HEART AND MIND - WHO YOU WERE BEFOREName:
Korine AmarantheSobriquets: The BlacktongueConcept:
A ceaseless hunger, wrapped in a tenuous identity. Being Twice Damned has done Amaranthe no favors, but made more prevalent the illness in her nature. Exile will only see her grow more contemptuous.Origin:
A question that haunts Korine ceaselessly. Unaware of her absence from the world, it is but one of many gaps in her memory. While she sees herself as an Elatreisi serving-girl who was burned under suspicion of stargazing, the truth may be something entirely different. Regardless, that is what has cemented itself in her. She can still taste the culling of her youth, vibrancy snuffed out by reaching flame, uncertain as to how she escaped.
That life, when the fragments are arranged, was an uneventful one. Tending to dusty libraries and the whims of a godly man. Her glaring hatred may have first spread seeds during those years. If pressed, Korine can recount herself being bartered for as her earliest memory. Her last pure, screaming pain; contorted countenances dancing and giving praise as she was flayed.Appearance: Skills and FlawsGuarded Smile:
Korine knows well the machinations of man. Their lies and wiles. She has adopted them as her own, capable of controlling the seething beneath to present herself as a reasonable and, at times, charming girl. Favoring a wide smile and open eyes, Amaranthe will give herself to the facade if it benefits her to do so.Hidden Blade:
Preferring more personal conflicts, she is an artist with a dagger. More often than not Korine will strike from an advantageous position; utilizing an intimate knowledge of human weaknesses to quickly end a conflict. Cruel Tongue:
A practiced poisoner, Amaranthe believes that tainted blood serves as well as clean. She has spent a fair amount of time learning the practical effects of various toxins, both on herself and the various subjects. Pain is her forte, though Korine has a vested interest in doses that numb the body and leave the mind fumbling.Cracked Vessel:
Despite all of her posturing and positioning, Korine is unstable. She seethes and spits and rages, when things stray from the path chosen. It is in these moments that she reveals herself, screaming and brandishing all the force at her disposal against the object of her ire.
Beyond this, it is hunger
. She seeks deeper knowledge and greater power, greater influence and ever, always, is she looking for more
. This, in itself, is damning; driving her forward with little regard for the well-being of herself or those around her. This hunger has given birth to arrogant musings, blurring and obliterating the lines that would fetter her mind.Hooks:
- Is the reality anything like the dream?
- Can I become more? This frail form poorly suits the grandeur of my desires.
- If men can eat the flesh of Angels, what is the taste of God's own struggling viscera? The stars, too, arouse a lust in me...
SOUL - WHAT YOU ARE BENEATH THE SKINInitiation:
Amaranthe came into her exile as a Sorcerer. She does not comprehend this, however. Reconciling the gaps in her memory, she believes herself to have been a practitioner for some time; owing her status solely to her own willpower.WeirdsChoir of Disdain:
Shedding her blood on raw earth makes the soil sick and wrathful. Groaning punctuates the air as warped facsimiles of the human form begin emerging. Screaming always ensues, a mix of cruel elation and despair unending. While the constructs are rickety, they are receptive to Korine's commands and surprisingly dexterous.
If performed under starlight, the result is somewhat different. Instead of multiple wailing constructs, one whispering archon is formed. This thing
is sturdier than its day-stained counterparts and does not share their penchant for wildly diffusing noise. Instead it mimics Korine's own words as she speaks them, serving as messenger; whatever grim task that may entail.
If not given commands, the daylight constructs will simply amble without aim until disturbed; when they will attack. The night archon cannot function without instruction and will simply follow Amaranthe, serving as guard until a task is assigned to it. She has no direct connection to the dolls, but can feel when they are destroyed. Retching Desire:
To consume is to know and learning has its own price. While her bite is imbued with potent poison and an uncanny sharpness, tasting of human flesh will elicit a dark, excited stupor from Amaranthe. This impaired state imparts flashes of knowledge gained from the dire act, presented in the form of stolen memories, but passes quickly and leaves little retained.
She will begin vomiting approximately half an hour after the initial bite is taken; paling and beginning to shake as the physical effects fade. During her brief minutes of recovery, Amaranthe is unfocused and detached.Obsessive Shroud:
Shadows have a love for Amaranthe, clinging to her tightly as she passes by. Returning their embrace, she can become as one of them. While this does not completely obfuscate her, it dulls her presence in the Known World. Searching eyes may pass over her without recognition. A keen nose may falter, finding the end of her trail at an odd place. Familiar ears may find her voice a foreign caress.
BLOOD AND BONE - THE NEPHILIMNephilim:
NalzhactaSobriquets: Grinning ChrysalisConcept:
Twisted in unacceptable defeat, pride seeks sanguine reprisal.Form: AbominationsConsuming Contrast:
During the day Nalzhacta gleams and glints, all pristine angles and spread wings. At night it drinks starlight, folding back the wings so proudly displayed, seething with contempt. Regardless of the time, it carries the taint of that which came before; capable of forming the stored energies into tangible implements.
Sunlight is forged into an aegis, casting scathing beams from the center of a solidified disc. Umbrage becomes an empty orb, pulsing and reaching out with spikes and undulating tendrils. One cannot exist while the other does.Predatory Pride:
A warrior by nature, an artisan by exterion. Nalzhacta revels in physical strife, presenting strength and grace belied by its delicate frame. More than the struggle, though, is the outcome. Emboldened by the prospect of victory, the Nephilim releases a distorting warcry; imposing madness on unguarded minds and presenting tactile pressure to those in its immediate vicinity.
This roar carries enough force to push aggressors back, rattling earth and painting the stage with malice. Hues of hazy red pulse outward, growing more dim and finally dispersing as it moves. The farther one is from the source, the lesser the effect. Tempestuous Contempt:
Wind bends to the will of this Nephilim, creating gusts and gales with a flex of its wings. Incredibly quick, Nalzhacta moves with grace and brutal intent. Creating currents to propel itself with greater accuracy is its usual utilization; though there exists the potential for more offensive use. A trio of tornadoes dance around the battlefield, when the Nephilim's full wrath is stoked.Delicate Destroyer:
Nalzhacta is a thing of relatively frail composition. Despite being quick and vicious, there is a soft flexibility to its sarcophagus. While movement is fluid, once stopped the Nephilim is vulnerable.