sempis — Roleplayer Guild

  Alistair Setter . 17 . Male
House Bestia . A2 . Maverick

The one with the really, really weird cats

Appearance/Attire |
Alistair tends to stand out like a sore thumb, mostly because of the amount of space he can take up. He stands at about 6'3, with a well muscled but lean build reflective of the feline(ish) creatures he summons. His complexion is pale, unmarred except for severe burn scars that cover most of the right side of his back, as well as his upper right arm. Treatments have caused the skin to become pigmentless, but little can be done to make the raised skin smooth again. Alistair's ears are pierced through the lobes, and he rarely wears anything more than matte black studs.

Personality/Habits 
Alistair blends right into the House Bestia scene, with his personality just as, if not more noticeable than his icy appearance. It's rarely a boring moment with Alistair, as he always has another bad decision or daring adventure to pitch to his friends. Quick with a joke, and even quicker with a sharply sarcastic comment, his demeanor is easily mistaken as shallow and cold to those not in his inner circle. There's an unmistakeable aloofness and detachment underneath his social persona. Alistair knows many but trusts few, but is always willing to support those he trusts in any way they require him. He tends to clam up when questioned too personally, deflecting with a joke or some other distraction.  

Alistair had tried several times to understand what his father had hoped to accomplish by stealing straight from the Blackwell's treasury. His life was cushioned as the advisor to the head of the Blackwell family. The Blackwells were known for their mastery in summonings of all kinds, but even more well known for their cruel temper and quickly diminished patience for those who crossed them. Alistair's father was one of those deluded fools, but as far as Alistair knew, it'd been nearly a decade since he'd disappeared without a trace, and he had yet to hear from him. To Alistair, Archibald Setter was dead to him.

Of course, someone needed to suffer for the crime the burden falling to Alistair. While the value of the items stolen was inconsequential compared to the vast wealth that the Blackwells owned, it was a matter of setting an example. The Blackwells were not one to be trifled with, and they assured that all knew of such. Alistair was to work off his father's debt.

The years wore on, and Alistair's hate for living in subjection never diminished. That's how Alistair ended up in the situation he was now. He'd barely even scaled halfway up the gate before he'd been caught. He would easily acknowledge that climbing over the front gate was a pathetic effort of escaping, but the constant watchful eye of the Blackwells left him unable to piece together a decent plan.

Master Blackwell effortless grabbed his ankle and yanked him to the ground, his shining black boots inches from his face. Alistair observed distantly that those were the exact pair he'd shined this morning, but barely had enough time to register the thought before the boot was kicked sharply into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his chest. Master Blackwell's expression was something like disdain as Alistair rolled onto his knees and coughed like a smoker with raisins for lungs. 

"Get up." Were the only words Master Blackwell offered, even now he had no tolerance for vulnerability. The slightest drop of your guard, and Blackwell would tear at your soft metaphorical flesh. His boot reared back for another blow, but Alistair's had already picked himself back up, brushing the dust from his clothes.

"I've grown tired of your insolence, boy. It would do you well to give up your ceaseless ambitions of a life outside of this manor." Blackwell spit his words at Alistair like they'd pierce his skin. "You're beginning to cause more trouble than you're worth, which leads me to believe that we'd be better off if we just disposed of you." Blackwell's eyes were cold, making it painfully clear that his words held dangerous intent behind them.

Alistair, the idiot that he was, still had a bit more of resistance in him. "You wouldn't dare get your hands dirty with a child's blood."

Blackwell was unfazed by this comment, causing a pit of terror to worm its way into Alistair's heart. The smile that slowly broke the man's features was mirthless, as he snapped his fingers. Within seconds, a hellhound was materializing by his side, magma dripping from its jaws. "Oh, but he would."

Alistair retreated, but there wasn't far for him to go. A few paces had him pressed to the gate, the heat from the hellhound growing unbearable as the distance between the creature and the boy decreased. Alistair was barely able to find his voice, but he was grateful that his voice didn't break when he spoke. "If I win, I walk out of here." 

Blackwell's eyes widened in a way that would have been comical if Alistair wasn't about to die. His words had exactly the effect he'd hoped they would have, they dug perfectly under Blackwell's skin. "Foolish in the face of death." Blackwell sneered. "You're never going to leave here." The hellhound lunged, and immediately Alistair flinched away. His back was instantly doused in pain, whatever the hellhound was doing felt like it was pulling him apart cell by cell.

As much as Alistair tried to bite his tongue, nothing could stop the screams that tore up his throat. Alistair called out to anything at all to save him, knowing that this rush of fear would do little to help him. Pain was all he could think of until it wasn't.

Cue the cliche "Am I dead and in the afterlife moment?", which was quickly cut short by searing pain again. He blinked the tears from his eyes, barely registering the scene in front of him. Was that his creature that he summoned? Six eyes stared at him over the corpse of the hellhound. The creature eyed him with disinterest and a slight air of annoyance, as if he'd been woken up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. With no further acknowledgement, he grabbed Alistair by the collar of his shirt and moved to take off. Through the pain Alistair managed a grin and a rude hand gesture. "I win." Silently Alistair let the creature take him to L'Mordryn.

Favorite Summons

Alistair's most reliable summon, two feet at the shoulder.

Alistair's first ever summon. Since first enrolling at L'Mordryn, Alistair has only been able to summon him a handful of times.

Alistair's latest summon, a heavyset hybrid with a belligerent temperament

Ronnie opened his eyes once he'd entered the dreamscape with Yunnie, taking in the scene around him. Strangely, it was almost identical to the scene they'd left behind. The only thing different was some strange sort of beast. It was hideous, and it's eyes glowed with dark malice. He shuddered a little looking at it. Was this the kind of thing that lurked in Yunnie's dreams? He turned to look for her, waving his hand to dismiss the creature. To his surprise, Yunnie was no longer next to him, and the creature showed no signs of disappearing. Within a half of a second, the creature lunged forward, barely giving Ronnie enough time to let out a panicked yelp before he sunk into darkness.

He woke up in a brightly lit room, and groaned as he got onto his hands and knees. He had a splitting headache, and the light made little dots float in his vision. He used the wall to guide him onto his feet, and took in his surroundings. He was inside what appeared to be a cell. Wandering over to the door, the direness of the situation didn't set it until he found the door was locked. He banged against it with his fists, but stopped at the sound of voices. Turning around to look through a small panel, he saw a young boy and woman arguing.

"H-hey! Let me out!" He banged his hands against the panel, but it barely so much as vibrated. Neither person looked towards him, prompting him to hit the panel even harder. Hysteria set in once they walked away without so much of a glance at him.

"Wait! What's going on!? This isn't funny! Where are you going?" He could feel his chest tightening in the all too familiar warning sign of an oncoming attack. He tried to swallow the feeling, but was interrupted as a sharp pain lanced through his fist. In trying to regulate his breathing, he'd ignored the impacts of his hands. He withdrew them, rubbing his hands and wincing slightly. Thinking about it now, it probably wouldn't do too much to yell at an empty room. Tracing his fingers along the wall, he moved back to the door to inspect it closer. It seemed to be digitally locked, but it could be his ticket out.

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