OtomostheCrazy — Roleplayer Guild

Characters

Mad Scarlet:
Name:
Avian Stormryder, Rider of the Western Winds

Appearance:

Age:
Twenty

Gender:
Female; Gender-fluid

Race:
Shapeshifter

Personality:
Calm, until her temperament is sparked--then there's no telling what she'll do. Loyal to few, but loyal without fault, Avian is one of the most trustworthy creatures that one may ever meet. Although she is so loyal, if she feels as if she has been betrayed, then may their deity have mercy. She is easily corrupted by the thought of power, though, striving to accomplish whatever she can in hopes of having her name remembered for generations--as many of her kin have done. Due to the former, she is a very sore loser, but a very competitive creature.

Bio:
Born to Crow Stomryder, the Last of the Carrion Leaders, Avian was to be the successor to her father's desert nomadic tribe and bring an end to their former barbaric nature and restore relations with other tribes and nomads within Drofa. The moment she was conceived, her father had dreamed that she would have been born a male, but was given only a mere woman, so from the very beginning, she was raised in the ways of acting as a man--but that never once phased her. Her father would soon train her in the arts of shapeshifting, one of her tribe's more prominent abilities that set them apart from the rest, when he believed her to be ready to take on the leadership of the tribe. She dreamed of bringing her tribe back to being one of the most renowned, alas, her dreams were cut short when one of their former rival tribes attacked them in the middle of the night. At the age of fourteen and her father deathly ill, the tribe was left leaderless and did their best to fend for themselves, but to no avail.

Avian vanished in the middle of the fight, terrified for her life and praying to every deity known to her, and hoped that her tribe would forgive her for her misdeed. She fled as fast as her legs would carry her into the unforgiving wastes of the desert. Soon, she found herself in some of the wooded lands and decided that she would train herself to become the strongest warrior that she could, so that she may be able to take back any of her surviving tribe members from their rivals. As if one of her tribe's goddesses were listening, a Wise Beast came upon her as she was training and took her until it's hawk wing. Ausher, the hawk Wise Beast, helped her within the next few years to become fairly adept to shapeshifting and the ways of being a warrior, as he had seen many battles in his time. When he felt that she was ready, he helped her to find the rival tribe, only to discover that they had sold the remaining survivors of her tribe to various clans and cities throughout the world that would take them.

Angered by her cowardliness, she managed to defeat them by dueling each of their best warriors until their leader challenged her himself. She and he were matched and dueled until neither could stand. Some said that three nights had passed before they fell to their knees in mutual defeat. Greatly impressed, he offered her the chance to repay the favor that he had her father--alas, with the ever-watching gaze of Ausher, she chose to spare him for the time being. Instead, she asked for any possessions that they may have taken from her tribe, and received her father's dagger as well as his ring of marriage to her mother. With those in hand, she made a vow that he would one day pay for every hardship that he may have caused her people.

Now she travels the world in search of her kin, vowing never to stop until each of the remainder of her people have been found and brought back to their lands. Ausher has stayed by her side ever since, guiding her to the best of his abilities.

Weapons(Primary, Secondary, Tertiary):
Primary: Crystalline Dagger
Secondary: Whip

Magic (optional):
Animal Shapeshifting - Can shift into any animal form that is deemed fit for the situation, but the shape must have been fully "studied" or somewhat understood by the shifter.

Minor Elemental Shapeshifting (Air): - Can shift into many minor Air Elemental forms. These techniques have been passed down to every leader of the Storm Tribe, as their origins are believed to have come from Verrix. Due to her lack of training, these forms typically show when she is in a blind rage and are uncontrollable by her at the current time.

Other (optional):
To be added later; possibly.

Post Example:
A small brown and white sparrow sat on an overhang of a roof beside a slightly larger-than-average red-tailed hawk. Both gazed down at the festivities that were beginning to take place. The sights and scents were astounding and Avian, in the shape of the sparrow, had to do everything in her power to keep herself from shifting into a hawk herself and swooping up some of the delicious breads that were being placed on the baker's stands. Ausher gave her a look with his piercing amber eyes and said in a hushed voice, "Perhaps you should go down there and buy some rather than using these forms to steal from others."

Avian gave him a smirk, despite her lack of being able to do so in that particular form, and chirruped, "I suppose they have worked hard enough to not have a hawk come down and snatch their wares." She shifted into her mortal form and shivered as the feathers fell from her skin. She swore that she would never get used to that feeling. "What kind would you like, friend?"

"Me? We feathered folk cannot consume such things." He chuckled, "But if you could possibly find some uncooked meat, I would be most grateful."

Avian gently ran the tips of her fingers down the back of his head, grinning when he cooed slightly. "Sure thing. I'll be back as soon as I can manage." Then she leaped down from the roof of the building and landed in an alleyway without a sound. Silent, like a cat, she crept into the crowd and did her best to mingle with the city folk, although her nomadic clothing told those that managed to catch a glimpse of the youth. 

Food was the only thing on her mind at that moment. It wasn't until she walked past what appeared to be a very rich family, with a servant with their head bowed, that she stopped dead in her tracks. Turning and looking past the over-glorified family with their overly expensive clothes, she saw the servant for something more than their current slavery. The markings on their face were those of lightning bolts.

His name was Tamyr. She'd taught him how to use a slingshot when he was merely five years of age. They'd let him live, but only to sell him to carry around an umbrella for those that couldn't lift a finger to help themselves.

Anger burned within her heart and heat flared at the back of her neck as she made herself present to the family. They looked at her as if she were crazy to get in their way as they made their journey to some of the booths further down the road. Like a puppet with anger and disgust pulling at the strings, she snarled like a beast as she withdrew her father's dagger. "How dare you defile my tribe's people!" She hissed before she lunged forward.

Before she could land a blow, Ausher's talons came from nowhere and dug deep into her flesh, stopping her right in her tracks. The family backed up and Tamyr stood in awe and confusion. "Avian!" He cried out as soon as he'd found his voice and darted forward to wrap his scrawny arms around her waist. It had been about two years since she had fled from her tribe and left him behind, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

The family called for the guards and backed away as Avian gave them a deathly glare as Ausher perched upon her wrist, preventing her from pursuing them. "We should leave here and make sure that Bull's man knows to bring your tribesman back." Ausher advised as they fled from the scene.

Avian grunted her agreement as she scooped up the boy and darted into the nearest alleyway, running faster than the winds that she had soared in her journey to find the boy. Part of her praised the gods that had blessed her with this retrieval of the child as well as the fact that Bull had promised her that he would set up posts in all the countries that he had sold her people to.

Tamyr would be safe. She had saved one that day from a life of servitude. Her tribe would return to their lands and she could end her journey...

Theme Song (optional):
In the Air Tonight - Kelly Sweet

TheWildBunnii:
Name: Ayushmati The Fire Jinn

Appearance: Human Form

True Form

Age: 106—barely an adult in Genie terms.

Gender: Female

Race: Jinn; a genie.(Spirit)

Personality: A rather fickle djinn, Ayushmati doesn't take kindly to being treated like a slave. Her countless interactions with humans throughout her life as a genie have painted mankind in a very bad color; because of this she purposely acts difficult and crude with her masters. To further spite her owners she might never tell them her true name, making any commands completely futile thanks to the wishing rules she is forced to abide by. As some consolation she has no inhibitions about asking for things she wants, a habit that can sometimes offer hints towards how one might put her in an agreeable mood. Ayushmati's requests vary wildly from the mundane to highly impossible, and her gauges with her master's worth by keenly watching how earnest they are in trying to appease her. It's safe to say that she likes to keep a close eye on her owner whether they are aware of her scrutiny or not.

On the flip side of things Ayushmati has a clear appreciation for gifts and festivals. Even immortal beings need to let loose from time to time, and Ayushmati enjoys the general feeling of collective merriment from the crowds. She had found it a refreshing reminder that humans do have the capacity to be good and peaceful. In the rare event she does find an owner she'd be glad to have as a master she'll then reveal her name, if they don't already know it. However, because of the infamous greed of humans Ayushmati is very wary of those who know her name from the get go. To sum things up she's normally a very cynical and rough individual, but if she warms up to someone her harsh demeanor lessens, revealing a pessimist with her fingers crossed. In any case, until Ayushmati believes someone is trustworthy enough to know her name she insists that her identity really is 'Serriah Rais.'

As far as violence is concerned Ayushmati is not afraid to hurt people if she feels they deserve it. Very much aware of genie law, she'll make sure her victims won't die, but they will suffer for their transgressions accordingly!

Bio: The oldest memory Ayushmati has is of the warmth of fire. She cannot recall anything else other than that prior to the last few centuries of her existence. The memories are all just starting to fade for her beyond that threshold. For the last hundred years she's been passed around quite a bit from human to human. There have even been periods of her wandering about as a vagrant, unowned and unclaimed, albeit those periods are rare. To those who are privy to her history as a granter of wishes she's often known for being notorious for indirectly raising crime rates, with larceny and murder. A genie who can be abused is something many people covet, after all. More than one deal to pass Ayushmati back and forth has soured over selfish pursuits, and bloody knives. In fact, it's rumored that an ancient city of Drofa, known to be a once popular oasis city, was brought to ruins because of a being history only mentions as the 'Scarlet Devil.' In truth Ayushmati was involved in the city's downward spiral, but she doesn't like to talk about it, and pretends to not know anything of the incident if asked.

All too familiar with the sporadic avarice of humans Ayushmati has always been careful to hide her identity by purging libraries of any records hinting at her existence. Due to genie laws she cannot kill someone to stop them from telling others her name, so she's been forced to get creative in that respect. Using her magic she can permanently inhibit a person's ability to communicate through very direct means: the removal of a victim's tongue and/or fingers, primarily. It's not a fate that will kill the affected human, and that's all this djinn is concerned about. While regrettable, it's a necessary evil Ayushmati feels must be done in some circumstances where humans turn into a danger to everyone. As an extra step towards preventing abuse over her powers  she's even taken upon the alias 'Serriah Rais' for the past century or so. Even with these countermeasures though, trouble always seems to inevitably find her. After all, her human form never seems to age, and her flesh bears some fairly unique designs. 

Weapons: Object

Magic (optional): Number of Wishes: One

Additional Restrictions:

As a protective clause for masters to guard against wasting their only wish, she can only obey if given the command: “Ayushmati, your master wishes for...” Consequently, she will only acknowledge someone as her master if they know her real name. Unfortunately for prospective owners, her name is a closely guarded secret, and one that she will not easily give up.

She will only grant one wish per master; however, there is no set limit of wishes per person. Should a previous master of her acquire her ring a second time, their contract begins anew. Because of this Ayushmati's overall power as a djinn is limited, making it difficult for her to comply with unusually large wishes. Can only grant one official wish per day regardless if her ring is passed to another owner.

As the one doing the work for wishes, she reserves the right to freely interpret her master's wishes. For example, if one were to wish for a castle, she'll make it, but it might be constructed entirely from sand! If you are vague and on her bad side, she will make you pay for your arrogance. Has a tendency to be more compliant if her owner rewards her with gifts. 

Other (optional): Jinn an intelligent spirit of lower rank than the angels, able to appear in human and animal forms and to possess humans. 

Post Example:

The dining room was empty when Selene slipped in, breakfast in hand. She'd always been an early riser, but it was normal for the house to be this empty. Her father was at town's plant, working. He wasn't alone. Today, her father took Little Lucian to work, where he will spend his day playing his game. Her mother was resting upstairs, waiting when the time came to head to work. The plate clicked onto the table, the only sound in the house that anyone else would be able to hear if they were around. The blonde girl herself couldn't either, since a pair of headphones were now firmly in her ears. A little music in the morning never hurt anyone, especially not her.

Selene rose, putting the remains of her breakfast into the trash and doing the few dishes in the sink before grabbing her bag from the table next to the door. The door shut quietly behind her, although the same couldn't be said about her car. 

The beat-up, although she preferred 'well-loved,' VW Bug. A little present for herself after looking after the neighbor's dog while the owners were away of vacation. Selene slide into the driver's seat, buckled herself in and pushed her key into the slot. All that love seemed to have taken it toll, since the engine did nothing but sputter pitifully before dying completely. 

Selene got out in a huff, stuffing key in her pocket out of habit. It had never shut down before, but now, at the most inopportune time possible, it did. Sometimes she got the feeling that the universe was out to get her. She slammed the door and walked into the street, trying to wave down one of the few neighbor kids driving by to school. It was still much too early for any sane person to be going, but Selene liked going to the library before school started. Selene like picking up books for Lucian to read to him even if he never took his eyes off the screen. Lucian suffers severely from autism and in that way, he is usually in a mental world of his own, completely unaware to his surroundings, mostly through his favourite object: his GameBoy. It was the only thing that kept her sane inside her home. 

Since her car had happen, now that her hobo routine had failed, she it was time to hit the road. The school wasn't too far, but it was still a pain to have to get there on foot when she least expected it. But, she won't be able to pick up the books for her brother. At least the weather wasn't too unbearable, though, and the sun rising above the trees was more than a welcome sight. Today, could be a good day after all. Selene smiled and closed her eyes as she ambled down the straight sidewalk, hands in the discreet pockets of her shorts. The birds chirped, the sun shined, and the children were sound asleep in their beds, waiting for the mothers. Selene continued on her walk to school, just in time, to hear the 8 o'clock bell of the day. Selene went to her first class which was math, taking a seat in front of class and waited for her teacher to begin.

Her first and second class went fast, moving from one floor to another, stopping only to fetch her books from her locker. Selene stopped at her locker. It was the time to check on her brother, she always like to make sure that his game always had enough juice to last for the day. It was her mother and father's job. But, it was her act of kindness as the older sibling. She started to text her father, but her phone was completely off. Weird. It had been charging all night. She pressed the power button to try and restart. Somehow it wouldn't come on at all. Oh well, maybe she could charge it during third period and call then. Selene reached for her AP Chemistry textbook, stuffing it into her bag and headed towards her third class.

Selene took her usual seat, the corner at the back of the room, and waited for the daily parade to begin. Mr. Phillips graded papers in his usual bad grace at the desk, not even pretending to acknowledge her. Not that he did that to anyone, but still. The room filled, and it wasn't long before the spectacles started. A girl with brown hair got into it with the teacher, even going so far as to get up on her desk. Selene eyed her eagerly, wondering just how she could even think of doing something like that.

Selene was getting rather annoyed with the constant rambling about the girl'd behavior, to the point of taking the whole class with her. On how their class had been on yesterday, which was old news and that he expected we as a 'class' could have been better. Right, he is a teacher that explains why he expected more from a class then taking the time to address his own attitude. It was wonders how this man has still managed to keep his job these last three years. 

If only he could just shut it, and get on with the damn class. 

Then, it was almost like in a twisted way she got her dream come true..he stopped complaining because he had just up and vanished. Leaving, many of the students breathlessly confused about what had just happened. Now she wasn't the one to believe in magic and such, but there was nothing else that made sense to her what so ever. Selene met eye contact with the student next to her whom was as confused as her was. However, no one dare to move from their seats. She carefully rose to her feet, walking over to the desk with caution and looked at the now empty seat as another student checked outside of the door. The young blonde looked at the rest of the class to notice a couple of empty seats which was filled with students a couple of seconds ago. " I am going to have to say that...school is most likely out now?" She had spoke in a hush tone, uncertain as she question each word as it came out. One thing for sure, she still didn't exactly know what to think besides what the hell just happened.

Theme Song (optional):

Cubix:

Azmodin Iblis Sanenteur

"Nobody ever cares.  Nobody did, nobody will.  Nobody is going to grant us deliverance, but ourselves."

Age

22
"I do not remember much about before, but I do know one thing.  I was never wanted."
Gender

Male
"What makes a monster?  What makes a man?  I think I know."

Race

Human
"Humanity is not about preserving the world.  The real essence of being human is fighting for change to run its course."

Personality

Vindictive and headstrong, Azmodin's faith in the Destroyer is nigh on unbreakable yet its foundations are quite unstable.  The swordsman believes that the problem with the world is the reluctance of its spineless denizens to accept change; to change at all is to accept the inevitability of death.  Still, Azmodin is a remarkably calm and cool-headed individual who never rushes to violence unless his deity is slandered or, otherwise, his faith is grossly insulted.  He is the type of fighter who tries to convert his enemies, trying to understand their points of views before trying to apply his own beliefs.  However, his docile personality should not be underestimated because once Azmodin is hell-bent on ending the life of a heretic, he is just as powerful as any foe in and out of the aether. 

Bio

As the world reeled from the mass destruction of the cosmic clash between the two primordial deities, there would always be two sides to progress:  those who reaped the results of progress, and those who bit the bad end of it.  Unfortunately, in the Ordan Empire, a the Sanenteur family, originally from Lyrem, were not able to fend quite well in the city of swords and arms.  While the swordsmith clan were famous in Lyrem for their finest weapons, the coming of technology shook them out of business almost instantly, forcing them to depart for a city where swords and shields and traditional weapons were still favored.  Then again, if one wanted to survive in a city of warriors, one needed to be able to fight for themselves, and, in this case, the Sanenteurs were not the best of fighters.  In a few weeks' time, the father was slain by robbers, the mother and sister were sold into slavery into some god-forsaken territory, and the youngest son was left to fend for himself.  Hungry, battered, and scorned, Azmodin, fifteen, wandered about the brutal streets of the Ordan.  The lad was about to accept his demise when, suddenly, a group of hooded men and women intervened and swept him away from the merciless needles of rain.

They took care of him, bathed him, and gave him new purpose.  They were known as the Heralds of Change, cultists of the Destroyer-- the so-called villain in the tapestries of history.  While the Destroyer was painted as a tyrant by the books of history, the heralds saw him as the Seeker of Change, the God of Natural Order.  The Destroyer's goal was not to end lives, but to renew it through a mass purification-- something that the heralds look forward to.  Then and there, Azmodin was taught the most valuable philosophy of the heralds:  the sufferings we experience now is due to the resistance of people to the purification.  If the world wanted peace, if the world wanted true liberation, then, they needed to accept the coming of the purification, known in the cult as the Exodus; out with the evil, and in with the good.  The world was ignorant to this simple truth, and thus, it was the heralds' responsibility to awaken the consciousness of the people who were drowning in the mundane pleasures of this sinful existence.  Violence to end the violence.  Thus, Azmodin took up the mantle of the herald, and made it his mission to awaken the world's consciousness, and to pave the arrival of the Destroyer.  All in the name of the Exodus so that everyone will be spared of the sufferings of this world; so that no one else would suffer the same way he did.

As he took up the artifact blades of the cult, he had become one of the flag bearers of the Herald.  The young lad was extensively trained in combat, and although he lacked the magical prowess of most cultists, he was still as skillful as any warrior.  As Azmodin grew in age, he became known as the Holy Sword, bringing the teachings of the Destroyer to the violent heretics who make others suffer.  Though young and, as he believed, unworthy of the holy quest, Azmodin vowed that he would liberate the world, and end its suffering.  For him, for his parents, for his siblings, and for everyone who couldn't defend themselves against the horrors that are much darker than them.  

Weapons

Heretic's Cleaver

A sword that is hung on the right side of Azmodin's waist.  This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a volatile purple energy which is emitted from the sharp edge of the blade.  The user can choose to launch these purple energies into bolts that can be harmful to opponents.  While seemingly powerful and useful, this blade, in extended use, can fatigue the swordsman quite quickly as compared to normal use (without evoking the purple energy).

Prophecy's Caress

A sword that is hung on Azmodin's back.  This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a healing essence that will rejuvenate the wounds inflicted upon the victim.  In order to do this, Azmodin needs to touch the blade on the person's wound which will allow it to heal.  For graver injuries, Azmodin needs to stab the sword into the wound, and there is a greater price:  since the sword cannot completely heal the major injury by itself, part of the wound will transfer to the user.  Again, this will exhaust the swordsman if used extensively.

Plain Longsword

A sword that is hung on the left side of Azmodin's waist.  This artifact blade of his cult converts the user's energy into a healing essence that will rejuvenate the wounds inflicted upon the victim.  This is a simple longsword which is used for normal combat purposes.

Other

Due to the weight of the three swords, Azmodin is slower compared to some other swordsmen.  However, he is extensively skilled in swordsmanship and is his primary style of combat.  Furthermore, the swordsman has a weakness for spicy food as well as cute things.  Also, as much as he tries to hide it, the sheltered cultist is terribly bad with the opposite gender and would often tense up when talking with one.

Post Example

There are only three rules in the Heralds:  one, protect those who cannot protect themselves; two, forgive the heretics who lash out; and three, inculcate the teachings of the Destroyer in everything you do.  Thus, Azmodin tried his earnest to discipline himself, and to always keep the golden rules in his life.  Discipline.  Yes, such a word was needed when it came to the Ordan environment.  Everything was organized; everyone had a job to do in the empire.  As was in Azmodin's case, he was one of the people who would grow and transport the crops from the mainland of Ordan to the rural areas in the distances.  It wasn't a hard thing to do, but it did become monotonous from time to time.  The cult of the heralds were especially dedicated to such a practice of growing and moving crops, but, sometimes, the hand of fate was always tested.  In an empire of warriors, people always tend to overstep their boundaries; they try to prove that the lives of others were lesser than their own.  This was the kind of mentality that even the pious and docile Azmodin had grown tired of.

As the harvest came upon them, Azmodin was tasked to deliver the reaped crops to the mainland.  He immediately carried out the task, trudging for days as his eyes caught sight of the silhouette of the bridge that connected the fortress to the rest of Ordan.  However, as fate would put it, Azmodin's discipline would be tested.  Along the road, he spotted a group of bandits converging upon a lone traveler who was apparently also tasked with bringing the crops to the fortress.  Like a raging inferno, a righteous anger flared within Azmodin as he calmly walked over to the scums that made the Destroyer's vision all too plausible of a solution.  As he approached, the bandits shifted their gaze from the traveler to the warrior who had made his silent appearance.

"As is Herald Tradition, I shall invoke the Destroyer's blessings upon us all."  Azmodin bowed his head as he muttered a few incoherent litanies before smiling at the bandits who were all too confused.  "Now, then, I would like to request that you leave this chap alone, and return his crops so that we can all go home happy."  

The bandits, astonished at such a confident loser who, apparently, had a death wish, merely laughed.  "You must have lost your marbles, swordie.  Now, run on home before we gut you and send your innards to your mother."  he heard them say.

"If you would find my mother for me, that would also be splendid."  Azmodin replied as he placed his right palm on his chest, bowing to the bandits for a moment.  "I implore you.  Please, let us not spill blood on this day."

The bandits had enough of this nonsense.  They immediately ran at him with a flurry of daggers and knives, prompting a defeated sigh from the swordsman before he gripped the cleaver's handle with his left hand.  "Forgive me...  for I will sin."  Immediately, the sword was slashed horizontally, producing a wave of violet flames that incinerated the poor-quality weapons of his would-be slayers.  The shock in their eyes was evident, causing the bandits to slowly back away as they slowly traced Azmodin's hand that was gliding over the blade to his left side.  "May you be safe from evil in the afterlife."  The swordsman lunged, feigning to the side as he swung the longsword diagonally, causing crimson ink to fly into the air, and paint the ground with red.  Then, the other bandit tried to tackle him to the floor, but, instantly, Azmodin slashed the cleaver in the fool's direction, causing his torso to be sliced open with a blast of purple energy.  The last of the trio, realizing his folly, made a run for it as he dashed back into the shadows from whence he came.

His teachings had been made.  Thus, Azmodin sheathed his blades back as he turned to the hooded man who had been a victim of cruelty.  "My good sir, are you hurt?"  he smiled, extending his hand to the person who carefully grabbed his hand as well.  Then, a rush of wind blew off the hood as the person was revealed.  "A-a w-woman?"

"I'd like to--"  she began, but the only thing she saw was how the valiant swordsman toppled backwards with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and his lips twisting in overlapping odes.

"C-curse b-be t-the day that...  I...  w-was... uhhh~"  Azmodin fell to the floor as a furious scarlet began to tint his pale cheeks.
OtomostheCrazy Member

The Impatient Patience of Fulfilled Nothingness

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