As soon as the man stumbled into the tavern Sanjin felt the pressure in the air change, cascading over the bar in a small wave. It stunned more than a few hunters and Sanjin didn’t blame them for it. He’d been similarly useless when he was first allowed to leave the pack for hunts and a packmate was injured, gored on the horns of a deer he’d assumed was an easy mark.
Bobby and another person barked orders, a pretty woman with yellow eyes that smelled too clean to be a proper hunter. Not fragrant, mind you, clean. While not common within the pack he knew what that meant. This person was a healer, or atleast what passed for one around here. The smell was probably from soap made from neem oil or something of the like, easy to source and about as antiseptic as reasonably possible.
He followed their orders quickly and silently, letting them take control before the uncomfortable fugue state he was in slip between panic or confusion. He helped heft the man onto the table, being careful to keep his grip on the man as distributed as wide as possible just in case there were broken bones beneath the skin. Another mistake that had been learned the old fashion way.
The woman pushed through them, heaving her tools of the trade out of a leather bag with a practiced haste. Sanjin took that as an order to get out of her way, taking two steps back so not to crowd her or obscure any light she might need.
He watched as she worked, staying silent and still. His instincts told him to react, let loose all the adrenaline that the man’s emergency had stirred up in him. But that was a historically terrible idea; he didn’t know how to fix people and he’d more likely hurt the man than help right now. So he did the one thing he could do, sat and watched.
There were a few cat calls as the woman hiked up her skirt to grab a knife, probably young hunters who didn’t realize how badly someone could be hurt even if they looked mostly fine. Sanjin ignored them, modesty was something of a commodity among the pack. One readily disposed of if the situation needed it. And as far as he could tell, this probably justified a little bit of leg.
He had to give her this, the woman was good. He knew of a few packmates who would have gladly traded what little they had to have been patched up by her in the day. As it stood, Sanjin was pretty sure whoever this guy was was going to be counting his lucky stars for the next few weeks. The another woman joined the table, laying her hands on the injured man before looking confused at the world. Ok, the man should absolutely count his lucky stars that the real doctor got to him first.
“...’s good work miss.” He said finally to the yellow eyed woman, waiting several beats after she lay wayed whatever concerns Bobby might have had. “I’ll...help I guess? Get clean bandages and what not as you need them. Got nothing else to do and it seem a bit unfair to leave you taking care of the injured on yer own.” He nodded to the blonde woman briefly before adding, "Er...no offense meant?"
Usoa dropped the hunk of flesh to the ground with a pout, crossing her arms in defeat. It would have been interesting to try atleast, but Alex was apparently in no mood to experiment. "Its not torture if they're still alive at the end and...fine..." She grumbled halfheartedly, more out of childish irritation at not being allowed to try and put the broken witch back together than anything else.
However, Alexina's offer for the prisoners....confused her. "Wait. why are we even offering them a choice?" She asked softly. "I mean...they did a bad thing. why not just take their powers then?..."
Sanjin, Hunter
At the tavern
Sanjin shook his head at Andvari. "There's a creek bed about a mile south, water comes up through the sand so its decently clean! And no. Its better to have a neutral smell overall. If you smell like you do of musk and loose dirt you stick out too much." He said, never really stopping for breath between sentences and still bouncing excitedly on his spot in the floor.
He was about to continue when another hunter spoke up, asking the nice barman if he was some sort of entertainer. The sound of the insult flying over the younger hunters head was almost audible, the excited smirk stitched on his face not faltering in the slightest. The other hunter was tall and clearly experienced, if a little dim. If he was a werewolf he'd never come this far into town. It was a lot easier to hunt at the fringes and bring food deep into the woods.
He was about to inform Draco of this when Emiliah interrupted, probably saving both men from yet another odd exchange. "Oh. Yes. Most are south right now...or heading there. Some of us are still here to get more experience, resources for winter or ...you know. Get Mates." He explained, pausing awkwardly on the last one. These folks barely seemed to understand how dangerous smell was, so he wasn't sure he wanted to explain why inbreeding caused problems.
Seren's Folly smelled weird. Sanjin had decided this the moment his pack step foot into the village. There were the obvious smells associated with towns of course, the distant musk of live stock and the light wafts of baked goods barely overriding the gentle bass note of outhouses and street 'leavings'. But there was another smell. It hung loosely around his nostrils, acrid and unpleasant. Like a wet moldy log on a fire.
The older hunters in the pack told him it was the other hunters, though refused to explain further. Frustrating, but understandable. He was old enough that their guidance was not required anymore. If he was confused, he was on his own in regards to finding answers. The pack was here to hunt, all other things were secondary.
The bulk of The Pack had come through two months ago, he along with them. They took advantage of the surplus jobs and made a heavy profit before heading south to the warmer climates before winter began to set in. Now only the veteran and novice hunters of their clan remained. The veterans because they were accustomed to the life (a few had even settled here permanently, as insane as an idea as that sounded to him) and the novices because they still wished to prove themselves and were more than strong enough to make the journey on their own later.
He entered into the Witch's Paradise quietly, as he always had for the past week or so. The place was nice enough, the food was warm and there were always a hunter group or two forming up during the later hours of the evening. It was a good place to find work, if you could stomach the weak drinking that city folk had. Tonight, the place reeked of the unidentifable smell, and Sanjin had to repress the urge to hold his nose at its sudden intrusion.
Taking a moment to adjust he sniffed the air, his perfeered method of finding...well anything really. A few scents caught his attention, the scent of recent travel being one of them. A familiar mix of body odor and dirt, though there was a lot...more of it than normal.
He followed it quickly, weaving quietly between patrons until he was staring at the back of a very very large man. He looked...well, desperate for work if Sanjin was any judge of character. Good news for the young Pack hunter. Now that he was closer he could smell someone else, obscured by the larger man both visually and otherwise. It was a lighter scent, like old rope and lavender.
"You stink of the road mister!" Sanjin chirped loudly, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet as he introduced himself to a hopeful meal ticket. "If you dont bathe properly the prey will notice you." He added, in the small awkward pause that followed. "....and then you'll die...I'm Sanjin, do you have work?" He added again, too eager for a response to properly wait for one.
((OOC: sanjin smells the tension in the air. Sniffs himself into a conversation. Proceeds to have the charisma of a brick.))
Alexina was angry again, Usoa could tell that much. She always called a lot of people to the hall and said a lot of things when she was angry with something or someone. Today though, she seemed especially incensed about...something. Usoa was pretty sure the woman had explained somewhere in that speech but she was also pretty sure she got distracted halfway through by a bug crawling on the floor. She liked Alexina, but listening to her talk like this was exhausting. Made no better that she was required to wear actual pants while not in her private domain.
"I hate pants..." She grumbled to herself, one of the witches piping up and questioning Alexina's authority. That was a bad idea. When the Queen of the Forest was angry your best bet was to stay quiet and let her tire herself out. Saying things just made her get worse...or louder depending.
A flash of red finally brought Usoa into focus, watching calmly as a handful of ripped flesh squelched to the ground. She willed herself through the crowd (a fairly easy task given the general berth most of the coven gave her) and picked up the discarded piece of throat and finally listening to her Coven leader as she spoke.
Ryleth was the first to break the silence after Alexina's question, a welcomed thing in Usoa's eyes. "...we could cut off things from them...?" She suggested quietly, slithering forward. "I mean...I can put those things back on afterwards...but it...ya know...will hurt."
She pauses for a moment, the silence telling her she was doing rather well in this conversation. "...'cept if its things like this." She added, lifting up the discarded juggular for all to see. "Can't fix that...I think...oooo. Can I try it?" She asks Alexina, a sudden burst of giddiness exploding in her chest as she played with the skin flap from one hand to another absent mindedly.
Personality: While not on the hunt one could be forgiven for thinking Sanjin a friendly and energetic individual, if a bit dull. He a social little pup and is a frequent face among the tavern dwelling sort, enjoying tall tales of other hunters or brawling amongst them with a wide eyed amusement only matched by a child.
However, on the hunt is where his true nature is revealed. The aimless energy seen at home focuses to a razor sharp feralness, often devolving to the man dropping to all fours and snarling at the ground or sniffing at the air. Once he gets like this, there is very little that can persuade him to stop until his prey (be it beast or witch) is grasped firmly in his jaws, bleeding and mewling for a mercy that is unlikely to come.
History: Sanjin was born into a hunter clan known colloquially as 'The Pack'. However, 'clan' is somewhat of a misnomer. The Pack is a loose collection of hunters (both families and individuals) who are share a characteristic feral ferocity during the hunt. They are often simple hunters, openly disdainful of new technologies and following simple tactics. The most famous of which being their persistent hunting strategy, where in they drive a witch from their hiding place with a large team then follow them (sometimes for days on end) until they either die from exhaustion and exposure or finally tire enough to be beaten to death by the group.
Like many children raised in The Pack, Sanjin was raised communally and did not know who his birth parents were. Not that he cared in the slightest, he had many mothers and fathers to learn from and they spared no expense putting him and his broodmates through the ringer. Spending months at a time in the deep woods with few supplies beyond what they could track or gather was a norm, and frequent beatings by older Pack members even more so. So all in all, a rather happy childhood if he said so himself, even if an outsider might disagree.
When he was fifteen he was finally allowed to join the hunting parties. Not for witches, of course. The Pack was simple, but they were not stupid enough to let an untested hunter chase after such dangerous prey. Instead he followed hunters too old for witch hunts on expiditions for more mundane beast, hunted at the behest of local villagers in exchange for meat and coin. The scale and danger of the beast gradually increased over the next five years until eventually he was allowed to take a mask, the symbol of his right to participate in witch hunts within the clan. Now on the eve of his first hunt, the young pup is fit to burst with excitement.
Signature Weapon: A heavy silver plated club with spikes of iron.
Things they look for in a partner: Sanjin is a man of simple needs. Affectionate contact is a good start, though this may only make you a mate rather than a partner. He would like a person who can cook or make tools, as they can be invaluable members to The Pack's nomadic lifestyle. Try and take his somewhat simple nature in good stride, dont try to 'civilize' him and you are likely to get along fairly well with him. Do be prepared though, that feralness is rumored to come out in more than just hunts...
Pets/Familiars: Don't need a pet when you ARE the pet....wait no that came out wrong. Experience: Novice.
Appearance:
Age: 65 appears to be mid 20s.
Name: Usoa
Personality: Usoa is...aloof, even by witch standards. There is an uncomfortable awkwardness that hangs in the air in any room she enters, so she is rather under practiced in the art of conversation. While not much of a talker, she is as close as Castle Bloodrose has to a 'doctor', and as such is somewhat of a caring figure in the coven. Those currently under her examination enjoy a considerable degree of protection while recovering, unless someone whats to incur a legendary anger that bubbles beneath her normally calm demeanor. She seems to have an aversion to clothing, but will not explain why (only adoring what little is needed to constitute 'appropriate')
History: Usoa was born to an elder Witch that formerly lived in Castle Bloodrose, having stalked out to the Glow Wood for several months to construct her 'magnum opus'. That is the claim anyway, as all that anyone in Castle Bloodrose know is that she arrived at their gates 92 years ago, alone and fully formed as she is now.
She took very little time to...assert herself in the castle, destroying every shred of her mothers work with no real explanation other than 'its no longer needed'. Examinations by other witches showed that, despite appearances, she did not have any connection to an alien power or entity which helped calm things considerably.
She has lived a relatively quiet life since then, only making brief stops outside of the Castle when absolutely necessary.
Special Power: Progenitor Coil- The basis for Usoa's healing arts. Several long tentacles sprouting from various points in her body which claw and worm their way inside of wounds and detach themselves, dissolving and closing the gaps in which they've embedded themselves. They are strong enough to support her full weight (she often uses them in lieu of walking) and are somewhat useful in a fight.
At any given point she can have a maximum of eight tentacles protruding from her body. If the limbs are cut off or detached for healing, she can regenerate up to five quickly over the span of three seconds. Once these five quick regens have been used, she must rest for two days (rebuilding the of reserves of proteins and fats needed) before she can quickly regenerate again. These tentacles can extend to their full length of about five feet from her body.
Things they look for in a partner: Having spent most of her life in Castle Bloodrose, Usoa has no love for the male form. It is simply dull to her and then thing between their legs looks silly. Still, her appearance is a bit disturbing to most of her fellow residence so someone who can look past that is a welcomed change. And if they dont mind not having pain killing drugs running through their system while she 'heals' them that is...a sufficient boon.
Pets/Familiars: No. Just No. That's how problems like this start in the first place. Rank: Novice.
Personality: While not on the hunt one could be forgiven for thinking Sanjin a friendly and energetic individual, if a bit dull. He a social little pup and is a frequent face among the tavern dwelling sort, enjoying tall tales of other hunters or brawling amongst them with a wide eyed amusement only matched by a child.
However, on the hunt is where his true nature is revealed. The aimless energy seen at home focuses to a razor sharp feralness, often devolving to the man dropping to all fours and snarling at the ground or sniffing at the air. Once he gets like this, there is very little that can persuade him to stop until his prey (be it beast or witch) is grasped firmly in his jaws, bleeding and mewling for a mercy that is unlikely to come.
History: Sanjin was born into a hunter clan known colloquially as 'The Pack'. However, 'clan' is somewhat of a misnomer. The Pack is a loose collection of hunters (both families and individuals) who are share a characteristic feral ferocity during the hunt. They are often simple hunters, openly disdainful of new technologies and following simple tactics. The most famous of which being their persistent hunting strategy, where in they drive a witch from their hiding place with a large team then follow them (sometimes for days on end) until they either die from exhaustion and exposure or finally tire enough to be beaten to death by the group.
Like many children raised in The Pack, Sanjin was raised communally and did not know who his birth parents were. Not that he cared in the slightest, he had many mothers and fathers to learn from and they spared no expense putting him and his broodmates through the ringer. Spending months at a time in the deep woods with few supplies beyond what they could track or gather was a norm, and frequent beatings by older Pack members even more so. So all in all, a rather happy childhood if he said so himself, even if an outsider might disagree.
When he was fifteen he was finally allowed to join the hunting parties. Not for witches, of course. The Pack was simple, but they were not stupid enough to let an untested hunter chase after such dangerous prey. Instead he followed hunters too old for witch hunts on expiditions for more mundane beast, hunted at the behest of local villagers in exchange for meat and coin. The scale and danger of the beast gradually increased over the next five years until eventually he was allowed to take a mask, the symbol of his right to participate in witch hunts within the clan. Now on the eve of his first hunt, the young pup is fit to burst with excitement.
Signature Weapon: A heavy silver plated club with spikes of iron.
Things they look for in a partner: Sanjin is a man of simple needs. Affectionate contact is a good start, though this may only make you a mate rather than a partner. He would like a person who can cook or make tools, as they can be invaluable members to The Pack's nomadic lifestyle. Try and take his somewhat simple nature in good stride, dont try to 'civilize' him and you are likely to get along fairly well with him. Do be prepared though, that feralness is rumored to come out in more than just hunts...
Pets/Familiars: Don't need a pet when you ARE the pet....wait no that came out wrong. Experience: Novice.
Appearance:
Age: 65 appears to be mid 20s.
Name: Usoa
Personality: Usoa is...aloof, even by witch standards. There is an uncomfortable awkwardness that hangs in the air in any room she enters, so she is rather under practiced in the art of conversation. While not much of a talker, she is as close as Castle Bloodrose has to a 'doctor', and as such is somewhat of a caring figure in the coven. Those currently under her examination enjoy a considerable degree of protection while recovering, unless someone whats to incur a legendary anger that bubbles beneath her normally calm demeanor. She seems to have an aversion to clothing, but will not explain why (only adoring what little is needed to constitute 'appropriate')
History: Usoa was born to an elder Witch that formerly lived in Castle Bloodrose, having stalked out to the Glow Wood for several months to construct her 'magnum opus'. That is the claim anyway, as all that anyone in Castle Bloodrose know is that she arrived at their gates 92 years ago, alone and fully formed as she is now.
She took very little time to...assert herself in the castle, destroying every shred of her mothers work with no real explanation other than 'its no longer needed'. Examinations by other witches showed that, despite appearances, she did not have any connection to an alien power or entity which helped calm things considerably.
She has lived a relatively quiet life since then, only making brief stops outside of the Castle when absolutely necessary.
Special Power: Progenitor Coil- The basis for Usoa's healing arts. Several long tentacles sprouting from various points in her body which claw and worm their way inside of wounds and detach themselves, dissolving and closing the gaps in which they've embedded themselves. They are strong enough to support her full weight (she often uses them in lieu of walking) and are somewhat useful in a fight.
At any given point she can have a maximum of eight tentacles protruding from her body. If the limbs are cut off or detached for healing, she can regenerate up to five quickly over the span of three seconds. Once these five quick regens have been used, she must rest for two days (rebuilding the of reserves of proteins and fats needed) before she can quickly regenerate again. These tentacles can extend to their full length of about five feet from her body.
Things they look for in a partner: Having spent most of her life in Castle Bloodrose, Usoa has no love for the male form. It is simply dull to her and then thing between their legs looks silly. Still, her appearance is a bit disturbing to most of her fellow residence so someone who can look past that is a welcomed change. And if they dont mind not having pain killing drugs running through their system while she 'heals' them that is...a sufficient boon.
Pets/Familiars: No. Just No. That's how problems like this start in the first place. Rank: Novice.
Personality: While not on the hunt one could be forgiven for thinking Sanjin a friendly and energetic individual, if a bit dull. He a social little pup and is a frequent face among the tavern dwelling sort, enjoying tall tales of other hunters or brawling amongst them with a wide eyed amusement only matched by a child.
However, on the hunt is where his true nature is revealed. The aimless energy seen at home focuses to a razor sharp feralness, often devolving to the man dropping to all fours and snarling at the ground or sniffing at the air. Once he gets like this, there is very little that can persuade him to stop until his prey (be it beast or witch) is grasped firmly in his jaws, bleeding and mewling for a mercy that is unlikely to come.
History: Sanjin was born into a hunter clan known colloquially as 'The Pack'. However, 'clan' is somewhat of a misnomer. The Pack is a loose collection of hunters (both families and individuals) who are share a characteristic feral ferocity during the hunt. They are often simple hunters, openly disdainful of new technologies and following simple tactics. The most famous of which being their persistent hunting strategy, where in they drive a witch from their hiding place with a large team then follow them (sometimes for days on end) until they either die from exhaustion and exposure or finally tire enough to be beaten to death by the group.
Like many children raised in The Pack, Sanjin was raised communally and did not know who his birth parents were. Not that he cared in the slightest, he had many mothers and fathers to learn from and they spared no expense putting him and his broodmates through the ringer. Spending months at a time in the deep woods with few supplies beyond what they could track or gather was a norm, and frequent beatings by older Pack members even more so. So all in all, a rather happy childhood if he said so himself, even if an outsider might disagree.
When he was fifteen he was finally allowed to join the hunting parties. Not for witches, of course. The Pack was simple, but they were not stupid enough to let an untested hunter chase after such dangerous prey. Instead he followed hunters too old for witch hunts on expiditions for more mundane beast, hunted at the behest of local villagers in exchange for meat and coin. The scale and danger of the beast gradually increased over the next five years until eventually he was allowed to take a mask, the symbol of his right to participate in witch hunts within the clan. Now on the eve of his first hunt, the young pup is fit to burst with excitement.
Signature Weapon: A heavy silver plated club with spikes of iron.
Things they look for in a partner: Sanjin is a man of simple needs. Affectionate contact is a good start, though this may only make you a mate rather than a partner. He would like a person who can cook or make tools, as they can be invaluable members to The Pack's nomadic lifestyle. Try and take his somewhat simple nature in good stride, dont try to 'civilize' him and you are likely to get along fairly well with him. Do be prepared though, that feralness is rumored to come out in more than just hunts...
Pets/Familiars: Don't need a pet when you ARE the pet....wait no that came out wrong. Experience: Novice.
Personality: Dominic is considered aloof, cold, and tyrannically analytical to most, if not all, of his coworkers. As an actuary with a major medical research company, he is fantastically uninterested in things like the potential life saving value of a project or how long a person has dedicated themselves to its research. His only concern is the potential liability and financial risks of a project and if it will make a return in the next five to ten years, and projects (and presumably people) have lived and died under the brunt of his assessments.
However, it would be wrong to assume he does this purely out of a sense of malice or greed. Quite the opposite in fact. He loathes to shut down projects with great potential, but without a reasonable justification to keep them alive the company will just be burning their investors money on every pipe dream that sounds nice. No investment capital means no more research, which means more people die anyway. Someone has to be the bad guy and unfortunately he fits the role perfectly.
Despite not being particularly thrilled with the position of resident stick int he mud, he takes his job seriously. Often working himself to the point of exhaustion combing through discovery reports and risk assessments to find some way of keeping whatever new project that has entered his sights afloat for just a little longer. He'd probably have more friends (and maybe fear him a little less) at work if people knew this. Honestly, keeping busy has become both a state of being and a defensive mechanism, as he has essentially isolated himself to the point of not knowing really HOW to socialize anymore without mentally preparing to destroy every iota of a persons hope.
tl;dr: Intelligent and result oriented, with a preference to understand all the risks before moving forward. Emotionally distant from most people due to being responsible for shattering their dreams on the daily (Well...quarterly really). Highly developed sense of long term gain and works towards the best possible outcome for everyone, and will happily alienate himself in doing so.
Biography: Dominic's father was a high profile civil attorney who had immigrated from Germany in his youth. Moving to <insert name of small town> was as much a business decision as it was anything else. Being based in a small rural town tended to put clients at ease and the cities er...'rustic' charms lent an air of trustworthiness to his dad. As a result, Dominic saw little of his father for most of his childhood, he and his stay at home mother seeing the man maybe once or twice a month.
And frankly, he hated it. He hated his fathers practice for stealing time he and his dad could have spent together and he hated feeling like he had to just accept it. Being something of a late comer to the Fairytale gang, he filled the role of badguy, mostly to work out these frustrations in play as children often do. As he got older though and the games stopped he slowly began to learn WHY his dad worked as hard as he did.
For a large part of his dads life, his family had been flat broke. The man had worked himself to the bone to get through law school and now worked himself to the bone to make sure his child and wife would never have to. Sacrificing that time he and Dominic could have shared hurt him just as much as it had Dominic, but doing things that hurt you to make things better is just how things are sometime.
Dominic took the lesson to heart and vowed not to waste his dads efforts, becoming laser focused on taking advantage of every opportunity that sacrifice had offered. He focused heavily on his studies early into junior high, spending less and less time with the small circle of friends he had gathered in the small town. By Highschool, he was more a name attached to a face than anything else. When he graduated Summa Cum Laude of their year he was met with a resounding 'oh..yeah. makes sense.' from most of the other kids, which struck him as a little funny at the time.
College was a similar story, albiet with far fewer people to grow distant from. He blitzed through the program, attending through the summers to shave off a year and a half from his Bachelor's in Economics and joining the Society of Actuaries at 21. In the last three years he has worked...and little else.
Hero Card
[insert hero theme hero]
Name of you Hero: Peirowaagh (peer-oh-waag)
Race: Greater Tree Demon
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Appearance:
While age has certainly made Peirowagh's appearance...a little more mundane, he is still a strange sight to behold. His horns still curve behind the skull that makes up his head, though his formally immense stature is now relegated to being very tall. Still, he can hardly complain about being 6'5''.
His skin is the harder aspect to get used to. The bark like texture surrounding his body moves and shifts oddly, having no real feeling to it save in the extremities. Like his body is covered in a thick rubber suit with foam plates glued to its exterior.
Hero Personality: Peirowaagh thirsts for power and control over whatever he deems 'his' dominion, which largely consisted of anywhere with a tree. He is ancient and old, and values his ways of doing things before anything else leading to an impressive stubborn streak. He will ruthlessly allow whatever underlings he has die under his care if it means he is one step closer to gaining the object of his desire.
Weapon: Flameberge greatsword.
Abilities/Spells: Tree Stride: After a minute of concentration, Peirowaagh is able to transport himself and any number of creatures he can see through two trees as if they were a portal. These trees can be any distance apart though he MUST know a destination tree's approximate location for it to work. Shape Earth and Stone: Casting his magic into the ground, Peirowaagh can move large amounts of dirt and rock at will. He likes to apply this power in combat by crushing enemies between slabs of rock or burying them alive. The latter of which is more for insult than effectiveness however. Very useful for making fortified positions or making paths. Grove Lord Peirowaagh: Being a tree demon, Peirowaagh holds some dominion over plant life. He is able to cause it to grow rapidly at will or command it to ensare or hassle his enemies. He can use this ability to heal himself or other flora of wounds with some speed, though it has no such affect on non-plant based creatures. Just as well, its a little slower than most healing magic made for meat sacks.
Non Combat Skills: Peirowaagh has an innate knowledge of naturally occurring wellsprings of magic (ancient groves, mystic rivers and the like) and how they can be used. He is also well versed in herbology and botany.
Combat Skills: With his bark like hide and natural desire filled ferocity, Peirowaagh is a true beserker in battle. Barreling through opponents with his greatsword and sheer weight. There is skill to his technique, but it is vastly overshadowed by the intensity of the tree demon's might. Those that meet him in combat have the option of fleeing, being torn asunder, or (on the rare occasion you may prove useful to him) allowed to live as his servants.
Hero Lore: Long before the age of man, elf, and others there was the age of Alapachia, a time of lush and immense flora and primitive beasts of grand scale. The was filled to bursting with life and all things were in balance. At least...thats how a young Peirowaagh saw things.
Magic, in any sort of refined form, had yet to enter the world. All that was magic was the primal elemental life energies that clung to the world's inhabitants or hidden away places. Peirowaagh was one such inhabitant, a young sappling nestled comfortably in a (then) small grove.
He was the only tree amongst them that held the spark of magic and he was held in some reverence because of this. However, they were still only trees. While they held ancient wisdom and a consciousness inaccessible to beasts (or so they thought), mobility is sadly not a tool at their disposal.
So there the Lord sat, he and his grove flourishing in the rich sunlight of the world. Their roots stretched deep and they felt the rich soils power, it sustained them. Taught them. And when the time came, it consumed them in return. A mind numbingly simple existence to those of flesh, perhaps. But Peirowaagh found it enjoyable and, perhaps more importantly, peaceful.
Then the walking beasts came. Primitive and grunting at one another inarticulately. They clawed at his kind with tooth and fang with predatory glee. They stripped the skin from his kind with stones and later, gleaming brown metal. A few revered their kind, but less than there should have been.
At first, he and his court of trees ignored the creatures. They were just animals after all, albeit annoying as they broke branches away from them. They were only a real threat to the smallest of saplings, and even then only just barely. However, as the centuries turned, the beasts became more clever.
The brown metal gave way to silver, which dug deeper into his kind as well as theirs. And a few were begining to take awkward steps towards understanding magic. Hundreds of his brothers and sisters were felled by the beasts now calling themselves 'man', by axe to be mutilated into their tools or by fire for their enslaved plants.
After a mellinia, Peirowaagh made his presence known to a beast of long ear named Kiliki-nin in a thunderous bellow that shook the grove. ((gonna call it there for the night. will come back to this later)) Battle Theme: [the theme that plays as you vanquish your enemies]
((tis a work in progress, but here is what I have so far.))
@Euphonium Thanks for the feedback, its much appreciated! I reduced the image by 30%, which is hopefully enough. Didn't realize the font meme was broken as I guess the image was still in cache on my computer, so I've moved it to an image host for the moment.
As for the overlap: I fully understand. I had looked at @LordVoldemort's character but it somehow it completely fell out of my mind while writing my CS up. I'm willing to rework the background from an injury to something else (say performance anxiety or his temper causing him to get a ban?). This goes doubly so if the player in question feels like I might be robbing their character of a fun element to explore.
The only thing I want to preserve is the dream of going to the Olympics in 2020 in Karate. If only because its both culturally important and an extremely rare opportunity for practitioners (Karate is weirdly not a normal Olympic event.)
Competition Karate-A year ago, Shun was a pretty serious competitor in the Cadet 63 Kg Kumite scene. Good enough that there was a possibility that he could have attended the 17th Asia Cadet, Junior and U-21 Championship. However, an accident outside of training left him unable to compete and he's all but abandoned the sport.
Occupation
Unemployed.
Characterization
Physical Description
Despite how bad its been, the last year has been pretty good for Shun growth wise. At 184 Cm and 75 Kg he cuts and intimidating figure, at times perhaps looking a little older than most kids his age. A strict training and diet regiment keeps in impressive physical condition, though he'd admit this is more out of habit than anything else.
His hair is never brushed, a loose mop of brown that remains (mostly) tangle free by sheer force of will and frequent haircuts alone. He isn't much for high fashion, so outside of school his wardrobe largely consists of jeans, T-shirts, or the occasional nice sweater when some sense of formality is required.
Personality Traits
Shun is a deeply frustrated person at the moment, which unfortunately makes him deeply frustrating to be around. He is abrasive, blunt, and casually disrespectful to pretty much anything with a pulse, but students who are particularly successful in sports clubs are lightening rods for this behavior. He is somewhat more neutral to those who prefer less physically active hobbies, though can still be prone to rude or dismissive comments.
Despite his roughness, you'd be hard pressed to find someone more personally disciplined than him. If Shun decides something is to be done, it gets done even if he has to work himself to death to do it. Failure of any sort terrifies Shun, not that he would ever admit this. He is the first in line to beat himself up over any little mistake, sometimes he's the ONLY person in that line. And while an actual apology is never going to happen, if Shun feels he owes you something you're getting paid back in spades. And god help you if you feel like he doesn't owe you anything.
He recently discovered he is a fan of quote 'nerdy crap' like role playing games and fantasy novels. Particularly anything with a hard boiled detective type or characters of similar disposition. He would sooner die in a house fire than freely admit this to anyone.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes
• Dogs • Detective Movies • Table Top RPGs (Favoring Monk-like Classes...of course.) • Competitive Martial Arts • Flower Arrangement • Spicy Food • Mathematics
Disikes • Sweet Food • Quitting • Stairs • Himself • Pretty much every able bodied person in this room.
Home Life
Shun spent a great deal of his early life living in small crapped apartments with his mother, Kunimitsu Ai. To put it indelicately, Ai had been a party girl when she was a teenager and Shun was an unplanned wake up call. As such, Shun really has no clue who his biological father is and isn't about to ask for a list of suspects.
Ai worked hard to give Shun as stable a life as she could manage, working whatever menial job she could get her hands on. The downside being that Shun spent much of his time out of school at a local dojo that a friend of his mother's worked at. At first, his attendance was really nothing more than glorified free babysitting, the Kancho Ito Daichi being too soft hearted not to give Ai a break. The fact that new students would be absolutely befuddled by the sight of a toddler haphazardly attempting to mimic their teachers kata was also a plus.
But, by the time he was ten Shun was more or less a full fledged student and was technically proficient enough to keep up with students three time his age. But, being ten, he really couldn't spar with most of the other students who...you know. Actually WERE three times his age, and thus much stronger. So when Daichi suggested he try a local youth competition, Shun jumped at the chance.
Shun wishes he could say he dominated, but that would be a lie. He came 30th out of the whole showing, but the sheer joy he felt from sparring with someone on equal footing lit a fire in him. Training before had been a silly past time while he waited for his mom to pick him up after work, now it was just...more.
The next two years saw more competitions, Shun steadily raising in the rankings each time until he was placing in the top three consistently. Sure, it was the youth league and all, but it was the center of his universe and for four or five times a year he felt truly alive!
It was around this time his mother met his eventual step father, Tosaka Yoshi. Tosaka was a marginally successful pediatrician who sometimes donated his time volunteering as onsite medical services for various sporting competitions, mostly as an excuse to watch his daughter's, Yuki, track events. His wife had passed away early in Yuki's life and the two families rather happily winning each other over. Yuki in particular being rather happy to have a little brother to dote on, even if she was only two years older. Not that Shun would complain, being a little starved for familial affection since his mom worked all the time. Shun was barely thirteen when the two finally decided to marry, though truthfully it was far more a formality than anything else.
The next year was without a singular doubt the happiest year of Shun's life. They moved into a modest home which quickly became a monument to the kids various sporting accomplishments, the greatest of which being Yuki getting offered a chance to participate in a scouting camp for the 2020 Olympic games! A fact she would tease her little brother about to no small degree.
There was zero down in Shun's mind Yuki would eventually make the cut and join Japan's Track team (50m Sprint if he was forced to take a guess) and he was NOT about to be the only kid in the family not to go. So Shun knuckled down on his training like never before, aiming to represent Japan in the 67kg Kumite division come hell or high water.
Motivated by sibling pettiness, Shun began a winning streak like nothing he'd managed before. Any JKF (Japan Karate Federation) Event he could attend, he did, and he tore through it like a hurricane. The only thing holding him back was his mom's requirement he keep his grades up to compete. But a few sleepless nights of studying and make up tests were a small price to pay.
Then the whole world went to shit and he got injured. While leaving a tournament a poorly maintained concrete step gave way underneath him and sent him tumbling down a few steps before his leg cracked against the hand rail. The terror of what happened hit long before the pain ever have.
Leg injuries are a death sentence to any athlete, Period. And while Shun wasn't exactly a medical professional, he knew a bad break when he saw one.
He doesn't remember what happened next, but the next time he was conscious of his surroundings he was in the hospital. After a brief but intense panic attack, he managed to get his step-dad to explain what had happened and immediately felt infinitely worse. The bone was shattered a few inches above the ankle, the doctor calling it a comminuted fracture and suggesting and ORIF. Essentially, they'd screwed, bolted and hammered what remained of his tibia into something vaguely resembling what it was before. When Shun finally managed to ask how long it would take before they could remove all the things they put in him he received no answer.
The next few months crushed what little optimism remained in Shun after that, the young man able to do very little beyond attend school and do his physical therapy. His mood soured from being immobile for so long; the gentle teasing of his step sister or the general goofiness of Yoshi doing little to help and sometimes wearing his patience thin, though tempers rarely rose too high. He mostly just tried to avoid them and his mom; their attempts at pretending things were still the same growing increasingly irritating and their concern just making him feel helpless. During this time, he filled what hours he could with browsing whatever he could on the internet. Fantasy series (especially bad ones) seemed to work the best to keep his mind off of things, he even joined a text based role play site for a while but was banned for poor behavior.
When it finally came off eight months later though, Shun finally broke. His range of motion in his left ankle wasn't even a tenth of what it used to be. He could walk and run just fine, but as it stood he'd be lucky to break the top ten at even the most amateur of tournaments. The helplessness he had felt over the last few months finally boiling over into a bitter fury.
Arguments became a weekly event in the Tosaka-Kunimitsu house hold shortly there after, eventually evolving into almost daily events. Yuki got the worst of it, the two siblings being barely able to exchange more then three words with screaming themselves hoarse. After four months of this, a consensus was reached. Shun wasn't going to get better, not here in Tokyo anyway. So they could all be miserable together and get through this as a family, or Shun could leave.
Surprising no one, the three had Shun's bags packed and a taxi ready for him by the time he got home from school that day. He stopped only to get an explanation of where he was going before leaving, not needing to be convinced that he'd be better off anywhere else.
Shun currently lives with his step uncle and aunt, both of whom are spared from his ire by virtue of the trio doing everything in their power to avoid each other. His mom, step father and step-sister all live in Tokyo. This arrangement is mostly an experiment by his parents to see if getting some distance from his home town (and, more pressingly, his sister flourishing track career) will mellow out his anger issues. Neither side is particularly optimistic about the results will be.
Personal Motivation
He wants to compete at the Olympic level in martial arts. Failing that, he wants ANYTHING that could fill that void in his life. He isn't sure if he wants to be able to be with his family again, there is a lot of anger and resentment on both sides there. Some of it undeserved, a lot of it not if you ask him. But...it would be nice just to be calm around them again.
Miscellaneous
Relationships
None. That is probably for the best.
Belongings & Inventory
He keeps his smart phone and wallet on him and little else. His uncle lets him use his old bike to get around town. He keeps a laptop at ‘home’ that is filled with pirated PDFs for tabletop games and write ups for character ideas in those systems. Never find these things if you value your life.
Other Information
While his vision is mostly fine, Shun does need his glasses for reading text and seeing far distances at full clarity.
When it is very cold outside, the fixtures in Shun's leg feel uncomfortable and cause him to limp slightly.
For those who carefully observe Shun, they will notice that every Wednesday he makes a point to have salty or fatty junk foods. This is his diet's cheat day.
All right. Grumpy former Karate champ is done. Please let me know if there are any concerns or suggestions you guys have to improve on the CS.
Hey all, don't suppose you've room for one more male character? I've got an idea for a former competition Karate student who would just love to come in and break a leg. Probably his own. Again!
FlappyTheSpybot
