Darkened gray smudges of wool threateningly surrounded the sky; like a predator would encircle its prey. A startling low rumble rang loud in the cool fall air, the sky roaring with satisfaction. Trickles of liquid hit the ground with as much force as a small child. Hungrily, drizzles soon turned into canon fires, barricading everything in its way. Streaks of pure white crackled against a stormy blanket of grey, shrouding hot silver clouds with its blinding incandescence, emanating the might of an imminent tempest. A sense of cleanliness caressed the atmosphere, washing away all impurities.
The rain bore down mercilessly upon the heart of Xerxes, pounding on the rooftops and turning the cobbled streets of the markets into a warren of slick stones and muddy waters. The downpour was so heavy that to be caught unawares meant being drenched to the skin. Each drop was as large as a cartoon tear and they fell like gravity had been turned up a notch. Every person able to run picked up their pace holding futile hands skyward to fend off the worst. As the world was cast into more sombre tones, others danced in the rain, moving along to the invisible beat of storm.
Amartía himself hated the rain. There is an intense anxiety to the rain, as if between the tumbling cloud and the earth it is fearful of never reaching its destination. The sound alone is enough to make him frown indefinitely, arms folded across a chest that rises and falls more abruptly than it should. The sound of this rain, so soothing to some, was enough to drown out every other noise.
He hovered high in the air above his drenched city despite his discomfort. Ironically, he felt peace its self ascending to the heavens, seeing the view usually bequeathed only to the birds, their birthright and domain. As the wind tousled white hair and whipped it about his soaked face he longed to extend time, to savor the moments, burn them to memory for a time when he was old and no longer able to fly with the birds.
Suddenly, he was laughing, an expulsion of menacing, doom-laden laughter rolled from his lips, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He didn't fear death, death feared him. His laughter soon died down, and his face returned to an expression of disdain. He was no longer clouded by the dream of kingship with loyal subjects. He desired to to perfect the world, and Xerxes had become an example of what the world should have been. But just as his Victors truly surrendered themselves to thier carnal desire and shed thier weak flesh for that of sin incarnated, its was time for the people of Xerxes to follow suit.
"You are mine, and only through my undeserved kindness do I preform this feat for you. Take my gift, children of Xerxes and inherent my perfection." he bellowed, his voice washing over the city and stroking the passions of the people.
With a single flap of his wings, Sin soared into the air. Wind rushed through his hair and into his eyes, forcing him to squint against the downpour through the clouds. Lightning jagged across the night sky around him, but Amartía didn't flinch. Soon he emerged, no longer surrounded by the raging storm as was greeted by the sky, a deep steel blue. Clear droplets of water sparkled like tiny crystals on his skin, and cold wind battled the warm sun to dry him. Underneath, him, a blanket of sombre grey save for the band of salmon pink hovered, a dark canvass brilliant with light.
"Now the true work begins." he murmured as Sin allowed Wrath to consume him. Rage crashed into him like a rushing waterfall, burning him like fire. It was intoxicating, a blazing inferno that engorged him completely, scorched his veins and reddened his eyes. Without warning, Amartía slit his wrist. Blood leaked from the gash profusely as Sin savored the feeling. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wound, intensifying with each dragging second, jarring and brutal. His forehead puckered and his bottom lip quivered as blood cascaded down into the clouds below.
Sin, undeterred from his moment of pleasure, drew on the Stone, red energy crackling across is body and into the clouds. Just as his life essence made contact with the billow, it evaporated. His cadmium red colored blood soaked itself into the clouds as vapor, his life blood tainting the very atmosphere. Gloomy, black clouds transformed into crimson sacks of blood, absorbing and transforming his rage upon the stones command. The storm below grew wrathful, red lightning dancing across the clouds as thunder cracked and rolled.
"My gift to you, he murmured, satisfied. Amartía lowered himself back beneath the clouds, once again bombarded by the rains that plagued his city. But water no longer fell from the skies. Thick globs of boiling blood pounded angry against Xerxes. Above the fury of storm, Sin could make out the piercing screams of man and woman alike.
is perfection."
Sin eyes roved about his city, allowing the rage, fury, and bloodlust to wash over him. No longer did his city need protection, he gave them strength. He placed the power in thier hands, he showed them the pleasure derived from fulfilling ones desire, and nothing would change. Xerxes would still know pleasure, but it would only be derived from ripping thier enemies apart and feasting on thier blood, submitting to the infinite rage that boiled within them, that changed them.
"I have long since come to a realization, an understanding that there was a discrepancy in my nature." Sin mused. He no longer knew who he was speaking too, his people, Illunbar, maybe even Logos. "I was weak minded and stupid. I was clouded by the glamour of reverence and of idol worship. Mortals on this world are to be treated as toys, to manipulated at my very whim, but I failed at that endeavor!" he spat, rage overcoming him. The Sin Heart began to beat faster, growing restless as its masters fury grew. "I am no longer a child. I understand my nature! I understand my brand of chaos!" When had this understanding come? "You gods wish to face me, desire made real, sin incarnated!? Then I shall give you a fight! I no longer need a nation of mindless dependents! I need a nation to serve my every whim, and an army of mortal desire incarnated." Amartía body began to warp and grow, his Wrath engulfing him at limits he had never touched before. "This whole world will understand desire, under my rule!" His eyes had reddened, rage had bloated his body twice its original size. Pain seared through his abdomen better than a branding iron, his mind struggling against the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. His fury had taken over, reached a tipping point in which he body struggled to control.
Abruptly, Sin screamed, dark clouds of smoke suddenly erupting outwards from every pore. The smog wrapped around Sin like a mother swaddling her child, but he felt no such love. In his intense silence he somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile, the fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of his hands while his body bloated broke.
Without warning, Sin fell from the sky, his face covered as he became a meteor of destruction. Strips of skin peeled of his body, burning as a trail of smoke peeled off his body in droves. His fury became a ball composed of pure rage whipping across the sky, barrelling towards the Cipher. Amartía could feel nothing, he could see nothing, his body had swollen to the point of bursting, pain had become his only companion, and rage was its catalyst.
An instant later, there was a blinding flash, like sheet-lightning, and a huge ball of blood colored fire belched upward, leaving a series of smoke-rings to float more slowly after it. That fireball flattened, then spread to form the mushroom-head of a column of incandescent gas that mounted to overtake it, engorging the smoke-rings as it rose, twisting, writhing, changing shape, turning to dark smoke in one moment and belching flame and crackling with lightning the next. Angry winds tore into the landing zone itself, ripping up and incinerating great chunks of stone and blood-drenched earth, tossing them violently back down hundreds of leagues away in explosions of raw destruction.
Out of this shock Amartía felt himself issuing amid a mass of terrible sensations: the fearful blow of the explosion, the noise of glass, the hoarse howl of people, the rushing of men, the sudden gulf, the awful gulfing whirlpool of horror, and unimaginable pain. Suddenly Sin could feel again, his body punishing him as he convulsed let out an ear splitting scream. His ire ripped apart his body, red flames burning off his beautiful white wings and replaced them with a festering sack of burnt skin that exploded outwards to reveal leathery bat-like wings twice the size of the former. White hair that was once held in dreadlocks darkened, now black, wild and untamed, reaching Sin's midriff and hiding his face almost completely. The natural part suddenly reached down to the center, stopping in the middle of his forehead; separating his long hair just enough to see the eerie, bloodcurdling changes to his face. The beautiful features that once adorned his cheeks, nose, and jaw now fusing with his flesh oddly, becoming part of his expression of power. His lower jaw, burned away, entirely replaced by a predatory mandible, as if his skin had been cut off to reveal what lay beneath. While his upper lip and the majority of his cheeks remained intact, his jawbone was now the only thing at the bottom section of his face. His tongue burned away, as was the base of his mouth. With his normal, human-like upper teeth replaced by a sharp row of matching fangs, and without a tongue or lower mouth, Sin could no longer speak normally; but his growls, grunts, and screams were all the more powerful.
Amartía's eyes had changed also. The sclera shifted to a midnight black, and the irises and pupils turn blood red, much like the energy that twisted around him in a near-constant torrent of ripping force. But these eyes were nothing but vestigial props; serving no function other than to terrify his enemies and instill fear in those who the glimpse face of fury. This was only made more unsettling by the fact that he no longer had a need to blink, allowing him to keep his eyes wide open, staring into the depths of those who challenged him. This, combined with with his primal, predatory jaw, pushed his appearance into the realm of horror.
With bare skin from neck to waist, the entire upper body of Wrath Sin was now visible. His clothes were soughed off his body, no longer capable of impeding his movements. Only his tan hide glimmered in the light, showing off his perfectly shaped body built in a trial of fire. Each nail had become a sickle-spear of sharp, white bone nearly two inches long.
The lower half of Amartía's clothing had been replaced by a seamless transition just at his waist. Deep brown fur now covered his muscular legs, making clothing pointless. His feet, which were still humanoid, boasted similar nails to that of his hands, curving upwards and then downwards like miniature sickles.
The skies above Sin were whispering to the world about the danger that was about to unleash destruction upon everything that came in its way. The ashen billows that tumbled from his withering body indefinitely growled with thunder, flashes of light blinding any observers.
Like a tsunami breaking down a dam, the hot winds began to rage, screaming like madmen in pain. Everything felt its fury; the trees bent to the ground as humans scurried to their homes to hideouts. No one was safe from the hurricane of ash.
As rage did what it was prone to, tubular formations began to form themselves around his body like saucers of aliens. They spun and spun around invisible axes, gaining momentum and force as they gulped down the atmosphere. Once they hit the earth, manmade structures began to fall apart and creak under the pressure of the attack of his wrath, expanding as his rage boiled.
Sin, huddled in fetal position as his body accepted its change, released one last ghastly roar, arching his back so that his scream carried up towards the sky. The raging twister expanded outwards, gale-force blasts seemingly composed of pure rage whipping across the city and mountains, swaddling Xerxes completely.
Without notice, a hush settled upon Xerxes instantly. While the pitter patter of blood rain singing the city a lullaby, and the raging wall of twisting fury bastioned it, Sin slept. Innocence showed on his sleeping face, the peaceful and serene dreams blocking out the dangers of the outside. The soft breathing making the world seem to stand still. But only for moment. Sin's eyes opened, granting him a view of a forlorn world, his red gaze and black sclera never wavering as he relived his rebirth. The most basic and brutal of sentient emotions and actions, such as hate, anger, rage, war and killing, were suddenly at his finger tips and boiled in his heart.
Amartía rose to his feet, his black membrane wings folding across his back as he surveyed his surroundings. It only took him seconds to recognize the smoldering remains of the Cipher, his grand pyramid, the hallmark of Xerxes, now a skeleton sinking in molten blood.
From the depths of his belly, rolled forth a terrible roar, a primal scream of supremacy and battle that shook the very ground upon which he stood on. A bolt of white hot lightning broke the sanguine sky upon his call, cleaving the night in parts, but just for the briefest of moments before more screams joined his own.
Xerxes declaration of war, heard around the world.
-Amartía hovers high above Xerxes, crying in the rain so no one sees his tears. He has had enough of the whole nation thing (lazy).
-He rises above the rain clouds and goes about cutting himself after getting hyped and rage. His boiling blood is absorbed into the clouds thanks to the Stone, turning them crimson. (2 Might used to absorb Wrath into the clouds and make it permanently rain concentrated blood rage in Xerxes.)(Might invested into Chaos(Wrath)
-This thus starts the forceful transformation of each and ever Xerxian. This will work in conjunction with the Sin Heart, which was already warped and set their mind set. (1 Might used to turn Xerxians into Wrath Dagon) (Might Invested into Chaos(Wrath)
-Amartía goes on to explain his reasoning as to why he's essentially destroying Xerxes. He has come to the realization that he has been weak, taking care of the people as if he were a father. His fury boils to the point of self-destruction; and Chaos(Wrath) is officially adopted into his Portfolio.
-This adoption causes Sin to explode with unbridled power and blow up half of the Cipher (Destruction Magic) as his body undergoes a transformation to better suit his new found power.
-Sin gains; black bat-like wings, blood red eyes, black hair, sickle like claws, razor sharp teeth, and the lower body of an animal. He becomes the perfect predator.
-With his new found power and form, he declares war.
Anyway, she has monitoring equipment in there, so she'll know if someone starts mucking about with things that could damage Galbar.
If you can broker a deal with Heartworm, though, you could get some useful shit from there. Our resident Giger ripoff might be a cowardly recluse but at least it's a decent businessworm.
Thats...very interesting. I will have to look into that in the near future. Would definitely prove useful. Time for Amartía to open Sin Enterprises.
Mainly two things, which have mostly merged into one thing.
The first is Jvan's Other, as described in the Codex. The Other is a form of life which exists outside the bounds of physics. It is incompatible with normal life. However, they were not inherently malevolent.
The second is Vowzra's stuff from the Hells of Time, which Vowzra added secretly to the Codex, and I think only Jvan has figured that out. The Hells of Time are nasty enough to tear apart the sanity and soul of even the divine, and are extremely malevolent. They have fused with the Other to form hybrid Other, which are very nasty and extremely eldritch. Because of them, even the gods avoid the Gap.
The moon Perfectus is also stowed away in the Gap.
Jvan has some infrastructure which extends into the Gap, and many of her creatures use the Gap in some superficial way.
A B I L I T I E S Catalyst: Quami has the ability to create and any all chemicals known to man inside his body and cause, reverse, speed up, slow down, or otherwise alter chemical reactions within himself and utilize them outwardly. He can recreate the oxidation process on his hands by forming Oxygen and Iron on his palm and rust metal with just his touch. He can also affect the chemical reactions in the human body, rendering an opponent unconscious from shock depending on what he can mix. The potential that this power has is nearly limitless.
L I M I T A T I O N S The abilities' greatest weakness is its greatest requirement; knowledge. Quami has to have a deep understanding of each and every chemical in his possible arsenal. This requires him to memorize each and every element known to man, which is all those on the periodic table, and understand thier combination and reactions. But this is also a dangerous ability, as he isn't exactly immune to the reactions he creates unless he takes power measures to, like counter reaction.
E Q U I P M E N T
Field Headphones: speakers that only play a song the resights the whole Periodic Table.
A military grade Periodic Table.
An extra snapback with the Periodic Table on the lid.
A P P E A R A N C E Ouami is an African-American man with coffee bean-brown skin that is free of blemishes. His deep-brown eyes can be described as black, but this is a common misconception. He sports a simplistic hairstyle, usually a taper fade, often cutting it low in the summer months. Despite its simplicity, he seems to care for it more than himself at times, often picking it out when grown at ill opportune moments. Quami sports a shining smile, his white teeth protected by unusually full lips, for a man at least.
Standing straight at 6'0" and weighing over 185 pounds, Quami shows off the key traits of an average athletic college adult, tall and muscular. Despite being ragged on for his poor physical fitness, he is quite well-built, though he tends to stand with poor posture, slouching over.
Quami sports pieced earlobes and mostly wears small ear rings on both ears, but the greatest and most important part of Quami's appearance is his shoes, often sporting expensive Jordans, Nikes, or Addias. He is rarely seen wearing any other brand, and is often seen cleaning them when he isn't messing with his hair. Besides is unusual shoe fetish, all other brands are fair game. Quami will be usually seen wearing casual clothing such as sweats and a t-shirt. Unfortunately, he finds himself addicted to the comfort that it provides, and will often wear such clothes to the worst of events. An example of this is a time when he wore joggers, a plain grey t-shirt and a snapback to his aunts wedding. After that incident, he didn't see the light of day for a whole week. On a serious note, when Quami needs to dress respectably, he can be seen in a red hoodie, a snapback with a clean white t-shirt, blue slim-fit jeans, and his staple red and white Jordans, he strives to match.
P E R S O N A L I T Y On the surface, Quami comes off as a rather silly and lighthearted person, frequently engaging in comical behavior and retaining his oft-present grin even while making threats. He displays a childlike amusement for new situations whether or not they prove adverse or even potentially fatal, he has a penchant for wandering off on his own. Even with all these idiosyncrasies, Quami is extremely personable and has a particularly complimentary nature that easily gains him the friendship and trust of those surrounding him.
Of course, these aspects hide the complex and determined young man underneath. On the reverse side of his frivolous nature is his considerable shrewdness, which makes him quite capable of reading people and situations. He is particularly observant, taking into consideration even the smallest details of his surroundings in order to better understand and deal with challenges and is not above using cheap tricks or questionable tactics to ensure his own success. Being singularly ambitious, and also has a remarkably tenacious will that allows him to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles and accept burdens for the sake of his own goal. Quami has a considerable pride that will not stand for having his ideas or skills insulted or condemned by others, but Quami is also capable of shelving his pride if it becomes something that will stand in the way of his objective.
Quami is very protective of family and friends, refusing to allow any harm to come to them and often deem their safety more important than his own in spite of his own personal ambitions and goals. He has to be reminded several times that his own safety is something upon which many people depend and he uses his loved ones as his primary motivation when all hope seems lost. As such, he becomes furious when observing those who willingly or remorselessly cast aside their own brethren and is sickened by the idea of superiors who reject their duty to those who trust them to indulge in thier own personal pleasures.
P L A C E O F O R I G I N Brooklyn, New York
F A M I L Y Aleasha Prince - Mother (54) Adefunke Ogudairo - Grandmother (84)
H I S T O R Y Quami was born in the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn, New York. His childhood was fairly uneventful, but is what he considers the best years of his life. Most of his childhood was spent running around streets of his neighborhood with the other kids. Sometimes, Quami wouldn't come home till 11:00 at night, most likely just playing basketball at the park or freestyling with the neighborhood kids. Despite his mothers warnings to come home earlier and earlier, Quami played on, often coming home to 'spankings', at least until he turned 13 at which his mother no longer cared at that point.
Living on the streets, Quami experienced all kinds of things, drugs, sex and alcohol, but this was done one or twice and never done again. In the neighborhood that he resided in, living without a father was a normality, even a badge of honor that many of its resident children wore. Quami was the same, often boasting that he didn't even know his name, but on the inside, the crushing loneliness was always there, constantly gnawing on the edges of his consciousness.
Despite the ripples that went on underneath, Quami's life went on as normal, playing on the streets, practicing his basketball skills or freestyleing, coming home late, being scolded by his mother. Things began to change when his grandmother began to live with them when he turned 14. This development changed his life, no longer was he allowed to play outside as often under his grandmothers watch, who was a devout Seventh Day Adventists. Everytime he went out of line, he was beaten with a belt and called a little devil, which nurtured a hatred not for his grandmother, but for religion in general. He was constantly dragged every Sunday to church, but always found himself falling asleep during the sermons.
Before Quami knew he was is highschool. Within days he had joined the basketball team, Junior Varsity on his freshman year playing as the teams point-gurad. But before his life could truly take off, his metahuman status came out for the first time. Chemistry class had him studying nitroglycerin and the elements that made it up. After a few hours of studying and memorizing, he unwittingly activated his power, created the chemical in his own body, later gave a few people a hug and instantly knocked them out cold.
It didn't take long for Quami was diagnosed as a metahuman, as was almost immediately signed up for Powerbound.