than most and Ben's fate, his story and his suffering was dwarfed by some of the stuff they knew others had suffered.

“Well. It will either kill him or save him.” Rune said with a small nod as he began to pour the diluted substance into the three bowls. He looked to Ben. “You do well to remember one thing though Benjamin. You don’t know shit. You are young, and you haven’t experienced half the stuff some people have. Life can always get worse, but it can get better. You think you know people, but you don’t. You paint a broad picture, but your brush is tarnished. Yes. I told you not to trust anyone in this world. I stick to that. Because magic works just as much trough favors, deals and contracts.”

“But you will find or make a pack of your own one day, as Werewolves tend to do. And in it you will see people care for one another. You have that, as a werewolf. You might see yourself a freak right now, but one day, you will merely see yourself as individual like any other.”

It was Ben’s turn to chuckle, “I doubt that.”

Rune smirked. “You’ll see.” He said as he sat cross legged in front of his bowl now. “Come. Sit. IF nothing else, you can consider me a bad influence that you can blame all your teen anger and shortcomings on later.”

Still wary, Ben edged over to the empty seat left by Rune as he adjusted his blanket over him until it wrapped about his waist. The car roof protected him from any shining moonlight while he got as close to the door as he could, “If this doesn’t help, I’m out of here. Keep that in mind.”

“Duly Noted. City is still in sight, on all four you can make it back in no time,” Rune said, his face split in a grin.

“Rune…” Otto sighed as he sat down.

“It worked for Red Mane.”

“Red Mane is a Huicoli Shaman. His people have been using peyote for hundred of years.” Otto shot back.

“Hush. Ok. So we know you trigger outside the moon. And I’m going out on a limb here and say that the magical vortex and the whole millions of souls crying out as they were extinguished somehow upset whatever triggers your shifting.” Rune continued. “So we are going on a little astral trip, to find your beast and talk to it. If nothing else, your next shift should at least retain some memories and possibly some control.”

Ben listened to the conversation between the two carry out then focused on Rune’s last statement. His mind debated on if the two were immature or plain crazy, subtly wondering what he got himself into by not bolting already before he crossed his legs underneath himself. He considered what to say for a moment then spoke, “What happens if I try to get out of the car? How are you going to stop that as I’ve already pretty much keep escaping everyone’s measures to keep me contained?”

“I imagine I need to buy a new car.” Rune said with a shrug. He shrugged of his cloak, showing arms tattooed on every inch of skin, runes glowing faintly with magic. “We told you we won’t stop you if this doesn’t work out.” Rune said as he hunched forward and placed a few rune inscribed rocks into the middle between the three. “Eld,” He spoke as the stones went from inert to glowing with intense heat in a second. Throwing some dry leaves and small sticks on it they soon had a fire going. “Allright.” He mumbled as he grabbed the bowl.

“Drink as much as you can stomach, then stare into the fire before you close your eyes. Think of your wolf, and try not to be scared of what you first see.” He fished out a old native american looking talisman. “And let’s hope this works.”

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

@Fallenreaper

Tathos? Do you mean Talos?

@ZB1996

Yeah, it's been a while since I've played the game. The two are still pretty similar to me in spelling however. That and Elian sounded more Elven to me than Tathos. >_>

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

THE POWER PLANT

Location: Safe House Appartment, Lost Haven-Maine → Midas Industries, Lost Haven Maine
Time: Morning (Around 7 am) → Afternoon (Around 1 pm)

---

Midas led Racheli into the front entrance of Midas Industries. As he stepped through the front doors, the atmosphere within the company changed. People seemed more focused on the task at hand. As he stepped into earshot of any of his workers, he was greeted with a “Good afternoon, Mr. Midas.” to which he would nod back in acknowledgement. He made a straight line from the front door to a large set of heavy black doors which led to a hallway which only those with the highest clearance within Midas Industries had access to. The hallway itself was brightly lit and had an almost hospital-like quality to it.

Racheli quietly walked behind him, her senses tuned off but she could still smell the sterilizing agents used. Everything looked overly clean that made her feel like her presence here was a pure insult and threatened to stain its very existence. It added to her growing anxiety from memories rushing to her awareness, ones from the CDC, causing her to instinctively keep her eyes dead ahead and ignore it. Everything seemed to go on endlessly that it seemed they would never reach the place Midas seemed to believe would help her. Silently she continued down the hallway, noting nothing different from a hospital’s.

However, the one thing that would stand out to anyone who happened down the corridor would be that there were no doors. The long hallway seemingly only led to a single elevator door. As they reached the elevator, Midas placed the palm of his right hand into the biometric palm reader. The console flashed a green light and seconds later, the elevator door opened and Midas stepped in. Racheli paused and looked at him, seeming somewhat hesitant, but after a moment joined him in the elevator when he motioned for her to follow. Once they were both inside, they could see that the elevator was seemingly no different than any other elevator, other than the fact that there were no buttons. Instead, when the doors closed, the elevator began its long descent into the bowels of Midas Industries.

After several long moments, the elevator came to a stop. Then it was another moment before the doors opened. When they did open, Midas stepped out and beckoned Racheli to follow suit. When they stepped out into the cavernous room, which looked to be constructed from a shiny obsidian metal. At the back of the room, there was another small room which was made entirely of glass. Inside that room, which was only large enough for about three or four people, was a set of controls.

“Welcome to the Power Plant Racheli, this is where you will take your first steps into a larger world.” Midas told her as she stepped into the room for the first time.

Racheli’s brow arched as she examined the room. The place looked like some military secret base one might find in an underground bunker, making her question what Midas had been truly up to under his offices and began to walk deeper in. Her steps echoed off the walls as she looked upward in slight awe, through she would never admit it.

“Alright, so we’ve got a glorified bunker. What now?” Rach said as she turned to face him, trying not to sound impressed.

“Oh, I assure you it is far more than that. This room is a state of the art...actually, to be perfectly honest, it’s beyond state of art, nonetheless, it is the single most advanced training facility in the Western Hemisphere. This room has the ability to simulate any situation you could conceivably find yourself in. I think that you’ll find it most helpful in teaching you to control your powers.” Midas told her simply.

“Or something else for me to break,” Racheli mumbled, as she placed her hands on her head back and looked at Midas, “Sssoooo, still didn’t answer my question about ‘what now’. How is this suppose to go?”

“Oh, I doubt that you have to worry about breaking anything. This room was originally built for Icon to test his powers, sadly, he and I never could come to terms and work together, so it has more or less sat idle waiting for someone to utilize it.” Midas said matter of factly. “The glass room over there is the control center. That is where we make all the magic happen.” he said with a grin.

“I wonder why,” Rach mumbled again referring to her head’s explosive surprise. She sighed then waved her hand for him to lead the way, replying in a normal volume this time, “Alright, so what do I do? You haven’t really gone into details over what I want to know or even explained in clear words how this is going to go. I don’t know if I’m suppose to stand here and wait or you going to give me a tour before we start or what?”

“You don’t have to do anything, to be perfectly honest. I’m just going to go into the control room and start a program, and then we’ll have a little fun.” Midas told her with a hint of glee in his voice as he started to walk away from her and toward the glass encased room.

Once inside the control room, he looked down at the control panel as he contemplated where to begin. “Let’s start it out nice and easy.” He said to himself as he activated the Power Plant’s training module at its lowest setting. Once the training module was activated, the lights within the room dimmed. Then there was a low buzzing sound as the room’s training system kicked on. Within moments, Midas watched as something began to form out of the side of the wall. It was what looked like a massive walking tank. Matte black and heavily armoured, the slow moving behemoth silently advanced toward Racheli. While the menacing tank, which had a strange, boxy structure with a rounded top looked like a twisted marriage of technology and heavy weaponry come to life, it was in essence a hologram. However, it was not your typical holographic light show, it was what Midas called a “Hard Light Construct,” or HLC, and it was more than capable of injuring, or even killing a test subject. Midas watched in awe of his own technological prowess before activating the intercom which allowed him to communicate with the training room.

“Now Racheli, let’s just see what you’ve got.”

Racheli stared for a long and hard moment. The damn thing looked like it had four spider like legs , through about ten times thicker, and a tank for a body and covered in black armor like some twisted nightmare an engineer had during his sleep. She noticed she could see through it which made it difficult for her to grasp how exactly she was suppose to hit it. Even how it was suppose to hurt her.

Not trusting Midas in the least, she carefully walked to the right of it. Her head tilted and studied it deeply as she drew nearer. Immediately the tank’s cannon muzzle lowered and shifted in her direction. Shit, Racheli thought, as she was staring down it and watched the back of it heat up, rotate and fired.

Everything happened too fast for Rach to turn her heightened senses on so instead she moved. Her right foot jerked forward and rushed to the right just when she heard the ball of light explode from the chamber. Adrenaline rushed through her system as she ran to the side, unaware of any pain etched across her body until she came to a grinding stop.

In that dreadful moment, she realized she couldn’t move her arm. Her eyes shifted to the side and all color drained from her expression. She wasn’t fast enough and forgot to watch all her limbs.

Where her arm had once been was only a black, bloody stump. It can clipped her left arm off at just the elbow and dangled like some useless thing. Her face twisted to spot the ragged thing charred, dead and useless. Shock immediately swarmed her awareness over her heavy wound causing her to fall to one knee. Her breath increased heavily and heart raced in her chest, her adrenaline pouring through her system in rapid pace.

Fuck...FUCK! She screamed in her head unsure how she was still alive or thinking.

“Get up.” Midas said under his breath as the walking tank construct advanced on Racheli. He hadn’t believed that the first level of the training program would be able to cause the young woman so much trouble, but as he looked over to the charred remains of her lower arm on the floor of the proving grounds, he realized that either she had underestimated the program, or he had overestimated her. Either way, that miscalculation would soon be rectified as he upped the training module to the next level.

“Racheli, you need to move. Do something, it will not relent until you stop it, or you’re dead.” Midas said into the intercom.

Still huffing from the shock trying to overwhelm her systems, her eyes snapped up. She sharply held a venomous sarcasm in her tone over the fact she just lost her arm while she spoke, “Gee, thanks. I didn’t notice when I lost my arm! If this is your training for most metas, I get why Icon thought twice…”

Her ears caught the humming sounds of something coming in from her right and left. The moment her eyes noticed the flicker of steel, her undamaged hand raised and jerked down. One drone hissed then spiral down and crashed a foot from her. Mumbling curses, likely about Midas and his mother’s sexual reputation, Rach darted for the drowned drone. Her hand flattened her palm at the surface as it quivered and in a few seconds, became liquid.

The metal raced up her body and traveled to the other shoulder. It glided down the upper part of her stump to form a arm at her elbow just when the machine from hell decided to fire again. This time she was ready. Rach’s arm extended and the arm vanished, creating a half shield which the shell exploded on instead of her.

Her feet dug in, the impact and force sending her to skid back a few meters before grinding to a stop.

It scorched the metal a bit as she retracted it back into an arm. Her ears caught the other drone zipping back around to attempt to hit her and her right arm tore that one down in the same fashion when it came into range. Unfortunately, it landed a meter or more from her location. Sighing, Rach began to move toward the large machine while it was ‘recharging’. Her arm shifted into a large, over side blade then took a swipe at what she guessed was the machine’s joint. It crumpled to one side with an almost metal squeak as she continued to run, not looking back at the damage.

It would be very clear shortly that she lacked any training in combat when the tank turned about and fired again. Barely missing. The explosion smacked the ground and the kinetic energy sent her crashing into the far wall with a dull smack. Rach felt something break on impact but unable to determine what, she slid to the ground and landed on her knees for the moment.

“You are going to get us killed,”Michael said as he stepped into view for everyone to see. For Midas, it would appear as if someone had managed to bypass his security and entered the power plant. Only after they did indications for life signs, or analyze her brain waves did they realize it was actually from Racheli.

“Shut up,” Rach spat blood through her lips. Her figure worked itself up against the wall and wobbled a bit until they steadied after a few moments.

“Try to not just bash your way through them and think about how to cripple them…”

“Tch.” Rach said as she began to turn on her heightened senses, every color, sound, and more sudden flooded into her attention. She squinted a moment, giving the tank machine time to lock on her.

“Might want to move… Now.”

Midas looked on in disbelief as a second individual, this one a slightly older male seemingly materialized within the testing ground of the Power Plant near Racheli. Then her remembered what Ms Sparks had told him about her experiences with the young woman and the almost spectre like man who revealed himself to her. Using the sensors in the training room, Midas gauged Racheli’s vitals, and found something interesting...while he was looking at two people inside the room, the readings within the room only identified one life form within the vicinity.

Interesting. Midas thought to himself as he pondered what this could mean.

While he didn’t know the relationship between Racheli and this man, from what he witnessed, and what he could put together from what Ms Sparks had told him, their relationship was a contentious one. It was also unclear where the man had come from, but he could only surmise that he was a projection of sorts, perhaps some sort of artificial intelligence that manifested from the alien virus that had infected her, but it seemed to show up whenever Racheli was in any kind of distress. He wondered if this was some sort of defense mechanism, however what kind of advantage his presence provided was unclear to Midas, as this “man” seemingly only served to aggravate and distract Racheli.

“What the hell are you?” Midas whispered under his breath as he watched the construct of the tank continue its assault on the young woman.

The construct fired at Rach again but instead of finding flesh and blood, it found the outside barrier of the room. Scorched and dented in slightly, the construct turned to the movement that stopped just in its peripheral vision. Rach, still focusing on her arm’s shape, breathed heavily then gashed her teeth in frustration. Her eyes briefly turned to the newly formed arm with a sickened expression before she turned back to the machine of light.

“You took my arm, it’s only fair I take something of yours.” Rach snarled then let her eyes go completely black once more. Her hand touched the nearest post. In moments it began to liquify and swirl along her arm. It curved before it rested on her torso, like armor. The surface seemed to resemble more flesh than actual metal. Each breathe caused it to swell then fall with her lungs.

She whipped her arm about from left to right. Suddenly several quill like metal projectiles shot from her arm’s side. They zipped toward the machine and embedded into the surface, easily, until she focused on them again. Her nostrils flared while she extended her arm. She jerked her fisted hand open and made a claw gesture. No time to brace, the embedded quills oozed into the created wounds and immediately extended. The cracks were made bigger then shifted as new holes were made on different angles and surfaces. With each new whip of her arm, the liquid metal moved then erupted elsewhere.

Without another thought of self preservation, the construct rose its cannon then fired again. Rach darted to the right and narrowly missed it. However, she didn’t count on the second shot that followed it up. It aimed just a few meters ahead of her and popped off almost instantly after the first. She barely had time to brace as she twisted her torso and all metal from it rushed out into a metal shield.

It took the force but the impact abruptly tossed her from her feet. She collided with the dirt and rolled a few feet away, her skin torn by the rough surface. Her mind trying to orient herself, Rach feebly pulled herself upright into a wobbly stance. The metal within the construct ceased its inward attack the moment she was knocked from her course. She raised a hand to wipe away the black blood, letting it smear over her lip, as she glared at it.

“You fucking piece of shit!” Rach cursed.

The virus, naturally not being in any true danger, didn’t move from his original position. His illusion unfazed by any of the explosions, he casually walked through the light construct and toward his host. Each step resembled the predator whose form he took on.

“She’d be truly impressive if she actually knew how to fight. I’m amazed that War-Pulse didn’t mop Chinatown with her.” Midas quipped to himself as he watched Racheli battle the construct. “Fortunately, that’s something that can be remedied, still...she has a lot of raw talent.” he finished.

Midas watched as Racheli tried to dodge and attack the construct, and from the way she seemed to drag herself around, he knew that he had seen enough, at least for now. He figured that she needed some time to recover, as he wondered if the fight with War-Pulse had taken more out of her than he had anticipated. So just as the construct brought its weapons to bare on her, he pressed the switch that would end the program. The battle tank flickered twice, and was gone.

“Well, that was...educational.” Midas said as he stepped out of the control booth toward Racheli, who was gasping for air, trying to catch her breath.

“Personally, I could’ve lived never going through that,” Rach snapped as she turned to her missing arm. The metal remained and continued to retain the given shape, but she knew it would take a day or more to recover completely. Her mind, the part that remained human, doubted it would ever grow back.

“How many times must you be told? You’re not human. It will grow back,” The virus explained with a slight irritation in his tone, his path walked around to her left and there was where he stood comfortably.

Midas looked from Racheli to the “man” standing beside her as he gently berated her. He was unsure what exactly this apparition was or how it worked, but his curiosity had been piqued. He just stood there for a moment and watched the two interact with one another, and noted that there was something odd about their relationship, but he was unable to pinpoint exactly what that was.

“We’ll give it another go once you’re recovered.” Midas said to Racheli. “Considering everything that you’ve been through over the last few days, you did remarkably well.” Midas then turned to the mysterious figure standing beside Racheli. “And as for you, I’m very curious as to exactly what you are, and what connection you have with our dear Ms Desemona.”

“A thorn in my ass,” Rach mumbled, ignoring Midas’ comment for a moment, then flopped down into a cross legged position.

“If you run a background check, you’ll learn quickly who I’m projecting,” the virus began, then turned to focus on Midas’ figure, “As for what I am… Let’s just say I came with the package when she became infected and it’s in my best interest she continues to live.”

“Hmmph.” Midas nodded as he listened to the projection. “Well my friend, it would seem that our interests align. I have no desire to see any harm befall Racheli, much less see her killed. Quite the contrary, actually. I have very high hopes for our girl.” Midas told the projection, ignoring the apparition’s first comments.

“Really?” Came the virus’ answer, his lips narrowed into a frown. His right foot took a stepped toward Midas, his eyes hardened and predatory, as he closed the distance casually and his tone sharp, “I fail to see how tossing her into a fight against a large, unknow structure is helping her at all. Especially since she’s already lost a limb. I assume you’ve seen her ability already and know she’s got no fighting experience or you would’ve never targeted her at all.”

“Perhaps.” Midas acknowledged. “Or perhaps I see something inside of her that even you fail to see. I can provide her with training. I can teach her to control her gifts...maybe even to control you. My methods may not be kind, but I assure you, I have nothing but her best interests in mind.”

The virus’ lips curled into a wicked smile. His chest bubbled with amusement and into a hearty chuckle, it slowly faded as he sought the right words to reply, “I doubt that, highly. As for her best interests, it won’t matter in the end.”

“Just look around you.” Midas told the virus. “You seem at least self aware, I’m sure that it hasn’t escaped you that this world is changing. Men flying through the air, portals to demonic realms opening in the very heart of the city. How long before our so called protectors turn against us? Or worse, they attract something truly malevolent to us, something that is determined to wipes us from existence? You see, I believe that young Racheli may be the only thing capable of preventing that. She might be this world’s last hope when the shit really hits the fan. So yes, I have NOTHING but her best interests at heart.” Midas finished, his tone harsher than before.

“And what happens when she is the very thing attracting more trouble than she’s worth?” He asked, his eyes glinted with a hint of anger and assumption. The answer was clear to him to the end result and unfazed by the aggression.

“That is a bridge that we will cross when we get there. But I have no intentions of harming her.”

“You’re human, your intentions are nothing but harmful. Even when they are pure,” Michael said in a venomous tone, his mind recalling the days he was ripped to pieces and experimented on as proof to his words. The whole human race would one day pay for their ‘intentions’, a promise he intended to use Racheli to carry out and wipe them off the face of the earth.

Rach’s voice, laced with sarcasm, interrupted the pair’s conversation, “If ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ are done talking, can I fucking leave so you can continue to pretend I’m not even here?”

Her metal arm had already shorted into a sort of silver cap to prevent bleeding out all over the training area as she waited for their answer.

“Of course Racheli. Two levels up is our medical wing. Why don’t you go there, we have hyperbaric chambers to encourage a speedy recovery. In fact, I’ll take you there personally.” Midas said with a half hearted smile, ignoring the apparition’s comments completely.

“Unless they can accelerate nanites into quicker speed and supply materials, it’s unlikely to help,” The projection stated, popping the bubble, then glanced about the area. His eyes landed on a few of the metal poles untouched in the chaos then pointed at them, “Smear your blood on those posts and break them down. That should provide enough raw material for you to mend but it will still take time.”

Rach gave him a look and it was clear she wasn’t about to listen to a damn thing he was going to suggest, “Very well, do it your way and don’t say I didn’t give another method. Eventually, we’re going to have to learn to work together even if you despise the idea.”

With those last words, Michael faded from sight.

“Right…” Midas said as the apparition vanished before him. “Let’s get you upstairs. The chambers are quite comfortable, and even if they don’t help accelerate your healing, they will give you some peace and quiet, and I think that right now, you could use that.”

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

Also @Fallenreaper, it's STEEEL fist, not iron fist.
Just a pet peeve :P
And is it just me, or is it more story about the poor slave than your character?

@Klomster

IF you look again, I noted it then changed it to just a merc company just to be on the safe side! And to be fair, Kiseo was the original inspiration for when I considered to join (a month or so before Duncan revealed the Mao race by the way!) but I'm getting attached to Dyril quicker than I original expected. So they both will likely develop ICly as individuals which is often what happens with my pcs.

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

@Klomster

Looks like a middle age version of Dumbo Drop. Thankfully it's not a zombie like in the game Resident Evil. :P

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

I realized, later into the creation of the sheet, that Tathos is a god in Skyrim and decided to alter the last name to Elian, lol. Also I hope the grammar is alright. I did check them a few times over, but I started to find that when I review CSes too many times... it just makes it worse some times.I tried to go with the plausible route with some fun mixed in. The recent details of their status and IC knowledge will be made clear in their intro post.

@TheDuncanMorgan: *pats* You might want to get comfortable when you read these and please let there be only a few edits. I didn't have very much to go on with the Elven culture, save what links you gave, so I took some creative license with that and tried to use logic though the influences you mentioned for them.

*Now, hits the dirt and waits* ._.

Dyril Elian

Name:
Publically (Elven Lands)- Híril (Lady) Dyril Elian, of the Elian bloodline and granddaughter of Hír (Lord) Raton Elian.
Privately- Agarwaen (blood-stained), Umarth (ill-fated), Hin (child), N'Tel'Quess (not of the people- not elf), Uuner (nobody), etc.
By Lower Station (often slaves and servants) - Híril Dyril

Age: 31 (ages about 1.5 slower than humans)

Appearance Age: 22 due to slow aging process

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Position: Merchant (upper class within Imperial Even society)

Personality:

Value over Image

Being an Elf, her upbring places a high value on image and worth in order to advance your family to a higher status. From her birth she has been taught to hold a strict control over her emotions and give a calm presentation in public, especially when in the present of those equal or higher than her rank. Failure to hold this practice would risk her family reputation, entitling them to mockery over their ‘childish’ behavior. Minor as it might seem, recovering from it was often a chore best avoided. This didn’t mean anyone could insult her family, and by extend herself, without any repercussions and those will come in time when she’s had time to ready them.

Patience

Dyril is very patient, maybe too patient at times. She never rushes into things, as shown in her bio, and instead carefully treads into her plans. It can take months to years to set things up before she feels safe to act on her plans. In some ways this can help and hurt her. While she won’t blindly rush in on instinct, any time sensitive plans she decides to follow could become useless if too much time passes or things don’t add up in her favor. Most times it requires a push from an outside source for her to place aside her patience and go for things ahead of plans.

Motivation

She will have two current motivations. Her original motivation was to prove her worth to her family, both Elven (though she won’t admit it) and human. In order to adaptly do this, she needs to make her trading dealings work out well and benefit her family both here and across the sea. Her second one will surface the moment she learns of recent events about the death of Henry. This will develop into a need for revenge against the individual that took his life away and desire to change her exile family’s state. How long this lasts could change in the future.

Weaknesses:

Image Vanity- Like many Elves are brought up to believe, Dyril values herself and family image highly giving her sense of vanity. Not surprising since her environment has been her teacher most of her life and it is all she knows. When others attempt to ruin it,, Dyril’s calm becomes less natural and more forced. With higher and greater insult to the image, she gains a hidden spite and this builds over time. Dyril rarely forgets an insult as she bides her time, gradually seeking to gain some sort of satisfactory revenge for their insult. If left unchecked, this can eventually become obsession in her free time or influence her focus.

Isolation and Abandonment Fear- While Dyril doesn’t fully know it, she has a minor fear of being discarded and even left behind by all she knows, loves, and even is connected to. This stems from her upbring where her family regarded her as something to be ashamed of and when possible, isolated her from both public and family ordeals. If it wasn’t for Kiseo, she would’ve fallen to the effects of facing her fear a long time ago.

Mix Heritage- Being a hybrid has its perks and limitations, something that Dyril knows fully well. One biggest stigma among hybrids is that they are sterile and are unable to carry on the bloodline into the future. This can bring a promising family into extinction over time if a future heir is unable to produce children. In addition, her physical appearance is a mixture of human and Elven which makes her unappealing to either race for the most part. Too Elven for a human or too human for an Elf is a painful experience forcing her to give up on the notion of any love or family. It also makes any manipulation through sexual appeal clearly out of her skill range unless one is curious or want to try something ‘exotic’. Another issue is that her facial ticks aren’t like humans and sometimes be difficult to read.

Lack of Combative Skills- Dyril was brought up in higher society and being female, these are primary factors that denied her the right to learn combat skills. Females had higher power when it came to marriage and politics than physical or business transactions within Imperial lands which made image that more important to them since it was harder to earn and keep. Married individuals often rode upon their husband’s successes which could range from the battlefield to more common skills unfitting for a female. This means any situation that required pure physical strength or speed would put Dyril at a serious disadvantage or even worse, make her into a fool. She is unable to defend herself should things escalate into blood and violence.

Ignorance of Formaroth- Never traveled beyond her family property too often, Dyril has little to no knowledge of any thing about Formaroth’s politics or recent events. Not even the state of her present family. Any knowledge she does know is officially obtained through traders (which are few and far between) or what guests have been kind enough to share, none she fully puts trust in until she’s seen it.

Appearance:

Physical

Being a hybrid of two races, Dyril’s got characteristics that fit both her mother and father. Her mother’s are dominant which allowed her grandfather, Raton, to hide her heritage with the excuse of deformities. ‘Unique’ isn’t acceptable in Elven society like it is in their slaves, a fact she’s had to live with all her life and struggle to overcome. Compared to her relatives who sport the common dark blue (denim color), hers is a bluish-grey shade. A few have compared it to something called blue spruce trees which don’t exist in Beilokias.

She has dark, brown eyes much like her father. So far, no one she’s been with for extended time- save her family- has noticed the difference compared to their own onyx back irises. Her face is considered long by humans standards, giving her a rather haughty look like the rest of her family. However when closely examined, the subtle differences are easily seen and clearly not completely elven. Her features are fleshed out along her cheeks, sides, and forehead rounder in comparison to her other female relatives.

The thicker physical appearance doesn’t stop merely at her face, but also include her weight which is considered heavy at 146 lbs and closer to human than any female elf should be. Meanwhile, her saving grace is that she barely falls to the average height of 164 cm (5’4”) and doesn’t need to shrink or alter it in any fashion. The final abnormality is her fingers, they are still considerably long but a bit less claw like and a dead give away to her human side. Instead of three digits on each hand, she has five.

Her default expression is often neutral and difficult to read thanks of her mixed heritage. Often considered permanently stuck in a day dreaming or haughty one, which gives the impression to humans she doesn’t care about what is being said. A fact that is far from her real feelings. However, when she does smile the human in her is quite easily seen and considered genuinely appealing (not sexually), breaking the bizarre features she inherited. Her black hair falls to about the bottom of her shoulder blades, but often bounded into numerous tight braids and loop about her head back. They are pinned in place with silver hair pins that are decorated into handcrafted designs like shells, feathers, and even animals.

Clothing

In Elven culture, despite the hot and arid atmosphere, the higher social classes often wear layers of clothing that reflect their status and importance among their peers. Being a granddaughter of Elian bloodline, her dresses are the official colors of black and yellow with the crest of her family’s rank. They are linked with the Patricians making Raton and his son Dathion apart of the senate. Often, Dyril is dressed in loosely fitting dresses made of two layer skirts, a pleated shirt and binded at the waist with a belt. Upon her feet are slipper shoes and a kaftan (long over coat) is placed over her to allow her to shade her head from view.

Background:
Family
Lists of those Dyril has interacted with on a daily basis, both alive and deceased.

Grandparents

Head: Raton Elian | 175 | Alive
Angril Elian (Madrin) | Died

Uncles

Saeldir Elian | First Child | Alive
Rawion Elian | Fourth Child | Alive

Aunts

Duvainil Elian | Third Child | Alive
Crabanil Elian | Fifth Child | Died

Male Cousins

Faron Elian | First Child of Saeldir | Alive
Seregon Elian | Second Child of Duvainil | Alive

Female Cousins

Theriadis Elian | First Child of Duvianil | Alive

The story begins on the day Dyril was conceived thanks to ill fated combination of a bet and curiosity. After the recent decease of his wife, Angril Elian, Raton’s merchant trade faced possible decline in popularity and worth when profits rapidly shot down. Evidence, much to his cringe, had been planted to discredit the value of his goods causing him to seek additional options to recover from the loss. In 471 A R, Raton and his daughter Crabanil traveled to Formaroth due to establishing trade with Ralda. The Mazeltof was one of a few families that held a rich dwarven source of materials in their land and were willing to trade for then giving the right persuasion. Usually the very rare magical items (thanks to a method done by mandrakes), potions, food goods not native to the continent, silks, and other materials. Drawven metal, in any variety, was often sought after for great prices making the trip worth it and hopefully recover his reputation.

Setting aside his mourning, Hír Raton Elian and his youngest daughter Crabanil traveled to Formaroth. Crabanil was expected to take up the trade negotiations after a few years and show her own worth in her family’s eyes. This wasn’t meant to be since on the last week of being deep into trade dealings, Henry Mazeltof was roped into a bet which his companions believed was impossible for him to complete: to bed the Elven daughter of their host. Being the arrogant, strong headed individual that came with his heritage, Henry took on the challenge in exchange for greater gains and his friend’s respect.

When Raton followed his father into the final night of negotiations, Henry made his move. He followed the young Elven daughter, just hitting the cusp of adulthood, into a secluded area where he began to converse with her. One thing led to another and out of mutual agreement, Crabanil’s curiosity being a main factor, they made their way to the guest room that served for her residence here.

After the one night stand, Crabanil found herself pregnant with child. Raton, himself, found out after they departed the Mazeltof hospitality and had settled back into their own port home. Purely because Crabanil was afraid he would break off trading rights to Ralda over it. Image, after all, was everything to him.

This created stress between her furious father and her, their desires divided over the tainted offspring’s future.

Raton wanted to bribe a priest from the priesthood, made mostly of mages, to abort the growing life within her womb and rid her of the shame it brought upon the family. However, Crabanil had other ideas. She wanted to use the child as a bargaining chip and to pull at the Mazeltof’s honorable reputation get more out of their future trading relationship. Forced to admit to the fact his daughter was an adult now, Raton allowed her decision to stand but he still blamed Henry for contaminating his youngest daughter.

Being a woman of high up bring, it would’ve looked suspicious for Crabanil to avoid public affairs. This would’ve drawn the attention of spies to try to pry the truth about everything then rush back to their masters. The last thing the Elian family needed was for others to create ways to blackmail them into less suitable dealings. So together they fabricated a plausible story to cover the obvious signs of Crabanil’s upcoming pregnant image. The young Elven woman had been seduced and lied to by another Elf within Formaroth, which there was a few. This charming man later vanished into the night after both bedding her and stealing numerous valuables. While it hurt Crabanil’s reputation for the time, it did nothing to harm the bloodline’s and the fact she was with child made the rumor believable.

Through many tried to dug deeper, they often found Raton there as a wall to their progression.

It was a year later that Crabanil went into labor on their estate home. Raton was pacing the hallways with nerves rattling his every step as his daughter’s laboring screams echoed throughout the wall and making him anxious for her health. Unknown to Crabanil, he had gradually threaten her slaves into placing a subtle herb in her tea in hopes to kill the infant late in the pregnancy. It wasn’t a sure success always, but enough to give him hope to try it.
Whatever divine forces above felt he desired punish did so with a vengeance. Instead of the infant dying, it was his beloved daughter. The herb had stopped her body’s ability to clot the blood and so Crabanil had lost a lot of blood during the birth, her blue skin ashy grey in hue. With her dying breath, she named her young female offspring Dyril before she passed away. The loss cut Raton very deeply, a mixture of self guilt and blame upon the child for being born.

For the following years he held deep hatred for the Mazeltof family and it fueled his determination to almost end the trade negotiations. However, his eldest son stepped in and made the request not to due to damaging their family image. Instead, Saeldir took over the trade dealings with the Mazeltof.

Against his daughter’s careful planning, Raton never informed Henry of his illegitimate child or even considered to use her as a pawn to their advantage. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with her. Her life’s care fell upon the family who felt it was best to hide their shame. They couldn’t simply lock her way as all the senate knew Crabanil had been with child and news about the birth had already spread through prior arrangements by the now dead mother. So they prepared for the expose in the future while making her life difficult.

Over the years, Dyril found herself exposed to higher education, various arts and whatever her family’s station allowed her to learn. Unlike Formaroth, women were frowned upon to learn how to combat since they were much more fragile compared to the male gender. Court dancing, sewing, and other more mild forms of quiet etiquette were expected. Everything Dyril learned was taught to her within her family estate which for much of her childhood became her prison. Never once was she allowed to explore the various areas within the city they lived in and her inherited curiosity often pawed at her in daydreams. This wasn’t the only thing she had come to accept in her life. Her family, uncles to aunts and numerous cousins, all made it clear what she was: a blight on their bloodline. A shame that never should’ve been born. Naturally being exposed to such cruelty, Dyril fell to the background and learned to keep her voice to herself until she became an adult.

At the age of nineteen, she became exposed to her first social gathering. It was in honor of her Aunt Duvainil who had become married to another Patrician senator and the ceremony was to make their relationship publically known. To hide Dyril’s human heritage, her fingers and hands were wrapped in cloth and were claimed to be ‘damaged’ due to her father’s unsavory lineage. This also did well to explain her other odd features that were beyond being hidden. Whenever she arrived, one of her family was never too far from her. They ensure she never spoke of her human father and even spoke for her, blocking any attempts to glean information from the younger elven woman. Most the time they gave a snooty air about it.

Around the age of twenty-one, she learned her mother’s old slave Shinx had been bred and expected a new kit in six months. Surprisingly, Dyril found herself worried over the new kit’s arrival and how much attention it would steal from her. For years, she had Shinx’s full attention on her and now something threatened it. However, deep inside she knew Shinx would not last forever and eventually she would need to replace her. If she rejected Kiseo, it would not only hurt Shinx but likely Dyril's family would give her an incompetent and nearly dead slave. That idea was less appealing than taking the risk.

Knowing she had little choice, Dyril sought out only one in the household who would faintly listen to her: Faron, her cousin.

The male, only older than her by a few years, sneered upon her request for an additional slave. He assigned an elderly and well beaten one named Lini to assist Shinx. The persian markings along Lini’s fur was maimed by numerous wounds thanks to burning to vicious beatings which was something that Shinx lacked.

A few months later, Raton had gotten in contact with Doroka Hawk and his company of mercs. Many of the soldiers had also been stationed on the outskirts of their farming property during their services and naturally, her curiosity swelled enough she couldn’t help but investigate. That’s when she met Claus Rotstein, a brash and boastful individual that happened to spy her stalking him one day. This was likely the first time she learned about humans as her interest over her own heritage became sparked the more she learned. She was fortunately enough to have learned the basic speak of humans, thanks to her family’s requirements, but she still had difficulty in making it flow naturally and had to pause to think about how to phrase her words sometimes.

This continued off and on until Raton discovered the pair during her first lesson in combat. The grandfather had been looking for Hawk when he overheard Dyril’s loud cry and the sound of a bow falling to the ground. As the elder elven man entered the doorway, his eyes narrowed and jaw set at the sight of her nursing a hurting wrist. She had let go of the bow too soon and it clipped her hand causing Claus to examine it for serious injury. With a loud, furious bark Raton summoned a no longer pregnant Shinx to the room then had the Mao usher them both back to Dyril’s quarters. What happened between them, Dyril still doesn’t know but it resulted in her being locked in her room or escorted everywhere, something that gradually tapered off over the years.

When she became twenty-eight, she had been mostly left to her own devices now. During her free time, which she had much of, she began to research and question family on her father’s side. From those who believed knowing the truth would degrade her new found determination, she learned about Henry Mazeltof and the events in Ralda. This also included her mother’s original plan to use her in tilting the favor of gain with the trading negotiations. It was a harsh thing for her to learn which took some time to accept, her desire to learn of her father assisted in distracting her mind and hurt emotions.

By this time, Kiseo had matured in the following years and been helping her mother in attending Dyril.

At first the younger Elf had difficulty in accepting the leopard cat patterned Mao, her jealousy and greed for attention conflicted with Shinx’s desperation for her young daughter to be accepted as her one day replacement. Out of all her family, Dyril was the only individual that treated her slaves with a fair merit of respect while many slaves of her family members were left broken, maimed, or worse.

There was one thing that finally won over the Elven woman’s heart, Kiseo’s gentle and empathic nature. It was something that Dyril had never been exposed to and in that moment, Kiseo was hers. Three years before their departure, Raton caught wind of Dyril’s conversations with Saeldir over their trade business. His reaction was as expected and in a sad turn of events, Shinx was the victim of it. The elderly Mao, about forty now, had been delivering a message to Saeldir over Dyril’s plans for the upcoming voyage when her path crossed Raton’s. Infurious with the fact his daughter’s shame was aiming to interfere with their family trade, he began to take his anger out on the Mao and took the message from her. Shinx died of her injuries hours later.

When Saeldir send another message inquiring about the voyage plans, Dyril quickly concluded that Shinx had been delayed or stop causing the pair to investigate. Finding the Mao, broken and tossed away, hurt the woman more than she expected as she spotted Kiseo literally break down and cry. Worried about her image in passing, Dyril quickly held the younger slave then ushered the Mao into an alley to console the sorrow and hide her own tears. Interesting enough, that was the final nail in her tolerance for her grandfather.

In about three years, she quickly made arrangements thanks to Saeldir for departure to Formaroth.

Skills:

• Basic Etiquette: Being raised in higher society, Dyril was raised in the similar fashion as her female relatives. Through primary that was to ensure she didn’t mess up or create an ignorant for her family’s image. She knows how to conduct herself within a court, through she lacks a bit of knowledge on Formaroth’s customs which can easily be corrected.
• Translator: She knows how to read, write and speak numerous languages. This ranges from those in Formaroth to the conquered worlds within the Elven Imperium. Most her basic within Formaroth is thanks to interaction with Claus and his men.
• Sewing: Basic sewing as she had spent several hours learning to decorate tapestry pieces for subtle displays in her room.
• Court Dancing: She was expected to properly dance, through this is mainly in Elven fashion. She doesn’t know any Formaroth dances but with some time and practice, she could easily adapt to be able to perform them at a decent level.
• Harp Musician: Dyril is an elegant player of the harp. With this being her main activity aside from reading, sewing and other required skills for a lady, she has become rather good at playing it. The calluses of her fingers, through a bit faded, indicate she practiced rather vigorously over the years.
• Natural Talent with Crossbow: However, she’s not been able to or had any teachers willing to increase her skills in this area. This has made her remain at the novice or lower level, but she does get the lucky shot even so often. Over time, and with practice, her shot might become rather lethal.
• Good Memory: Dyril has learned to keep track of what others say with a keen memory and often uses it to determine if they are lying to her when facts don’t match up. It also makes it easier to recall when someone has wrong or owes her a favor.
• Novice Manipulator: While her heart, honestly, isn’t in it, Dyril’s ability to lie, coax, and even negotiate has grown over the years she’s worked with her Uncle Saeldir. However when compared to those have been doing longer than three years, she’s rather new to it.
• Elven Trader: In order to have some worth in Formaroth, Dyril had to learn the ins and outs of trading through her Uncle Saeldir. Was fortunate enough the Elven man wanted to step down from trading as he hated dealing with humans. However, he knew how badly it could damage their family reputation if they ceased it completely. Upon offering to take his place, he eagerly trained her into the worth of things and what risks were best. She doesn’t have the experience Saeldir did, but she isn’t the little novice she might appear to be.
  -Saeldir has made sure Raton can’t influence her trade ability… for now.
• Magical Examiner: While Dyril doesn’t know how to cast magic, she has regularly dealt with mandrakes, items and potions for the trading business. This has given her an interesting insight and more knowledge than most non casters. After spending a good portion of time with an item (A few days), she is able to tell the bare essentials over it including: if an object is truly magical, the enchantment’s quality and what it does on a baseline level. However since she’s not a mage, she’s only able to get a general sense rather than gritty details.

NPCS:

Hider

TBA as they become important and enter the IC, mainly because I’m still figuring out how to write her story and rather build support over time.

Kiseo

Name:
Given- Kiseo no last name
Names given by Nobility- Slave, Servant, Cat, Animal, etc. (need I really list them all?)
Nick to Allies and Friends- Seo (primarily to hid from her masters it’s her preferred name)
Title- Personal Slave of Híril Dyril.

Age: 11 years ( Felines mature faster, the ratio is about 1.5x faster than humans making her look about a little more than 17 years.)

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: This is an unknown factor for her, purely since interaction in areas of intimacy without express permission is forbidden and often punished. Through it is, Kiseo is taught by her masters she is suppose to be attracted to purely males. This is because a union of opposite sexes will produce kits and eventually added to the population of other enslaved rather than explore the aspect of love. Unknown to her, she does in reality swing both ways, but unless someone nudges this then it won’t be realised.

Position: (In Formaroth) Attendant to Dyril Elian.

Personality:

Invert Personality

Kiseo’s behavior and carefully chosen words give the impression she’s very shy and timid as an individual. While it is true she’s invert when it comes to her personality, she far from shy about meeting people. This side of her often shows only in private and when given permission to speak by Dyril. Though she knows she’s no longer a slave, Kiseo still acts submissive to her Elven mistress as deep down she knows if abandoned then she will likely not last very long on her own.

Curious and Observant

Unable to feed her curious and desire to learn new things by asking questions, Kiseo has learned to be watchful and listen to what interests her. Her mind trained to gleam whatever she can from the subject then make educational explanations. When permitted, which is rare, Kiseo’s excitement can get the better of her causing her to forget her place and embarrass Dyril by hurting the hybrid’s image. On these few occasions, she has been punished with a few light lashes over her bare back but it was nothing compared to past experiences. Since the Mao has learned to curb her need for answers to merely sneaking hidden looks, studying and listening in order to make accurate assumptions. She will adjust when she learns something new however so none of her information is set in stone ever.

Compassion and Protectiveness

Kiseo is a deeply compassionate Mao ever since birth, despite the harsh reality of her status. At first, she cared and watched the young kits under her care with a ferocious protectiveness from the danger of their surroundings. For many she was like a mother they never had as she attended their wounds and even shepherd them from the cliff overlooking the river and sea. Gradually when she became Dyril’s personal slave, her compassion started to flip gears to her mistress’. It only grew after her mother’s telling of how Dyril’s life really was. Most slaves assumed all the Elven masters lived in luxury and paradise, but for Dyril that was only partly true.

Over time, Kiseo began to admire how strong she viewed Dyril against her family’s attempts to tear her down and mentally torment her. However, the Mao knew those chains still existed and there was only one way to fully free her. After Shinx died, Kiseo made a promise to herself that she would help her mistress to find a place she could be anchored and severe her ties to her past. However, in order to do that it was Kiseo’s job to ensure that Dyril survived until then. The slave learned quickly how to appear uninterested, keep her head down, and casually act while listening in order to warn Dyril of unsuspected danger. Through she has her doubts her tactics would hold much assistance here.

Note: I’m still figuring her out so her personality might change and I’ll update if needed. Personality sections are really hard for me.

Weaknesses:

Low Pain Tolerance, Easily Bruised and Fear of Pain- Kiseo fears and can’t stand intense pain. When struck harshly by anything with intention to make her bleed, she can’t stop herself from flinching in reaction. She will not fight back as she’s not taught to, her eyes watering and the punishment seared into her memory. She easily bruises through they are often hidden under her blotchy pattern coat and unless you’ve seen her in her prime, you might never know it. When threat of pain comes with a gesture, or even one resembling it when someone is angry, she will automatically brace herself and assume it will happen.

Low Birth- Due to her low standings, Kiseo has very low confidence about changes in her future and in her own value. This means if she is abused, hurt, or otherwise insulted then she will often take the path of least resistance rather than seek justice for wrongs against her. Especially against those of higher station than herself. After all, she is taught she is purely property from the very beginning and have no rights to protest against how those of higher birth treat her. Though she knows deep down, she is far luckier than most slaves in the household.

Sticking Out Like A Sore Thumb- Kiseo has been pulled into the game of espionage by her mistress, Dyril, in recent few years. While in the Elven Lands she was one of many, here Kiseo faces a greater challenge that she’s never encountered before: She’s literally one of a kind here. While Dyril is the minority, Kiseo is literally the only Mao that has crossed over Elven Imperial Lands and into Formaroth where slavery is outlawed.

Weak in Strength- Kiseo, like others of her species, aren’t raised and bred for heavy labor. Due to her life time of performing lighter tasks like cooking, cleaning, climbing into high places, and other similar tasks, her strength is lacking. At max and with some some notable stress, she can deadlift about 80 lbs (average human beginner for her size, about 119 lbs) for a small time. This makes things a bit difficult should something much heavier get into her way.

Language Barrier- Kiseo wasn’t raised to understand human language in Formaroth and while she has little trouble understanding it, actually talking in it is another hurdle for her. A big issue and difference is the fact that Formaroth puts the subject as first and most important in the sentence. For Mao’s, their native language focuses on the topic, often placing it first to indicate its importance, leaving out key words, and uses description to fill in details. In addition to their verbal speech, her hands, feet and even tail will move out of habit since they include a crude but elegant sign language to their speech in order to further understanding. Here’s an example of how the structure varies, with both placed in English:

“Hello, my name is Kiseo. Would you like curry and eggs for breakfast, mistress? And will you be eating in your room too?”- Basic Formaroth

“Name Kiseo, hello. Curry and eggs for breakfast, you like, mistress? Eat in your room too?”- Kiseo in her attempt to speak basic Formaroth *

Biological

While she has strengths that humans don’t, she also has weaknesses in them. These are listed alongside her biological skills since it’s easier when separating them for me because a strength often creates a weakness if a condition is met.

Appearance:

Physical

Hider

Even before the Elven Imperium conquest over their lands, Máoróngrōng, or Mao as they are called, have practiced status breeding for generations. This has created a distinct division of their people into one of two stations: the nobles and peasantry. All have characteristics of Asian region cats, either wild or domesticated, but their appearance depends heavily on which station the individual resides in. Those once apart of the nobility class has more domesticate or small wild cat features since they rarely worked the fields, toiled in hunting, or other harsh tasks. Meanwhile, the peasantry were larger wild cats like leopards and tigers whose features lacked the delicate ability of the nobility since as writing, appearing not intimidating, etc.

Since being conquered by the Elven Imperium, the differences between the two lineages has grown larger. The Mao have been bred based purely on their master’s whims from living decoration to manual labor in the cleared jungles.

Kiseo is a Máoróngrōng which is a race of feline semi-digitigrade creatures both similar and different from humans. Like humans, she stands upright at 7’5” in overall height and weighs at a reasonable 119 lbs. She has two arms, legs, torso, and longer hair upon her head. There’s also five digit hands which are made for gripping, manipulating, and more. Her eyes are in a similar position through they are slightly more slanted compared to humans, colored ember in the irises. The pupil can slit or expand depending on the light source’s intensity, ensuring she can see most of the time. Brown hair that’s slightly lighter is highlighted with yellow streaks and kept at shoulder length, often pulled back into a short fish braid. Whatever short strands that escape the braid are shooting up in a slightly spiky fashion giving the appearance of messy and unkept bangs.

Here is where the feline distinctions come in. Her ‘skin’ is actually fine yellowish brown fur covered with lanceolated, black spots much like a leopard's’ along her sides. Along her neck, mouth and inside of her limbs are lined and colored white to contrast with her outside fur. She walks on her toes with retractable claws on her both her feet and hands. There’s also cushioning pads along her palms and fingertips, while they are on her toes, ball and heel of her foot. From the tip of her tail bone are additional vertebrae which create a tail about the length of her slender torso which is hardly easy to ignore since its tip is usually swishing side to side.

Her face holds the most obvious and alien characteristics, which blend human and feline facial features together in a sharp and elegant way. The shape is slightly diamond like giving it a long and sharp appearance but reasonable width compared to Elven kind. Her nose tip is closer to her lips giving her a bit of downward curve profile with the top of the nose bridge indented less than the average human. Her ears are rounder with a white spot over each, resting at the sides of her head. However, they are able to rotate forward, up, down and a bit backwards to catch any sounds that surround them.

This is the closest representation

This isn’t her face, or hair, but the structure. For the more domestic cats they might be gentler or wild might blocker depending on the breed. However the nose, lips and forehead is pretty much the same structure.

Clothing

When Kiseo was still a slave, her garb was molest and simple due to the nature of her status. While Elven servants were given worn hand downs to reflect their position in the household, most indoor Mao were bred for living decoration and quick service skills. Like many that worked in the home, she often wore a simple wrap on her upper torso covering from her underarms to the bottom of her breasts and specially designed loin cloth that came to mid thigh. The basic materials are designed to show as much fur as possible without exposing any unwanted gender identification. Due to their long tail, the rear flap was often split in order to allow free movement. She was one of the lucky ones that didn’t have their tails severed into a bob because it was an annoyance.

The most clothing she owned was a linen shirt and simple pants without shoes. Through they are in decent condition for her status, they do have both dirt, food and other stains from her rare work in the fields and the kitchen. The fields were harsh because of the elements so the slaves, in order to make them last longer, were often given a linen shirt and pants every year to protect them. They were used in the kitchen to prevent their fur in certain places and from shedding into the prepared dishes.

Background:
Notes: House slaves: 25 avg, due to extreme abuse while field slaves lived up to 40 avg. Dyril’s slaves lived much longer due to better care, extending their lifespan much closer to a natural life span of 60+ years.

Keep in mind, Mao age at about 1.4 faster than humans which means her bio will cover less years and one year will cover more than one when it comes to physical/mental aging.

Kiseo, like many Mao, was born into slavery. There was no pre budding commitment or love between her mother, Shinx, and the stranger that sired her. In truth, Kiseo’s knowledge of him was pretty simple: he was the one she got her coat pattern from and he was a slave of another Elven Patrician branch. The union was arranged by Hír Raton through a minor sum strictly to replenish their Mao slave stock and possibly acquire a pretty fur pattern for display. The more exotic the coat, the more like it would be admired and easily hid the abuse many slaves suffered day to day.

For the first three years, Kiseo would be blissfully ignorant of this fact like all kits of that age.

After being born in 492 AR, she was allowed to remain with her mother for about a month. This was considered unusual for most slaves since the masters often required they become useful quickly. Oddly enough, it was by Dyril’s orders that Shinx care for Kiseo rather than wean her within the week. This was likely the primary reason Kiseo was considered healthier as an infant. While Shinx cared for her child, Lini, an elder Mao, replaced her during her allowed recovery period. When the month expired, young Kiseo was passed from her mother’s arms into others to be cared for in Shinx’s absence. Not being weaned yet, she sustained on rice milk, gruel, and porridge for the next two months. Though she had about three weeks more of her mother’s milk compared to the others, the substitutes still lacked the needed nutrition for her early development and gradually slowed it. She couldn’t run until the year 493 AR, her appearance close to a very thin three year old.

Theirs lives, while mostly work, had its moments of imagination. The children’s primary responsibility was to help the too far crippled with the tiny garden outside their assigned hut, their primary source of food for meals in the summer. It was during this time, Kiseo became attached to an older kit Ferat who shared the bamboo hut with her and about ten others. Ferat was a young, leopard Mao with pretty pattern coat and a shy nature. Through she was only older by one year, she seemed very observant and began to teach this to Kiseo over time.

Limited in resources, Kiseo, Ferat, and the other kits learned to use their surroundings and imaginations to great effect. They often made a game out of the harsh realities by putting on pretend auctions or working under a ‘master’. Sticks to rocks, anything was free game for a toy in their minds. They played ‘lily pad’ (think a crude hopscotch game) to skimming rocks across the drinking ponds and created dolls or quills to draw shapes in the dirt. Throughout the day, about two minor meals with a large meal at the end of it. On holidays they enjoyed a wild fish master Raton Elian allowed them to keep from the sea, but the size was always pitiful, unable to feed all the hungry mouths in the hut. This forced a few volunteers to gave their rations, in turns, up for the younger ones.

Time changes things and as she got older, her observant nature quickly began to break through the illusion of childhood happiness. By this time, she was considered three and the overwatcher of the younger kits still naive in their lives. She began to notice a pattern that whenever a kit reached the age of four, a month later they would become absent from the group. This pattern started to bother her over time since her own fourth birthday was coming close.

The night Ferat didn’t return to the kit group, Kiseo laid wide awake in her bed. She heard the field slaves trudge in, like normal, and begin to pull the herb pail from the corner. Without thinking, Kiseo quickly twisted about in her small space on the floor as she heard a familiar voice break through the snoring. It was Ferat, sobbing, as she turned her back to the older tiger Mao. With the night version gifted to her by her race, Kiseo pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle a horrified squeak. All along the leopard patterned back were numerous scars glistening with fresh blood. Her linen shirt was shredded while the Mao began to apply a paste, crushed within his paw with a rock, then traced each vivid line causing Ferat to recoil in pain and bit upon her linen’s sleeve to stifle her cry.

Shocked by the sight, Kiseo couldn’t pull her eyes way as she drifted slowly to sleep. It was her first hint of reality, but she didn’t fully understand it.

When her fourth birthday hit, it should’ve been a day of joy and modest celebration even when forgotten dread lingered in her heart. Being a slave, hardships never hit when individuals were prepared for it. Watching the newest kits, about six, she caught sight of one of the field slaves dragging what she assumed was a sack toward the master’s property edge. It was too far to determine details, a fact she would’ve been glad for, as she went back to her own given task. Later that day, she learned the elder Mao Lini had gone from this world. It didn’t take her long to recall that scene and knew it was proof that their lives matter little to their masters and were easily replaced.

It was a month later, Kiseo braced for her future. She was quickly surprised when her mother came casually walking toward the hut and mentioned she was there to retrieve her. Since her birth, Kiseo’s interaction with her mother had always been limited to an hour once or thrice a week.

These times weren’t given by the masters, but stolen by her mother in the dead of night when Shinx stole away from the house, down to the hut and took her sleeping place beside Kiseo. While the other slaves knew it was happening, they turned a blind eye to allow the pair their peace together. It was primary by voice, thanks to numerous lullabies, that Kiseo knew her mother at all. So when Shinx requested Kiseo to follow her, naturally the chance to spend time and feed her curiosity was too good to pass up. During their walk, Kiseo learned she would be attending a Híril Dyril who would eventually become her master.

A short, cold bath in the sea cleansed her of any filth or external parasites before they made their way into the house. That bath made weekly turned out to be one of many expected requirements. At first, the tasks were small and things she could already do well. Fetching water, supplies, meals and more often left her feet blistered, sore and cracked on the pads. Even worse, she was often clipped, halted or forced to do other tasks by the rest of the household purely to delay her in serving Híril Dyril. This resulted in her being punished a few times.

While the lashings were only skin deep, Kiseo didn’t like the pain in the least and sought to avoid it. She became smarter about her paths through the household and purposely taking longer detours rather than short cuts. In order to make up the difference, she would push herself harder to speed up. While she still was considered slow, the tactic worked. Eventually Kiseo began to avoid crossing paths with Dyril’s family at all. Over the year, Kiseo learned to show her respect, awe and even loyalty toward her would be new master. Something that filled her mother with pride as it endeared the hybrid Elven toward her.

Kiseo’s fear of pain developed when she seven years old. A young adolescent, her built and height would’ve had many humans mistake her for a young ten or twelve year child, she felt sorrow as she helped Shinx pack for Dyril’s yearly exposure to the Elven affairs. Naturally, her mother would accompany the Híril to attend to her during the trip and leaving Kiseo home.

It was a mistake Dyril would later regret.

About a day after Dyril left, the current mistress of the estate, Duvainil, assigned Kiseo to the main house slaves numbers. For the three months that her master was gone, Kiseo learned what true cruelty was and why many house slaves had numerous scars. One incident stuck out in her mind: the day she was ruthlessly whipped for an accident not even her fault. Faron, the very one that killed Lini, had purposely stepped on her tail and then jerked it back without warning. Trying not to fall into any of her ‘masters’, she immediately dropped the food she was holding and crumbled to the floor, her heart racing at the torment that awaited her. Duvainil frowned deeply then ordered two servants to take her out back where she was tied up to the punishment tree by her arms. Frightened, Kiseo pleaded for forgiveness but her words fell on deaf ears. By the Aunt’s command, about sixty lashes were made across Kiseo’s back. She was left hanging there for hours until a tiger Mao named Ting pulled her down. She was then ushered back to the hut where an elder prepared the healing paste. Ting later left to inform Dyril about what had happened.

What occurred between the young mistress and her Aunt, Kiseo had never found out. All she knew was that later that day, Shinx came to retrieve her and then took her into the house. In the kitchen, Dyril was waiting patiently for the pair. When Kiseo noticed her, the child immediately hit the ground and whimpered her apologies in a desperate voice. Tears fell from her eyes while she braced for the worst. It didn’t come as Dyril leaned down and helped Kiseo to her feet, her five digit grip firm but gentle. With a simple gesture, the Mao was pulled into a chair where Dyril motioned for Shinx to clean and wrap the wounds. This would be one of a few rare, caring actions Dyril would perform during her life.

The next time was when her mother was killed and she learned how much Shinx truly meant to the half elf. Fear had tilted and raged in her heart when the news about Shinx’s absence reached them. It wasn’t like her mother as both of them knew. Without a bit of nudging, Kiseo dressed Dyril for travel then placed on her linen shirt, pants and even a hand-me-down cloak of itchy material before they left for the docks. It was an hour later when the older Mao was found.

She was discarded under the docks with her neck broken and tilted at an odd angle. Kiseo was the first to find her in the grim twilight of the dawn. The horror and sorrow to her heart over the loss broke her down immediately as she cradled the lifeless corpse.

Any other master would’ve beaten her into submission then sent her home, but Dyril lowered herself and pulled Kiseo upright. Gently, Dyril guided them both from the open area into a local back alley hidden from view. After they finally became hidden from sight, her mistress allowed her to sob uncontrollably. Her own tears covered the ones the Elf was holding inside herself. When both females had composed themselves once more, they both knew how it happened and who had done this. It was a deep motivation to Kiseo to begin to take over her mother’s duty and help pass letters between Dyril and Saeldir. Over the course of the next few years, she began to help Dyril by assisting in her research, delivering letters, and other smaller tasks for her owner. Every bit was critical toward their trip to meet the Mazeltof and across the sea.

Skills:

• Farm Experience: Very limited, but she does know how to grow and tend to mandrakes in the fields. This is usually only to get them to sprout and keep them healthy, but if they fall ill due to disease or need harvested… she won’t be much help.
• Able to Read and Write: This is primary Elven, Mao, and quite a bit of basic human. All taught out of need, rather than by allowance, purely because she is made to write out numerous things for her master and assist in the research over Dyril’s family in the last past three years.
• Cooking: The Mao, due to her requirement to take of her mistress, has been educated to cook primary Elven dishes.
• Mending Clothing: Is an excellent seamstress when it comes to repair, altering and other basics in clothing care.
• Language: Kiseo understands the language used by Formaroth, but speaking it is another matter. This allows her to eavesdrop and spy in a fashion that most might not realize, most the information being pulled back to her master for Dyril’s own personal use later on.
• Fast Runner: Being the only slave to Dyril, an Elf of many needs, Kiseo has learned to be fast and to navigate her path in the best possible way. Through most types of terrain, through when it comes to a run of endurance, she often falls behind the more athletic humans.
  
  • Spell: Metal Skin
    
    This spell makes an individual's flesh become as hard as steel armor for a limited time, gaining resistance to non magical piercing and slashing damage.
    
    Duration: 1 hour
    Classification: Restoration
    Range: Individual
    Concentration: Yes
    Limitations: This spell requires active focus and concentration from the user, which means that any action done to cause distraction has a chance -50/50- to cancel out the effect early. This spell doesn't protect against internal wounds such as internal bleeding, broken bones and other related wounds caused by high power impacts. Included and not limited to bludgeoning weapons, crossbow bolt (won’t penetrate, but hurt) and other weapons that able to hit with the same impact force.
    
    Notes: I have a method to keep track of this during use, but a great deal of if stops or continues will depend on the scene, story and other factors.

Biological Traits

• Flexible and Agility: Being a Mao, her feline traits give her advance flexibility by allowing her to dislocate her collarbone and squeeze into tight spaces most humans can’t. However it falls short of domestic cats ability making it difficult to fit her body into anything smaller than about 1/2 her shoulder width, mainly since her clavicle isn’t free floating or she couldn’t lift anything in her arms above her head.
• Balance: With her tail, she’s got excellent balance when darting across narrow bridges or areas as well as able to twist her body about on her feet when falling from high heights (about 7 m max). The bad part… her tail can get in the way of things if she’s not watchful.
• Claws: Retractable claws are noted on her fingers and feet, but they are primarily for climbing, delicate manipulations, and minor self defense rather than any sort of decent combat weapon.
• Silent Walking: Mao, when bare foot, are silent in their walking. Unless it’s on very weak floorboards or you strain to listen, you likely won’t hear when Kiseo walks up and stands beside you. Another thing to note, her movements in her attempt to be quiet are often slow and cautious as she still can make a sound if careless. So she’s not going to be running while using this skill.
• Higher Hearing: Higher hearing than humans, her ears about to rotate and can pick up faint sounds often missed by humans. While not as high as felines, her ears still are sensitive to extremely loud sounds. An example is the clashing of swords. Any similarly loud sounds will briefly hurt her ears, causing her to flinch in discomfort, distract or make her go temporarily deaf.
• Night Vision: Kiseo has limited night vision up to twenty feet, making her nearsighted in almost complete darkness. Everything is displayed in black and white making details like color hard to determine. Anything beyond the twenty feet is a complete, unreadable blur to her and straining will not help. In addition, unexpected or warned flashes or light will temporarily blind and hurt her depending on the exposure time and harshness. So say you stick fire in her sight suddenly when her eyes are in night time form, she won’t see anything for a good minute or more until her eyes readjust from the sudden change (varies with how long).

*_{Keep in mind, I’m trying and it might not be an accurate attempt to mimic a foreign Chinese individual trying to speak broken English. However, it should get the gist across.}

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

@TheDuncanMorgan: The CSes are done. They don't covered everything as I wanted something to explore and reveal over time as the rp progresses, but all the skills should be accounted for. I'm going to do one more review to make sure I covered the important things and it reads well, then I will post it. I apologize for the length for Dyril's ahead of time. XP *now very nervous*

Mass Effect: Borealis

flips again and dances
Just for fun.

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

With any luck, it will be up tomorrow or by Monday at most.

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

<Snipped quote by Sundered Echo>

Will the post be up soon?

@Fallenreaper How close would you say you are to finishing your character sheet?

@TheDuncanMorgan

I'm currently getting to the tail end of Kiseo. IF you need proof, I can pm the unfinished/unrevised CS to you showing I've been working on them. XD I did get half way through Dyril's 1st review and feel alright with how it reads for the most part. As I said, Dyril took a lot of the time and Kiseo's more adding things up and making them follow timeline wise. However, both bios only cover events they consider important to the PCs, not all of them. I didn't want to make it any longer than they already were.