Mictecal
Character you have created: Mictecacihuatl (Mictecal for short!)
Alias: Mictecal
Speech Color:
Gray BrownCharacter Alignment: Selfishly Evil.
Identity: Zoila Amore.
Character Personality:
Mictecal appears to be completely without mercy, taking no small pleasure in killing and in the death of others. It helps to understand that to her, all living things are in the end just realized necromantic potential. That said, she can easily make herself seem pleasant and agreeable, able to play the part of a harmless mortal, much thanks to the memories of the person who she was before she became a avatar of death. This generally manifests as a blasé and laid back persona who semingly only wants to have fun and who enjoys some less then child friendly entertainment.
Uniform/costume:
Mictecal doesn’t cut a imposing figure at her 166cm. Appearing as a woman in her late 30’s - early 40’s, she is generously proportioned, with an air of confidence. Her eyes seemed to be almost constantly heavy lidded, as if she is about to fall asleep. Her hair has a strange silver tone to it, making her seem slightly older than before. Her clothes take clear inspiration from south and - central american indigenous people and seem to favor ease of movement above all else. She is almost always seen carrying around a machete like blade that glow faintly green that hangs at her back within easy reach. Her back has a scar from her mortal hosts time as a runner, when some nasty gangbangers desided to carve in her flesh for “taking from the product without paying.”
Origin Info/Details:
Mictecacihuatl is one of the many aspects of death worshiped across the world. In her case, she was the ruler of the Incan Land of Dead. After the conquistadors toppled their empire, christian missionaries were quick to condemn the old ways, and she lay forgotten. However, she was not a creature to be denied. She was death, and death is a eternal factor. When the Mexican cartels began to grow in power a few hundred years later, they brought with them a bloodbath befitting of her old stomping grounds and the saints of death, Santa Muerte became a folkloric saint. But Few understood where the Santa Muertes, the very saint of death, roots lay. They did not know who had adapted the saintly robed in order to bask in the glory of death again.
Somewhere around this time of Santa Muertes popularity boom. a child with a very peculiar set of eyes was born. Her red eyes were strange on their own, but the black lines that ran through them marked her some something strange and dangerous. Left at an orphanage, Zoila grew up one of the many lost children of the Americas. A quick runner, she became a courier for local paramilitary thugs and mobsters, always flirting with death. Her only solace was increasingly dangerous jobs, drug binges and the worship of her Patron Saint, the Santa Muerte. Santa Muetre was at this point, a patron saint for most drugrunners, and like her fellow “soldados” working for the Cartels, she prayed to her every day. One day, she had a sudden vision of a underground altar, where a statue with the same eyes as her own were. Led by the Lady of Death's own beckoning call, she stood before it. That is where the story of Zoila effectively ends and the amalgam of the two entities known as Micetan begins.
The statue was a old ritual site for the Inca goddess that had been raised by the christians. They had erased a monastery that was then visited upon death and missfortune. It was partially reconstructed during the mexican revolution to be a fort for the rebels. And after that, it had become part of the cartels massive underground tunnels, and an altar to Santa Muerte. Cutting her wrists, she fell to her knees before the altar and wrapped her arms around the statue in a morbid embrace. As her life bled onto the altar, Micetal devoured the young girls soul and wish for release from this terrible world that abandoned her again and again.
A avatar of death that is driven mainly by her lust for killing, she maintained all the memories of Zoila's normal life, and set out for a career as a hired killer and hit woman. Where she excelled and used her powers to rack up a massive killing spree. She was stopped at the American border by a massive coordinated effort made by the American and Mexican government, involving metas and magicians that managed to bind her and move her to a super max for metas where she is isolated on the deepest, most remote levels. So far removed from any life that she cant even feel the death of insects.
That is, until someone sends a team to pick her up...
Hero Type: Supernatural-Mystic
Power Level: Street when starved, Planet/Cosmic if fed enough death. (Note: We are talking genocidal level for cosmic)
Powers:
Soul Siphon:Mictcal devours necrotic energy to acquire temporary as well as lasting power. This means all death magic, ghosts and spirits that aren’t fettered to a living host is fair game to her. The more she devours, the stronger she gains in every facet of her being. The initial burst of power is far bigger then the lasting effect, granting her speed and strength that is inhuman. The more death around her, the better. When it leaves her, a small fragment of that power is permanently embedded in her until she sustains what is normally lethal damage.
Attributes:
Height: 166cm
Weight: 67 kilos
Strength Level: Peak Human, capable of going to extreme levels if surrounded with enough death. At her absolute peak, she has been seen lifting and tossing cars. This was at the peak of her battle at the border, at which point she was fresh off a killing spree that had left a bordertown a ghost town.
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 5x is her normal speed, upon massive supercharges, she reaches around 10x.
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Mictecal can survive any damage sustained as long as enough death has taken place around her. She cannot die by normal means, as she is a avatar of death. If you meet her on a a proper battlefield, chances are that not even a tank round is gonna phase her. If it’s only been a pair of people, you can possibly put her down for the count for a little while, or at least chip her power levels down to an acceptable level.
Agility: Inhuman
Intelligence: Not a genius, but not dumb by any means. It’s a case of Cunning over book smarts though.
Fighting Skill:
Extremely skilled with a blade, coupled with necromantic prowess and superhuman abilities, it makes her a terror to face. While she prefers to get up close, she is capable of marksmanship with rifle and pistols alike. Her favored gun being sixshooter she took from a famous Mexican gunsmith. The gun itself was meant to be a gift to the man's daughter, someone that Zoila had met once before becoming Micetal. Upon seeing her, gunsmith realized nothing remained of his daughters friend, and shot her. Micetal was amused by this and took the gun for her own after killing the man. Its a powerfull gun, and she is a regular gunslinger when she wants to be.
Resources:
While the government have seized most of her stuff, she does posses friends on the outside who stashes guns and equipment incase she escapes. A lot of low level thug see her as the saint they long prayed to and will lay down their lives for her blessings.
Weaknesses: Sustained, long fights where she is focused fire will wear her down. If her souls are depleted or somehow exercises them out of her, she is no stronger then a average human. Certein magical tems and holy artifacts have had effect on her. Although what that effect is varies depending on origin and potency of the object.
Supporting Characters: None atm
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: I think I still doooo?
Sample Post:
“Send help!” The shout echoed through the com link as the marine backed police sting found themselves as targets. The air around them stank of death, blood made dirt into blood beneath their feet in the otherwise dry, mexican heat. The Cavarro kartel's foot soldiers lay in pieces, slaughtered very much in the same manner as they had been slaughtering their own victims. Sergeant DeRossa sweated bullets as he had to dodge actual bullets from a unknown shooter. The woman was moving to fast to be normal person, her movements graceful like a dancers. Every now and then, another poor souls comlink died.
A blur of green and black streaked across his vision suddenly, his MP5 rattled off a salvo to no avail, he was firing where the phantom had been two seconds earlier. He felt the taste of sweat on his lips, licking them out of habit as he heard another comrade, one of the mexican marines, get his cut throat. There was a ghastly laughter hanging in the air after each kill.
Then came the crack of a gunshot and the flower of fire and blood as the man next to him, Joel, stuped backwards, his brains a large splatter across the wall behind them. He raised his gun at this demon made flesh as a gorgeous, dark haired woman wearing clothes whos pattern reminded him of the murals down in Central America and south Mexico. The native patterning of red and green soaked in the blood of his friends.
“Oh no.” He fumbled for his cross. Holding it meekly before him. “Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte…” His voice trembled.
“Please, that is a title you christians gave me. I am Mictecacihuatl… Lady of the Dead…” Her voice was like velvet and he found himself lovering his gun. His heart seemed to slowly stop beating. His eyes clouded over a her entire body seemed to wrapped in a green aura of death, swirling faces of people he knew, people he had eaten with only a week prior to this.
“P-please… Spare me.” HIs voice came out hoarse, raspy. He found it hard to even breathe, his body hot and cold at once.
“Death comes for us all…” She produced a horrifically vicious looking and machete like blade. “Thank you for the meal”
cider
