ArsenicBronze
CosmicDeep
Vampiretwilight
Little Bill
mattmanganon
Crimson Flame
cosmiccowgirl
Star Light
KrystalKleo___Name:___
Jornwuld Ritaynur
___Age:___
1A (22 in base 10)
___Gender___
You'd be lucky to find out
___Race:___
Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum (Sigasmarandi Rim Dweller); colloquially: "Sig-Mar(s)"
___Racial Features:___
"Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum" is a species of Old Rim Human, found originally in an area of the southern hemisphere of the Elysian Mega-Cluster, in a region of low light reception from the inner worlds called Sigasmarand. As such the species has had to adapt to the effects of stellar darkness as a result of Cosmic Fog, evolving eyes capable of high degrees of low light vision and slight ability to detect heat signatures. And due to the colds of their extreme climate, the species has adapted an internal metabolic rate running at approximately double the median temperature of Human species originating from the more habitable Old Worlds (not only does this mean they need to eat far more, but it means that narcotics and alcohol have a weaker effect). However, as a closely derived successor species, they share almost complete genetic parity with the 'typical' human, though no offspring of the pair is known to have survived the third trimester of pregnancy. Notable physical differences that can be made from a cursory surface glance include: The inclusion of a sixth, fully functional finger on both hands (leading to maths being done primarily in base 12); noses that vary in length and pointiness, having a range of anywhere from two inches of extension past the nostrils to one foot, allowing for similar olfactory levels as 'typical' humans with the added thermosensory properties; similarly, longer ears are present across the species as a means of heat radiation and audiosensory increase. All this meaning, they've grown to have more reliance on their other senses, each adaptation allowing them better functionality in their homeworlds.
___Culture:___
The Sigasmarandis are scattered across a system of stellar debris of varying sizes, on the very edge of Elysia. They are the successors to an original group of colonists who settled the area long before the race had evolved/engineered its defining characteristics. Sometime during the collapse of the Outbound Tykassian League, the colonists took advantage of the situation and declared independence, not expecting the Senate Loyalists to retake control of the unruly Retainer States as soon as they had. After a succession of successful defensive battles, Sigasmarandi sovereignty was won, despite them having had to face off against a numerically and materially superior force. As such Sigasmarand earned a reputation for being the home of stalwart fighters, of excellent skill and unyielding nature, to an extent that the coming centuries saw the proliferation of mercenaries to far-flung systems.
However, as the loose confederacy invaded and defended against its neighbours, a deep resentment grew towards their cold isolated territory, away from the Elysian centre and on the edge of nothing. The cold forced them to bundle up, rarely ever showing skin (except in the presence of family, friends and loved ones), and eventually, this evolved into a culture of suspicion and mistrust; day to day meetings happenings happening from behind veils and masks and scarves; to an extent that parts of the body that did show despite the layers were painted or tattooed black. The almost sacred nature of identity plays into gender in some societies, from a young age, children get used to dressing androgynously, behaving androgynously, shaving all hair and doing everything in their power to appear sexless. Once hitting puberty, it is customary for females to bind their chests and men to tuck, or for both to wear padded clothing to obscure body shape (in more liberal families), and once voices start to break Sigasmarandis are often trained by their parents to speak in one tone and pitch. This voice, common to all of Sigasmaranda, is called Tonsloslillt and is used in day to day communication basically ensuring everyone sounds the same if not similar. The only time Tonsloslillt is not observed is when Wuld (which will be discussed later on) are being given, and only then.
Another result of being so close to the cosmic edge was the presence of a constant, corrupting fog, that manifested itself as grey, sooty mist, that made vision difficult to long distances. The Fog, however, has water like properties, in the sense that it exhibits systems of currents and tides; meaning there are times of more and less dense fog, and areas where the concentration and thus effects of the fog are more powerful. As well as this, the strength of the fog is also dependant on the distance from the cosmic void, with the Elysian center being completely devoid of its effects; despite this, the fog has inroads and tendrils in the dark places of Elysia and a weaker ambient fog permeates in most places farther from the center. The properties of the Cosmic Fog (though typically having minor manifestations in Sigasmarandi) have a powerful mutative effect on the flora and fauna of the outer system, spawning and melding beasts into increasingly more terrifying beasts. That being said, just as the fog has the capability to produce flesh-rending monsters, it has equal capacity to make creatures of little notability or even beings of awe-inspiring beauty.
Due to the ever-present gloomy darkness of the Cosmic Fog, song is the major form of art and follows a complex system of belief, identity and utility. In their culture, songs are called Wuld, and Wuld varies in style from planetoid to planetoid, with families having their own tones and rhythmic variations of the regional Wuld, and with everyone having a unique fingerprint to their own. Wuld are not typically lyrical (though some Wuld are worded), and vary from melodic tones to simple screaming, acting as an alternate form of communication that could cut through the fog and cloud mired terrain. Wuld are also deeply engrained in Sigasmarandi mythology; they are believed to be the borrowed voices of the Lost Good (positive spirits trapped in the cosmic fog), and as such lore dictates that Wuld outlive their Wuldors, so that they may make the journey back to their Lost Good.
With every death, families hold on to the Wuld of their loved ones by incorporating it into their own in some way. This is the reason as to why there is such a huge variation in Wuld, which can be heard on a daily basis, with brief Wuld being presented as greetings; longer ones being performed at weddings-births-and-funerals; and full ballads being passed between friends and loved ones in lieu of conversation, as an expression of affection.
Wuld forms such a core part of people's lives, that some Sigasmarandi believes that one dies when their Wuld leaves them, and not that the Wuld leaves them when they die. This has resulted in a tradition of yearly festivals, conducted when the tide of the Cosmic Fog is at its weakest, and culminating with ships setting off into the void - crewed by those who believe that if they can get permission from the Lost Good of their Wuld, that they will be able to hold on to their Wuld forever.
Wuld also has a more sinister side, various intonations, harmonies and incantations allowing the Wuldor to manipulate the properties of the cosmic fog and the beings corrupted by it. Aeyterwuldoree is the forbidden art of using those Wuld, though its basics are simply learned and sometimes practical (though usually useless and typically frowned upon for the connotations of using it). However, more advanced Aeyterwuldoree is considered a heinous crime, as its seen as cooperation with the cosmic fog, due to the process allowing mutations to happen more readily in the Wuldor's body. To an extent that people can be horribly disfigured/misshapen by its misuse, these individuals (Aeyterwuldor) are considered highly dangerous and traditionally have been hunted down and killed, or locked away and unstrung (the process of making someone mute), a punishment some consider worse than death.
___Appearance___
Jornwuld stands at four cubits tall and is rarely ever seen not dressed in their Hunter Garb. Rarer still are the people who have seen their face, or much of any skin really, with the exception of their nose which extends like the beak of a hummingbird a few inches passed their scarf. Floating in front of their face, between where the scarf ends and the brim of the hat begins, is a thin yet dense veil of shadowy mist, two small, luminous gold dots the only visible thing from the other side.
***Note, couldn't find a character with the desired nose length but you can use your imagination right?***
Though her face and neck are relatively unaffected, underneath all the clothes, Jornwuld is wrapped up tightly in stained, yellowed and blackened bandages. And underneath that still, is large splotches of cracked, blackened flesh, the dark, bone-deep crevasses slick with a tar-like puss that slowly drips, emitting the faintest smell of burnt matches. The painful effects of Aetyerwuldoree. She needs to change bandages and bathe on occasion, in an acrid, chemical, sickly sweet solution, rendering her "healthy" skin dry, flaky and hairless. Much of this equipment she stows in her Rucksack.
___Occupation/Concept___
Beast Hunter
___Training:___
___Powers:___
___Equipment:___
___Airship:___
Tarkarus is a horrifying mutation of a Waldosian Peldmaus, giant and muscular, an apex predator in Sigasmaranda but somewhere in the middle compared to some of the things that Jornwuld had seen since leaving Sigasmaranda. Tarkarus has a wingspan of an impressive 44 cubits, in the upper band for what is usual of his species. Though he is capable of combat with brutal effectiveness against humans, at the end of the day Tarkarus is still mortal-ish, and sustaining enough injuries will kill him. Once dead, it will take Jornwuld time before she can re-summon him, leaving her without a ride or anywhere to deposit her backpack. Though not the fastest transportation in the sky, the creature is nimble and reliable, going off to feed when not being flown. Despite this, hard riding will mean Tarkarus will need longer to recuperate, and will be more sluggish if summoned and not fully rested. In the air, his talons and the combined shrieking of him and his rider are the primary weapons, however, if more firepower is necessary then Jornwuld shoulders Tarkarus' Saddle Gun, a Massaen MischeenenGevayr to provide longer ranged, hard-hitting shots.
___Motivation:___
Jornwuld left Sigasmaranda by force and so wishing to return must find a cure for the effects of Aeyterwuldore, that means wandering aimlessly around Elysia, being told by shamans and doctors alike that the afflictions caused by the void are uncurable. Jornwuld is losing hope, and finding a cure has fallen down the list of priorities, replaced by more immediate things like money and comfort. And a longer-term goal of finding a place where the Cosmic Fog has no influence.
___Personality:___
Jornwuld doesn't talk much, not because they want to avoid social interaction but simply by choice, not at all objecting a trip to the pub or in some instances the nightclub, just not talkative due to a speech impediment. Having been raised in a society with a major aim of deceiving each other, Jornwuld suffers from extreme trust issues, often being very sceptical of other people and their intentions. As well as this, they suffer from a deep identity problem, linked with their untrusting nature this makes them prone to lying, and appearing shiftier than they should be given the situation. Otherwise, they're a sociable person, good at making talk but not quite as good at talking sincerely. This causes them significant frustration and troubles, as they'd like to shed some of the mistrust of their culture. Despite this, they're making progress, recently sticking to just one fake name as opposed to many.
___Flaws:___
___Bio:___
Jornwuld was born on a farming rock, to farming parents, their mother, Jalaena, a runaway serf from the fiefdom of some Petty King, and their father, Hapferwuld, the son of one of the most powerful hunter clans in Outer Sigasmaranda, the Ritaynurs. The life of a Beast Hunter wasn't one Hapferwuld was willing to bare, so he gave it up and left his family in shame. Life in the little rock cluster was otherwise uneventful, Jornwuld spent most days as a child in the care of the Sisters at the Abbey, as most children did while their parents eeked out an existence on the bleak accretion cloud, learning to read and count and Wuld. At night Jorn would return to the commune to tend to the mushrooms and the Aurochs, while the parents kept their eyes trained on the skies. And life carried on like this, when Jornwuld was good enough at reading and arithmetic that she didn't stutter or hesitate, days spent at the abbey would be curbed to once a week, when high-tide came and everyone in the area would spend the day at the Abbey. Giving their Wuld together and taking aim from every window and arrow slit.
It was on one of those communal evenings, when the children were still too young to be expected to cover their faces, that Jornwuld saw someone die for the first time. A lullaby night, Wuld echoing softly in the din of the nave, tensions were low and guards were down. Then, sometime after midnight, the quiet was broken by a blood-curdling scream. The moment was unfolding mere cubits away from Jornwuld, a man (it could be discerned by the screaming) thrashed wildly, pinned up against a wall, something on the other side of the arrow slit pulling at him and making a ghastly noise. People jumped up, knives ready, there was no prying him away from the wall, they were going to have to separate him from his arm. The gaggle of people with drawn blades didn't get to the man. Fleshy, mucusy, tendrily tongues crowded through the arrowslit and wrapped around the man. He was pulled through the space, not much wider than the thickness of a fist, leaving a sickening crunch echoing behind him and the smeared remains of skin and flesh from where his body was smashed through the narrow gap.
From that day on, the parents would tell Jornwuld to follow instructions, or else she'd get pulled through an arrow slit too. The years went on, Jornwuld grew taller and stronger, but the fear from that day never went away.
Jornwuld was 17 when they came, a band of warriors clad in various pieces of rough armour, and toating enough weapons and rations to go for months without encountering a single stop to rest and resupply. They were hunters, travelling around and offering their services to those who needed larger beasts put down. However, this was not just any band of merry hunters. They were Ritaynurs, or at least a large proportion of them were, towering men and women with weapons carved with familiar runes. They came for Jornwuld's father, who had refused to join when he was a young man. One of their own had fallen in battle, and being a Ritaynur only another Ritaynur could take their place. Hapferwuld was vehemently against joining, arguing that he had a family and that he couldn't and wouldn't leave them. It was during this heated negotiation that it was suggested Jornwuld take up the mantle of her father. At first, Father denied them fervently, but reluctantly started to agree that it made sense, Jornwuld was old enough to fight and Hapferwuld had other, younger children to mind. Of course, Jornwuld was itching to see the world outside of her rock, but never thought it would be with a Band of Beast Hunters.
The next few years of Jornwuld's life would be under the tutelage of the Ritaynur Band, learning the art of combat and anatomy of beasts. Jorn showed aptitude for the trade, and quickly moved into studying the more perverse abominations that they might face in their travels, learning about the corrupting effects of Wuld misuse, and the subsequent mutations caused by it. However, instead of repulsion Jornwuld felt curiosity and began to experiment with the forbidden arts. At first, it was in the night, practising the Aeyterwuld that were common knowledge, shifting around dust, fraying the edges of shadows. Soon Jorn had graduated to putting out candles at the end of rooms, and making shadows disappear entirely, that's when the slightest tickle in her throat began to develop. It was in the thorn grove that what might have been termed more sinister Wuld were practised, this time with a larger focus on manipulating the fog, which in a way was easier. The fog called to those who tried to skirt around it, at least that was what Jornwuld was taught. The lessons seemed to hold true.
In combat, when sent out alone and sure that she was alone, Jornwuld would practice new Aeyterwuld on the pests that she was sent to deal with. It was simply knocking the little mutants around at first, before finally dispatching them with a pistol, but quickly Jorn grew bolder, doing the killing with the use of Wuld and making it look like it was the bullet that did the job afterwards. The damage was easy to cover up... Until one day it wasn't. Jorn was locked in a melee with what had once been a pet dog turned sour, out of bullets and resorting to swinging at it with a club. The dog dodged deftly, before digging its teeth into her side. As she opened her mouth to scream, she felt something seize at her throat, and the splitting shriek that came out of her was not her's. The dog was gone, disintegrated into tatters of flayed flesh and crunched up bones, a pile she couldn't possibly bring back as proof she killed the dog, lest they become suspicious of her abilities. Jornwuld instead buried the remains hastily and returned to camp, to stitches and a flogging for not completing an order.
That night she noticed a black mark beneath her diaphragm.
It was during a particularly fogless summer, when the sky was the lightest grey, just verging on a pale blue, that Jornwuld trusted someone enough to show what she was capable. Kaleb was a friend, or more aptly the person she'd sneak out to meet and be intimate with in the scrubs outside camp. One cool summer night, Jorn demonstrated a weak version of what was to become Demklverff with more practice, swirling her fingers in the dirt and trailing darkness around it as she gave her Wuld. That was her biggest mistake. The next day she was confronted by some of the trainers about what had happened, and it seemed for all she loved Kaleb, Kaleb didn't love her back enough to stay quiet. Kaleb got a pat on the back, Jornwuld, on the other hand, got a rigged trial and 2 days to leave Sigasmaranda, they weren't going to kill her, she proved she was innocent enough, but laws were laws and the least they could do was exile her.
Jornwuld returned home, for one last time, to bid her family farewell. She left as the tide rose, carrying with her a mother's disappointed gaze, and leaving behind whatever ability she had to trust another person.
___Extra Info:___
Dragon Blooded
https://open.spotify.com/track/58UkAqR3wY9pQi2jbemnwF?si=VVkkrC8MSAGB5rE3eaKthA
Jornwuld's Theme
Jornwuld Ritaynur
___Age:___
1A (22 in base 10)
___Gender___
You'd be lucky to find out
___Race:___
Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum (Sigasmarandi Rim Dweller); colloquially: "Sig-Mar(s)"
___Racial Features:___
"Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum" is a species of Old Rim Human, found originally in an area of the southern hemisphere of the Elysian Mega-Cluster, in a region of low light reception from the inner worlds called Sigasmarand. As such the species has had to adapt to the effects of stellar darkness as a result of Cosmic Fog, evolving eyes capable of high degrees of low light vision and slight ability to detect heat signatures. And due to the colds of their extreme climate, the species has adapted an internal metabolic rate running at approximately double the median temperature of Human species originating from the more habitable Old Worlds (not only does this mean they need to eat far more, but it means that narcotics and alcohol have a weaker effect). However, as a closely derived successor species, they share almost complete genetic parity with the 'typical' human, though no offspring of the pair is known to have survived the third trimester of pregnancy. Notable physical differences that can be made from a cursory surface glance include: The inclusion of a sixth, fully functional finger on both hands (leading to maths being done primarily in base 12); noses that vary in length and pointiness, having a range of anywhere from two inches of extension past the nostrils to one foot, allowing for similar olfactory levels as 'typical' humans with the added thermosensory properties; similarly, longer ears are present across the species as a means of heat radiation and audiosensory increase. All this meaning, they've grown to have more reliance on their other senses, each adaptation allowing them better functionality in their homeworlds.
___Culture:___
The Sigasmarandis are scattered across a system of stellar debris of varying sizes, on the very edge of Elysia. They are the successors to an original group of colonists who settled the area long before the race had evolved/engineered its defining characteristics. Sometime during the collapse of the Outbound Tykassian League, the colonists took advantage of the situation and declared independence, not expecting the Senate Loyalists to retake control of the unruly Retainer States as soon as they had. After a succession of successful defensive battles, Sigasmarandi sovereignty was won, despite them having had to face off against a numerically and materially superior force. As such Sigasmarand earned a reputation for being the home of stalwart fighters, of excellent skill and unyielding nature, to an extent that the coming centuries saw the proliferation of mercenaries to far-flung systems.
However, as the loose confederacy invaded and defended against its neighbours, a deep resentment grew towards their cold isolated territory, away from the Elysian centre and on the edge of nothing. The cold forced them to bundle up, rarely ever showing skin (except in the presence of family, friends and loved ones), and eventually, this evolved into a culture of suspicion and mistrust; day to day meetings happenings happening from behind veils and masks and scarves; to an extent that parts of the body that did show despite the layers were painted or tattooed black. The almost sacred nature of identity plays into gender in some societies, from a young age, children get used to dressing androgynously, behaving androgynously, shaving all hair and doing everything in their power to appear sexless. Once hitting puberty, it is customary for females to bind their chests and men to tuck, or for both to wear padded clothing to obscure body shape (in more liberal families), and once voices start to break Sigasmarandis are often trained by their parents to speak in one tone and pitch. This voice, common to all of Sigasmaranda, is called Tonsloslillt and is used in day to day communication basically ensuring everyone sounds the same if not similar. The only time Tonsloslillt is not observed is when Wuld (which will be discussed later on) are being given, and only then.
Another result of being so close to the cosmic edge was the presence of a constant, corrupting fog, that manifested itself as grey, sooty mist, that made vision difficult to long distances. The Fog, however, has water like properties, in the sense that it exhibits systems of currents and tides; meaning there are times of more and less dense fog, and areas where the concentration and thus effects of the fog are more powerful. As well as this, the strength of the fog is also dependant on the distance from the cosmic void, with the Elysian center being completely devoid of its effects; despite this, the fog has inroads and tendrils in the dark places of Elysia and a weaker ambient fog permeates in most places farther from the center. The properties of the Cosmic Fog (though typically having minor manifestations in Sigasmarandi) have a powerful mutative effect on the flora and fauna of the outer system, spawning and melding beasts into increasingly more terrifying beasts. That being said, just as the fog has the capability to produce flesh-rending monsters, it has equal capacity to make creatures of little notability or even beings of awe-inspiring beauty.
Due to the ever-present gloomy darkness of the Cosmic Fog, song is the major form of art and follows a complex system of belief, identity and utility. In their culture, songs are called Wuld, and Wuld varies in style from planetoid to planetoid, with families having their own tones and rhythmic variations of the regional Wuld, and with everyone having a unique fingerprint to their own. Wuld are not typically lyrical (though some Wuld are worded), and vary from melodic tones to simple screaming, acting as an alternate form of communication that could cut through the fog and cloud mired terrain. Wuld are also deeply engrained in Sigasmarandi mythology; they are believed to be the borrowed voices of the Lost Good (positive spirits trapped in the cosmic fog), and as such lore dictates that Wuld outlive their Wuldors, so that they may make the journey back to their Lost Good.
With every death, families hold on to the Wuld of their loved ones by incorporating it into their own in some way. This is the reason as to why there is such a huge variation in Wuld, which can be heard on a daily basis, with brief Wuld being presented as greetings; longer ones being performed at weddings-births-and-funerals; and full ballads being passed between friends and loved ones in lieu of conversation, as an expression of affection.
Wuld forms such a core part of people's lives, that some Sigasmarandi believes that one dies when their Wuld leaves them, and not that the Wuld leaves them when they die. This has resulted in a tradition of yearly festivals, conducted when the tide of the Cosmic Fog is at its weakest, and culminating with ships setting off into the void - crewed by those who believe that if they can get permission from the Lost Good of their Wuld, that they will be able to hold on to their Wuld forever.
Wuld also has a more sinister side, various intonations, harmonies and incantations allowing the Wuldor to manipulate the properties of the cosmic fog and the beings corrupted by it. Aeyterwuldoree is the forbidden art of using those Wuld, though its basics are simply learned and sometimes practical (though usually useless and typically frowned upon for the connotations of using it). However, more advanced Aeyterwuldoree is considered a heinous crime, as its seen as cooperation with the cosmic fog, due to the process allowing mutations to happen more readily in the Wuldor's body. To an extent that people can be horribly disfigured/misshapen by its misuse, these individuals (Aeyterwuldor) are considered highly dangerous and traditionally have been hunted down and killed, or locked away and unstrung (the process of making someone mute), a punishment some consider worse than death.
___Appearance___
Jornwuld stands at four cubits tall and is rarely ever seen not dressed in their Hunter Garb. Rarer still are the people who have seen their face, or much of any skin really, with the exception of their nose which extends like the beak of a hummingbird a few inches passed their scarf. Floating in front of their face, between where the scarf ends and the brim of the hat begins, is a thin yet dense veil of shadowy mist, two small, luminous gold dots the only visible thing from the other side.
***Note, couldn't find a character with the desired nose length but you can use your imagination right?***
Though her face and neck are relatively unaffected, underneath all the clothes, Jornwuld is wrapped up tightly in stained, yellowed and blackened bandages. And underneath that still, is large splotches of cracked, blackened flesh, the dark, bone-deep crevasses slick with a tar-like puss that slowly drips, emitting the faintest smell of burnt matches. The painful effects of Aetyerwuldoree. She needs to change bandages and bathe on occasion, in an acrid, chemical, sickly sweet solution, rendering her "healthy" skin dry, flaky and hairless. Much of this equipment she stows in her Rucksack.
___Occupation/Concept___
Beast Hunter
___Training:___
- Aeyterwuldoree - At an Advanced Level
- Piloting Light Vehicles Through Treacherous Terrain - Single Occupant Speeders, Sloops and Small Frigates
- Small Arms Proficiency - Specialised in Manually Repeating Firearms
- Wuldoree - The Study of Wuld Heraldry and Mimicking
- Tracking - Using Environmental Ques to Find Animals, People or Vessels
___Powers:___
- Fymlercaal (summon familiar) - A Brief, pulsing chirp at an inhumanly high pitch similar to that of a congregation of many birds, followed by a ringing echo. This call summons Jornwuld's familiar and secondary transportation, a giant Peldmaus (bat) with a wingspan of twenty long paces, affectionately named Tarkarus. Though giant and intimidating, Tarkarus is still flesh and blood, meaning that if summoned in the heat of battle it can die and making the Wuld unusable for a period of time depending on the severity of the death.
- Mahenschrye (splitting cry) - A sharper, shriekier version of Fymlercaal, this Wuld rapidly concentrates ambient Cosmic Vapours in front of the Wulder, gouging out a trench ahead of devastation in a cone ahead of them, obliterating most things in their path. The distance and severity of the effect depending on the prevalence of Cosmic Fog/Vapours and the effort put into the Wuld.
- Demklverff (cast darkness) - Breathy, deep lulling followed by sultry whispers, growing in volume before reaching a crashing, loud crescendo. By drawing in the Cosmic Fog from the area surrounding the Wuldor and suddenly releasing it, the concentration can reach a level that can match the worst fog storms from Sigasmaranda, with the same flashes of lightning and roiling winds manifesting in the black cloud.
___Equipment:___
- A Pair of Heirloom Pyroclastic Repeating Pistol - These pistols were passed down from first born to first born, with a lineage of generations behind them. To say however that they are the same guns that came from the manufactory when they were first made wouldn't be correct, as over the decades parts have been replaced and calibres swapped. The only parts on both guns are the silver, front sight beads.
- Mother's Canary Dagger - This Knife, which is eighteen inches in length, was presented to Jornwuld's mother on her eighteenth birthday, It was shiny and new when she had first received it but over years of hard use it has weathered and tarnished but still retains a sharp edge. When made to leave, she gave it to Jornwuld as a parting gift.
- Rusty Grappling-hook Adapter For Pyroclastic - A simple, spring loaded, grappling hook. The stem can be slid down the barrel of one of the Pyroclasts and fired out into most surfaces, sheet metal, light body panels, rock faces, wood, etc. A memento from a mission that involved a lot of repelling canyons.
- Weathered Telling Stones - Are the equivalent of Data Loggers and PDAs in Sigasmaranda, smoothed down quartz pieces with runes scribed on them. Each one can perform a certain function, compass, audio recording and playing, data storage, image projection, communication, etc. They function by frequency oscillation of the quartz (and crafted substructures), the energy needed usually provided by a low drone from the user.
- Condensed Bottles of Cosmic Vapour - These bottles contained distilled Cosmic Vapour, condensed down into an oily liquid. Though the Cosmic Fog is a sooty black when uncontained, it shifts to a more harmless transparent solution when bottled up, in an effort to deceive people into opening the bottle. The farther away from the Void it is, the less viscous and more waterlike it becomes.
- Burlap Rucksack - Standard Issue of the Ritaynur Band, Jornwuld toated this pack from one end of Sigasmaranda to the other, each stain, scuff and mark tells a story of a time something memorable happened. Jornwuld uses it to carry ammo mostly, though it does contain other personal effects.
- Looted Water Cooled Undergarmants - Early in Jornwuld's travels, leaving an area remotely distant from the cosmic edge was dangerous, as they were at risk of dangerous overheating, as was the nature of the hot-blooded species. However coming across a beaten husk of a ship, covered in a strange flecked symbol, Jornwuld managed to scrounge a usable set of cooling apparatus.
___Airship:___
Tarkarus is a horrifying mutation of a Waldosian Peldmaus, giant and muscular, an apex predator in Sigasmaranda but somewhere in the middle compared to some of the things that Jornwuld had seen since leaving Sigasmaranda. Tarkarus has a wingspan of an impressive 44 cubits, in the upper band for what is usual of his species. Though he is capable of combat with brutal effectiveness against humans, at the end of the day Tarkarus is still mortal-ish, and sustaining enough injuries will kill him. Once dead, it will take Jornwuld time before she can re-summon him, leaving her without a ride or anywhere to deposit her backpack. Though not the fastest transportation in the sky, the creature is nimble and reliable, going off to feed when not being flown. Despite this, hard riding will mean Tarkarus will need longer to recuperate, and will be more sluggish if summoned and not fully rested. In the air, his talons and the combined shrieking of him and his rider are the primary weapons, however, if more firepower is necessary then Jornwuld shoulders Tarkarus' Saddle Gun, a Massaen MischeenenGevayr to provide longer ranged, hard-hitting shots.
___Motivation:___
Jornwuld left Sigasmaranda by force and so wishing to return must find a cure for the effects of Aeyterwuldore, that means wandering aimlessly around Elysia, being told by shamans and doctors alike that the afflictions caused by the void are uncurable. Jornwuld is losing hope, and finding a cure has fallen down the list of priorities, replaced by more immediate things like money and comfort. And a longer-term goal of finding a place where the Cosmic Fog has no influence.
___Personality:___
Jornwuld doesn't talk much, not because they want to avoid social interaction but simply by choice, not at all objecting a trip to the pub or in some instances the nightclub, just not talkative due to a speech impediment. Having been raised in a society with a major aim of deceiving each other, Jornwuld suffers from extreme trust issues, often being very sceptical of other people and their intentions. As well as this, they suffer from a deep identity problem, linked with their untrusting nature this makes them prone to lying, and appearing shiftier than they should be given the situation. Otherwise, they're a sociable person, good at making talk but not quite as good at talking sincerely. This causes them significant frustration and troubles, as they'd like to shed some of the mistrust of their culture. Despite this, they're making progress, recently sticking to just one fake name as opposed to many.
___Flaws:___
- Knisterlunge (crackling lungs) - A side effect of Aeyturwuldoree, resulting in a crackly voice and pain when breathing. Other than hacking up tarry mucus every morning, the pain is manageable, as Jornwuld has lived with it for a while.
- Lischtanghst (hyper light sensitivity) - Sigasmarandis are naturally equipped to handle the heat and the intensity of suns in general. The light that reaches the outer systems is cold and faint so they adapted as a race to that. Blistering occurs in hours with a temperate sun, minutes in a desert sun.
- Mutschayor (mutant) - Mutations, refer to appearance for more clarification.
- Heiligendemk (dark halo) - A dark mask of Cosmic Vapour that surrounds Jornwuld's head, concentrated around the exposed parts of the face. Making them a clear mark for any sort of witch hunter or magic ludite, as well as making vision difficult at random moments.
___Bio:___
Jornwuld was born on a farming rock, to farming parents, their mother, Jalaena, a runaway serf from the fiefdom of some Petty King, and their father, Hapferwuld, the son of one of the most powerful hunter clans in Outer Sigasmaranda, the Ritaynurs. The life of a Beast Hunter wasn't one Hapferwuld was willing to bare, so he gave it up and left his family in shame. Life in the little rock cluster was otherwise uneventful, Jornwuld spent most days as a child in the care of the Sisters at the Abbey, as most children did while their parents eeked out an existence on the bleak accretion cloud, learning to read and count and Wuld. At night Jorn would return to the commune to tend to the mushrooms and the Aurochs, while the parents kept their eyes trained on the skies. And life carried on like this, when Jornwuld was good enough at reading and arithmetic that she didn't stutter or hesitate, days spent at the abbey would be curbed to once a week, when high-tide came and everyone in the area would spend the day at the Abbey. Giving their Wuld together and taking aim from every window and arrow slit.
It was on one of those communal evenings, when the children were still too young to be expected to cover their faces, that Jornwuld saw someone die for the first time. A lullaby night, Wuld echoing softly in the din of the nave, tensions were low and guards were down. Then, sometime after midnight, the quiet was broken by a blood-curdling scream. The moment was unfolding mere cubits away from Jornwuld, a man (it could be discerned by the screaming) thrashed wildly, pinned up against a wall, something on the other side of the arrow slit pulling at him and making a ghastly noise. People jumped up, knives ready, there was no prying him away from the wall, they were going to have to separate him from his arm. The gaggle of people with drawn blades didn't get to the man. Fleshy, mucusy, tendrily tongues crowded through the arrowslit and wrapped around the man. He was pulled through the space, not much wider than the thickness of a fist, leaving a sickening crunch echoing behind him and the smeared remains of skin and flesh from where his body was smashed through the narrow gap.
From that day on, the parents would tell Jornwuld to follow instructions, or else she'd get pulled through an arrow slit too. The years went on, Jornwuld grew taller and stronger, but the fear from that day never went away.
Jornwuld was 17 when they came, a band of warriors clad in various pieces of rough armour, and toating enough weapons and rations to go for months without encountering a single stop to rest and resupply. They were hunters, travelling around and offering their services to those who needed larger beasts put down. However, this was not just any band of merry hunters. They were Ritaynurs, or at least a large proportion of them were, towering men and women with weapons carved with familiar runes. They came for Jornwuld's father, who had refused to join when he was a young man. One of their own had fallen in battle, and being a Ritaynur only another Ritaynur could take their place. Hapferwuld was vehemently against joining, arguing that he had a family and that he couldn't and wouldn't leave them. It was during this heated negotiation that it was suggested Jornwuld take up the mantle of her father. At first, Father denied them fervently, but reluctantly started to agree that it made sense, Jornwuld was old enough to fight and Hapferwuld had other, younger children to mind. Of course, Jornwuld was itching to see the world outside of her rock, but never thought it would be with a Band of Beast Hunters.
The next few years of Jornwuld's life would be under the tutelage of the Ritaynur Band, learning the art of combat and anatomy of beasts. Jorn showed aptitude for the trade, and quickly moved into studying the more perverse abominations that they might face in their travels, learning about the corrupting effects of Wuld misuse, and the subsequent mutations caused by it. However, instead of repulsion Jornwuld felt curiosity and began to experiment with the forbidden arts. At first, it was in the night, practising the Aeyterwuld that were common knowledge, shifting around dust, fraying the edges of shadows. Soon Jorn had graduated to putting out candles at the end of rooms, and making shadows disappear entirely, that's when the slightest tickle in her throat began to develop. It was in the thorn grove that what might have been termed more sinister Wuld were practised, this time with a larger focus on manipulating the fog, which in a way was easier. The fog called to those who tried to skirt around it, at least that was what Jornwuld was taught. The lessons seemed to hold true.
In combat, when sent out alone and sure that she was alone, Jornwuld would practice new Aeyterwuld on the pests that she was sent to deal with. It was simply knocking the little mutants around at first, before finally dispatching them with a pistol, but quickly Jorn grew bolder, doing the killing with the use of Wuld and making it look like it was the bullet that did the job afterwards. The damage was easy to cover up... Until one day it wasn't. Jorn was locked in a melee with what had once been a pet dog turned sour, out of bullets and resorting to swinging at it with a club. The dog dodged deftly, before digging its teeth into her side. As she opened her mouth to scream, she felt something seize at her throat, and the splitting shriek that came out of her was not her's. The dog was gone, disintegrated into tatters of flayed flesh and crunched up bones, a pile she couldn't possibly bring back as proof she killed the dog, lest they become suspicious of her abilities. Jornwuld instead buried the remains hastily and returned to camp, to stitches and a flogging for not completing an order.
That night she noticed a black mark beneath her diaphragm.
It was during a particularly fogless summer, when the sky was the lightest grey, just verging on a pale blue, that Jornwuld trusted someone enough to show what she was capable. Kaleb was a friend, or more aptly the person she'd sneak out to meet and be intimate with in the scrubs outside camp. One cool summer night, Jorn demonstrated a weak version of what was to become Demklverff with more practice, swirling her fingers in the dirt and trailing darkness around it as she gave her Wuld. That was her biggest mistake. The next day she was confronted by some of the trainers about what had happened, and it seemed for all she loved Kaleb, Kaleb didn't love her back enough to stay quiet. Kaleb got a pat on the back, Jornwuld, on the other hand, got a rigged trial and 2 days to leave Sigasmaranda, they weren't going to kill her, she proved she was innocent enough, but laws were laws and the least they could do was exile her.
Jornwuld returned home, for one last time, to bid her family farewell. She left as the tide rose, carrying with her a mother's disappointed gaze, and leaving behind whatever ability she had to trust another person.
___Extra Info:___
Dragon Blooded
https://open.spotify.com/track/58UkAqR3wY9pQi2jbemnwF?si=VVkkrC8MSAGB5rE3eaKthA
Jornwuld's Theme
Done. Ready for Consideration!