Mega Birb

The Seven Deadly Sins [LF Lust and Sloth]

@Holy Soldier

I give you Maximilian Vert, the guy that woke up in a steam city and decided a factory would be a fun place to work.

Wrath

NAME:

Maximilian Vert

ALIAS’:

Max, Boss, Mr. Hyde

AGE:

Appears to be in his early-mid 30’s

SIN:

Wrath

HEIGHT:

5’09” - 175cm

WEIGHT:

163lbs. - 74kg

HAIR COLOR:

Dark Brown

EYE COLOR:

Green

SEX:

Male

WRITTEN APPEARANCE:

Max, as he is called in casual conversation by those who dare, isn’t a tall or barrel-chested man as one would expect from the embodiment of Wrath. Instead, he’s a man of average height and muscled build, rough in appearance with a face that’s seen it’s fair share of losses. His hair is nearly always windswept, dark brown locks locked in place by sweat and grease, while his cheeks bear a set of sideburns kept carefully trimmed. He dresses well, most often in black vests and pants, rounded out by a fitting, dark green coat. He commonly wears a pair of black leather gloves as well.

BRAND APPEARANCE:

Maximilian’s brand resembles a crowned crow, and it is placed squarely between his shoulder blades. He believes it stands for the wrathful and predatory nature of a monarchy.

PERSONALITY:

Maximilian Vert enjoys nothing more than subjugating those beneath him, whether it be a human or a rat, he doesn’t care. His cruel nature is hidden behind a managerial facade, however, as the developing power of steam requires many hands to keep it from dying out early. He enjoys fueling discontent among his workers, giving them reasons to be outraged at each other, almost like he’s fanning the flames of a wildfire.

The embodiment of Wrath is a careful sort, never too caught up in his own desires to put himself at risk, but always unable to resist the temptation of flexing his authority. He is, however, quick to anger and more than likely the first to throw a punch in any situation.

BACKGROUND:

”I’ve followed every whisper and stepped on anyone in my path to find out what the hell happened, and still NOTHING ten years later! Not even a twinge of my memories surfacing!”

CURRENT STORY:

Maximilian had awoken on the streets of a city just starting to integrate steam power with nothing but the clothes on his back and the faint memory of his own name. Beyond that, he knew nothing of his previous life. A few short days wandering the neighborhoods rewarded him with bits of his personality coming back and a small number of scraps he had won without much thought. From one such victim of a thrashing, he heard of a number of underground boxing rings spread throughout the city, and the logical step of the amnesiac was to attend one to simply test the waters.

Nearly a year later, he had earned enough money and cracked enough skulls to establish himself as an iron-fisted individual that could put anyone in their place. Before he knew it, a textile factory swept him up and put him in charge of the entire building, with a simple order to keep the workers in line. To this day, the mere mention of his name is enough to snap the laziest man into overdrive. Recently, Max has decided to leave the city for awhile to find out more about the massive blank spot in his memory. In his place, he left a friend named Digby in charge of the factory.

WEAPON:

The Brass Hands are a pair of brass knuckles wielded by Maximilian, both simple in design and purpose. Four spiked rings are linked together that fit their owner’s hands like a glove, all held together by a stopper that fits in the palm. They appear to have been created from a solid piece of brass. They never seem to wear, no matter how much abuse they’re put through.

ABILITY:

Moxie is the trademark of Maximilian, allowing him to power through the toughest opponents given he can land a hit. With every successful strike, he hits harder and swings faster, making him a massive threat as long as he can get up to speed. As a visual side effect, the veins in his arms pulse with his heartrate, which has led him to his current coat-and-glove combination.

Mr. Hyde on the Floor!

The massive doors to the factory’s main floor flew open with enough force to threaten the sliders they rested upon, and in came a man in a green coat, mid-rage. The doors slammed into the ends of their tracks just as he stepped beyond the threshold, the entire atmosphere of the building changing as his footfalls signalled doom for someone. One of the workers, a younger man, made the mistake of continuing a conversation with nobody.

The man in the green coat snapped his head in the sole direction of a voice, teeth grinding as he stomped towards it. The young worker, oblivious for whatever reason, turned around just in time to see his boss charging for him. ”Welcome back Mr. Hy- I mea-” He was cut off by a hand grabbing his collar and pulling him in.

”WHAT did you just call me!?” he shouted, loud enough for the entire building to be silenced, except the whirring machines.

”I-I called you Mr. Ver-” The worker was met with a forceful punch, his head jerking past as the knuckles flew into his cheek.

”Don’t lie to a man on which your sorry life depends! Now, what did you call me?” His tone dropped slightly, the question coming across this time as a threat.

”I called you M-Mr. Hyde,” the employee stammered. He was then dropped by his boss, who turned around to address everyone else in the factory.

His voice boomed as he called out to them, sounding more like a showman than a dictator. ”Boys! The very name of Maximilian Vert has been slandered to my own face! And by who? A new hire with gall! What do we do to workers that think they can get away with defacing me!?” A chorus of cheers echoed back, and a grin split the green-coated man’s face. ”That’s right! We put them in their place!”

He turned around to the offender and grabbed him by the collar again, this time dragging him out to the center of the floor, an open space of flagstone. He was tossed to the floor as the cries of a gathering crowd called for him to get on his feet. Meanwhile Maximilian shed his coat, leaving him in a vest and a pinstriped shirt. He rolled up the sleeves as he turned around just in time to watch the man get to his feet.

”Here’s how this works; you win, and I hand over management of this building to you. I win, and you get your mouth sewn shut until I decide to rip it open.” Both parties squared up for a fight, one confident in his actions and the other shaking like a leaf in the breeze.

To this day, Maximilian Vert is in charge of that textile factory, despite countless similar bets.

The Seven Deadly Sins [LF Lust and Sloth]

@Loki Odinson

Thank you, in that case I'll be reserving Wrath for a short while while I write up a sheet.

The Seven Deadly Sins [LF Lust and Sloth]

@Holy Soldier

Question, are you still taking submissions for Wrath and/or Lust?

The Black Jewels

Heketah prowled about the room and spotted the other individual that had toyed with her own toy. She swayed her way to her and gestured for Isadora to follow her away from the group. Once a bit aways she gave Isa a small gentle smile that was full of expectations. She was to be bowed to after all.

Isadora caught sight of the gesture, and recognized the face behind it a little quicker than she would’ve liked to. She willingly followed Heketah away from the group and bowed when she stopped, arms folding under her bust and her weight shifting to her left leg as per usual. ”The Queen of Hyall has graced me with her presence, to what do I owe the honor?” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice, meaning that she was completely sincere… or that’s how she seemed at least.

Heketah gave an approving look and nodded her head in return of the bow. ”Well before we go into business I hope that your travels were well met.” The same sweet, but not fully sweet smile was on her face. ”As for business, I would like to extend to you an offer of joining my court. I could use someone like you there.” She once again did not expect a no to arise from this. After all, no one said no to her.

Her right thumb moved over to her middle finger, picking at the nail idly as she thought. Quickly, though, an answer came. ”I’m humbled by your offer, but my work as a zoologist is too important for me to abandon. I apologize, though I would like to know, why? I’m just a girl lucky enough to be invited to a grand ball.” She smiled innocently, giving off an air of calm as she looked around the beautiful foyer. In truth, she was trying to get Heketah’s mind away from her refusal and onto why she was invited to begin with.

Heketah gave a small smile and a slight headshake. ”My dear you helped do some very interesting work to one of my toys. I would very much enjoy knowing how you and your friend did such things, but if your work is that important and may prove to give you more knowledge in certain fields than I shall leave you to it” She gave a small bow and turned before walking off.

As soon as she was certain Heketah was out of earshot, Isadora allowed her composure to break as she let out a sigh of relief. ”I need to find Fae and Gen…” she muttered under her breath, heading off in whatever direction with a certain hastiness.

The Black Jewels

Before the palace of Queen Heketah, Arsenio Graves stood in his dress uniform. On his chest were several medals, each from a different act of bravery or selflessness, though they meant little to him. His dagger had been moved from its usual place on his shoulder to a scabbard above that of his sword, which sat in its own sheathe on his left hip. As always, his left hand was resting on the crossguard. Beside the Glacian was Ravyn Ghosteye, a young scoundrel that he had attempted to right over the last day or so. Whether or not he had been successful was anyone's guess, but he had done his best with her. With a deep breath, Arsenio closed his eyes and spoke. "Remember, the story goes that you're my apprentice. I'm training you to serve as a Glacian Ambassador. You're new to everything so don't worry about the details." With the plan established, he took the first step towards the entrance to the palace.

The inside of the manor was beautiful, a far cry from the inside of the Drunken Unicorn, or even the Nosey Needle. A quick scan of the entrance hall merited little besides an obnoxious display of wealth, along with a rather cold looking Dujae and a staff member that seemed to be waiting for invitations. Without hesitation, the Glacian reached inside his uniform and produced the invitation he had received, along with the smaller one on behalf of Ravyn. "This young lady is my guest, I expect she'll be treated well." He continued onto the main room, where he soon felt a magical tug at his weapons. His dagger lept from its holster and flew to the weapons chest across the room, though Arsenio's left hand held firm to the hilt of his sword. His eyes snapped to Dujae again as he connected what was happening, and he fearlessly locked his gaze on him. He approached with his hand still gripping the handle of his favorite weapon, stopping a short distance away from the cold man. "I'd prefer to keep my sword for the duration of the ball. I dislike being totally unarmed." He came across as firm, though not unreasonable in his tone.

---

---

Isadora Lafay stood at the door to Heketah's palace, awaiting a small number of people. Namely, Faeril Ashkevron, Gen Saroth, and Rathe Grey. By extension, she expected Chiya as well, though to a somewhat lesser extent. That didn't mean she was any less excited, proven by her fingers running through the loose fabric of the black dress she wore. As she waited, she scanned the facade of the building, and noted the extreme wealth that practically oozed from the windows. There was no way anyone, not even a Queen, could amass enough money to own something like this without getting their hands dirty. She wasn't thinking physically, either. Heketah had likely manipulated her way to the top here, and now sat comfortably on a throne of black mail she had built from the ground up.

All she could really do is theorize while she waited for the others. Once they all showed, she would head inside with them, and more than likely stick close to and drop hints at Rathe at every opportunity.

The Black Jewels

While her and the man walked, Isadora caught a glimpse of a jewel underneath the fur of the dog. It soon occurred to her that the pup might be one of the Kindred that she had heard so much about previously, and that she could very well understand him. She opened up her mind to him and instantly regretted it, her senses suddenly being bombarded by talk of all different things with a common theme around food, flowers, and castles. It took her a moment to adjust to the constant rambling, but the second she did the man's gruff voice cut in over the dog's. His name was Rathe, and the Kindred's name was Chiya. He also happened to list off his titles, which she grinned at only slightly. "So, you're a warrior of sorts," she said, stating the obvious with a turn of her head. As they neared the Nosey Needle, she looked over to Chiya and gave him a warm smile. "Y'know Chiya, you'd look good in a bowtie and a jacket. She should be good enough to make you a set," the Widow mused, lithe hand closing around a doorknob and pushing the slab it was connected to open.

Inside was the Nosey Needle, a smaller shop known for the seamstress that could make anything and everything. She was greeted by the same woman she had thought about moments ago, then gave her the same warm smile she gave to Chiya earlier. "Don't worry, we're here for the same reason everyone else is. I do have a special request, however." The Widow crossed her arms, still under her bust as it became apparent that this was a default pose for her. "I need a dress centered on a red corset. Oh, and detached sleeves to go with it." Almost as an afterthought, she glanced over at Chiya and cracked a smile, intending to follow up on her joke earlier. "Also, a bowtie and jacket for the Kindred."

Familiar with the procedure for measuring, Isadora stepped onto a raised dais surrounded by mirrors, arms extending to her sides before she frowned at her current attire. "How accurate would you like to be? I have nothing against losing a layer if you need me to," she said casually, fully aware of the doubt of there being anything underneath her outermost layer. Her right hand retracted quickly as she remembered the bone in her belt, which she then tossed to Chiya in the hopes he would catch it. "Hold onto that for a moment, please."

The Black Jewels

While Isa's attempts at seducing the taller man failed, quite spectacularly at that, he did duck into a conversation with someone. It seemed to be him talking to himself for awhile and looking somewhat annoyed, though her attention was soon pointed to the bone being held out to her by the wolf pup. While she was initially confused between the man's bluntness and how distractable the canine seemed, it was quickly cleared up as he said to take the bone again. The Widow reached out with her left hand and took the bone, looking it over as her face twisted in disgust. "Good lord... they're cooking meat way past it's prime here," she mumbled, turning the bone over several times and only addressing the man's question after she snapped out of her examination.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Isadora. Yourself?" She slipped the bone into her belt and nodded a thank you to the dog, turning on her heel and walking for the exit. "Come with me, we'll talk as we walk." She reached behind her and beckoned for the man to follow, finger curling elegantly as she walked for the door. As per usual, her hips swayed seductively as she went, and a hand was placed on the door and pushed it open. With a smile that screamed for him to follow, she disappeared into the streets of Hyall.

The Black Jewels

As Isa bent over to feed some of her scraps to the wolf pup that was bounding around the room, she felt an unfamiliar prod at her consciousness. Then she felt it again, and again, and several more times until it was a constant knocking. While it wasn't making any attempt to break into her mind, it was certainly something strange. She figured that making some small talk with the canine in front of her would help. She bent over a little further and put out her hand for... him to sniff, then began to scratch his neck with her left hand. "You're a cute little guy, how'd you get here?" she asked, hand absentmindedly delivering what were highly sought after scritches to wherever she could reach at the moment. "I'm Isa, is that your friend over there?" She gestured in Rathe's direction, looking away from the pup briefly to take a slightly-too-long glance at the mountain of a man. In her view, she also caught a courier that had probably been standing there for too long with a box in her hand.

The Widow quickly sat up and straightened her skirt, trying to at least somewhat redeem herself in the eyes of this delivery girl that apparently had a package for her. She accepted it with a graceful nod and placed it on the table in front of her. Within this box could be any random item, from a fork to a live animal, and what the answer was... well, that was anyone's guess. Curiosity begging to be sated, Isadora gripped the purple bow with two dexterous fingers and pulled, slowly undoing it. In a short moment it came loose, and her hands went to the box proper, lifting the lid. What greeted her was a severed hand on top of a number of wood shavings. The initial disgust was quickly exchanged for scientific curiosity, and she picked up the hand. On closer examination, it bore the symbol of the local Queen on the back of it, burned into the skin with a branding iron. The question was if it had been done post mortem or not. Not that it mattered, but it was a question.

The zoologist soon noticed a piece of parchment within the box, and set the appendage aside to focus on that item. Upon picking it up, she read the test upon it to herself, fingers tapping on the table idly.

Greetings

I am very uncertain as to what exactly you did to my toy, but I would very much like to speak with you about your methods. It was certainly well done and I wish to know more about how my toy was broken. That being said, I invite you to a ball I am hosting tomorrow. It is of course formal wear and feel free to arrive with your healer friend. Please accept a gift of formal wear of your choosing from a tailor.

I look forward to speaking with you,

Heketah Queen of Hyall

Well, it seemed a Queen had taken a personal interest in Isadora for the man that she had mentally murdered. By the looks of it, she had finished the job quite thoroughly and wanted to speak with her. She then looked up from the letter to find the huge man with one as well, and decided that now would be a good time to approach. She rose from the table with a certain grace that demanded attention, her walk emphasized by her hips jutting back and forth. The Widow was absolutely fishing for his attention, and made it more obvious as she got close. Her arms crossed under her bust as she stopped in front of the winged man, weight shifting to her left leg. "Looks like Heketah's after you too. I know a nice tailor down the street, care to join me?" She asked, sizing him up as the pup scampered around the room.

The Black Jewels

Arsenio slowed his run to a walk as the girl tripped, stopping several feet away as she started to get up. He took a moment to examine her, left hand coming to rest on his sword's crossguard and his right hanging loose. While the relative lack of light in the alley concealed much of her features, he could tell the girl was small and dexterous. He was still trying to discern more about her when she croaked out an excuse about someone having stuck their nose where it hadn't belonged and made to leave. He was going to let her before he felt a shoulder crash into his side and a few fingers brush over his hip. Ever alert, Arsenio's right hand shot out and gripped the girl's upper arm. While there was malice to the grab, it swiftly faded and the monotone voice of the sociopath came forward. "You're not about to run off with my coin."

He took a long moment to look the would-be thief over, taking in every detail from her hat to her boots. She was dirty on a bad day, dusty on a good one, and keen. In here eyes he saw an opportunist, a girl that couldn't resist a loose pocket or heavy purse. From the state of her dress, he could tell she had been less than fortunate lately, and she was desperate. The look in Arsenio's eyes turned from a cold hardness to somewhat warmer stare. His grip loosened slightly as he plucked the back of gold back, affixing it to his belt again. "Though, you do need it more than I do. How does lunch sound about now?" Without waiting for a proper answer, Arsenio began to pull the girl by her wrist towards the inn. While he wasn't applying much force, he wasn't about to let go of her with the intention to give her some food in mind. "So, what's your name? I never caught it."

---

---

Isadora passed Faeril on her way back down to the inn's main room, giving her a slight smile as she passed. Once in the room proper, she returned to the table at which she had sat earlier with that group, now waiting for Fae to finish what she had planned. While waiting, she made a trip up to the bar to order herself a drink and some food, a simple mug of ale and a plate of some kind of meat. It took a fair bit of time to prepare, but she received her meal and sat back down just as Fae returned from whatever it was that she had been doing.

"There wasn't much of interest, really. Not that I was looking for anything," she said between mouthfuls. She looked up from her food just in time to see a mountain of a man come through the door, and she pegged him as a warrior of sorts immediately. He went to the bar and exchanged words with the tavernkeep, resulting in him getting a number of keys, which his company took. Not a female in them, Isadora noted. He would definitely be a score if one existed. "Fae, you'll forgive me if I don't head home yet. I have some... additional business, to conduct," she added, not acknowledging the fact that her covenmate was already gone.

Isa then noticed the wolf pup that had jumped from the man's shoulder, and made a conscious decision to get his attention. With a light snap of her fingers, she leaned down from the table with some of her meal in hand in an attempt to get the small dog's attention. And hopefully his favor as well.

The Black Jewels

Location: Hyall

As the banter continued at the table, Dujae got up and left to confront someone that had apparently been badmouthing him. The air cooled to what Arsenio considered a pleasant degree, and it took him several seconds to link this homey temperature to hybrid that was advancing on what was apparently a consort of a queen. In another moment, said consort was slammed into a nearby table before the more threatening of the two made for the door. There, he paused for a moment before ducking out.

While this was certainly a surprisingly violent display from someone he had just met, Arsenio watched with a level of interest characteristic of someone that liked watching people flare up. Right as Dujae left, he noticed the bag of gold left behind on their table, and the good Samaritan in him demanded that it find its owner. As far as the Glacian knew, the bag belonged to the man that just broke a table with someone, and so it was swept up by him and tucked onto his belt. Immediately after this, he made for the door without a word to either Faeril or Isadora. Rather than lean on it and wait for it to open via his body weight, it flew open as he left on a mission to return what had been left behind.

Arsenio got outside just in time to see Dujae's hand shoot into the air, then someone fall. "Did he just..? Yes, yes he did." With the acknowledgement that someone had more than likely just been killed, the Glacian picked up the pace and rushed over to the fallen man as the man that just battered him walked off. He kneeled down by it and soon realized he wasn't a doctor, and had no idea what he was looking for, though he did noticed quite a nasty gash in his side. An uneducated guess leaned towards a death by blood loss within the hour. Oh well, people die and Hyall is more or less lawless. The Glacian rose and dusted himself to find a small crowd looking at him like he had an answer as to what had happened. "...What? I'm not a coroner." He scanned the group before him briefly before peeking over it, noticing a small hand disappearing into an alleyway, which was once again followed by the nearing-infamous Dujae SaDiablo. With a shake of his head, the Glacian took after him with a leisurely jog.

Before Arsenio got to the alley, the man was off again with yet another person slammed into something in the process. Curiosity demanded that he check the alley for any more corpses, and he took a few cautious steps down it before finding a small girl running through it. "Hey! Wait up! What happened!?" He shouted before giving chase, his own agility allowing him to keep pace with a girl that was probably half his age and just as quick.

---

---

Location: Hyall
Snaketooth Counter: 21 Days

As chaos took hold of the tavern, Isadora leaned forward, elbows on the table and head resting on her knuckles as she watched everything unfold. Everything happened very quickly, and at the end of it, the air was chilled and an apparent consort of a queen was knocked squarely on his ass. Meanwhile, both Dujae and Arsenio had left the building in a hurry, while Fae was tending to the man on the floor. The Glacian left with the bag of gold the superior prince had forgotten about, so that left two Widows from the same coven in a room, with one hapless victim. The chance to break down someone from the inside out wasn't lost on the younger of the two.

"I've seen men be much more rude... though his wounds are light, given what happened," she said, slowly pacing around Fae and the unfortunate consort. While no one could see it, she flexed her right hand as a grayish claw formed around it, points wispy as her hand swung. "Though, here is more than quiet enough. An empty tavern is small enough to fix him up, dearest Faeril." With her left hand she brought the man to his feet and started to walk with him, leading what was essentially a walking corpse up the stairs and into a vacant room.

Once to one, she closed the door to an empty bedroom and set the man on the bed, a sensual walk overtaking her to mislead her victim. "Now... unless you want this to hurt, relax." She pounced as she neared the bed, slowly crawling on top of the consort and kneeling over his midsection. If his hands wandered, so be it, she soon had her clouded right hand over his head, the smoke invisible to him invading his eyes, nose, mouth, really any opening he had on the face. "Goodbye, dear consort."

Whether or not he relaxed, she broke into his mind like a burglar on a mission. Any barrier was smashed down with force, the gray jewel of Isadora easily overpowering the sapphire jewel of her victim. At his core, she began to create holes in his memory, like ripping books from the shelves of a library and later setting them alight. Nothing was changed necessarily, just removed to make blank spots at important parts in his life. The love of his mother, his first lover, every enjoyable moment was taken like a life, only several times more cruel. Once done with his past, she moved onto his present and future. Deeper inside was the spider web of his personality, intricate with an oversized ego at the center. "Hmm... oh, I know..." she mumbled, a mischievous smile creeping over her face as she plucked strings. The tooth under her right index finger pronounced itself as she readied herself to ruin someone's life. The strings she plucked were cut, snaketooth slicing through each piece of his personality she felt like removing. Some were replaced, stoking his ego to the point of narcissism, others were pulled entirely to leave nothing but an annoying, entitled man with everything to lose. She then left him there, a shell of his former self as the Black Widow retreated back to her own mind.

Back in her own head, Isadora left the room with the consort still on the bed, out cold due to many kinds of trauma. "Fae, he was... pretty boring actually. He'll tear his own life apart when he wakes back up," she sang, a little more than satisfied at her work.