Legion X51

The Prophecy

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

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

Katarina, 1508 to 1610

Character you have created:
Katarina von Reisech / Katarzyna z Ryzsecz

Alias:
Various names that have been bandied about in the ages, though most simply call her The Red Countess.

Speech Colour (Actually say what you're using):
#921111

Character Alignment:
A true Villain of the ages, Katarina is bent on unlocking the deepest secrets of the arcane and of the ultimate goal of unlife - to be free of the need for blood and to no longer fear the sun... And she will do *anything* to get it.

Identity:
Only known to a handful of those versed in the dark arts of necromancy and vampirism.

Character Personality:
Selfish, undependable and duplicitous, von Reisech is not a woman to be trusted or relied upon for important duties, though she is capable of loyalty to some causes, so long as they suit her own purposes ultimately. She plays the long game, willing to allow the mortals about her play along with their own little flickers of energy, their brief moments of glory before the cold embrace of death takes over. She is willing to grant others the mercy of the Blood Kiss, though any that are turned by her are subservient to her every whim and desire, no matter how dangerous or damaging it may be. When in battle, she is utterly merciless and ruthless to a fault, willing to sacrifice even the largest and most powerful of their servants in her search for power and her birthright - her lands in what is now Kaliningrad, the old Holy Roman county of Preussen-Konigsberg. Ultimately, she wishes to create her own vampiric paradise, where the hateful rays of the sun are obscured by the mists of undeath, and those in her thrall toil for her benefit, and finally, von Reisech will rebuild the Tower of Spires, and within, she will retire to her libraries once more. She lusts for knowledge and arcane arts, and will not hesitate to jump at any opportunity to expand her collection of spells and arcane magicks.

But... anyone can change.

Uniform/costume:
Katarina often sports Renaissance-style clothing (in spite of the changing times) as she is more comfortable with the clothing that she knew in her mortal life.

Origin Info/Details:

Chapter 1: Manifestation of Evil

Countess Katarina von Reisech was born on the Spring Solstice in 1492 in the town of Neuhausen, a Teutonic fortified settlement founded by the knightly order on their invasion of Prussia in the later 13th century, into an unsettled era of violence and war within Prussia. The Polish-Lithuanian King Jan Olbracht Jagiellon had recently consolidated the gains Poland had made during the Thirteen Years War, in which Katarina's parents had supported the Teutonic Order against the Prussian Confederation and subsequently had suffered devastation of their lands by Polish and Prussian soldiers. Katarina's own birth was surrounded in rumours of secrecy and sorcery - Graf Johann von Reisech was thought to be an impotent imbecile, and his wife Anya was of low-born stock: there were those who suspected that Katarina was either a bastard child or birthed through dark magics brought upon the couple by their Lithuanian doctor, Vytautas Revinskas: a pagan worshipper of the Romuva faith and thought to be part doctor and part sorcerer, Revinskas somehow was able to get the couple to conceive a child, which the parents predicted would be a boy. Though the pregnancy was trouble-free, the sex of the baby was wrong - nine months to the day of conception, a healthy baby girl was born - Katarina.

Her childhood was a troubled one, to match a troubled child. Revinskas often meddled with her education in the Christian arts, planting seeds of doubt that God truly was who the Bible dictated, or that Jesus Christ was the Son of God and not, say, an impostor? Revinskas encouraged the young girl to question those beliefs that were considered truths, and to be skeptical of all that the Church decried as heretical or heathen - were they simply afraid of the real truth? These seeds of doubt would, in time, blossom and bear fruit, Revinskas thought, for he was playing the long game. The castle itself and the lands surrounding it began to warp and twist over the coming months and years, though so slowly that it was barely noticeable even to the trained eyes of the clergy - though the appearance of the Comet of the Feast of St. Peter and Paul in 1499 and 1507, on the very same day of the year no less, the 29th of June, began to arouse suspicion and fear from the superstitious peasantry. At the same time, rumours of Luciferian cults and dark magics began to emerge in late 1507, with several women burned in the local area for witchcraft: the weather was unusually wet, cold and above all dark. Some days, it was said, the sun barely reached over the horizon, and in the winter of 1507-1508, some days the sun was not present whatsoever. Even those well-versed in astronomy and science could not explain this freakish phenomenon, and so, in March 1508, it was decided that the pagan priest had to die, for it was he who was causing these inexplicable occurrences, and it was he who was bringing the wrath of God upon the lands, and the Graf was abetting this wrath by allowing the priest to remain in his court! The burghers, clergy and peasants gathered together in a great throng and rose up in revolt, in defence of faith and land. They besieged Castle Neuhausen, seat of their absentee Graf, in the hope of seizing both the priest Revinskas and the "Demon Child" that he had helped bring into this world - Katarina. The Graf and his soldiers manned the walls and defended admirably against the motley cannon that the peasant revolt was able to muster, and for three months, the siege of Neuhausen was underway, as the Graf stubbornly refused to surrender the castle, for he thought the peasants would simply sack it and destroy the riches of the aristocracy. However, unbeknown to all involved, the three month delay was a carefully crafted plan by Revinskas and the Luciferians within that area of Prussia. The siege would have been unsuccessful regardless: Revinskas and Katarina had fled the area before the siege had even begun, hurrying away deep into the Lithuanian hinterland in Zemaitija and Klaipeda on Katarina's 16th birthday. There, Katarina had undergone a radical change, perhaps signifying the corruption within that had been brought to the fore by Revinskas and his cultists; her hair was white as snow, her eyes two glowing orbs of smouldering red, and she was now well-versed in forbidden necromantic lore, taught to her by the Luciferians and by Revinskas. She had even had the Black Mass performed, her naked form lying on a black stone table, with a sigil of her own blood painted on her breast, a dagger in her right hand and a silvered chalice on her stomach, a ring of chanting cultists praising the Fallen Angel. She watched now as Revinskas put his plan into action.

The date was the 30th of May, 1508, and as the sun slowly rose over the fields surrounding Castle Neuhausen, all natural light was suddenly snuffed out, replaced by a fell green-glowing skull in the sky providing the only light for the panicked revolting army. The moat surrounding the castle turned into a broiling lake of blood before their very eyes, whilst the castle's drawbridge opened seemingly by itself. The revolters turned to fight their enemy, but what they saw was not at all what they expected - the legions of the living dead. Zombified corpses clutched crude clubs and shambled forth, whilst beside them, the creaking of animated bones as skeletal figures took up rusted arms and donned tattered scraps of mail and cloth. At their head was a grotesquely-obese creature, sitting upon a defiled throne stinking of sewage and disease: the Graf had been turned into a near-amorphous blob of pustule-ridden flesh which belched forth its commands, whilst beneath the throne, a nude, spidery-limbed woman shrieked at their foe, seemingly piercing the very air around the revolting army and sending some mad there and then - Katarina's dear sweet mama, Anya von Reisech. The Luciferians had succeeded in their rituals, and the dead walked once more. Though their spirit was valiant, the revolting army had no chance. The living dead fell upon the revolting army as a pack of wolves would fall on an undefended flock of sheep, tearing and gnashing at those who dared stand in their way. Thousands of Prussians were ripped apart in gouts of bloodied gore as the living dead gorged themselves in an orgy of destruction and bloodshed, in the name of the Fallen Angel. The skull in the sky began to cackle; a horrific, grating cacophony of laughter mixed with human screams - the screams of the dying of Neuhausen. As the last few realised their dreadful mistake, they turned to flee, but the very earth itself seemed to turn against them - grass became deep mud beneath their feet, clinging to them like concrete, leaving them all but helpless against the overwhelming tide of the undead. Soon, the revolt had been slaughtered to a man. His raven servants providing sight for his obsidian scrying ball, Revinskas cackled with glee as his plan to corrupt the Count and Countess had at last come to pass. Katarina, for her part, impassively watched as generations of her subjects were slaughtered before her eyes, many by their own ancestors that they had not long buried. She stared at the carnage and slaughter, and barely even moved.

Revinskas began to spill the beans, so to speak... it was he who had rendered the Count all but impotent and feckless, and it was he who had been machinating behind the scenes to ensure the match between the Count and Countess, and the birth of Katarina. Then, he would fulminate rebellion and discontent amongst the peasantry, and then watch as the peasants turn upon the corrupted rulership, before unleashing his trap at Castle Neuhausen. Then, with the Count and Countess out of the way, he would marry Katarina and rule Neuhausen in their stead, promulgating a great demonic bloodline from whenceforth a new generation of the undead would rule, as in Romania... The last step in Revinskas' plan was the turning of Katarina herself. The Bloody Kiss was Revinskas' reward for her service and her studiousness, and he eagerly gave it, seeing that at last his prize was in his grasp... For three long, agonising days, Katarina slowly wasted away, her body unable to fight the vampirism wracking it from the inside, her immune system turning on itself and destroying that which it needed to continue functioning normally. Finally, on the third day, after hours of feverish sweats, blinding pain and uncontrollable spasms, Katarina von Reisech died, with a final, heart-wrenching scream. For a few nerve-wracking moments, it all hung in the balance. Was she strong enough to turn fully? Revinskas stepped forward with a black rapier in his hand, and Katarina opened her eyes, and smiled a rueful, fanged smile. The Red Countess was born from the death of the 16-year old girl. She sat up, and looked at her mentor, who nodded once and held out the sword. "My darling, this is for you." Taking it in both hands, she turned it over, chuckling to herself as Revinskas turned away to begin making plans.

"Revinskas, you old fool. My destiny is my own... I will not have some halfwit Lithuanian dictating to me what I will and will not do!" In less than a heartbeat, Katarina had taken the sword and plunged it into Vytautas Revinskas' back, piercing his old, blackened, corrupted heart. Wrenching his head back so she could whisper in his ear, Katarina laughed, a low, sultry, seductive laugh accompanied by a shake of the head. "My destiny is mine, do you hear me? Mine. Forever." And with that, she withdrew the sword. Vytautas Revinskas sank to his knees, his form slowly crumbling, flesh sloughing from bone as he was unable to maintain himself... and finally, he simply crumbled to dust.

"I am Katarina, Countess of Neuhausen. Though you sought to use me for your own ends, I will seek to continue your work. Perhaps you will find this sweet succour as your soul burns in Hell."

Chapter 2: The Red Countess Ascendant

With Revinskas dead, the county of Neuhausen thoroughly under the control of Lucifer's cults and Katarina still in the Lithuanian hinterlands, the stage was set for another bloody and difficult conflict. The Luciferians refused to hand over power to Katarina after they discovered Revinskas' murder at her hands, and declared that she was apostate in the Luciferian Brotherhood; effectively casting her out and attempting to disavow her of any of her vampiric power under the rituals that Revinskas had performed. At the head of the Luciferian cults was a man named Stefan Grenzer, a man from Konigsberg who had been elected Arch-Priest of the Luciferian Brotherhood within Neuhausen and who now had the loyalty of supposedly all who followed him. However, Revinskas' spells were not infallible - Katarina knew how to counter them and how to gain control of the army of the dead that he had created at Castle Neuhausen, including the spells which he had placed upon her parents to corrupt them into their current forms. After slaying the Luciferians that had accompanied Revinskas to Lithuania, Katarina set out on the journey to return to East Prussia to reclaim her rightful lands, and destroy these arrogant believers. In truth, it was not Lucifer that Katarina followed; far from it, for Katarina had begun to question all religion and saw much of it as the root of the blasted world's problems (little did she know that 100 years later, the most terrible of European wars would prove her right) and so she dedicated her time to magic, rather than relying on boons from gods she neither knew nor cared for. Katarina reached the outskirts of Prussia in late November 1508, and could already feel the rotting canker at the heart of the Baltic Sea - Lucifer's roots had grown deep in the region, and his corruption was endemic. She would, somewhat reluctantly, have to purge it, lest the Holy Roman Emperor send his Imperial armies to cleanse the lands of heresy and witchcraft, as they had done so in Bohemia in the days of Jan Hus. Then all would be for naught, and the Red Countess would rule over nothing but her own coffin. Therefore, in great secrecy, Katarina returned to Neuhausen and hid, conducting several rituals that Revinskas had taught her in the deep dungeons of the castle, and subsequently taking over control of the army of the dead that her mentor had built for her, and disguise them as living troops. In addition to this, she sent missives to the Margraves of Pomerania and Brandenburg, begging them to help her against this new heresy that threatened the stability of Prussia and threatened to spill over into their own lands. Boguslaw X Gryf agreed to send an army to assist her, and in early 1510, Katarina revealed herself to the Luciferians, storming the nearby town of Neuhausen with her father and his army and slaughtering the local garrison and clergy. Reeling from the shock of her sudden re-appearance, Arch-Priest Grenzer rallied his allies and marched on Castle Neuhausen itself, seeking to cut off this new threat at the head, not counting on the intervention of Duke Boguslaw or the Pomeranian army, which invaded Prussia in April, meeting up with Katarina's forces in May. Later on that month, both the Prussians and Pomeranians marched on the Brotherhood's main base of operations: the castle of Osterode. The Luciferians and Prussian Alliance clashed outside Osterode on the 19th of May, 1510, with both Katarina and Stefan Grenzer present on the field. Grenzer's army of zealots and heretics tried to call upon the dark magics of Lucifer to aid them in the battle, but it was here where Katarina revealed one of her most potent weapons against divine warriors; with a gesture, she cut off the magical powers that Grenzer was summoning to support his allies, and rendered them vulnerable to attack. The Battle of Osterode was a crushing defeat for the Brotherhood - scattered to the winds, and with Grenzer dead, Katarina was able to solidify her hold over her new state with the aid of Boguslaw Gryf. The Pomeranians returned home with a nominal oath of fealty to Boguslaw from Katarina in their hands as recompense for his assistance, but it seems the message was never officially delivered to the Duke - a sore spot for many years to come, and something that would ultimately prove to be her downfall much later.

Though externally, Neuhausen seemed to be safe from any threats, internally, Katarina knew there was much to do. The Red Countess had not yet earned her name, and the Prussian nobility had not yet been made to know the glory of the Blood Kiss... throwing off the disguise of the living, Katarina revealed herself as her true form in 1512, when she re-invoked the old pacts that Revinskas had initially bound to Castle Neuhausen, transforming it from a once-noble fortification to a barracked charnel pit of death and fear - she invited all of the minor nobles and clergymen of her region to a great feast, and once they were inside, she ordered the doors sealed and allowed herself to feast and sate her lust on each one, implanting each with the Blood Kiss in turn. The Feast of the Nobles, as it became known, was Katarina's first true act as Vampire Countess of Neuhausen - she had bent the nobility and the clergymen to obey her every whim, and she sent them forth into the countryside to begin her grand plan of corruption, repression and fear. Slowly, the nobility began to corrupt the very essence of the earth itself, whilst Katarina relaxed in her throne room, supping from an ever-present glass of 'aged red' as she began to read through the ancient tomes that her agents had procured from the Luciferian Brotherhood and from heretical collections that had been condemned by the former clergy. When rumours of witchcraft began to leak out from Neuhausen into the surrounding regions, Katarina ordered her agents to hunt down and eliminate the spreaders, hoping to contain knowledge of the truth of the nobility to only those who were required to know - none could truly learn of the Red Countess and her extravagant manners. At the same time, Katarina began work on what would be her magnum opus of achievements - the construction of the Tower of Spires, a monolithic masterpiece of stone and Gothic architecture, as well as containing one of the largest collections of forbidden lore in Europe. The Tower's construction lasted from 1519 to 1560 (such was the complexity of its design and the difficulty of its building) and it replaced Castle Neuhausen as the centrepiece of Katarina's court. However, Katarina devoted less and less time to her courtiers, and more and more to her expanding library of forbidden knowledge and the arcane arts, in her quest to explore undeath and potentially free herself from the confines of blood and darkness, to spread her wings far and wide into new lands and new pastures.

Chapter 3: The Fall of the Red Reign

TBD

Hero Type (Select one):
Supernatural.

Power Level (Select one below):
World-Level. Katarina once ruled the mightiest vampiric empire the Baltic had ever seen, and though it was lost to the Christian foes of the Empire, she aspires to see herself rise to such levels once more.

Powers:

- Knows English, German, Polish, French and (some) Russian
- Can shift shapes from humanoid to beast (bat swarm) to monstrous (known as the Gheist) forms.
- Superhuman strength.
- Blinding speed and reflexes.
- All of Katarina's abilities can be strengthened when she has fed from one of her unfortunate victims.
- For spells and relics, see below.

Katarina's Spell List - Updated 25/01/18

You Will Serve Me in Death - Any vampire worth their salt can raise the dead. By drawing upon the powers of the necrotic winds about crematoria, graveyards and mortuaries, Katarina can impart unlife upon those thought lost to the world. From graveyards rise zombies and skeletons, from mortuaries zombies of superior quality, and from crematoria, spectral forms gather and take physical form, creating awful creatures such as wights, banshees or ghasts.

Chains of Mortality - Only useable on living targets, Katarina conjures a set of chains that anchor to the living being's soul and render them all but incapable of movement. These chains can be broken by divine or other holy magics, but are all but impervious to mundane attack.

Vigour Mortis - By drawing on local necromantic power, Katarina is able to grant increased strength and stamina, as well as agility to those she casts this spell upon. The targets, however, must either be undead or contain necromantic power of their own - normal humans or living beings cannot benefit from Vigour Mortis.

Die Glocke - The Bell is a haunting, chilling peal that inspires fear in Katarina's foes. At the sound of the Bell, the dead stir and rise, and the living find their life force sucked away from them, leeched in order to feed the restless dead. Those who fail to flee find themselves slowly zombifying, eventually to the point where they, too, fall under Katarina's command.

The Reaping - At Katarina's command, a huge two-bladed axe swings forth from nothing and slices clean through her foes. Mundane protection provides no defence - only the supernatural can defend against the axe's blades. It can be dodged by those with sufficient agility or speed, or precognition, but the aura of necrosis that accompanies the axe will nevertheless cause the constitutions of those nearby to suffer.

Hypnotic Gaze - The most common of Katarina's spells, Hypnotic Gaze is more of an ability than a spell. At Katarina's command, she can enthrall those who look into her eyes and compel them to do her bidding for a short amount of time. Hypnotic Gaze becomes easier to resist the more one is affected by it, until eventually only the next spell will be of any use when attempting to force someone to do Katarina's will.

Mind War - Similar to Hypnotic Gaze, only much more powerful. Katarina's very spirit reaches out and takes hold of the sanity of the afflicted, crushing it utterly with visions of death and decay, and leaving the unfortunate victim open to any and every command that Katarina issues. Sadly, those who are affected by Mind War are left as gibbering, half-sane wrecks, their ability to comprehend reality permanently broken by Katarina's spellcraft, and only able to take commands from her.

Skullstorm - A roiling thunderstorm of pure necrotic energy, Skullstorm takes the form of sickly green clouds that coalesce into a tornado-like structure of screeching skull-like shapes that suck in and devour all life that happens to be nearby. Katarina and her allies are curiously immune to the effects of this spell, but those who are unlucky enough to be sucked into the howling morass find themselves torn limb from limb, as thousands of spectral green skulls sate their hunger on the flesh of those within. Death is almost certain.

Shadow Threads - Katarina can conjure clothes, items or other objects from pure darkness. These items behave exactly as if they were made from mundane materials, except for two things - first, they block all sight through them, even that of a magical nature. Second, the fabric is very resilient to mundane attacks, as even the strongest sword finds itself unable to cut through. This can be used as armour or as a shield by Katarina, and she often conjures shadow threads to protect herself from the sun.

Doom of Neuhausen - The Doom is Katarina's most powerful spell. It transforms whichever celestial body is in the sky into a huge, howling green skull. This skull vomits forth huge clouds of corruptive energy, blanketing the land in pure undeath, killing or withering anything and everything in its path. The very air is noxious to breathe, and those present hear nothing but the screams of the long-dead Prussians who died at Neuhausen Castle all those centuries before, and the cackling of Vytautas Revinskas as his blood-soaked minions drive the living before them like chattel. The Doom can even be harnessed to bring the skull to Earth in a final grotesque explosion of blood, charnel and undead flesh. Not even the holiest of magics can cleanse the corruption of the Doom, and Katarina is loath to use it.

The Liber Necronomica

An ancient tome from 1574-1589, when Katarina first began to write down her magical experiences and codify her spells and contagions into one text, the Liber Necronomica (literally 'Book of the Living Dead') is one of the primary tomes for any aspiring necromancer or elder vampire who has been unleashed on the world. Within its pages are countless rituals ranging from matters such as raising the dead, to turning those who have been bitten by a vampire into their willing servants, to creating plagues to visit upon the unfortunate human denizens of the Earth, to even creating necromantic constructs such as flesh golems, rot golems and so called 'Great Flies' - huge, pustule-ridden flying insects that spread death and disease wherever their cursed wings take them. The Liber Necronomica only currently exists in fragments, and it is Katarina's aim to ultimately restore the ancient book to its former glory, binding its knowledge once more in a single tome of pure undeath.

Fragments Known to Katarina:

Metamorphosis Vitreii - M. Vitreii is an infection that is intended to be used partially as a vector to generate dead to be used in necromantic magic, and partially as a way of making certain areas inhospitable so as to allow a Vampiric population to flourish - as M. Vitreii is necromantic in nature, it does not affect those without constitutions, such as the undead, constructs or those magically immune to necromancy by way of birth, race or enchantment. M. Vitreii is a very versatile disease, and can be tailored to target specific victims, or wreak wholesale general havoc upon a population. However, M. Vitreii is ultimately a disease that dies out over time, despite turning its victims into walking crystalline entities that spew forth clouds of spores that carry M. Vitreii over distances, and therefore is unsuitable for extended operations of biological warfare.

Relics and Raiments of the Red Countess

Thirst: A rapier forged from the coldest blackest iron-rich steel that one ever did see, Thirst was the sword that Vytautas Revinskas had commissioned for Katarina when she had finally succumbed to the Blood Kiss, and transformed into a vampire. Thirst is a truly evil weapon, for it gorges on the vitae of its victims to strengthen Katarina, whilst simultaneously acting as a conduit to gather necromantic energies from the surrounding areas to channel them into Kat's own reserves of magical energy. Thirst has claimed too many lives to count, spilled too much blood to be truly sated - the weapon is said to have a soul of its own, formed from the nameless, faceless hundreds slaughtered to quench the Red Countess' lust for power. It was the only relic to survive the Fall with Katarina, and she wields the horrific blade to this day.

The Ruby Chalice: A golden chalice studded with glowing rubies may not look hugely out of place in any castle, were it not for the contents. An ever-fresh supply of blood pools within the Ruby Chalice seemingly from nowhere, but the truth of the matter is perhaps darker than one may realise, for within the rubies of the Chalice are trapped the life-forces of Vytautas Revinskas, the Graf and Grafin von Reisech, and Katarina's first and only (so far) consort, Andreas von Reisech, a vampire she sired during the early years of her reign. By far the most heinous usage is that of Katarina's own parents - binding their vitae to eternal torment and damnation, caged within a ruby prison to feed their daughter's endless thirst for blood. The Ruby Chalice renders Katarina able to operate without feeding on humans - indeed, perhaps it strengthens her, for the rich supply of blood is of far superior quality than any mortal could hope to have achieved.

The Ring of Iron: A blackened, cold iron ring, with a single jet gemstone carved into the shape of a skull. The Ring of Iron is an unremarkable object, but one that pulses with great power - for the Ring of Iron forms part of Katarina's fallback defence should her own magical offence be compromised. It forms a protective force field of unholy magics that turn aside all but the holiest and most blessed spellcasting - only Sir Henry of the Order of the Grail has been able to penetrate the Ring of Iron's black sorcery. The source of the Ring's power lay in the Reservoir of the Tower, a structure built into the Tower of Spires during its construction, and which required the exsanguination of some 300 fully-grown humans to fill to its entirety. There, the Reservoir acted as a energy dam, coalescing raw necromantic energy from the surrounding areas and allowing it to be used piecemeal in the forging and construction of magical items and spells. The Reservoir was destroyed in the collapse of the Tower of Spires following Katarina's defeat in 1610, and the Ring, like all relics save for Thirst, was lost.

The Masque: The Masque was one of Katarina's most interesting and strangest accoutrements. The Masque itself appears to be a black iron theatre mask, similar in style to old thespian-style masks used in theatres across the world. The Masque's true purpose is actually as a perfect disguise - it transforms Katarina's physical appearance into an exact replica of any person that she wishes. The Masque in Katarina's reign allowed her to blend in with non-vampiric nobility and clergy in particular, for it also masks Katarina's vampiric energies. The Masque cannot be worn forever, though, for flaws eventually begin to appear in the Masque's illusions - no dream lasts forever. Eventually, the illusion fails, but this may take as long as two to three weeks, if not longer.

The Heart of Darkness: The Heart of Darkness is without doubt the most powerful of Katarina's relics and raiments crafted during her Red Reign. It is a jet-black scarab of unknown material, surrounded in gold, worn around the neck on a golden necklace. The Heart of Darkness is impervious to all known methods of damage, and confers a black sorcerous magic field that encases the wearer in a thin layer of shadow thread, which deflects almost all known forms of attack, save for perhaps the water of the Grail itself. In addition, the Heart of Darkness also acts as a soul trap for those slain by the wearer, vastly reducing the quantity of magical energy required to cast necromantic spells. The Heart of Darkness was manufactured in the last days of Katarina's reign, as a last-ditch weapon designed to turn the tide of the Great Crusade against Neuhausen, but alas, it failed. The Heart was lost, and was never seen again. But such was the complexity and resilience of its construction, that it is almost a certainty that it survives to this day.

Attributes (Select one at each category):
As Katarina:

Height: Five feet and eleven inches.
Weight: 148 pounds, or 67.1 kg.
Strength Level: About 10 to 20 tons at maximum humanoid strength
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 100+ MPH at maximum reflexes
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: About 4 hours per feeding
Agility: 15X Normal
Intelligence: Not quite Genius, though she plays the long game...
Fighting Skill: Mastered. The Red Countess is a vicious and powerful fighter, particularly with her rapier.

As the Gheist:

Height: Well over ten feet tall from feet to head, including wings possibly as many as 15 ft
Weight: Unknown, possibly as much as two and half tons
Strength Level: Between 70-80 tons comfortably
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 80-90 MPH
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: About 4 hours per feeding
Agility: Slightly slower than humanoid, perhaps about 12-13X that of a human
Intelligence: The Red Countess maintains her intelligence level, even as a Gheist.
Fighting Skill: Mastered. Bestial, bloody and brutal, Katarina as a Gheist can rip through whole squads of men all by herself.

Resources:
Limited at best currently. Katarina is slowly returning to power, and lacks much of her repertoire and her infrastructure, including her library of ancient tomes. Katarina currently has herself, her power and that's about it.

Weaknesses:
Though a Vampire, Katarina is still susceptible to physical damage and if her mortal form is destroyed, she will flee back to Neuhausen as the proverbial mist to regenerate. Depending on her level of power, this can take any time between minutes and weeks, during which time she is still vulnerable to her coffin being attacked and destroyed, which will kill her. None but the most powerful gods can save her undead soul after that. Katarina is still vulnerable to the sun and will suffer very serious consequences in direct sunlight, though she can somewhat tolerate overcast conditions due to her power. Christians beware, however, for she is no stranger to the symbols of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Some say it is because of her Prussian heritage, others that even God has a plan in mind for her, others still that her latent atheism protects her, but whatever the reason, crosses and religious artefacts will not stop Katarina.

Supporting Characters:

- Lord Franz Siegfried Philipp Ludwig von Sigmaringen, Katarina's ally and vampire of Swabia. Franz Siegfried has been Katarina's constant companion since early in her reign, and accompanied her as she fled into the catacombs of the Tower of Spires. Weaker and bent to Katarina's will, Franz Siegfried is nevertheless a potent physical adversary in battle, though he lacks much of Katarina's power. Currently is unaware of Katarina's re-awakening.

- Benjamin Reeves: A werewolf that Katarina met during her brief sojourn in New York City. Katarina was instantly charmed by his mild manner and physical appearance, and has inwardly vowed to protect him from all danger as best she can. The two of them have formed an unlikely alliance, and possibly even more.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: I've already posted two of them, damn it.

Theme Song: Katarina, The Red Countess

Notes on the 'Blood Kiss'

The Blood Kiss is the von Reisech terminology for their bite. Anathema to mortality, the Blood Kiss can be utilised in several ways.

The primary, and most commonly thought of, method is the Transformation - the vampire injects the victim with a tiny quantity of their own blood through their fangs, which causes a devastating blood disease which invariably kills the victim, allowing their full transformation into a true vampire - how Katarina was turned.

For those the vampire wishes to keep around as slaves, the Blood Kiss is a simple bite. With the bite, the vampire casts a spell upon the victim, which enslaves and breaks the victim's will and allows the vampire to use the victim as a mobile blood bank, or vampire cattle, if one uses the definition from The Elder Scrolls. However, the Blood Kiss nevertheless slowly corrupts the victim over time, and eventually transforms the victim into something known as an 'Empty' - a hollow corpse that is almost akin to a zombie, only much faster and more bestial.

A third way is the manner that Franz was turned, in that the vampire's bite causes limited vampirism from the vampire's saliva. This creates a creature known to the von Reisechs as a 'Servant of Darkness' - neither human nor vampire. Blessed with the lesser powers common to all vampires, and yet still eligible for feeding, the Servants of Darkness are the von Reisechs' primary agents in the field. They require human blood for true sustenance, though they are capable of limited sustenance from mortal foodstuffs or animal blood.

---

It had been almost four hundred years since her Fall. Four hundred years of suffering, slow regeneration and isolation from the world in her coffin. The surface-dwellers, the living, the mortals above - all thought that she was dead, that the Red Countess was perhaps never anything more than a myth, a legend that lived only in folk tales from Prussia. Four hundred years of archaeological digs had failed to unearth her, and so she was allowed to rest in peace... until now. The magics and balance of the world had changed, with the rise of the superheroes and supervillains, and the age of metahumanity had begun. From deep within the bowels of an abandoned ruin, a coffin stirred and slowly came to life, as a dull red glow surrounded it from within.

The Red Countess awakes from her torpor.

Katarina staggered forward and fell to the dusty stone floor, the coffin lid falling to one side and the ashes of her once-sumptuous attire swirling about her in a mockery of her old status and power, brought down by Sigismund Vasa, the Polish bastard. She could feel her old wounds aggravating her, and she thirsted... by God, she thirsted. Her energy levels were such that even opening her eyes felt an unimaginable task, let alone standing up. She lay on the cold stone for what felt like an eternity, before slowly, and painfully, she reached out a nailed hand and tried to drag herself forward, finding no strength in her tired and blood-starved muscles; despite her best efforts, she remained stubbornly immobile, her rage increasing, until finally, her will snapped and she screamed as loud as she could in pathetic defiance of her condition. She found herself practically unable to move from lack of energy, and had anyone been aware of her... they could have ended her right there and then. However, there was only one who was with her - Franz Siegfried, the man who stood by her as her world burned, as her whole dreams were cast down and shattered, as her lands were slaughtered and devastated. And now, it was he who stood above her, looking down, a broad, fanged smile on his face, with a hand extended to help her back to her feet. "Katarina, my sweet love... it has been a long time. "

Her arms protested as she slowly crawled over to his closest leg and gripped it tightly, using his clothes and frame as a structural aid as she slowly crawled to her feet. "Franz... please... help me... let me feed." Her throat was dry, her voice cracking with the strain, but Franz smiled, nodded and proceeded to open up his neck, allowing Katarina to sink her fangs into his throat and drink deeply of his tainted blood, infected as he was by a fragment of Katarina's power. She gasped involuntarily as power began to course through her torpid veins and her old strength returned to her. She withdrew her fangs as Franz staggered back, holding a hand to the bite wound, and she wiped her mouth with her hand. "Thank you. I knew you would come to save me from my torpor one day, Franz. Perhaps there is hope for us yet... hope for Neuhausen. Hope for the Tower. Hope for us to rebuild what we had. Our empire. Our future. Our... our love." Katarina looked over at a glass display case where Franz had laid out her most treasured outfit of luxurious fabrics and leather, as well as her fabled sword, Black Sun. She walked over to the case and smashed through the glass with but a light punch, and took hold of her new clothes and her sword. Dressing herself, she sheathed her sword and turned back to Franz, who looked upon her with adoring eyes, as ever.

"Franz... We have much to do. We must find allies, resources, power, and we must find it elsewhere. We could escape our foes in the New World... And there we could build up our empire with which to strike back at the hated Church, strike back at those who wronged us! Those who envied our power, our glory!The Poles, the Germans, the Lithuanians... they all will die at my hand! Let the world know... The Red Countess returneth!"

---

Character you have created:
Chorąży Kseniya Stanisława Zielinska

Alias:
RUBIS (French for the gemstone 'ruby')

Speech Color:
#ED145B

Character Alignment:
Walking the Line

Identity:
Known to some, but mostly 'secret-ish' in the United States. Those with sufficient intelligence clearance could be able to find out who she is by consulting with Polish intelligence networks.

Physical Image:

Taken approximately 15 years ago. Rubis, or Kseniya as she is known by to those close to her, seems not to age. This is no mere compliment - she claims she is just as strong, fit and healthy as she was as a young woman first joining the Polish People's Army in 1985. Biological analysis has proven impossible to prove this, but she most definitely doesn't *look* 50.

Description & Personality:
Kseniya takes no shit. From anyone. She's a fearless veteran with plenty of military experience under her belt, including brief stints in combat with the Polish Army and the French Foreign Legion. She's a hard-bitten woman, and her age sometimes shows in her demeanour, seeing those younger than her as childish and irresponsible, particularly those new to the 'superhero' malarkey - such an attitude is perhaps unsurprising for someone with almost 30 years of armed service behind her. Her English is slightly clipped and spoken with a Polish accent, though it has improved since her sojourn to the United States began. She is slow to trust and slower to befriend, preferring to keep others at a respectful arm's distance, but she will not hesitate to speak her mind. If it's stupid, she'll say so. If it's wildly out of proportion, she'll say so. In combat, Kseniya is a commanding presence, whose voice rises above even the din of combat to yell orders to those under her charge. She is a disciplined, demanding squad leader, though she will never order one of her own subordinates to do anything she herself would not consider.

Origin Info/Details:
Born on the 14th of September, 1968, Kseniya Zielinska is the eldest of three children by Viktor, a career soldier in the Polish People's Army, and Krystyna, a largely self-made woman who ran a successful launderette in downtown Warszawa. Her upbringing was perhaps much different to those used to Western comforts - food queues were a common occurrence, as the Polish economy, despite several attempts at liberalisation, was slowly being ground down to support the struggling Soviet economy. (WIP)

Hero Type:
Brick

Power Level:
High Street Level/Low City Level - though she's no slouch, she's only one woman. Though a one-woman army.

Powers:

The Immovable Object - Pretty much does what it says on the tin. Rubis is, for all intents and purposes, physically indestructible. She is immune to physical injury caused by significant emotional events such as, but not limited to, being shot, being stabbed, being gassed, and being submerged in water/boiling oil/molten metal and rock. She is not limited by the vagaries of age, disease or any such other damaging source or substance. However, she is still subject to the laws of physics - blast her in the chest with a shotgun, and she will go flying. She'll also be quite angry, so you'd better have a Plan B to restrain or subdue her when you realise that your little gun isn't going to stop this Polish juggernaut.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Date of Birth: September 14th, 1968
Height: Five feet and ten inches (177.8 cm)
Weight: Twelve and a half stone (79.37 kg)
Strength Level: Above Human (but not by much
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Human
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Effectively limitless
Agility: Human
Intelligence: Above Average
Fighting Skill: Mastered. As a veteran of 30 years, I'd hope so.

Resources:
Medium. As a veteran of over 30 years' service, Kseniya has amassed quite the small fortune, due to her service in the Soviet Bloc being more lucrative due to her status. She has most of her cash invested in several bank accounts in Poland, Switzerland and Sweden, though she prefers to keep a sizeable sum of money on hand in case of 'emergencies'. Her estimated net worth is approximately €650,000 in her bank accounts alone, with another €75-€100,000 on hand immediately. However, given most of her arms trades are with the black market, such monetary reserves are not inexhaustible.

Weaknesses:
Rubis is not invincible to non-mundane forms of assault. She can be affected by psychic attacks and abilities targeting her mental health, though as a veteran of 30 years, she is quite hardened to horror, and she is strong-willed. She's also just one person. Surround her, capture her and restrain her. She might be immune to bullets, but she's still just a person, though perhaps stronger than one might expect, given how she can use her muscular structure to its fullest extent.

Supporting Characters - Family, Friends and Acquaintances

Pułkownik Viktor Zielinski, 64, M, Father - Resident of Warszawa. Colonel in the Polish Land Forces.
Krystyna Zielinska, 60, F, Mother - Resident of Warszawa. Retired launderette owner.
Jozef Zielinski, 44, M, Brother - Resident of Warszawa. Investment banker. Helps Kseniya with her financial matters.
Jan Zielinski, 40, M, Brother - Resident of Kolobrzeg. Fisherman in the Baltic Sea.
Jean Duchene, 54, M, Family Friend - Resident of Lost Haven. Retired Capitaine in the French Foreign Legion.
Charles Lerroux/Konstantin Tchorzewski, 51, M, Family Friend - Resident of Paris. Retired soldier, FFL/Polish Land Forces.
Caporal-Chef Arielle Francoise Lerroux - 19, F, Friend - Resident of Toulouse. Soldier, French Army.

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

-redacted-

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

-moved to Characters-

Mass Effect: Borealis

HELLO. MY NAME HIS HELLIS. I SHALL NOW BE YOUR TEMPORARY LOYALTY GM. PREPARE FOR FEELS.

@Hellis

Totally not getting Borg-esque vibes from this. I'd say to be careful, folks, but that would just be insulting y'all's intelligence.

Also, yes, I am still following this! Just been lurking, like a lurker does. Lurker things.

The Prophecy

"You caused a... scene? When you, er... when you left, Angora." Iridiel's voice rose above the quiet crackling of the nascent fire in their new campsite - despite her inadequate grasp of Rodorian, she was quietly pleased with her ability to hold a conversation with the natives of this land. At least, Angora didn't seem to mind her halting speech - perhaps unsurprising, really, given how Angora hadn't really been able to communicate since her possession, and was likely relieved to have someone to talk to. Angora, for her part, gave a small chuckle and shrugged, the thick cloak around her body masking all but the most obvious movements - though it sure was warm. Angora sat with her knees set firmly against her chest with only her arms, shoulders and head exposed to the elements, the cloak wrapped about her almost as a cocoon, a shield against the winds, and she chewed hungrily on the salted ham that Iridiel had cut for her. Give the woman some credit, she does know how to cook... and make a fire. Angora thought to herself as she watched the fire begin to catch.
"I don't know if it was just fear or simply me not wanting to stand there in such a state, to be honest." Angora began, not moving her gaze away from the fire, which had by now started to radiate some small amount of heat. "The younger one with black eyes just unnerved me... almost like looking into the eyes of a demon, you know? I know he's probably not a demon, but still, it's not right to look at someone and they look back at you with no colour in their eyes."
"Unnerved?" Iridiel inquired, unsure what the word meant.
"Oh, erm... it makes you feel a bit strange to be around them. Didn't really fill me with confidence. I think they're called... what is it, a nightwalker? The older one, though, he seemed like a nice chap. He made me feel more at ease." Iridiel nodded in agreement, chuckling to herself as she continued cutting meat. "And the little woman with the white hair and white eyes-"
"The one on your back trying to strangle you?" Iridiel gave a wry smile.
"Yes, her!" Angora giggled and shook her head. "She was a tenacious one, let me tell you... She was like a little dog with a slipper, she was that difficult to shift. She was a daywalker, I think." There was a pause, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire and Angora trying to remember if she was right. "Or they're the other way around, I don't really remember. It's been a long time since I've even heard of either of them, let alone seen one."
"I thought she was a changeling when I first saw her." Iridiel finished cutting off another piece of ham and handed it to Angora, who took it gratefully and chowed down, still famished from her probably-accidental 4-day starve. "Changelings are small things that have multiple, uh... bodies? You know, change from one to the other? Uh... what do you call them in your language... uh, shapeshifters?" Angora nodded emphatically as she ate, smiling broadly. "Yes, I must say, both the black-eyes and the white-eyes made me feel... I don't know how to describe it, you know?" Iridiel yawned, blinking several times to try and refocus on her surroundings. "Mmmh... I've done too much today. First the group, then you... A healer's work is never done."
"Rather you than me. I just know how to make work for you."
"Yes. That you do. Amadán." Iridiel smiled slyly and sideswiped a glance at the human, whilst Angora giggled and shifted slightly, returning her gaze to the fire. There was another long pause, which was only broken by the dim murmur of conversation (in Rodorian, naturally, so Iridiel had no clue what was being said - it was hard enough for her to understand Angora half the time) over in the group, and the fire. Finally, Angora spoke up, which brought Iridiel out of her daydream that she had slipped into.
"Where do you come from, Iridiel? You're not like anyone else here."

The question to end all questions. How would Iridiel even begin to explain her past? She didn't know how to articulate half of it in Eireann, let alone Rodorian. Well, Angora did ask, so Iridiel figured she would try her best to tell her. At least, it would tide them both over until the others got back from whatever it was they were talking about. Iridiel cleared her throat and took a sip of water. "Long story."
"We've got time, I'm sure."
"Well... As I said before, Domhnall and I are from the Contaetha, a land probably further away than even your maps describe, way far to the west of here. As for Domhnall, I don't actually know where he's from - I picked him up on my way here - but I myself am from the town of Loch Garman. Loch means lake in our language - the town was named after the water, right?" Iridiel took another sip of water and handed the waterslip to Angora, who drank from it deeply as Iridiel continued. "It was a normal life... though you Rodorians might say it's... primitive? We don't have high stone walls, or lots of big stone buildings like you do - my home was a simple wood and straw, er... we call it a teach, a... longhouse, you might call it? We Eireannach have large families - at least we from the Garbhchríocha do. There was me, my parents... I had seven sisters and brothers, and my parents' parents." Angora widened her eyes in surprise. "Yes, all in one teach. And that was small for us, you know? Some friends had even larger families. But anyway, we have a tradition in the Counties... all magicians must work in special jobs that the King tells them to do, aye? You know what my talent is already, but nobody else in my family knew when I was a child." Angora shook her head and scowled, muttering "Sounds like slavery..." darkly. Iridiel nodded, an equally-irritated look on her face. "That was what I thought too. It's not fair, you know? You can't tell me that I have to do this one thing and this thing only for the rest of my life! What if I don't want to do it? And... so, when I was 18, I finally told my parents that I could heal people. And they went straight to the town leader and the clergy when I was out in the fields."
"They betrayed you to the authorities. Like some kind of criminal." Angora breathed, scarcely able to believe it. This woman had been betrayed by her own parents for her abilities, and was basically going to be indentured as a slave for everyone else's benefit? Angora shook her head and kept quiet as Iridiel continued, whilst the others began to make their way over towards them, sitting at the fire.
"The priests came when I came back the same day. They wanted me to come with them to the capital... I said no. I didn't want to go... they said I had no choice, the Kings decreed it. They tried to force me. And then..." Iridiel faltered and stared down at the ground. Even now, 14 long, hard years later, it still stung to talk about it, or even to remember it. "I killed them. With two big blasts. I killed them both, where they stood. They fell to the grass... it burned. They burned." Iridiel fell silent. Angora shuffled over slightly and put her arm around the Eireannach's shoulder. "They burned... and the guards came. I couldn't - didn't - resist. I was sure they'd burn me. I'd attacked the priests, the whole town wanted me dead. Bhí mé den sórt sin a leibide... Such a fool..."
Maybe this is why she was so quick to come to my aid... Angora thought as she listened to Iridiel tell her story. She couldn't help but feel both pity and admiration for the woman, who, by refusing to submit to the will of the state, had even gone so far as to kill. She wanted her freedom to do as she wanted, not what some crusty old fogie sitting on a throne told her what to do. Angora wasn't sure if she'd kill for it, but she sympathised with Iridiel. Who were the aristocracy to tell people what to do, purely by their birthright? What right did this barbarian king have to dictate the lives of his subjects? Magic was something to be treasured, not limited, controlled and snuffed out in this way... and then to be threatened with burning.
"They exiled me. "Agus caoga bliain!" he said... For fifty years. I was thrown out of the town. Eiriceach, they called me! They chanted it as they beat me, threw me into the mud outside the gates. All I had were the clothes I had... and my faith. My faith in the Mother to help me. So I walked... and walked east." Iridiel looked Angora squarely in the eye, almost challenging her with a steely gaze. "Ná bíodh luí síos agus ghlacann bás. It's a phrase in my language. You would say... Don't lie down and die. I wasn't about to, Angora. And Sulis kept me strong." Iridiel's lids grew heavy, as she sighed and looked back at the fire. "I walked. They exiled me at 18. Now I'm 32."
Domhnall came over to them and sat down next to Iridiel, who smiled at the Forestfolk. "Fáilte romhat." Iridiel murmured as she leaned her head on his shoulder... Iridiel drifted off to sleep, as Angora sat there and munched on what was left of the ham that Iridiel had cut for her. Her clothes were not yet dry... which meant she still needed the cloak. However, she felt much cleaner than before - almost completely refreshed, as though the metaphoric filth of the possession had been washed away. She just wished she had a new change of clothes to match... That would have to be later. For now, the cloak would do to protect her body from the bite of the wind.

The Prophecy

Cold Angora is cold.

The Prophecy

"Woul' ye like a blanke' or somethin'?"
The green-skinned man - Domhnall, she think he'd said his name was - had obviously taken an interest in her wellbeing, which had definitely improved Angora's chances of remaining with the group. Even if it was purely out of courtesy, it was nevertheless welcome, and Angora could perhaps sway her assumed perception as a screaming barbarian into an actual civilised person who wasn't strictly in control of her own actions during her little tryst with the group. "Er... thanks for the offer, but I think I'll wait until I've cleaned up - be a bit of a waste to put a fresh blanket over a dirty body, right?" She looked over the healer with interest - she seemed very adapted to a colder clime, muffled up with wolfskins, heavy fur and leather as she was, as well as what looked to be some odd orange-ish mail of some kind. Some form of copper-rich bronze, maybe? Further glancing over the actual barbarians, she noticed both Iridiel and Domhnall preferred bronze equipment and weapons - perhaps their society was not as well-stocked with iron goods, or perhaps iron was a sign of nobility, and bronze was more a utilitarian material? She'd have to ask them that later, if only to get more used to Domhnall's accent when speaking Rodorian. It was thick, and almost gravelly in its tone, and missed out plenty of letters in the words. Still, it was comprehensible enough for Angora, and if she didn't know what he was saying, she was sure that the old ma- "Olan..." she silently reminded herself - would translate for her. He seemed to know every language all at once, and speak it perfectly - a perfect translator and linguist, and most definitely a man to be protected and treasured in his utility. Particularly in the city itself, what with most of the city speaking varying languages from all areas of the known world - such was the cosmopolitan nature of Zerul. Speaking of the city, Domhnall then spoke up about her own safety within the city, to Angora's amusement. Just because she was a screeching banshee outside the city, doesn't mean that she was known to be one inside the city. She giggled and shook her head to his question. "No, no, don't you worry. I know the city very well, I don't think there'll be any problems on my part. You and your friend, on the other hand... well, I don't know how big your cities are in... wherever it is you're from-"
Iridiel spoke up to interrupt. "The Contaetha." Angora stopped for a moment and looked at Iridiel in confusion, raising an eyebrow. Understanding the look of query, Iridiel clarified as best she could with her limited command of Rodorian. "The Contaetha is er... how do you say... our home. We are both from the Contaetha... your language would call it the, uh... the Counties. And our homes are not big, they are small. Oh, I forgot... a moment." Iridiel knelt and began to rummage around in her backpack as the others continued.
Well, you're in for a hell of a shock when you reach the city... Angora thought to herself, nodding as Iridiel explained the situation. The Counties, eh... sounded interesting. Almost like the duchies in this part of the world, a collection of various states. Angora somewhat regretted that Iridiel seemed to lack fluency in Rodorian, otherwise she'd ask a lot more about where they were from and what life was like over there. Wet and cold from the looks of her attire at the very least. Her attention was diverted to the approach of the two warrior-looking men - Aemoten and Jaelnec, Angora remembered Olan naming them - which sent a chill down her spine. Angora swallowed nervously and gauged the men's moods... the news was not good. It was probably not a good idea to interject about her fate in the group at the moment, what with a mixture of sternness and weariness in Aemoten's eyes. She gave a sheepish smile and tried to keep her voice from wavering... failing miserably as she did so "H-Hi there... I, uh... I'll be just cleaning myself up, actually... best not wait much longer, right?" She gave a half-hearted laugh and quickly excused herself, walking off towards the direction of a nearby brook that she remembered the location of whilst she was still under her affliction.
Angora, you fucking idiot! you need to make a better impression of yourself if you want to try and change their minds about you... She cursed herself under her breath multiple times as she made her way through the undergrowth away from the group, who she hoped would make a decision about her without really needing her input. She walked past the trees and listened to the birdsong, thinking about how differently she perceived the world around her without the meddling interference of that entity clouding her mind. It was a welcome relief, truth be told - she just wished that it didn't have to come at such a high cost to everyone involved. The healer seemed exhausted from her efforts after she'd finished, and she bitterly regretted her violence towards the woman who had tried to strangle her, and the squire... not to mention the agony of the ritual that Iridiel had performed. Angora reached the stream's edge and sat down, the wind reminding her oh-so-clearly that it was most certainly not a warm summer's day. Still, it had to be done some time, and the sooner it was over and done with, the better. Angora first slipped off her various pieces of jewellery which she had collected during her time under the spirit's thrall. The rings came off, one by one, the faces of those to whom they had originally belonged flashing before Angora's eyes as she did so. She frowned, and thought about throwing them in the stream, to be lost in the flowing water. They were little more than plunder from murders most foul, trinkets and shinies that the spirit had found interesting from some strange primal instinct, and they reminded her of what she was: little more than an animal, feasting on the flesh of the fallen, and butchering those she came across. And she could remember it all so clearly... and why? Because the spirit had demanded it? Because she had reverted to simple primal urges for meat and fire and gold? Did the spirit really imagine that to be human civilisation?! Rage washed over her as she thought about how the spirit had effectively violated her, and she clenched her fists, her mouth curled in an irritated snarl at nothing in particular. Was that her just reward for stealing the sword in the first place, to be mentally broken, no, raped by some outsider that knew nothing of the world about it and used her as its vessel? Her joy from her liberation seemed like a distant memory, her mind consumed by anger at the spirit... And in a moment of clarity, she realised something. Perhaps it had had such an effect on her because of her temper, because she was given to extreme moods? Maybe it could have been a blessing in disguise. Angora smiled. An unusually cruel, and cold smile that brought a chuckle to her throat. Yes... that was it, a blessing in disguise indeed. She would use this spirit as a weapon. She already had proved to herself that she could use it as she pleased, now that its control over her had been broken. Now she resolved to take her revenge upon it. She would subordinate it completely to her will, and use its power to defeat those who stood against her. The beast that she had been was still an effective killer, and if she were able to temper its abilities, to harness the inner raw emotion... and then calm herself and allow her rational mind to take over outside of combat, she could be so much more than even her brothers were capable of. She had already been both the Untamed *and* Angora. But she had never been able to switch between the two, not until now.
All of that from some rings and bracelets. Angora decided to keep them with her, if only to remind herself of what she used to be, and what she could never allow herself to regress into. She set them aside on the bank of the stream, and then removed her boots, which were perhaps the only items of clothing that didn't require some... extensive maintenance. The leather cuirass that served as her primary 'armour' was next, Angora carefully unlacing it from the left side, before completely immersing it in the water, which prompted a sharp intake of breath as the chilly water bit at her hands. Nevertheless, she kneaded away at the dirt and grime on the leather, rubbing, and in some cases using her nails to scrape off the worst of it as best she could in an effort to at least look slightly presentable when she and her companions (with any luck) arrived at the gates of the city. Though the majority of the population did live outside the city itself, Angora's family was one of those that lived within the city walls, thanks in part to her father's income as a gold and silversmith, which had most certainly augmented their status. It was dirty money. Angora snickered to herself as she worked away at the leather, thinking about how her family's entire situation as it stood relied entirely on crime... her father had learned the art of goldsmithing by experimenting on items that her mother Iora had stolen from her wealthier clients, and it was Iora's own profession that had resulted in the birth of Angora's younger brother, as well as magician, Karl. Angora herself had been well-versed in the art of the seductive murder - the safest way past a man's security was in his bedchamber, after all. Reikard was the perfect soldier, honourable yet well-intentioned, and Yvann... Angora snorted as she remembered her brother. In Angora's own words, he was as dull as dishwater and as sharp as a pebble. Angora used to steal from him all the time when they were children, and he never learned of it until either her father Erik or Iora found the missing items in Angora's possession, which usually earned her a sharp clip around the ear. Yet her childhood, for all of its black money, and mother coming home after dark, and father almost setting fire to the house, was a happy time. She missed it. Finishing up the leather, Angora stood up and sighed heavily, only to hear a cough from behind her. Whirling around and drawing her sword ready to strike, Angora was only just about able to stop herself from leaping at the origin of the noise - Iridiel. The healer had followed her, and she held something in her hands. "Here. You might want this." Iridiel handed over a small leather package bound with silken string, and then undid her cloak and held it out. "This should keep the cold off." Angora smiled and took the package and cloak gratefully. "Thank you..." she breathed as she looked back at the river. Iridiel, for her part, turned away and sat down a short distance from the bank, before taking out a leg of salted and smoked ham from her pack and cutting off a small piece of it with her dagger to eat. Angora laid down the cloak on the bank of the stream and placed the jewellery on top, before unlacing the package - a small block of some hard substance that was slippery to the touch. It was some kind of soap, but not one that Angora was familiar with. Nevertheless, she set it too on the cloak within reach from the water, before she drew herself back up and stripped naked, discarding the cloth shirt and torn leather trousers onto the grass. The cold wind made its presence known ever more fiercely, causing Angora to swear repeatedly and she drew her arms across her breasts protectively, almost as if to try and hold on to some last bit of warmth as she stepped into the chilly water. It seemed as though the whole world was just full of cold! "What I wouldn't give for a Zerulic bathhouse right now!" she shouted over to Iridiel, who laughed in acknowledgement. Angora, after a moment of hesitation knelt in the stream, and began to scrub her hair and face thoroughly with the cold water, smearing the soap all through it in an effort to get the dregs and the dirt and the grease out of her long black locks. As she washed the soap out of her hair, she whistled a tune from her childhood. The words she could not remember, but the tune had stayed with her, and provided some small comfort to the frigid woman as she splashed her face with water. Next came her body... and she wasn't looking forward to it. She scrubbed herself vigorously down with the soap Iridiel had provided for her and then, after much hesitation, Angora immersed herself fully in the water by lying down on the stony riverbed, allowing the stream to wash away the dirt and grime loosened by the soap. Getting back to her feet unsteadily, Angora staggered over to the stream bank and took hold of her cloth shirt and leather trousers, before walking back into the middle of the stream and immersed her clothing into the water, rubbing them too with the soap, which had diminished quite substantially.
Finishing up after what seemed like an eternity, Angora finally sloped over to the side of the riverbank and laid out her clothes to dry, before drawing the cloak about herself and donning all of her jewellery. She then walked over and sat next to Iridiel, who offered her several slips of meat to eat as they waited for the others to arrive. "Thank you..." Angora bit into the meat and gasped as the taste all but overwhelmed her. The saltiness, the smoky flavour... She hadn't been able to truly taste anything when the spirit had taken her over - she'd eaten to sustain herself, not for any other purpose. She chewed on the meat hungrily, as Iridiel struck flint and iron against each other to start a small fire.

The Prophecy

Woo! Activity! And a new character!

Me like new character.