Lugubrious

Re:Unison

I'm in agreement with the others.

World of Light

<Snipped quote by Gentlemanvaultboy>

I never actually put a limit to the size, so we'll need to ask @Lugubrious for a balanced area, but I was thinking a square meter. Although, she can just repeat cast to paint a larger area. Thinking of melting some water?

@Stern Algorithm

A little bigger than that for the base area would be fine. Say, a square 1.5 meters.

Re:Unison

Speaking of which, @Lugubrious, you're in a bit of a unique position with your character being the only last year. It'd make sense for him to know some other students around the academy, so do you want me to forward you info on that or nah? It'll be in a PM since most other characters wouldn't have much reason to know them. How many people Hugo knows is up to your discretion; though the campus is pretty huge. He may not necessarily know every face from every year.

@Ammokkx

Some information on a number of NPCs -though not exhaustive, by any means- in a PM would be splendid. I'll leave the amount to your discretion.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 5 Tora - (2/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (1/40) EXP
Location: Hammerhead
Word Count: 328

With his mouth running a mile a minute, Tora scarcely let Cid get a word in, but after a few moments the frenzy returned to normal conversation. When the grizzled tinker could respond, he gave the enthusiastic Nopon everything he wanted to know and more, from the duty of a mechanic to the sorts of projects worked on to the tools of the trade. After that, he went on a brief tour with Cid, which only served to add more fuel to its fire. When it finished, Tora was literally bouncing up and down. “Wow-wow-wow! Is dream come true, meh!” he exclaimed, dancing in excitement. “How did Tora toil on own for so long, when places like Hammery-head exist? How soon can Tora join!? Want to make huge-huge dohickies and explodies and awesome machines!”

Poppi might have snorted in laughter, if she could breath. “Is Masterpon forgetting something?”

The look on Tora's face said that he hadn't, and the wind was taken from his sails. “...No, meh. Will not give up on quest to save world. And, when world get saved and go back to normal, Hammerhead and friends Cid and Linky-Linky and Mina and Blazermate and Ratchet and Junior and all rest go away, too. But working at place like this nice thought.”

Cid looked baffled by all the nonsense that just spewed from Tora's mouth. “Uh...”

Steamrolling over him, Tora gave as resolute nod and proclaimed. “Later, Tora will come back and visit. Then, when back to Alrest, Tora earn money and make mechanic shop just like, meh. This Tora's new dream!”

The sight of Tora so passionate brought a smile to Poppi's face. “Then, it Poppi dream as well!” She gave Cid a proper bow, then smiled with a tilt of her head. “Thanks to kind wrinklypon for inspiring masterpon.” After a few more words, the duo bid Cid farewell and headed into the nearest garage for another look around, only to run into Donnie.

---

A new voice caught the attention of everyone present, cooling their tempers for the time being. Nero sized Gene up, noting that he looked like much more of a fighter than any of the four friends, except perhaps the shirt-deprived one. “Don't know about end of the world, pal, but it's sure not making things any better.” At Gene's prompting, he looked among the new arrivals, noting their equipment.

He then refocused on Gene. “Yeah, I bet you do, and I bet you can, especially seeing as you don't know what the Qliphoth is. Your group over there have any demon blood amongst you?” The ensuing second of silence told him everything he needed to know. “Well then, I've got bad news. The city's swarming with demons, with the weakest one taking more than a whole clip of rifle ammo to knock over. Plus, there's swarms of zombies, far as the eye can see. If you want your blood drained or brains eaten that bad then you can head on up there, but take it from me: leave this to the professionals.” A snort came from the van, and Nero threw his friend an exasperated look. He sighed before starting to walk around to the passenger's side.

---

Inside Grillby's was a quaint, cozy atmosphere. For being almost lunchtime, there didn't seem to be too many customers. The Courier could only spot two parties: a group of dogs playing cards, and a leather-clad armadillo halfway through a plate of glazed beetles and fried grubs. Behind the counter stood a flaming machine, presumably the staff, casually cleaning out mugs as though he wasn't a living fire hazard. Luckily, the place seemed fairly inflammable.

Lumbridge

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

The houndmaster scratched his dog's ears, and considered Geralt's predicament while giving his reply. “The usual, intriguing as that might be. With the rollover only an evening prior, the youngsters still rove eagerly across the countryside, accumulating goods and knowledge. Perhaps one has stumbled across a fresh surge of your desired herb.” He paused, glancing about. With the thrill of Geralt's arrival subsiding and the man going about his business, most of the mercenary's devotees peeled off to go about theirs. Two of the older, more serious lads -the sort who wished in earnest to learn from Geralt's experience and emulate his prowess- acknowledge the houndmaster before heading inside; Gran and Euden were their names, and while rather straightforward in character, they shared an uncommon knack for making friends.

After they left, and the children drifted away, the houndmaster began again. “If you seek to better equip yourself, you returned at a fortuitous time. Malo's surely features new stock, owing to the firstfruits of the rollover, and the smithy's flames lay kindled for metalworking.” Despite Geralt's newness, the houndmaster hardly need go into detail on the Land of Adventure's principle phenomenon. Once a week, the vast majority of the region regenerated itself, the terrain changed and replenished in the darkest hours of the night. As new bounties arose, so did new threats, growing in strength over the course of the week. On the first day, the scouting parties ranged far and wide, and not long after the gatherers and fighters made their rounds. This never-ending cycle of discovery and adventure made the region what it was. A few things remained constant: the climate, the approximate danger level one could expect of various areas, Lumbridge, a couple other settlements, and at the far end of the Land, the End, where the world gave way to an otherworldly void none dared brave.

“As for specific happenings, I can attest that the Guildmarm commands a bevy of fresh tasks. Whoever lurks behind the new guildmaster's cowl, he surely knows his business. More likely than not, they can tell you more about this wolf of yours, or even advice for laying it low. As for me...” the houndmaster quit stroking his companion to pat the spiked club lying by his side. “Blackjack to the head, then bleed it with the dog. Regeneration or no, inordinate exsanguination will take it before long. Would that I could join your hunt, if not for my duty.” It went unsaid, though not unknown, that the houndmaster could be more of a burden than a help, as he lacked the Witcher's stamina and would surely fall behind. “If you pay heed to rumors,” he continued, “That Shulk boy claims to have beheld a monstrosity of uncommon size and power in the hills to the southeast, the sort to demand a whole battalion to bring low. Guildmaster hasn't put out a contract yet. Whatever you do, take care out there.” Leaning back in his chair, the houndmaster waved Geralt off.

World of Light

Lumbridge

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

The few clouds that rolled in during the early hours of morning gave way to a cheery, sun smiling down on the Land of Adventure as noontime came around. Bit by bit, people made their way to Lumbridge's town center, the Guild. More of a castle than the typical wooden guild hall, the building served as the go-to place for the simple town's number-one trade: quests. Here, tasks and requests piled up and were divvied out into eager hands, sending bright-eyed youths running across the plains, throughout the woods, and into caves to do whatever need be done. Now, however, the questers who'd gone out bright and early were returning, their objectives complete and their bellies empty. Some headed to the blacksmith or farmstead, or to the house of a patron directly, perhaps to deliver an object or information. More than a few, particularly the youngest, made a beeline for the Guild's mess hall instead.

First into the yard charged a gang of boys very familiar to the town's residents, with a shared name more familiar still. Most of the usual questers sported a friendly and obliging demeanor, but these four worked together especially well, earning them a consistent top spot on the leaderboards. Laughing and dirtied, they charged toward the great oaken double doors leading inside, pausing only to wave at the town sheriff, a somber-looking lawman with a huge dog by his side, whose gruff exterior everyone knew masked an uncommonly compassionate heart. After returning the gesture, the houndmaster watched them head in, then turned to see a young pair approaching. Newer than most others, they'd nevertheless been a tremendous help for the town's seemingly never-ending supply of jobs.

Once they passed by, the houndmaster found himself distracted by a butterfly flitting around a bunch of flowers on the other side of the yard. The colorful, dainty little thing twirled about before settling on a bright purple cone flower. Only when he heard the tramp of a number of feet did the houndmaster glance back at the yard entrance, his loyal beast perking up as well. Even before the principal newcomer could be identified, the houndmaster could guess from the retinue surrounding him. Only one man attracted this kind of adoration and respect of the local questers: Geralt of Riviera. Ever since his recent arrival, the monster hunter quickly earned a reputation among the kids and wannabe heroes as a veteran and a hero, practically worthy of discipleship. The houndmaster wondered with amusement if Geralt, more a warrior than a celebrity, ever found the attention annoying.

Cracking a slight smile, the houndmaster gave the Witcher a nod as he grew near. “Good morrow,” he greeted him. “Rarely do I see you bound for the Guild. Did some notorious creature rear its head in the wealds?”

World of Light

MOFUGGIN GERAAAAALLLTTT

Name: Geralt of Rivia, Gwynbleidd, “White Wolf”

Game Origin: The Witcher

Appearance:

Personality: Geralt is, for all intents and purposes, a mercenary, and thus he often comes across as aloof or uncaring. However, Geralt is a strong believer in equality among sentient creatures, as well as justice. He often betrays his contractors if he discovers that the monster he has been hired to slay is not a threat, or circumvents the details of his contracts to meet a non-violent resolution if one is possible. He is well-known throughout Skellige, the Northern Realms and the Nilfgaardian Empire as a fierce and loyal friend, willing to traverse through veritable nightmares for those he holds dearest.

Background: Born to a sorceress and a warrior, Geralt was brought to “Witcher School” as a young boy. After surviving the Witchers’ rite of passage, the Trial of the Grasses, Geralt voluntarily underwent a series of experimental mutations which killed all other subjects. He managed to survive these experiments, however, and became a Witcher unlike any other.
Geralt has fought all manner of creatures, from wyverns to kings to trolls and vampires. He was killed once, only to reappear years later with no recollection of his past, though he likely won’t be able to recreate this feat without a powerful sorceress at his side. Speaking of powerful sorceresses, Geralt has romanced two: Triss Merigold and Yennefer of Vengerberg. His fate was once sealed to Yennefer’s by a Djinn, but the two recently severed their magical bond and affirmed their love to be unbroken by the loss of that magical tether. His daughter figure, Cirilla, looks up to Yennefer as a mother, as well.

Geralt had just fought off the Wild Hunt at Skellige, having slain Eredin in combat, and watched Ciri survive her foray into the end of the world to stop the White Frost. She will have to face the duties of being Empress without her surrogate father, though she will have Yennefer’s support on her side. Geralt, however, has been stripped of all that he loves and holds dear.

Specialty: Monster Slayer

Level: 1

Experience: 0/10

Powers: (You start with one, no matter how many your character had before, and will earn one with each level. They should make sense for your character)

• Quen Sign: produces two types of shields capable of absorbing and dispersing large amounts of kinetic energy before explosively shattering, sending foes reeling. The first is passive and offers lesser protection, while the second requires an active concentration and is capable of weathering greater stress

Strengths: (Things your character's always good at, or always can do; essentially, passive abilities or bonuses. You start with three, but you can add more in place of powers when you level up)

• Extreme Poison/Disease Resistance: Geralt is immune to all but the absolutely deadliest poisons, which allows him to utilize the Witchers’ deadly concoctions as medicine, where they would normally destroy a normal human’s body in minutes.
• Superior Regeneration: While not enough to regenerate lost limbs, Geralt possesses regenerative abilities far beyond that of any human being. He can survive wounds that would be fatal to regular humans because he can simply heal them quickly enough to not die from them, and other, non-lethal wounds disappear significantly more quickly than they would for anybody without an absurdly powerful healing factor.
• Encyclopedic Knowledge: Geralt’s mind is a trove of knowledge, owing to his advanced age, wealth of experience, and quick wit. He houses a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the various potions, bombs, and oils he can create. He can easily and readily identify the ingredients to these, though they are not always readily available, of course. Along with that knowledge, Geralt also knows the names, appearances, behavioral patterns, and weaknesses of every type of monster to roam the Continent, though this knowledge is of less use against creatures he hasn't researched or fought, including humans. He can, of course, use this knowledge to approximate what may work against any monsters he comes up against. This knowledge is also useful in performing autopsies, though Geralt lacks the proper tools to perform all but the most basic autopsies. This knowledge also pertains to investigating and breaking curses, though those are often unique cases based as much on knowledge of the creature as they are knowledge of the personal circumstance.

Weaknesses: Despite his manifold abilities, Geralt is still human. His enhanced healing still takes time to work on grievous wounds unless he makes use of his limited Swallow potions, and he still requires the staples of life: food, water, sleep, and air. After a period of heavy damage and healing, he’ll need to eat quite a bit to recover that energy. His signs, while powerful, drain his fabled stamina heartily; it can take a few seconds for him to recover his energy and willpower before utilizing another, which can leave him vulnerable to a quick opponent. Geralt is also often treated as a subhuman by those who hold such views; his mutations and inhuman abilities, along with the reputation of Witchers as cold-blooded killers, often leaves Geralt on the outskirts of society.

Spirits:

Kindred Spirits: Yennefer of Vengerberg- Geralt’s True Love, once bound to him by Djinn, but affirmed as his lover once their freedom was taken back. A powerful and untamed sorceress, Yennefer is a force of nature to rival Geralt, a magical powerhouse who could destroy armies with her spells.

Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon- Geralt and Yennefer’s surrogate daughter, Heir Apparent to the Nilfgaardian Throne/Empress of Nilfgaard/Witcher, Source of Magic, Walker of Worlds, and many, many other things. Ciri is a gifted swordfighter, a natural magic-user capable of incredible yet unpredictable feats of magic, and nearly a Witcher in her own right. She lacks the mutations, but her magical abilities and the training Geralt gave her make her, in essence, her own kind of Witcher.

Inventory: A Steel sword, a Silver sword, 4 Dimeritium bombs (These block the usage of magic in an area for about 30 seconds), 4 Grapeshot bombs (These detonate into a deadly blast of shrapnel). Hanged Man’s Venom (A blade oil containing a poison deadly to humans and humanoid creatures like elves, dwarves and such), Draconid oil (A blade oil which is poisonous to draconic creatures). A flask containing five doses of Swallow (A potion which improves the healing of wounds and the body’s recovery from them), and another containing five doses of Cat (A potion which grants sight even in total darkness, as well as an immunity to hypnotic effects for around half an hour). One hunting knife, with a smooth front edge and serrated back edge. A hand crossbow with 30 small bolts (mostly for hunting, but the bolts are capable of harming humans with even light armor, due to the crossbow’s shockingly high draw weight). Geralt wears a suit of combined chain and leather armor, which can be seen in the image included above. It best protects against attacks from blades and claws. In addition to these, Geralt also carries the alchemical ingredients necessary to create two more batches of his oils, potions and bombs. Finally, Geralt’s Wolf medallion acts as a magic detector, vibrating when in the presence of magic, to a scale equivalent to the strength of the magic present.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

The sheet looks good. Go ahead and put him into the characters tab. Once you do, I'll PM you about getting Geralt into the story.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 4 Tora - (1/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (0/40) EXP
Location: Paved Wilderness
Word Count: 1141

New Upgrades

Tora: Strength – Vehicular. While a quick learner with a passion for tinkering and mechanics, Tora never got to know vehicles thanks to the nature of Alrest, but the new world has broadened his horizons. Not only has Tora adapted his expertise to vehicle repair and augmentation, but he's discovered a decent affinity as a driver/pilot, as well. Vroom vroom, meh!

Poppi: Power – Blade Combo. After chaining two Blade Art attacks together on a single target, Poppi's third gains greater power and inflicts a Seal on the target afterward, depending on the element of the third attack, which depends on Poppi's elemental core.

Seals

Fire: Seal Self-Destruct, which prevents the use of self-damaging attacks
Water: Seal Stench, which cleanses toxins, disease, and foulness
Earth:Seal Shackle Driver, which prevents the target inflicting statuses on Tora and cleanses any he has
Electric: Seal Back Attack, which prevents the target's sneak attacks
Wind: Seal Blowdown, which prevents the target knocking others off their feet
Ice: Seal Shackle Blade, which prevents the target inflicting statuses on Poppi and cleanses any she has
Light: Seal Affinity Down, which prevents the target from depleting gathered energy
Dark: Seal Reinforcements, which prevents the target summoning, creating, or calling allies

At their own paces, more or less everyone picked up and started off again. Tora respected Junior as a fellow tinker, by sticking around in the middle of an arid scrubland in the baking heat and sticky dust sounded like the exact opposite of a good time. He made no bones about piling into the rabbids' truck, while Poppi hopped up on top of the cab for a loony-free ride. For their part, the lapins crétins regarded the Nopon with wonder, since he shared and even surpassed their cartoonish proportions while outdoing even the largest among them in size. He did not, however, appreciate their poking or prodding, or their incessant chatter. With a heavy sigh, he settled in as best he could, preparing for the worst. Lo and behold, a giant explosion went off less than a hundred feet away. Tora shook his head; he didn't want to know.

As the somewhat-diminished convoy got back into gear, leaving a couple volunteers behind to catch up at their own pace, the jostling in the rabbid truck began in earnest. Tora found himself pushed and smacked about by the crazy critters as they goofed off with an utter lack of self-preservation, rolling around the truck bed and flying around with every bump in the road. By the time the truck's brakes whined and slowed the vehicle to a stop, Tora had enough of rabbids to last him a lifetime. The truck's doors exploded outward, and the Nopon tumbled out with a tide of rabbids behind. The goons scattered in every direction as the weary inventor pushed himself to his feet, groaning. Poppi landed beside him and helped him up. “Did masterpon enjoy ride?”

Rubbing his head, Tora shook it emphatically. “Not one bit. Next time, not do daring trick with car and blow it up.” He waddled around the truck at took his first glimpse at the convoy's current destination.

The heroes had arrived at a strange sort of oasis, yet one perfect for a wasteland frequented by ardent motorists: a giant gas station and mechanic. As his eyes swept over the garages lined with tools and parts, Tora's eyes went wide. When someone stood up from changing a tire, however, and approached the newcomers with a smile of welcome, his eyes nearly bugged out. The woman wiped the sweat from her brow as she grew near before giving a wave. “Howdy, y'all!” she called, cheerfully. In the eleven o' clock light one could scarcely tell her eyes were red, and little about her seemed threatening. “Rollin' in from out west, huh?” She looked over the convoy, noting the unconventional vehicles with an amused chuckle. “How'd the heck you folks make it out here in those li'l toy things? Bet their innards're all stuffed with dust 'n gunk.”

Her conversation came to a stop as another stranger appeared, this one an old man in a red cap. “Aw, don't mind her. She don't mean t'give ya a hard time.” Neither seemed particularly put off by the bizarre assortment of individuals arrayed before them, from living machine to rabbid to royalty. “Welcome to Hammerhead. I'm Cid, and this here's Cindy. What can we do for ya?”

Too excited to give Peach a chance to talk, Tora blurted out. “Meh meh meh! Hello friend! What that, meh?” He flapped his wing at the garage, bringing a look of bemusement to Cid's face.

“Y'mean you've never seen a car shop before?”

Eyes shining, Tora shook his head. “No-no-no, meh! What all those thingies and big contraptions? Do you make things? Fix things? Please tell Tora everything, Cid-Cid!” All of a sudden, the wiry geezer shone like a saint in the Nopon's eyes, a veritable reverend of repair, a master of mechanisms, and a genuine kindred spirit.

After Poppi reminded him of his manners, Tora hurried to apologize and introduce himself, explaining that he was an inventor and mechanic himself, but one who had only ever worked in his own home. He proudly introduced Poppi, who gave a polite curtsy, While Cid dealt with the both of them, Peach took Cindy aside to briefly speak about the surrounding area, and everyone else got a good look around. Right beside Hammerhead was a diner with a rather dissonant look of wood and brick, reminiscent of an alpine cabin: Grillby's. The sign outside marked it as a branch location, which explained at least some of appearance.

A number of figures could be seen around the gas station, casually going about their business. Many of them seemed fairly nondescript, but a few stood out a greater or lesser degree. A disagreeable-looking man leaned against the wall of the store by the doors, drinking something out of a bottle in a brown paper bag. At one end of the station stood a more futuristic-looking refueling device, next to which a roided-out frog thing was preparing to leave atop a hoverbike, while a muscular pilot sat in a patch of shade reading while his ride got a tune-up. A metal bird slumped, unconscious, in the back of one of the garages.

Meanwhile, a heated argument looked to be brewing by the pumps. A party of four young men, with their fancy-looking black convertible nearby, were exchanging words with a white-haired punk and a tattooed woman about the road ahead. The woman remained behind the wheel of her van, but her friend was all in. Individual words were hard to pick out in the chaotic debate, but it sounded as though the four intended to head northward to the area the heroes knew as the Dead Zone, while the white-haired guy insisted they give it a wide berth.

“Look,” he said, “I'm sure you guys can kick the crap out of some coyotes and bears, but there's stuff in that place that'll eat you alive. Take it from me: stay away.”

The biggest of the four scoffed. “What, you don't think we can handle ourselves?” he questioned in a gravelly voice. “We've beaten a lot tougher than animals, pal. What makes you the boss around here? I bet any one of us could take you on.”

Grinning, his strawheaded friend crossed his arms. “Yeah, you talk a big game, but I betcha a thousand gil that if we went in there as a team, you'd be the dead weight around here.”

Exhaling sharply, the other man shook his head in frustrated denial. He held up his left index finger and pointed it at the four's leader, a youth with messy black hair. As he did so, everyone could see that his right forearm was a metal prosthetic. “Your buddies seem pretty confident, but I'm not letting you go get yourselves killed. If you're ready to take on the Qliphoth, a few rounds with me should be a piece of cake, right?”

World of Light

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

I've been busy. Joined a Discord RP, got a girlfriend, we broke up, all sorts of crazy stuff. It's....it's been pretty crazy. How've you been doin'?

Also, I know he's not technically from a game, but would there be any objection to playing Geralt, since the Witcher game series is, at least outside of Poland, more popular than the novels?

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

I've been alright. Started this RP, graduated, got a job. It's been a good time.

I think that Geralt's popularity and fairly iconic status as a video game character justify bending the rules in his case. The rule was more meant to prevent things like having Star Wars characters who appeared in some game or another, or movie, anime, or cartoon characters with game tie-ins.

World of Light

YO LUGU MY DUUUUDDEEE

Y'all still accepting? I see the 12/16 thing in the character area buuuut I like to be sure.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

You better believe it! What's shaking, man? Haven't seen you in ages. I hope you've been well!

Re:Unison

Hugo

Name:
Suzuki Hugo

Age:
20

Appearance:


Personality:
Regrettably, Hugo has not been able to prevent his most notable trait from defining him, which is his anxiety. Possessed of a anxious disorder, he is irritable and prone to worrying, tires easily, and is near-constantly on edge. Stressful situations can escalate this anxiety to panic, causing sweating, heart pounding, difficulty breathing, shaking, and crushing feelings of imminent doom. Naturally, he tries to avoid situations where his anxiety will come to a head, giving him an impression of aloofness, shyness, strictness, and superstition, the latter of which stems from his own personal tendency to see things as omens. Missing or failing things sets him on edge, but landing difficult attacks or other achievements provide him great relief, as does hugging things and the sensation of cool water.

However, this is not ultimately who Hugo is. Without his disorder's clutches, he's a genial and compassionate fellow, never particularly outgoing but always considerate and polite. While he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, he likes drama and music, and is a staple figure at whatever concerts or plays crop up every now and again. A certain sense of pride in his ability to live for himself despite his disorder gives him an independent streak, prevents him from asking for help or really working well with others. This is only compounded by his tendency to cut people off that he deems unhealthy for him, leaving him a friendly if cautious loner. His aspirations are, in a roundabout way, heroic. He does, after everything, want to relieve suffering and better humanity's condition.

Background:
While he believes more in nature than nurture, looking back on his early life, Hugo can pin down a solid explanation for his anxiety. His parents were, in a way, visionaries—they thought they understood the problems with the world and how to fix them. Hailing from a line blessed with extremely healthy genetics and distinctive physiological traits, they maintained the belief that their genes were best suited for the world. As such, they continued in the tradition of having lots of kids, and among all of his brothers and sisters, Hugo was simply one of many faces given from birth the purpose of strengthening humanity.

Every sibling suffered from their parents' negligence and high expectations, given punishment and correction instead of attention and encouragement as they were made to work with constructs from an early age. This sort of treatment evoked Hugo's anxiety early, and with the pressure on, he disappointed his family severely. Many of his siblings, eager to escape their elders' wrath themselves, tormented him also. A few showed him kindness, and eventually, it was with them that Hugo ran away. With nobody to turn to and the everpresent threat of their family, the siblings found that freedom presented its own hardships, and were forced to part ways. Without a construct of his own, Hugo remained alone and endangered, living each day just to survive.

Eventually, however, a stroke of luck found its way to him. He came across another loner, a construct named Hume, and soon realized they needed one another in more ways than one. Hume, lost and heartbroken following the demise of his beloved family, found someone to love and protect. Hugo, meanwhile, found strength and reassurance, a friend who could take away his pain. The pair ended up at Geiru institute, taking advantage of its interest in duos like theirs to find a home at last.

Magic:
Hugo has the ability to create magical cords, white in color, somewhat translucent, and glowing just a little. He can alter their length and manipulate them to a slight degree as long as he's touching them. While a strange magic, it's one that comes in handy, whether for binding, sealing, repair, or fighting. Specifically, he uses it with a metal hook in order to create a sort of chain-hook that he lashes out with from afar to cut or capture. Because it's a difficult weapon to use that requires a lot of finesse, he gets a great amount of satisfaction and courage from its successful application, but is quick to stress if he misses or fumbles it. He also often uses it to make bolas with rocks or or whatever else is lying around.

Hume

Name:
Hume

Type:
Monstrous

Appearance:


Personality:
Quiet and softspoken, Hume is a loving and caring individual. He loves to teach, to inspire, to bring hope, to make things easy, and to warm hearts. While not the most outgoing, and therefore not some exaggerated 'bringer of love to all', he can be very passionate about the wellbeing of those close to him, and he has few compunctions about bringing people closer. Hume has an eye for the suffering, sick, and restless, and aims to bring comfort to those especially. While he dislikes fighting, his passion can lead him to fight with brutal strength for the sake of others, and with a heavy heart he can bring himself to eliminate those he judges too evil to continue afflicting the world.

Core:
Peace

Background:
The spark that brought Hume to life was the singular wish of one on the precipice of death.

A woman was forced to flee with her husband and their three young children from their home city. With a gang of merciless men with cruel intent never far behind, they plunged into the hateful wilderness until they left their pursuers far, far behind. Ragged and torn, exhausted and unwell, they stumbled upon a miracle: a safe haven, secreted away from the ruinous elements and hungry eyes of beasts. There they enjoyed a time of rest, free from the years of persecution—all too brief, for the ingenuity of man found a way.

In the dead of night the escapee's dogged pursuers, guided by their conduit partners, descended upon their haven. The husband fought back, revealing his true nature in full, and though he fought with true desperation and incredible strength he was driven to the brink beneath their onslaught. Choking back tears, the wife enacted the plan they'd hoped would never need come to fruition; she assembled the conduits and allowed her life to flow through them, and as the blades fell upon her she shrieked her final plea.

“Protection!”

But in her heart of hearts, she'd already given up. In that moment, her soul wished not for protection -for the strength to withstand all comers- but for peace, an end to suffering. A construct awoke, big and round and soft, and stared at its creators and their destroyers with wide eyes. When they struck him, his snow-white flesh bled a soothing mist, and they lost their will to fight. One by one Hume embraced them, reducing them to nothingness beneath his heavy arms, wondering all the while why humans would kill one another in such a vicious world. When he turned with great sadness to meet his makers, he found them side by side, painlessly fallen asleep, and never to awaken.

Guilt plagued him the rest of his days, though even if otherwise, he would have still taken the same path. He bonded with the children, not just to preserve his own existence, but to be for them what they had lost. He cared for them over the years, taught them all he could from reason to emotion, and grew to love them dearly. As they grew, they were able to live in safety thanks to Hume, and little by little other outcasts found their home. Humans and constructs alike, adrift or in search of a rumored paradise, discovered what came to be known as the remote settlement of Foghome. There they found solace, comfort, and safety, for none who came with hatred or sword could oppose their construct protectors, with the peace-loving but firm Hume leading the way. Eventually, even the constructs who originally pursued the first family reawoke and found forgiveness. In Foghome, just as it had for that family who fled so long ago, the line between human and construct blurred. Perhaps its villagers came as close to harmony as anyone in this world ever could.

It started slow and weak, the sickness. So slow and weak that nobody noticed until its knives were at their throats. The plague ate humans up from within, numbing their minds and dimming their life forces. Within a few days, none remained free of its grip. Fear filled the construct villagers, as they knew that none of their companions would be able to make it to the nearest city. Even if they did nothing but rest, they'd be gone in less than a fortnight. Hume, strongest and heartiest among them, vowed to go alone and find help. Sustained by his reserve of life energy, he trudged tirelessly through wood and vale, through day and night, until he reached the city. “Please,” he asked them, “Bring your doctors and physicians. My friends are sick. My children are dying. I will protect you, so please, come!”

He offered the citizens everything, begging and pleading, and at last some agreed. True to his word, he protected them as he made the trek, though he could only do so much. At length he and the few remaining volunteers staggered into Foghome, and there they found peace. They were all dead—dead by their own hands, having been consumed by their fear and pain. They had chosen to kill themselves rather than waste away, watching their loved ones succumb one by one, in terror and loneliness, convinced that no rescue would come. Hume wept, and wept, and wept, and wondered why.

Eventually, he returned to the city. His broken heart remained, but he needed children to protect, pain to take away, and troubles to put at ease.

Abilities:
Hume has incredible natural strength. While he's quite slow, and therefore not a good fighter, he can quite literally annihilate almost anything he gets his hands on or arms around if he so chooses. He's also pretty sturdy; while he can be cut easily, it takes a lot to really hurt him. His body circulates a cool numbing mist, which he can exhale, or bleed in large quantities if hurt. Organisms -including constructs- exposed to it find their movements slowed as their muscles loosen and relax, and it exerts a soporific effect on the mind. In small quantities it can sedate and bring peaceful sleep, but too much (particularly against already-weakened targets) can cause the body to shut down, causing comas or even death. However, if Hume releases it consciously, he can fine-tune its dosage, allowing him to blanket vast areas with what's essentially normal fog. When inside his own fog clouds, Hume has been observed disappearing and moving at unnaturally high speed, making him extremely hard to pin down; it's almost as if he can become fog himself.