TESTING Doctor Jax's Lab (Please don't explode...)

Doctor Jax · Dec 9, 2016

This is my testing ground! Maybe I can play around with coding a little....

Doctor Jax · Dec 9, 2016

Tamerlin Edelva

"Appearances are important to keep."

Hair: Brown
Eyes: Gray
Weight: 130
Height: 5'1"
Age: 34
Race: Faledrin
Distinguishing Marks: scars crisscrossing the lower back; tattoo on the bottom of his foot of a black kettle
Magical Affinity: None

"We are our history."

Tamerlin Edelva is not his real name. To be honest, he's not entirely sure he could remember what his real name was. It's been an awfully long time since he used it. His family was not in the business of walking the straight and narrow, if that gives you a clue. From a young age, he learned how to run, how to hide, and how to keep a lookout for anything resembling a guard. He's had lots of prior training.

However, that gave him the hunger to make himself a place where he didn't have to run and hide. He wanted to be a person who could put on the mask, walk out into the world and do what needed done, then come back home and take it off. He wanted a place where he could sleep for more than a week at most. He wanted a home full of light and laughter, not desperation and strange men.

He must have been seven when he ran away. It was hard to do. They'd traveled in a caravan for the most part around Faledrin, swindling people as they went. His parents -- frauds, now he remembered -- used to give out fortunes to people, and while they weren't looking, case out their purse. He'd been the nicker -- the one sticking their hand in the coin bag for a few bits of metal to feed them another week. Well, he'd had enough of that, apparently. He left one night, snuck out and stole a horse, and rode it to the nearest large town.

It was from that point on he made his way. After getting caught trying to steal a guard's knife (the steel was good, and there were quite a few who'd trade for it), he was in danger of having a hand removed, but luckily a man stepped in, said he was his father, and that the boy hadn't meant anything by it. After convincing the guard to let him go, the man, who's name was Ratfang, commented on the boy's gutsy approach and apparent talent, and he offered him a place among his own, if he was willing.

The next few years were the best he'd experienced. He tore through fifteen different names as he learned the art of stealing, most specifically information. His mentor had been impressed with the boy's astute observation that information typically yielded more for less work, and was a safe bet in most cases. It wasn't long before he was becoming more and more proficient in the art of blackmailing certain people in the cities who wore some rather fancy jewels. It took patience, and it took real guts, but he was good at it.

At the age of 24, his mentor finally met an ill end. Ratfang, always one for gambling, was done in over a set of badly rolled dice, and it was there the boy -- now a man -- realized how soon everything could tumble, even when everything was done right. With this in mind, the blackmailer began a fund for himself from his earnings, carefully accruing a nest egg and an escape plan all in one.

He bought an orphanage on a waterway, a sorry place that was falling apart, for relatively little. No one wanted the wretches within, much less the rotting exterior without. He fixed it up and began to make it a home, the kind of place he'd have wanted when he was a child, but only through a go-between who acted as the 'headmaster'. Little did the children know that the man who came to take out the laundry and "rented" the attic was the same man who also funded the whole building and its operations.

It was a good front, an unlikely place to find someone who was fat and happy on the spoils of embarrassed or outraged nobility. Its location was perfect -- it had access to the waterway, and it had its own underground system of tunnels so as to allow him in and out without notice. The laughter of children didn't hurt either...

"You are your own greatest enemy."

The years have turned Tam into a quiet, introspective man with a quick smile and a forgettable face. He is cautious to the point of paranoid, and he is prepared to the point of insanity. He is a man with a contingency plan for everything, a backdoor in every hideyhole, and a trick for every occasion. He doesn't trust easily, and getting his employ can be quite difficult at times. He refuses to meet in person with any client-- to be honest, he'd rather not know. His methods are often ruthless, but direct, and he prefers to do things as silently and quietly as possible.

That said, he is also an incredibly sweet person with a large heart, and perhaps that is why he is so secretive. He enjoys making others happy, and he hates to cause pain. Blackmail, however, is largely a deserved crime, for if you've done nothing wrong, what can one blackmail you with? He is easily moved by the plight of the less fortunate, and more than one street beggar has found a parcel of food at their side after a dark-haired stranger walked by them with a glance of compassion. Perhaps seeing the wonderful life Ratfang had given him had moved him to try and recreate this same world with others.

However, his ire is not something to reckon with. The anger of a gentle man is something to behold. His grudges are held deep and long and they do not quench easily. Once a man from eastern Faledrin was rumored to be selling children for all sorts of purposes, and, in disgust, Tam threw his contract with the contractor to keep the info for ransom. He ruined the man's life as thoroughly as he could, destroying his business, outing him to all with full portraits and slanderous posters, disillusioning his wife and children, bringing the magistrate down on his head, and informing all his prison mates who exactly he was and what exactly he had done. The man died in prison from fifty stab wounds given by anonymous hands.

"Know the tools of the trade."
Weapon(s) of choice: He prefers not to use weapons -- he's not out to do physical harm-- but he does have a garotte. If he means it, he means it.

How long they have been in the Cult of Thieves: At most, 2 years. He was brought in on a small blackmail charge in order to procure some money from an incorrigible noble looking to exploit his fief by usurping his renters through high fees. Tamerlin easily waltzed in to his palace as a joiner, stole a jewel belonging to a rather married noblewoman, and threatened to reveal to her husband that the child she was bearing might not be his. The noble caved.

Specialization in the Cult of Thieves: Tam is best able to acquire information of a sensitive sort. Specifically, he's able to break into buildings, usually without having to do too much damage. From that point, he sells the information to a relevant venue or holds it for ransom. He has several go-betweens he uses as message carriers. When sending demands, he typically cuts out a small, relevant part of the document and sends it to the owner as proof.

If the information is of a softer nature, such as something someone has seen, he prefers to keep the person in good standing and safe. He's housed more than one person who's seen something they shouldn't have. However, he likes to get physical evidence of the crime or rumor committed.

Strengths: His greatest strength is acting like he means to be in a place. Half of breaking in is acting like he is supposed to belong in someone's house, office, warehouse, or boat, and convincingly playing the part of a deckhand or some such. His second greatest strength is an incredibly fast ability to read. He can skim documents incredibly fast, and that makes him a quick study, as well as a good purloiner of letters. One of his best feats was stealing a letter from a man, reading it thoroughly, realizing it was worth nothing, and putting it back in the man's pocket before he noticed it was missing. He is also adept at crawling through sewers.

Weaknesses: He is by no means a fighter. In the case that he is discovered nose deep in a jewelry box, he is forced to run as fast as he can. He's very small as well, which does not help his case. His paranoia also makes him hesitant to trust others who may help him, and he has been caught more than once because he refused the help of an ally. Tam is also bad for creating overly complex plans...

Doctor Jax · Feb 2, 2017

Jack "Simpleton/Idiot/Dumbass" Corville

AGE || 25
LOCATION || Renloth; The Fool's Mountain
ROLE || The Golden Goose

BIO || Jack is the youngest of three brothers, all of them born in the shadow of Fool's Mountain. Since he was a lad, there was one thing very evident of Jack -- he would never be any kind of scholar. He barely passed for a passable messenger, much less anything else. His brothers often made fun of him for it, but given his sweet nature, Jack never fought back, instead letting it all roll off his back in good fun. His parents grew increasingly frustrated with Jack as it became more and more apparent that there was no way this boy would become a normal adult, being as dull as he was. By the time he was seventeen, both of his brothers had married and were renowned hunters near Fool's Mountain, while Jack was only known for being able to pick a lute like no other -- not a skill high-in-demand when wolves were about.

When he was twenty-three, his aging father asked his oldest brother to chop some firewood and bring it back, but his older brother soon disappeared thereafter. The second brother went to find him, and he came back with a grievous wound, cursing his own stupidity, with no brother in sight. Jack, concerned about his eldest brother, went into the woods against his mother's behest, and there he found a goose with a golden bill stuck in the roots of a tree. Taking pity on the poor thing, he freed the goose, which squawked and followed him home, but no brother was found thereafter.

Upon coming home, his family immediately wanted to kill and eat the goose, and then sell its golden bill, but Jack was adamant that they leave it alone. However, the goose quickly became a nuisance, often stealing the food right off the family's plates, riffling through their things, appearing to scratch words into the floorboards, and honking at the members of the household when they spoke bad grammar. The family finally decided that it would be best if Jack was kicked out of the house with his beloved goose, which had brought them nothing but trouble, and he was old enough to strike out on his own anyways. With that, Jack was set out on the road with a satchel full of his things, a couple of coins, his lute, and a gold-billed goose, completely devoid of a heading.

The goose, however, had a destination. And that place was Ethelemar....

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Doctor Jax · Feb 2, 2017

The Goose -- or Goosie

AGE || ???
LOCATION || Renloth; The Fool's Mountain (???)
ROLE || The Golden Goose

BIO || Where was this hell-creature born? No one is quite sure. All they know is that Jack Corville found it, and it is adamant to stay with him. It had apparently roamed for some time in the shadow of the Fool's Mountain, and once it was freed, it has wreaked havoc on every place it's been with its lofty demands. It will only drink the best wine, knocking over all cheaper vintages on the table. It wants to eat only the best food, knocking off lesser victuals -- or stealing it. It does not take bad grammar well -- at all. Jack must be killing the poor thing every time he talks. It does show a propensity for books, flipping open random ones with its golden beak, and it frequently hands Jack different herbs and plants for seemingly no reason whatsoever, though each time it taps his coin pouch as if to say, "Numbnut, this is worth something."

It is incredibly hostile to most people, preferring Jack's company just barely. It honks, it poops, and it flaps its wings and sharp little teeth at those it perceives as a threat. It is not an enjoyable traveling companion, and heaven help those who find themselves in the goose's vicinity.

Whatever the case, this gander is incredibly high maintenance and determined to get Ethelemar, for some reason. Jack, not having a heading, has been following the goose, which he considers his pet. To those who pay attention, there is some hilarious irony to be had in this situation.

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Doctor Jax · Feb 8, 2017

MAIN CHARACTER SHEET

Jack Corville

APPEARANCE

If we're really honest here, Jack is quite the handsome fellow. In another life, had he the emotional intelligence to make use of it, he could've been very, very handy with the ladies. As it stands, he is largely oblivious to the gift Nature gave him: which includes a pair of almost liquid, dark brown eyes, a very good complexion, and a fine set of even, straight teeth. His bone structure is strong, without being heavy, and hsi frame is long without lankiness. His muscles are well-toned from a life of hard labor, and his hair is almost blue-black in sheen. His hands are especially nice, sporting strong but dexterous fingers, finely made for playing a lute or strumming a harp. He has several scars, marks from his own stupidity, such as a massive burn on his foot from stepping into a fire, and a long cut along his thumb where he attempted to take out a stuck fishing hook with a half-foot long knife. Other than that, he is a physically appealing person with a nice smile and easy gait.

His clothes are, however, another story. Jack cares very little for what clothes he chooses to wear, instead going for what is most comfortable, rather than fashionable. It is not unlikely to see him wearing checked packs with a striped shirt, if the shirt is the right size and a little airy. He can never seem to color-coordinate, nor can he understand the concept of 'matching' accessories. If a person were to mistake him for someone who's a bit "touched in the head", they could be forgiven. He does manage to put on the right boots on the right feet, but that's all that can be said for his fashion sense.

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no-lightbox

"Goosie, I'm kinda lost," Jack said glumly, holding his chin in his hands as he folded his lanky body in half, putting his elbows on his knees. He sat upon a rather large rock, staring at the sign across the way, while Goosie plucked at the grass underneath it, tearing up strips.

"There's three towns, but I don't know where to go. Each one is so far away. We'll be walking forever before we ever make it to either," Jack groaned to the goose, who waggled its tail feathers as it found some scrumptious insect to gobble up. The crickets sang as he sat there waiting, every now and again, a cart going by. The goose plucked at his shoes now and again, or at his pant leg, but he was too busy staring at the signs, trying to make a decision. It would help greatly if he could read! Then, he'd know what towns they actually were. As it stood, though, he was stuck between a rock and a crossroads without much of a place to go.

"What do you think, Goose?" asked Jack, after about two hours.

The goose flapped its wings and honked, running down the left hand path, before stopping and turning back to see if he followed. Jack made a face.

"But... that way's to the mountains."

The gold-billed goose honked.

"I don't know if I want to go to the mountains."

The upset gander came over to strike him in the shin with its gold beak, and Jack pulled back with a yelp.

"But, Goose--"

The goose wasn't having any of it. To the mountains they were going. Jack shrugged, deciding that it wasn't as if he had any other routes that were as good. He might as well take this one. After all, the goose hadn't misled him at this point, and he'd be sincerely surprised if it did now. His stomach growled and he got up to his feet, stretching his lanky frame.

"Well... where ever we're going, I hope they have pie. I could really do for some pie..."

HISTORY

no-lightbox

Jack is the youngest of three brothers, largely considered an 'accident' by all involved, as he was definitely a surprise to his aging mother and father. At first, they had been afraid that their mother had been bewitched, carrying some foul doppelganger's spawn, but as the pregnancy continued rather smoothly, their fears were allayed. Once Jack was born, it was obvious that he was definitely his parents' child, with his dark hair and pale skin. However, as time passed, it became more and more obvious that there was something not quite right about Jack -- he was an idiot, in almost every sense of the word.

Growing up, he was frequently picked on by his brothers for his poor intelligence, but he never seemed to take it to heart. While never impatient or bad-tempered, he merely had no ability to remember information. The only thing he seemed to be any good at was playing the mandolin, which he picked up at the age of eight and was hard-pressed to put down again. Additional to that, Jack quickly became known as the town idiot -- though 'town' is a generous word for the smattering of houses at the foot of Fool's Mountain -- and people were fond of him, though wary of leaving valuable objects in his presence.

His eldest brother, Teagan, married a local girl, and not soon after, his brother Sean did the same. However, it was clear that not a girl would touch Jack, despite his looks. The boy had no hand for hunting, more apt to shoot a cow than a fox with an arrow. He could barely chop wood without taking off a finger, and besides that would sometimes try to use the wrong side of the ax. All he could do was play the lute, and, while that was a pretty talent, it did nothing for bringing home game or keeping the place warm in winter.

When Jack was twenty-four, his brother Teagen went into the woods to get firewood for his father, and, after a whole night passed, it became clear something had happened. Sean quickly took up the call to find his older brother in the woods near the summit of Fool's Mountain, and for three days, he stayed in the forests. Just as Jack was beginning to worry, Sean came back -- albeit missing a foot. After getting him fixed up and asking what had happened, Sean said that he'd not found Teagan, but he had seen a goose. Just as he was about to shoot it, something had happened -- too fast for him to understand -- and off came his foot.

Jack quickly took up the chance to make something of himself and left for the woods against his parents' will. After a day of searching, he found a goose stuck int the roots of a notorious gammel tree -- which often trapped prey and slowly digested them. Completely missing the pair of feet down the hill, Jack freed the goose, which he saw had a gold bill, and he took it home, sure that it had seen something.

For nearly two months, Jack kept the goose. His family immediately wanted to kill and eat it, then sell the golden bill, but Jack was adamant that it knew something. With an eyeroll, they allowed him to keep the goose. However, the thing was a handful, knocking over cheap wines, trampling bad clothes, and in general being a nuisance. Finally, Jack's family said that the goose had to go, and he with it. They had had enough-- this was the goose that broke the camel's back.

With a lute on his back and some coins in his pocket, he left home, unsure of what to do. However, the goose had a much clearer heading, and soon enough Jack found himself following the goose towards Ethelmar....

PERSONALITY

Quite simply, Jack is as sweet as they come. He's not got a jealous bone in his body, and he is incredibly giving. Without a thought, he would gladly give the boots of his feet, the food out of his mouth, and the shirt off his back, though he may regret it later once he realizes he's now shoeless, foodless, and shirtless. However, along with his giving nature, Jack is also very naive and ready to believe just about anyone about anything -- he just doesn't have the knowledge to refute someone's claims, and it really shows. Additionally, Jack is just... well, incredibly simple[/i].

With that, he can seem almost careless. He doesn't take into account how things may affect other people, and others might take this to mean he either doesn't care about them or is callous. In reality, Jack just has the memory of a goldfish and honestly forgot about them. He has a predisposition of general obliviousness, unaware of his surroundings, and always seeming to be off in his own little world.

That is not to say that Jack is entirely the helpless babe. Jack can have a temper[/i], especially if he feels like he's been cheated, lied to, or in general wronged in any way. He is not above defending himself or someone else if he thinks someone is taking advantage of them. Combined with his brutal, farmboy strength, this can sometimes be a bit of an issue. Once he's taken a grudge to someone, it is incredibly difficult to get him to back off.

Doctor Jax · Feb 10, 2017

Marnia Belhund

AGE || 18
PROFESSION || Squire

HISTORY || Marnie Belhund's family was once a rich family with a Senator, the effect of an incredibly clever grandfather with an exceptional ability to lock up the worst dissidents in his jails. However, as time as passed, her family has slowly slid into decline due to waning funds and a gambling problem. At first, they attempted to curry favor through sending their boys into the army, but tragedy struck when Marnia's two older brothers disappeared, while her older male cousins either died or became lieutenants. Meanwhile, the family was still swimming in debt. Marnie was one of several girl-cousins slated to marry richer, more economically sound men to help with the family fortune, but an illness soon robbed her of her looks, leaving a mouthy, incorrigible girl with no prospects.

Devastated and unsure of what to do, Marnie was pushed towards becoming a squire. She was a fair hunter from the T'ousand Rivers region in Neunyor, with enough skill to perhaps work her way into knighthood, but that was not at all a sure bet. Their gamble paid off, and an Aegis willingly took her on as his squire. Marnia is still struggling with the transition, and two years in, she has become somewhat capable as a Aegis' assistant, becoming proficient in work with a spear and bow, though not at all with a sword.

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Doctor Jax · Feb 11, 2017

HISTORY

Marnie Belhund's family was once a rich family with a Senator, the effect of an incredibly clever grandfather with an exceptional ability to lock up the worst dissidents in his jails. However, as time as passed, her family has slowly slid into decline due to waning funds and a gambling problem. At first, they attempted to curry favor through sending their boys into the army, but tragedy struck when Marnia's two older brothers disappeared, while her older male cousins either died or became lieutenants. Meanwhile, the family was still swimming in debt. Marnie was one of several girl-cousins slated to marry richer, more economically sound men to help with the family fortune, but an illness soon robbed her of her looks, leaving a mouthy, incorrigible girl with no prospects.

Devastated and unsure of what to do, Marnie was pushed towards becoming a squire. She was a fair hunter from the T'ousand Rivers region in Neunyor, with enough skill to perhaps work her way into knighthood, but that was not at all a sure bet. Their gamble paid off, and an Aegis willingly took her on as his squire. Marnia is still struggling with the transition, and two years in, she has become somewhat capable as an Aegis' assistant, becoming proficient in work with a spear and bow, though not at all with a sword.

She hopes to find her brothers, as well as her cousins, but first she has to get past her stolid mentor, Alex Vallane, and his sullen demeanor.

GENERAL

Name || Marnia Belhund
Nickname || Marn, Marnie, Marns
Age || 18
Species || Human
Occupation || squire/assistant to an Aegis

"Oi, anyone know where the rum's at?"

APPEARANCE

Eye Color || Brown
Hair Color || Brown
Height || 6'2"
Weight || 156 lbs.

Written Appearance || Marnie is more likely to be called 'handsome' than beautiful. She was born with a long, protruding nose, a long face, and a sharp chin, accented by a pair of high cheekbones. Her lips are generous, with a quick smile full of crooked teeth. Her eyebrows are perhaps her most stately feature -- not too thick, with an upwards sweep over a set of warm eyes. However, her eyes are close-set, and her ears seemed a bit too big, so all in all it shouldn't have been a surprise that people were less than likely to marry her before she contracted bone-rash.

Unfortunately for her, she did get bone-rash, and it did scar quite badly on the left side of her face, leaving a pock-ridden mess along the left side of her body. Marnie often wears her hair down, especially in the front, in order to hide the mess of what's happened to her face and neck. Her hair is a dry brown, thick and coarse as uncarded wool, and it falls in a long wave down her back towards her waist. She's been deliberating cutting the whole mess off and leaving herself short-haired as a castle-cat, but her mother would kill her if she did.

Her body is gangly, with a myriad of joints that seem to jut out in every direction, without much of a curve to her. Her hands are long and deft, as are her feet, with knobbly knuckles and dexterous tips. Her skin is quite pale from years of living in the shadows of mountains, and her feet are heavily calloused from wearing thick leather boots. Her hands have rough patches from holding a bow and a spear, and she's managed some wiry muscle along her thin frame.

PERSONALITY

Personality Traits ||

✥ Generous| Marnie has no problem giving the clothes off her back to a person in need, her friends especially. Often, people have to fight her to take back the things she is giving, rather than the other way around. She can't stand to see someone out a shirt, a knife, a few coins, or a ride.
✥ Energetic | Abounding with endless energy, Marnie seems to always be on the move and doing something. Unless hungover or sleep deprived, she is an extremely hard worker. Every move exudes a kind of languid energy.
✥ Friendly | She is quick to make acquaintances, and her family has joked she could talk a junkyard dog into becoming bosom buddies. Marnia knows not a single stranger. Insofar as no one gives her a reason to be rude, she is the welcome wagon to any and all comers.
✥ Abrasive | Unaware that a jest may be crude or not quite right for her present company, she can be a handful at dinners. She speaks her mind, and she speaks it plainly, which can get her in quite a lot of trouble. She often does not realize the harshness or inappropriateness of her words until far, far later.
✥ Hasty | Impatience is perhaps her biggest downfall. She must always be acting on something, and she struggles with waiting. Easily frustrated when having to take her time, she makes stupid mistakes because she never learned to slow down and be patient.
✥ Vindictive | Losing her trust earns an individual her lasting ire. She believes in swift and merciless justice, a holdover from her grandfather Brunvar. If she has been wronged, she will see to it that the other party is justly rewarded for their treason. It is not advised to cross her while she holds a weapon in hand.

WRITING SAMPLE

The girl stared at herself in the mirror, scrunching up her nose. It had been, at the very least, three weeks since her bone-rash had finally disappeared, taking its fever with it, and yet the pocks in her face still had not gone away. The doctor had said that the scars would be deep, and in fact would never go away, and Marnia was more than aware of what that meant.

All those classes in embroidery. All that time learning dining etiquette. All the days learning how to manage a household. All of it -- wasted. There was no cushy wife-of-a-Senator life waiting for her. There was no becoming-the-mother-of-some-noble's-child manner of living for a young, wrecked woman. Almost overnight, her entire future had dissipated along with what was left of her good looks, and it was just now sinking in as she scratched the scabs off her face, revealing deep pits.

"Marnia?"

She looked up at her father, who stood in the doorway. Ever since Mergan and Branwen had gone missing, her father seemed to shrunk ever further, in spite of his already domineering size. She had inherited his height and good sense, though none of his fine bone structure or calm demeanor. He joked she must take after her more ambitious mother, though both of them knew that wasn't quite true either. No, Marnia had the misfortune of being Brunvar's grandchild while still being a woman.

"I wanted to talk t'ya 'bout something. I know tha' this has been difficult for you," Arbrun stated, and Marnia lowered her eyes, grimacing.

"Y' can say that agin," Marnia grumbled.

"Regardless, I think there's another option other than spinsterhood."

"Yeah? Who wants a woman who don't bear children or look good enough fer the dinner table," Marnia spat crossing her arms as she swung her legs out of bed to stare at her father.

Arbrun, used to his daughter's direct manner, said, "An Aegis."

Marnia's frown deepened, though more in confusion than anger.

"I've sent off a letter ta an Aegis named Vallane."

"That Vallane? Orc-slayer Vallane's family?"

"Yes. I hear down the grapevine he's been needin' someone t' help 'im, a squire, and..." Arbrun opened his hands apologetically, his expression saying it all. Marnia looked down into her lap, hair drifting over her shoulders nearly to her waist. Squire to an Aegis. There were boys who'd murder each other hand over fist for a chance like that, yet she was deliberating it as if wondering whether to take a bitter-tasting draught or not.

Yet, what choice had she?

"What's they said?"

"Naught, so far. But it's promisin'. Y're strong. Fast. Able-bodied. And squire leads to Aegis, and Aegis leads to --"

" 'Prospects', " Marnie echoed, hearing her mother's voice in her head. Arbrun's stare seemed to span a great divide towards his daughter, who only hugged herself.

"Tell me if'n he answers. I will go."

Doctor Jax · Mar 8, 2017

GENERAL

Name: Iskaya Starrat || secret name: Kakawangwa, meaning Bitter
Pronunciation: Iss-KAH-yah stah-RAHT
Nickname: Sky; Skaya
Species: Elf
Race: Ka'Lene
Date of Birth: Winter, Month 1
Age: 56
Place of Birth: Kwano'Kasha Island

"I know I'm good."

DETAILS

1 Paragraph Character Concept: Iskaya is, first and foremost, comfortable in her own skin. She owns her space the way she owns her knives, with a pride she seems to radiate from beneath her dark eyes. She has long learned how to carry her unmarked skin, the sign of an uninitiate, uneducated Ka'Lene. At one point in time, she may have had a large chip on her shoulder, but time and patience have worn it away. More than anything, Iskaya is sure of herself in a way that most people will never understand or experience-- had she not, she surely would have perished by now, and that is not an option. However, her personal armor is not without its gaps. She is searching for someone precious to her, and perhaps this is the only thing which can move the unflappable elf.

Whatever the case, she is well-traveled and skilled in the art of melee combat. Her journeys have taken her much farther than most Ka'Lene would dare travel, having seen much of Lorasea and Marsea. While somewhat aloof and generally quiet, she has taken to a traveling companion she met some years ago who seems just as closed off as she is, and she finds kinship in that. Whatever the case, she has no doubts that there is much excitement before them.

Character Arc(s):
Leads: It's been a very long time since Iskaya found any kind of leads on her sister, Laskayani. The last bit of news she had heard was nearly thirty years ago, when she'd lost her trail somewhere along the coast of Mevonia. Now she hears that a Ka'Lene elf has been squirreled away in Valterion.

Unwanted: For as much pride as Iskaya has, she still deals with the fact that she doesn't really belong in Adori, given she was left on her own at such a young age, or as a part of the other elven races. As an Unattuned, she is doubly an outsider, and she struggles with finding her place in the world. Under her bravado, she still has some doubts.

Friends?: Her friendship with Bellamy is a rather new thing. To start, it was a partnership of convenience. Now, there seems to be an actual relationship of mutual goodwill, and Iskaya has never let someone get so close. She holds no romantic feelings towards Bellamy, but the fact she wants him to stay around and keep her company genuinely irks her.

Character Plot(s): TBD

MBTI: INTJ

D&D Alignment: True Neutral, leans toward Neutral Good

Attuned Element(s): none/Unattuned

Fleuntia: Solis

Weapons and Proficiency: Iskaya's claim to fame is her incredibly ability with a pair of bend-knives. They are blades that are bent in the middle to a strange, leaf-shaped end, which can be used as either a tool knife or as a combat knife. The knives are very, very distinctive-looking, and thus, finding her is not exactly difficult. The knives have impressive range, given they're just under a foot long, and she keeps them honed to their maximum sharpness. Her style of knife-fighting uses quite a few dervishes and leaps, mostly acrobatics, to stay out of range of an opponent's knife or sword.

She also has a single (very expensive) gun which fires two musket balls at a time, using Fireseed. It is a last-ditch weapon, as ammo is expensive, and so is fireseed itself. However, it comes in handy against those who also use guns, and eventually, you come across someone who does. Most of the time, she wears a lightweight set of gambeson and chain mail to keep off the worst cuts, but she often leaves her arms free of any armor so they are as mobile as possible. Unfortunately, she's paid for this quite a few times, so her arms are littered with the scars of those who managed to get an edge in before she lopped off a hand.

On top of that, Iskaya speaks several languages and is quite the accountant. She's very good at following a money trail, and she's good at keeping her money too. Some people might call her a little stingy, though.

WRITING SAMPLE

;D

Doctor Jax · Mar 9, 2017

Iskaya Skarrat

Determined to never again have what is hers taken away from her, Iskaya is as proud as she is independent. The Ka'Lene elf has more guts than most butchers see in a day, and she has the scars to prove it. Unyielding, decisive, and quietly zealous, she does everything with intention. She is an outsider, even among her own people. She is alone, even in the crowd. She has no nation, no home, and no family.

And she likes it that. Or so she tells herself.

"The world turns with or without me. We are nothing to it, so it is nothing to me."

GENERAL

Name: Iskaya Skarrat
Pronunciation: iss-KY-ah skah-RAHT
Nickname: Sky; Skaya
Species: Elf
Race: Ka'Lene
Date of Birth: Winter, Month 1
Zodiac:
Age: 148
Place of Birth: Kashi'Kwanga Island

Storyline/Plot: When she was only 18, hardly more than a child, her sister was stolen from her home island, the entire place razed to the ground by Sykan raiders. However, she's been picking up rumors that Laskayani, a powerful Evoker,may be squirreled away somewhere in Valterion, hidden away by the elite.

"Everyone has something to say about you-- and they'll use it against you somehow. That's why you have to find what you are. Once you've found it, and you own it, no one can take it from you."

APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Hair Style/Length: Mid-Back
Height: 5'9
Weight: 166 lbs.
Body Type: Rounded hips, skinny waist, little bust; pear shaped
Body Modifications/Accessories: none

Written Appearance: The word that best describe's Iskaya's general look is 'utilitarian.' She wears only what is absolutely necessary, and only when it is necessary. That is not to say she walks around half-naked-- rather, she chooses not to wear anything with unnecessary frills or trinkets attached. If it serves its purpose well, she uses it.

She has slightly oval face with a wide, generous mouth, and hooded, brown eyes. Her skin is smooth and unmarked, the color of teakwood. Her ears are wide and leaf-shaped, typically hidden underneath long braids of black, curling hair that goes down to almost her waist, and rarely, if ever, unbound. She is typically wearing an expression of vague disinterest or dark contemplation, though she never looks outright angry. Her neck is slender, her shoulders a bit broad for a woman, and the lack of a bust can make it easy for someone to at first question her gender. However, she does sport larger hips than the norm, and she walks with a slight swagger, partly because of her wide stance and partly due to her almost overbearing confidence in herself.

PERSONALITY

Personality Traits:
[x]Stoic
[x]Introspective
[x]Utilitarian
[x]Dour

Strengths:
Decisive: It doesn't take her long to make an executive decision. She is a firm believer in using the time that you have to do what you can, and she rarely leaves things to the last minute. She follows her gut when things hit the fan, and she deals with the consequences later. She would rather make a choice than sit and agonize over possibilities.

Confident: Perhaps her most defining trait, Iskaya produces an aura of confidence that can sometimes be overpowering. She believes in herself to an incredible degree, though necessarily overmuch. She truly is good at what she does, and she knows it. She's not afraid to point out her faults because she's already comfortable with who she is, and thus her issues do not bother her too badly. It's difficult to rattle her confidence, and the person who can is indeed a master manipulator.

Unflinching: She doesn't shy away from anything, even the most disgusting of tasks. She does them with alacrity, swiftness, and forthrightness. She will keep doing her task, even with an arrow shaft to the shoulder or buckshot in her foot. In the one case where she had to dress up as a frilled noblewoman, she barely even sneered at the dress before putting it on and quickly going about her business. There is very little she will not do.

Weaknesses:
Disloyal: Iskaya holds no particular nostalgia or loyalty to anyone but herself (and maybe Bellamy). She has burnt many, many bridges by being particularly neutral, preferring not to rush to anybody's defense, especially if it would put her at a disadvantage. She will fight for anyone who's got the highest bid, even against the person who just hired her out not the day before. She is notorious for switching sides if they're paying more.

Nihilistic: Sky truly does not believe that anything in this world matters. This is not to say she is a hedonist-- she does understand that the things that people do have consequences, especially socially. However, she frequently discards social convention purely for the fact that she finds it unnecessary. She holds no sanctity towards life, or even the virtues of death, and instead stays frustratingly neutral. However, she can spiral into a depression with this realization, as she wonders if her actions towards finding her sister and reuniting with her would be useless.

Headstrong: Iskaya rarely listens to a dissenting opinion. She will do what she wants, when she wants, where she wants. After she has made her decision, she will go through with it, regardless of the consequences thereafter. She can, therefore, be a bit hard to work with if there is a difference of opinion.

Quirks: She presses her lips together when something happens that she doesn't like or approve of. She also likes to whittle, and she sells her creations on the road to make a bit of cash on the side.

MBPT: INTJ

D&D Alignment: True Neutral leaning to Neutral Good

DETAILS

Inventory: Iskaya typically carries two bend-knives, her clothes in a pack, a small gun with two shots, a large canteen enchanted to make all water clean as mountain spring water, lockpicks, some cash, wood for whittling, a small shovel, and potions box containing (5) healing tinctures, (2) salve containers, (1) package of bandages, and (2) extracts of fairy wing.

Occupation: Mercenary and sometimes carpenter/mechanic

Education: None

Character Arcs/Plots:
Leads: She recently got a lead on where her sister is, somewhere in Valterion. However, it'll be difficult not to be noticed there.

Bonded: None

Familiar: None

RELATIONS

Social

Bellamy-- currently, her only traveling companion, she and the sellsword get along somewhat well. In fact, to the casual observer, it would almost seem that she and the half-elf are friends. However, she tries to keep the relationship strictly business, even if she can't deny that having someone to talk to on long voyages is nice.

Familial

Tlaskata Starrat (Mother; Deceased)
Hatariki Starrat (Father; Deceased)
Agrataka Starrat (Oldest Brother; Deceased)
Istatani Starrat (Oldest Sister; Deceased)
Laskayani Starrat (Second Oldest Sister: Missing; 154 years old)

ARMAMENTS

Magic Tier(s): None

Attuned Element(s): None/Unattuned

Fleuntia: Solis

Main Weapon: A pair of bend-knives. They are used both as a tool and as a weapon. It can be used like an ax, a carving knife, a whittler, or a kitchen knife. However, as combat knife, it is extremely deadly, conferring a lot of force at a short distance. While it wouldn't be able to strike through chainmail or a gambeson easily, a well-placed stab could very easily get through plate or hit vital, unarmored areas.

Secondary Weapon: A single flintlock gun with fireseed. She has two shots in it, and she rarely uses it. It is a last-ditch weapon against opponents far greater in strength. Ammo and fireseed are expensive.

HISTORY

On a cold, bitter winter's night on an island in the Serpentine Strait, Tlaskata Starrat gave birth to a small baby girl who was thus dubbed Iskaya. The birthing priestess, seeing that the night was unforgiving and stormy, looked to the tiny girl, who'd been born almost a month early, and she gave her the secret name Kakawangwa -- or bitter, much to the dismay of her mother and father. However the deed was done, and the name would soon prove apt.

Iskaya grew up surrounded by three older siblings, and despite her dour personality, she got along well with them. She was curious and energetic, often asking questions that adults on the island could not quite grasp, much less answer. She was often a handful to her teachers, whom she argued with endlessly. However, at home, she seemed at peace with her mother, father, two sisters, and brother. It didn't take long, though, to recognize that there was more strangeness to come with Iskaya. It became more apparent as she grew older that she had no attunement -- more than an oddity among the Ka'Lene. While her brother had been tattooed with gold runes for the seven rites he'd already mastered by age 34, she remained unmarked. However, the village was somewhat accepting, and they did not treat Iskaya any differently than the other children. The other children, on the other hand, were less kind, and Iskaya more than once ran to her older sister Laskayani's side.

Her older sisters, however, were perceived as particularly gifted. Istatani soon became an invoker of unparalleled caliber to anyone else on the island, while her sister Laskayani discovered she was a powerful evoker by the time she was 14, hardly more than a toddler. They were each tattooed well before they reached adulthood, and Iskaya felt the sting of being left out particularly hard as she got older.

She didn't have to compare herself to them for long. At age 18, Sykan raiders came to her village in the middle of the night, looking for the cache of Ronaan's Crystals that were said to be on the island. Despite their powerful magicians, the Sykan raiders were well-trained against their magic, perhaps more well-trained than normal. The youngest members of the village were urged to run, while the elders and parents held back the invading force. From her vantage point on a high hilltop, Iskaya watched a fury of men overtake their village.

She, her sister, and another five young elves hid in the woods until, finally, the raiders found them. In the fray, Iskaya was separated from her sister Laskayani. By the time Iskaya managed to work her way back to the village, there was obviously no one there -- the place was razed to the ground. However, she did not find her sister among the bodies of the dead, and she knew that, as powerful as Yani was, she must have been taken prisoner. Knowing her only hope to find her sister was on the mainland, she lashed together a canoe from what debris was left.

She landed on Lorasea, and for a number of years she drifted in search of the Sykan raiders who captured her sister. First, she ended up at a temple for the Unattuned, where they attempted to teach her peace and calmness of mind, and while they achieved the latter, she could not find any stillness. After three years at the temple, she left with only the clothes on her back. She found herself in Gabranth, and there she met a man who was well-versed in the art of knife-fighting, and here, she stayed for some years, using his network of seedy underlings to get pieces of information on the slave trade, but unable to find anything truly worthwhile. In the meantime, she learned from and took care of Harra Idoran, scoundrel that he was, until, at last, he succumbed to old age. By then, she was almost 53, and she realized she had lingered far too long in Gabranth, grown fat and unhappy.

Again, she set out on the road, sometimes with companions, but mostly without. She fought in tournaments of skill, and in quite a few that involved cunning, and every now and again, she would dip into the underbelly of certain cities, fighting to the death in blood matches. She managed to gain some wealth, but she never stayed in any one city for long, often earning the ire of organized crime for her seeming lack of respect for their customs -- or their fronts. For fifty years, she chased dead ends, growing colder as each passing year went by. It wasn't until she was 128 that she got a strong wind of a rumor that she could really follow.

She soon set off again, this time to Mevonia, where she'd heard that a Ka'Lene with great Evocation abilities was doing works of immense power. It is here that she met Bellamy, and the two became traveling companions. To her dismay, she found that the Ka'Lene in question was not her sister, though most definitely an Evoker of much ability, and, with the trail finally going completely cold, she decided to travel with Bellamy and continue a life of mercenary hardship.

WRITING SAMPLE

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Nunc ultrices purus quis metus luctus, sed vestibulum odio commodo. Ut auctor laoreet ornare. Ut scelerisque tortor sit amet erat consectetur dignissim. Duis bibendum diam arcu, quis dapibus libero blandit vel. Mauris lobortis auctor neque, quis dictum sapien gravida eu. Etiam consequat maximus ex, non auctor sapien sagittis convallis. Praesent tincidunt dignissim eleifend. Mauris euismod libero ut rhoncus congue. Nunc a accumsan velit. Curabitur porta vulputate quam ut bibendum. Phasellus felis nunc, accumsan facilisis rhoncus dapibus, hendrerit ut diam. Aenean consectetur sem elementum diam condimentum, pellentesque volutpat tellus fringilla. Integer quis erat vulputate mauris iaculis venenatis. Mauris sit amet nibh ut orci dictum cursus ac ut enim. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Aliquam non faucibus dui.

Nullam dictum nulla sed felis congue scelerisque. Donec egestas nec nisl at pellentesque. Vivamus pellentesque aliquet est, a dapibus turpis pharetra quis. Ut ultricies sagittis arcu, placerat venenatis nisl. Maecenas eu dolor tincidunt, eleifend nunc sit amet, facilisis leo. Nulla id iaculis tellus. In lacinia tortor non ligula hendrerit viverra. Integer non tellus nec neque mattis facilisis. Donec sed sapien sit amet lacus suscipit egestas. Cras neque justo, ultricies eu est in, tempus molestie nunc. Cras sit amet odio non velit vehicula finibus.

Doctor Jax · May 16, 2017

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⚜Il'Azawa⚜

⚜"Knowledge Guides Life"⚜

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DESCRIPTION CULTURE CREED GEOGRAPHY HISTORY ARMY CLIMATE DEMOGRAPHIC CONFLICT MONARCHY

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The King's Republic of Il'Azawa is full of hardy desert peoples from varying ethnic groups. To escape the hot sun, each qarab has blocked off its own mesa and carved out homes into the rock faces to shield themselves from the hot Western sun. While Il'Azawa lacks the agriculture of the eastern countries, they more than make up for that dearth in academics. Nowhere can one find better architects, jewelers, chemists, or spies. They live by their words, and as such the Azawi are well-known shysters and orators. Their merchants are well-trained in the art of the negotiation, and they are well-known as good accountants. Their military strength leaves much to be desired, as they rarely go on the offensive, but when fighting on their home turf, others rarely succeed in taking Azawi land. It is a hot arid place that only the most tribal of the population can stomach, and those just barely. Il'Azawa, however, is not without its deficits. It lacks for water, arable land, and good clothes, putting it at a distinct disadvantage during an embargo. While they are able to harvest some foods from the sea nearby, without importing water and food from the outside, the Azawi are at the mercy of their neighbors.
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The Azawi are split into several different ethnic groups, with some ethnic groups holding more power than others. The first group, the Azawa'Iba are those who fled from Creaz in the distant past. They took with them their family values, glass-making ability, and traveling capabilities. With guerilla tactics, they managed reach a stalemate with the native populations, came to a political solution, and interbred with them. The second group, the Tlahat'na are the various native tribes that used to live in Azawa before it was conquered by fleeing Creaz and interbred with them. The third, and perhaps most marginalized, are the Altahuat'Iwa, the ancient tribal peoples who still live in the wastelands between the mesas. They are considered a backwards and strange people by both the Tlahat'na and the Azawa'Iba, and there is much superstition that surrounds this group of tribal hill people. Among the Altahuat'Iwa are the Agav, a tribe that lives in the mountains to the south, who are considered the holiest of the holy -- and the most dangerous. It is rare to see an Agav that has left the holy mountains.

Culturally, they heavily focus on the gift and use of knowledge, and as such they are an incredibly meritocratic state. Those who have achieved much in the realms of academics, politics, or business are considered the most esteemed individuals.They have a distaste for physical altercations, though the Altahuat'Iwa are well-known as good athletes who once went to war in ritualistic fashion to overtake enemy tribesmen. They place emphasis on the importance of recording history and gathering knowledge regardless of source, though that information is also jealously coveted and guarded from outsiders. It is rumored that the highest echelons of the Schools of Abwa even speak a secret language to protect their secrets.

Of course, honor is not a strict requirement, and in fact, clever back-stabbing is regarded as useful, even encouraged. A crafty Azawi is a living Azawi, and thus they foster competition among their children at a young age. However, family is considered off-limits, as far as betrayal is concerned. It is absolutely taboo to cause harm in any way towards one's mother in particular.

While they are a very academic culture, they are also incredibly superstitious. The general idea of the Azawi is that just because you know much does not mean you know all, and even more a master is one who realizes he knows little of anything. Given this, the Azawi are very willing to believe in spirits, ghosts, gods, and other supernatural phenomena just as equally as lightning, the phases of the moon, or mirages.
"Knowledge guides life."
"Limits are the realm of the sunburnt (the poor)."
"A brother is a life line."
There are seven different major mesas, all of them cities which support up to 2 million people. These cities are carved directly into the rock, and as such growth is rather limited. The poor live outside the mesa in the hot sun -- called the sunburnt -- while wealthier Azawi live within the mesas themselves. The richest live in the very belly of the mesa, protected from the sun -- and intruders -- by the mass of the mesa about them. These mesas populate much of the northern region of the country, the seven being: Tecatehuacat, Acaraz, Nahua'Izab, Tonactit'Izab, Itzlipoctaba, Dar'Abwatl, and Wadi'Halat. One mesa, considered sacred, is named Il Muad'Dihv and used as the chair of the Council. It is not a city, but rather a secretive palace for the entourages of each member of the Council to stay when it convenes yearly or during times of crisis. It is also the seat of the King and his family.

The landscape is incredibly arid, with only the hardiest of plants growing upon the ground. Well-built roads connect the mesas, but rarely will anyone find a soul on these roads unless they are headed to another mesa or it is near night time. The desert nearest the ocean slowly turns to treacherous sand-dunes, which lead eventually to Creaz. Separating Creaz from Azawa is a large mountain range called the Il'Matavatl, or the Holy Mountains. There is a large freshwater lake there said to have healing properties, but it is rarely frequented as the holy peoples -- the Agav-- live there, and the Tlahat'Na and the Azawa'Iba are incredibly superstitious of them. Often, they must negotiate with the Agav for the water there.

Far to the east is burgeoning chaparral forest, and much of the Altahuat'Iwa live here. While it isn't good for farming, there are many tribesmen who herd goats and cows on this patch of land and do trade with the Azawi in the mesas. Several times the Azawi have tried to conquer this region for settlement before finding that it isn't good for growing much, and so it is left to the Altahuat'Iwa, called the Sunder Ground.
Originally Il'Azawa was called Huitzlopotla and populated almost completely by the Altahuat'Iwa, the tribal peoples who first carved out the mesas. However, there was a mass exodus from Creaz over the mountains as people attempted to find more land to spread out into, and the wars began. Quickly, the Azawa'Iba took over one mesa at a time in surprise ambush, until at last the more advanced Altahuat'Iwa and Azawa'Iba were tied for cities. Realizing they were now at a stalemate with each other, the Azawa'Iba and Altahuat'Iwa decided on a system that would benefit them both -- the Azawa'Iba would populate the mesas and continue on as Curats while allowing the Altahuat'Iwa to keep their indigenous King. Despite the small amount of Azawa'Iba, they quickly took over as they learned the art of engineering and architecture from their new Altahuat'Iwa neighbors. The Altahuat'Iwa and Azawa'Iba continued for a long while in cooperation, the King slowly become more and more of a figurehead.

Eventually, the Schools of Abwa were formed, one in each mesa, and the Altahuat'Iwa became synonymous with those hill-peoples who lived outside the mesas. The Tlahat'Na came to be the major workforce of Azawa, and it wasn't long before they too adopted their Azawa'Iba conquerors ways of competition and expanding knowledge.
Their army is rather pitiful, perhaps only spanning a few hundred thousand at most. However, this is really all that is needed. The Azawi who live in the mesas have an efficient system of blocking all entrances with massive stone slabs fitted with slots that allow them to fire arrows through the door. It is nigh-impossible to capture a mesa head-on. It is said that the defensive slabs are so well crafted that one would not be able to fit a single razor blade between the door and the jamb of most mesa gates. During times of great crisis, a draft is taken of the poorest and the hill peoples minus the Agav. The Agav themselves are known to be fierce, tireless warriors rumored to be able to fight even after dying.
It rarely rains in Il'Azawa, but when it does, it comes down in torrential downpours. This is often when the mesas get the most water. Unfortunately during the rainy season, the risk of floods rise dramatically, and often the shantytowns of the poor sunburnt are washed away. Often, kinder Azawi will take in a family during this torrential time if possible.

Otherwise, Azawa stays incredibly hot. During the summer months, death from exposure is a real threat. At night, it grows unbearably cold. During the winter, the cold will kill anyone caught outdoors without a fire, though daytime temperatures become more bearable. It is an inhospitable environment to most.

As for the mountains of Il'Matavatl, it is just cold enough to rain more often, though the mountains remain semi-arid.
The largest demographic are the Tlahat'Na, who were once the natives of Azawa, making up something like 60% of the population. The Azawa'Iba make up another 20%, and the Altahuat'Iwa make up the last 20%, with the Agav of the Altahaut'Iwa making up perhaps 5% of that 20.
+ Alchemy: Azawa largely makes its bread and butter off transmuting chemicals into other, more usable compounds.
One of the most popular of these is sulfur, but unfortunately Creaz Pria refuses to sell any more sulfur than it has to give up to the neighboring nation. Azawa is in harsh trade deals at present to try and obtain as much sulfur as it can, and it is becoming more obvious that the School of Abwa in particular are interested in sulfur, buying it in bulk.

+ High Seas Hostage Takeover: Eleton and Azawa are less than friendly. Azawa is possessive of its few waterways and is not above confiscating from ships it deems in its shipping lanes. Eleton has stepped on their toes a few times. Isleton is also not Azawa's friend, as they are rivals in the shipping department. Due to pressure on their waterways, Azawa is sending a lot more of their trade through Creaz's unpredictable sinkhole-ridden landscape.

+ Class Warfare: Azawa's underground, namely the Hash-ashin, are moving to Naxin to put pressure on the noble court there, and Azawa is looking to jump on the weak country once their silk trade picks back up. In return, Naxin seems amenable to Azawa's military needs.

+ Bombs Away!: Azawa's scholars -- two in particular -- have been traveling around giving demonstrations of a new weapon they claim will change warfare. The two men seem set on making their qarab the wealthiest by getting in on the war for Thornwild's throne.

+ A Bad Star Rises: Trouble seems to be brewing on the horizon for the royal family. The Council still treats them as a figurehead, taking more and more of their power as the Tla'Hatna become more integrated and lose respect for the old ways. Rumor has it that princess Xitlali has been offering her hand to other countries for the purpose of taking back the qarabs and giving power back to the noble class. Rumor also has it that the Agav are willing to back the throne. Whoever has control of Azawa's many manufacturing centers will have a wealth of gold and silver refineries, a massive amount of minerals, salt,
and more merchants than they can shake a stick at.
Il'Azawa operates as a loose Republic of mesas that cooperate with each other in terms of trade, though they are all incredibly competitive with each other. Each mesa has a Curat, who procures a curio of politicians that take care of the administration in the city. Once a year, the Council convenes at the sacred mesa, called Il Muad'Divh, to discuss business, trade, plans for the coming year, and conflicts between cities. Here also the King presides with his family.

Doctor Jax · Jun 14, 2017

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⚜MAJOR PLAYERS⚜ NAME NAME NAME NAME NAME

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Important names and faces
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NAME || Xitlali Mixtezuma
AGE..... || 19
ROLE.. || Crown Princess of the King's Republic of Azawa
CLASS || Nobility

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[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

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The princess of the Mixtezuma is her father's right hand man, so to speak. Despite the fact the crown typically grows from male heir to male heir, Altahuat'Iwa originally had matrilineal royalty, and she is largely considered next in line for the throne. She has recently been doing an awful lot of traveling to different countries as a suitor, but to what end, no one quite knows...
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[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

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Born the eldest of five children under the current king and his three wives, she lived a life of luxury, keeping the old ways alive. Since she was small, she was taught how to lead, and despite the fact she is groomed to be the wife of a king somewhere else, it is likely she will take her father's place if he abdicates. It is no secret that she is discontent with how the Councils of the qarabs treat the royal family as merely figureheads,
when they used to command most of Azawa. Versed in religion and supposed dark arts, she sees no problem taking out her political opponents or scarring them into submission.
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NAME || Ahabra "the Adder" Ib Alhambra
AGE..... || 34
ROLE.. || Leader of the Hash-Ashin
CLASS || Criminal

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[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

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Crafty and charismatic, Ahabra is a well-liked leader among the vast underground that is Azawa's black market. If there's something you want, he can have someone get it for you. If you want someone dead, he can also make that happen. Take care, however, that you have a full purse at all times.
His only loyalty is to coin, and his only consideration is price. Ahabra makes no bones about the fact that he is disloyal to his many customers, but this is considered expected in Azawa. As leader of the Hash-ashin,
however, he is considered an incredibly well-versed assassin and subterfuge expert himself, so best not to make him an enemy...
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[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

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Like many of Azawa's criminals, Ahabra's history is shrouded in hearsay and rumors. What is known, however,
is that his great-grandfather was the famed Desert Lightning that struck fear into the qarabs for his frightening ability to get past any set of locked doors, even managing to infiltrate qarabs which were under lockdown. Ahabra came into his own by election within the Hash-ashin at the age of 22, and he is locking to retire now. He knows better than to wear out his welcome as leader.
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NAME || Zolin Mixtezuma
AGE..... || 64
ROLE.. || King of the King's Republic of Azawa
CLASS || Nobility

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[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

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Jolly and somewhat oblivious to the world around him, the king has lived in the lap of luxury for most of his life. He has begat many children whom he loves dearly, of which five have been picked to be Crown Princes and Princesses. These days, the king is more interested in what is for dinner than he is in politics. Who can blame him? He doesn't even hold court anymore for the common man, not when the Council takes care of everything instead.
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[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Originally, Zolin was a man interested in the goings-on of his kingdom, but that was when he was a young man learning about the Republic of Azawa from his teachers. However, when he took the throne, it became more and more clear he would never truly interact with the country he was said to rule over, not with the Councils as they are. He soon gave up trying to weasel power away, and instead he has taken to growing fat on the luxury they allow him. He considers himself lucky -- the Sunburnt never experience a minute of Paradise, and here he lives in it. He is largely oblivious of his oldest daughter's machinations.
[/bg]
NAME || Itzla Morab
AGE..... || 72
ROLE.. || Head of the School of Abwa
CLASS || Scholar

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Stern but soft-spoken, this man has spent the largest part of his life learning about the natural world. He is said to know the secrets of how clouds make rain, how the sea will ebb and flow, and what makes the stars turn across the sky. He is elderly but to be feared, as it is rumored through his political connections he influences his qarab and the qarabs around him. With his formidable intellect,
he is not someone to take lightly. Currently it seems he is working on something of great import to Azawa that may revolutionize the way men do war, something so quiet as to only be whispered about in the underground.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Born to a whore Sunburnt and a scholar, Itzla had to work for every single thing he ever owned. When it came time to apply for entrance exams, he worked for nearly three days straight without rest to afford the fee. Once in the School of Abwa, it was abundantly clear Itzla had a genius intellect, though one that challenged ideas that had long been held true. This set him back significantly. Realizing he would get nowhere in the academia itself, he turned to other political means, and thus he has a large network of council members in his pocket, one way or another.
[/bg]
NAME || Ixtab
AGE..... || 14?
ROLE.. || Priestess of the Agav
CLASS || Cleric

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Despite her tender age, she is full of wrath. Ixtab is priestess for the whole body of the Agav,
as small as they are. She is a fierce personality, full of fire, but she has a girlishness to her as well. She is easily appeased with gifts, but she keeps in mind the needs of her people.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
The Agav priestess came to rise in a strange fashion. Within the ranks of the holy, she was but a mere child but upon the death of the Fortune Mother Cykl of the Waters, it was foretold that Ixtab would be the next in line to lead the Agav people. She had already shown some promise, but since the death of the Fortune Mother, it has become ever more evident that Ixtab is wise beyond her years and seems to receive counsel from a power above mere men. She sees in the future that once more the Altahuat'Iwa of Azawa will come to rule the desert again as they had in days of yore, but how that future will play out is uncertain.
[/bg]

.

⚜MAJOR PLAYERS⚜ NAME NAME NAME NAME NAME

[bg=white]
Important names and faces
[/bg]
NAME || Cykla Awatl
AGE..... || 29
ROLE.. || Inventor and Tinkerer
CLASS || Sunburnt/Scholar

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Cykla is a grumpy inventor of the Tla'Hatna class, able to rise through the ranks by passing the scholar exams. Working with the Sunburnt, he has been developing a series of weapons he calls 'strikers' which he thinks will revolutionize warfare. Unfortunately, they keep exploding...
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Cykla was born as one of the Tla'Hatna, stuck outside of the mesa in the sun. Through sheer determination,
Cykla spent all his money and time studying for the scholar exams that happen once a year, and after three tries he managed to get into the school -- only to learn quickly that the traditions of the Schools of Abwa were more suffocating than enlightening. With help from his friend Haman, he left the schools to tinker in the desert while teaching other Sunburnt children how to read and do numbers, while simultaneously developing his "strikers'.
[/bg]
NAME || Nadia Du Abril
AGE..... || 30
ROLE.. || Headhunter of the Hash-ashin
CLASS || Criminal

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Darkly humorous and somewhat mysterious, Nadia is considered the "Smiling Hunter", one of the best bounty hunters working for the Hash-ashin. If there is someone you want, dead or alive, you pay for Nadia. While she does take her time getting to her target, it is almost a sure-fire bet that she will get her mark.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Nadia's history is more or less unknown. It is very likely, however, that she was at some point a Curat's daughter who went astray, given her funds. What is known, is that she rose through the ranks and is now one of the candidates for the leader of the Hash-ashin when Ahabra steps down. At present, she is following a hit on a certain prince in another country...
[/bg]
NAME || Ibrahm Yudal
AGE..... || 37
ROLE.. || Husband of the Sulfur Matron
CLASS || Councilman

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Well-connected and somewhat lazy, Ibrahm never expected much out of life as the fifth son of a beloved Councilman. However, he managed to marry well, even if for money and power, and in all reality actually likes his wife -- which is more than he can say for his elder four brothers. He is content to let his wife do the heavy lifting while he breeds hyenas for sale in Creaz.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Born the fifth son of a Councilman in a Curat's "portfolio", it was always known that Ibrahm would not be useful politically other than for marriage purposes. The man is by no means stupid, and he used this to his advantage, snagging himself a good marriage when it was offered. He mainly breeds hyena for sale now,
as they are a popular hunting animal in Azawa, where they are well-equipped to deal with the heat and scrubland.
[/bg]
NAME || Itzla Morab
AGE..... || 72
ROLE.. || Head of the School of Abwa
CLASS || Scholar

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Stern but soft-spoken, this man has spent the largest part of his life learning about the natural world. He is said to know the secrets of how clouds make rain, how the sea will ebb and flow, and what makes the stars turn across the sky. He is elderly but to be feared, as it is rumored through his political connections he influences his qarab and the qarabs around him. With his formidable intellect,
he is not someone to take lightly. Currently it seems he is working on something of great import to Azawa that may revolutionize the way men do war, something so quiet as to only be whispered about in the underground.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Born to a whore Sunburnt and a scholar, Itzla had to work for every single thing he ever owned. When it came time to apply for entrance exams, he worked for nearly three days straight without rest to afford the fee. Once in the School of Abwa, it was abundantly clear Itzla had a genius intellect, though one that challenged ideas that had long been held true. This set him back significantly. Realizing he would get nowhere in the academia itself, he turned to other political means, and thus he has a large network of council members in his pocket, one way or another.
[/bg]
NAME || Ixtab
AGE..... || 14?
ROLE.. || Priestess of the Agav
CLASS || Cleric

.

[bg=#0B6059]DESCRIPTION[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
Despite her tender age, she is full of wrath. Ixtab is priestess for the whole body of the Agav,
as small as they are. She is a fierce personality, full of fire, but she has a girlishness to her as well. She is easily appeased with gifts, but she keeps in mind the needs of her people.
[/bg]

[bg=#0B6059]HISTORY[/bg]

[bg=#A7928E]
The Agav priestess came to rise in a strange fashion. Within the ranks of the holy, she was but a mere child but upon the death of the Fortune Mother Cykl of the Waters, it was foretold that Ixtab would be the next in line to lead the Agav people. She had already shown some promise, but since the death of the Fortune Mother, it has become ever more evident that Ixtab is wise beyond her years and seems to receive counsel from a power above mere men. She sees in the future that once more the Altahuat'Iwa of Azawa will come to rule the desert again as they had in days of yore, but how that future will play out is uncertain.
[/bg]

Doctor Jax · Jun 14, 2017

.

⚜MAIN CHARACTER⚜

no-lightbox

⚜Haman Ofra⚜

AGE || 27 | ROLE || Ambassador | CLASS || Upstart

Haman was not a noble to start. In fact, he is not a noble at all -- at least, not by blood. Born to a Sunburnt mother and the esteemed scholar Nula Ofra, Haman's life started as an embarrassment. The scholarly class were expected to be celibate intellectuals, more interested in the movement of the stars than a woman's body -- but Nula was not a normal scholar, nor was he prone to following tradition. He adored Haman, despite the fact he could not legally recognize him, and he did his best to keep the boy in good standing despite his mother's poor status. Together, his mother and father raised him up to be a young man with morals, wits, and (unfortunately) a blade of a tongue. When he was old enough to place for the exams at the Schools of Abwa, he passed with flying colors and, from there, ascended to the scholar class. Through connections at the school, he became a junior ambassador, well-versed on geopolitics and able to think on his feet.

However, that isn't all he is good at. Haman is also well-versed in the art of sneaking around and finding out things other countries would rather not have the open populace know. Haman is not an outright spy, in that he isn't paid specifically to gather information in such a fashion, but it is expected for Azawi to "do their research" when presenting towards other countries. This can make being an Azawi ambassador somewhat dangerous, but Haman loves the thrill. It helps that he genuinely loves to meet peoples of other cultures and get to know them.

DETAILS

NICKNAME/ALIAS || "Little Lion Boy" (his mother); "Jade-Tongue", both for his eyes and charisma
POLITICAL LEANINGS || Democratic-- he prefers the system they have in Il'Azawa, but he understands why others have monarchies.
MOUNT|| Xitlali -- and yes, it is named specifically after the princess
WEAPON|| A falchion, a dagger, one prototype flintlock pistol (prone to breaking)

"People say the most when they talk about nothing."

INTERNAL RELATIONSHIPS || Bismillah Ofra: mother and confidant
Nula Ofra: father and good friend
Xitlali Mixtezuma: While he "works" for her, she is more like his little sister.
Zolin Mixtezuma: Very close with the current king -- he spends a lot of time with him
Ahabra: Wary but considers him useful. He's a font of information.
Cykla Awatl: former study buddy and best friend -- who tests weapons on him

EXTERNAL RELATIONSHIPS || Leave blank. To be determined after initial acceptance and plotting.

APPEARANCE

HAIR || Black
EYES || Green
BUILD || Slight/wiry
MARKINGS || He is tattooed with the king's insignia. All ambassadors serve for life and are marked by a hummingbird.

Haman carries himself like a man who knows what he is doing. His hair and beard are always kept to a short curly trim, and his face is well maintained. His eyes are merrily squinted against both the sun and with mirth, showcasing green irises. Despite the ribbing he receives from Cykla, he uses lotions to make his skin soft and keep away blemishes. He cuts his nails to the quick, and he keeps his clothes pristine. Haman is not a tall man by any means, but he is also not small or weaselish. He is of middling height with the build of a fencer, with strong and thin legs, wiry arms, and a solid chest. His hands are rough from years of knife work (a requirement for ambassadorship), and his feet are more accustomed to stirrups than firm ground. He typically wears clothes befitting his station as ambassador, usually of several layers, though his favorite colors are red and gold.

PERSONALITY

Haman is first and foremost a smooth talker who genuinely enjoys getting a person's view. He is an intensely curious man who is more interested in asking questions than he is in getting what he wants. Extremely friendly, very charming, this man has been known to broker tough deals with a smile on his face. That said, he is by no means naive, and he is well-versed in treachery and deceit. More than one person has attempted to kill him for the sake of their country. However, he is not quick to anger, nor frighten, possessing a level head. That said, he can be catty and passive aggressive if peeved. He possesses a strong moral compass, and he holds strong beliefs about how best to serve others. First and foremost, he is his country's representative and he takes that job seriously.

MAJOR STRENGTH || Charisma-- he could talk a leopard into leaving behind its lunch. He is able to see the many sides of an issue and find a usable solution. It helps that he genuinely cares about his work and the happiness of all involved.

GREATEST FLAW || Nosiness -- he is an incorrigible gossip, and he sticks his nose where it does not belong quite often. He enjoys hearing about things he isn't supposed to know, and that gets him in trouble more often than not.

QUIRKS || He loves to flip a coin when not doing anything, and he has a "lucky coin" that he keeps on him at all times. When he finds someone he likes, he often teases them, though this can come off as mean at first.

PROCLIVITIES || He loves the women. Oh, does he love the women.

SOFT SPOTS || Children and animals will destroy his heartstrings. He can't go to slums too often, or else he ends up penniless giving it away. Heaven help him if you have a cat mewling for its mother.

Doctor Jax · Jun 21, 2017

Hang Dao

San Antonio, Texas

general data

Full Name: Hang Bich Dao

Age: 18

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: February 23

Height: 5'3" | Weight: 120 lbs.

Hair Color|Style|Length: long, straight black hair, typically in a high ponytail or bun

Written Appearance: As slender as a willow, Hang has the build of a bird. She has delicate hands, feet, and face, but that is where her gentility ends. Her eyes are almond-shaped and a deep brown, and her skin is the color of green tea. When she isn't wearing the latest style -- usually costing in the hundreds of dollars -- she's lounging around in a Juicy Couture sleep suit. She walks with grace, she talks with confidence, and she will cut you up if you don't watch what you say.

personality: There's no telling what she would have been like had her history not turned out as it did, but as it stands, there's not much else to say for it. Hang Dao is a massive, irredeemably angry itch with a capital B. Her demeanor is frosty, her delivery is stone cold, and she could peel paint off a house by glaring. If she smells even a whiff of weakness, she attacks it with the unrelenting cruelty of a cat. It's obvious that she enjoys putting other people down, but to what purpose is not known. Hang is used to getting her way, and when she doesn't, she usually reacts negatively -- which is putting it lightly.

That said, Hang can make nice if she's forced to. Usually, she just has to mention the money she's got in the bank and the amount of stuff she's willing to buy you, and the sycophants come rolling in. In reality, underneath the layers of anger, pettiness, and dumpster fire personality, Hang is actually very lonely, but she's not quite sure how to express this loneliness or make other people feel welcome.

Perhaps the only positive traits she possesses right now are her level-headedness and determination. When Hang sees something she wants, she goes after it with both hands and feet, bar money, lawsuit, or danger. She isn't afraid to dive in to get what she wants, or to get dirty either, and in a way that's almost admirable.

biography: Hang's life started fairly decently. More than decent, actually. Her parents were both doctors who emigrated to the US from Vietnam, taking her mother's two brothers with them. There, her parents began a clinic which quickly became quite lucrative in Houston, and before long the family was investing in other Asian businesses in the area, including Uncle Duc's grocery business in San Antonio. Hang's parents were attentive, if a little emotionally shut, and they ensured that she had the best education money had to offer, anything she could ever want, and more. For all intents and purpose, Hang was loved.

And then, the car crash. Both parents, coming back from a trip to see Uncle Bo, killed when an oncoming car crossed lanes in traffic in a head on collision. Hang was seven years old.

Her life changed from that moment. She was immediately sent to live with her Uncle Duc, her mother's youngest brother, while he took care of the finances from her mother and father's estate. Duc had no wife or children of his own, and so Hang was somewhat lonely. Things perhaps would have been fine there if not for the fact that Duc took the opportunity to be a bit more friendly than he ought with his then-7-year-old niece. It quickly became the new norm for Hang, who had no one to run to. She had been uprooted from her school, her family, and her life.

Hang adapted. Duc gave her anything she wanted, anything at all, though often those things came with a price. Hang learned to pay that price, and pay it in full, and so she takes solace in her many, many, many things. People often only want what she has, and she's grown accustomed to assuming that people only want her for what she can bring them. Hang has embraced this fully, and she knows she has a captive audience willing to put up with her needling and cutting for the sake of her money, and in a way she considers it poetic justice.

powers: Biomanipulation-- this ability is somewhat two-fold. Her body now has chromatophores, which allow her skin to change color with her surroundings as well as generate colors that wouldn't normally be present in her skin,as well as germ line cells that act as "material" to work with in terms of manipulation. The other ability is complete control over the growth and movement of her flesh, from growing bones to manipulating her skin to forming fangs. However, this is not done lightly. The more she changes, the harder it is to revert back to a human form, as her biomanipulation does not have a "natural" state -- she is what she is unless she deliberately undoes her transformations. Generally,
the "deeper" into her body she changes, the harder it is to change. Her skin is the easiest to control and functions much like an octopus's skin, changing texture and color, though getting the right texture and color of course takes practice.

Take note -- she can only change what already exists. She can expand her lung capacity, but she cannot grow gills. She can lengthen her bones and grow thicker hair, but she cannot suddenly sprout wings (not unless she starts getting creative). The germline cells can only help so much.

However, her abilities are strongly connected with her emotions. Quite simply, her "insides" start to match her "outsides", and under a significant amount of stress or emotional turmoil (plus a heartbeat edging over 180 bpm) she begins a total transformation into a beastly creature, over which she has no control. Exhaustion seems to be the only way to get her attention after this point, and perhaps a good talking-to is in order -- if you can avoid the gorilla arms and long claws.[/b]

Doctor Jax · Jul 23, 2017

Uma Santerra

Dealer || Healer

⟫⟫ BASICS ⟪⟪

nickname
age
height
weight
class
status
occupation
Ma
40
5'9"
155 lbs.
Lower
Grunt
Nurse/Dealer

⟫⟫ APPEARANCE ⟪⟪

no-lightbox

Uma isn't lean. She isn't scrawny. She isn't thin. Uma is wiry. Her body has all the tenderness of a dried out chicken carcass, and about as much fat. It seems like most of her is made up of joints, but every limb is articulate and every movement is languid, like a spindly marionette propelled by a skilled puppeteer. Muscles stand out like braided cords beneath her tanned skin. This is a woman who's used her body heavily and without holding back most of her life, and she knows it like a well-loved book or worn-out sweater.

Her face is intelligent, her eyes a shocking shade of blue though they often remained hooded and sluggish. Her lips are thin and usually chapped, bags beneath her eyes, with a distinct look of boredom or disinterest typically en place. Her hair, an almost illustrious white-blond, is usually frayed and cracked and sloppily put together, her general look sticking more to "worn out" and "ragged" than "fashionable" or "confident." This is someone who's seen more than they should, and her eyes show it, despite the almost vacuous smile.

But what stands out most on Uma is her voice. She has a husky contralto not out of place on a man half her age, rusty and low as if she's been smoking two packs a day since she was five, not an incorrect assumption. It goes at a slow, lazy drawl, stating what needs stated, taking her time laying out what she thinks. The low rumble only ever starts to roll out at a faster tempo when something's got her ire -- which is rare, but possible.

⟫⟫ PERSONALITY ⟪⟪

Largely put, Uma is unflappable. There's not a whole lot that can make her do a double-take. She has seen it all, from a guy coming in with a shotgun barrel shoved straight up to his cecum, to a twelve year old in labor pains, to a druggie with an abscess the size of the Gulf. She handles everything with a calmness that helps her patients keep their own heads on straight as she patches them up. Emergencies rarely seem to faze her outwardly, and she does everything with an intentionality and almost supernatural calm.

Alongside her generally laid back and calm demeanor, Uma is also private. She rarely reveals much about herself, usually getting someone else to keep talking to her. She's not opposed to being around people, but she's just as fine being alone. More often than not, she tends not to rely on the others around her more than she feels she has to, preferring to take care of things herself when the situation calls for it. This isn't to say she isn't a team player -- but if she can do it on her own, she'll take that chance.

More than anything, though, Uma is blunt. She sugar-coats nothing. If someone asks her a direct question, she will give a direct answer. Even if someone doesn't ask, she will still tell them the truth, whether it is beneficial or not. She operates by a targeted "honesty is the best policy" approach, and she tends to lay her truth down with all the gentility of a falling sea tanker, typically in a low 'n slow drawl. Expect no sympathy from her, especially if you brought your fate upon yourself.

STRENGTHS
+ | Independent: Uma has her own initiative and rarely waits for anyone to do things for her.
+ | Personable: She gets along with just about anyone who isn't an irredeemable waste of space.
+ | Calm: Unless someone is actively dying, or there are explosions going on, Uma keeps her head.
+ | Cautious: She thinks out everything she plans on doing before she does it, though she is not indecisive or paranoid.
+ | Compassionate: In spite of everything, her heart still goes out to people.

FLAWS
- | Distrusting: Everyone lies. Everyone has an agenda. Everybody wants something from everyone else. Her knee jerk reaction is to disbelieve.
- | Private: She keeps to herself and has few friends who can help her.
- | Independent: She goes off the beaten track too far and then people can't haul her back in.
- | Offensive: She has no problem alienating people by giving them her mind.

⟫⟫ HISTORY ⟪⟪

"The truth hurts, baby."

-- Uma Santerra

The start of Uma's life was hardly controversial. Born to a machinist and a nurse, she practically grew up in the Warehouse. She had few friends, but the friends she did have were close and fondly cherished. Life was hard -- but it was hard everywhere, and Uma knew it. She, of course, never thought about sleep -- no one does. Can't miss what you didn't have. It wasn't until her last year at private school that she first encountered sleep.

Loraine. Her name was Loraine, and one day, she fell asleep in the bathroom. When Uma found her, the girl pleaded not to tell anyone, said the Patch just didn't cut it. Uma was moved by the girl's pleas, and she said she wouldn't say a word. Loraine, of course, was a Narc, and Uma quickly became fascinated with the idea of someone who sleeps. The two became fast friends, with Uma doing her best to help Loraine stay awake during their last year, each making plans for what they'd do after they left school. They decided to become nurses together, using Uma's mother Irma as an insider.

Then, Loraine got caught. Uma never saw her again.

It left an impression. Caffeine hadn't cut it. All their careful plans didn't help. Uma went to nursing school alone, with her mother's blessing. Years passed, and Uma took to Emergency Medicine like a duck to water. That was where she met her next Narc, when she was 25 years old. He pleaded with her not to tell anyone, and in what she sees as her downward spiral, she gave him an upper to keep him awake, just long enough to get out of the ER. She got his name, told him that if he needed help, to contact her discretely. Thus started a chain of events leading to the Red Light District and a network of Narcs needing help keeping up the masquerade, all of them paying her for the drugs she managed to smuggle out of the hospital.

If only she'd known she'd end up using them herself when the Patch started fritzing out on her...

no-lightbox

Doctor Jax · Oct 26, 2017

THE ADVENTURE OF A LIFETIME

Venture into the wilds of Siam and encounter wonders never seen by Man....

So says the advert in the newspaper handed out by boys working for pennies on the hour.

Seeking workers for expedition into the unknown! Prior experience overseas preferable. Must be of sound mental and physical constitution, and good temperament. Upon completion of 10 week tour, employees liable for reward of 3,000 English pounds. If interested, send correspondence to...

These sorts of pleas are a dime a dozen. There seems no end of countries to plunder and explore. The blank parts of the map are filling in. There are heroisms to be found everywhere one looks.

And you need the money -- don't you?

The World: There isn't much different about the world. The year is 1898, England is still a juggernaut superpower and trade giant, and steam is the name of the game. Telegraph is the main means of communication across the sea, and letters are still delivered by hand. However, a dark undercurrent flows beneath the goings on of the world. There is war on the wind between Austria-Hungary and Russia as the Russians grow wary of the reaches of the Austro-Hungarian empire. And everyone knows, where there's war, there's crows….

That said, machinery has come a long way. There are now diggers and all-terrain vehicles, tanks and boats made for near every eventuality. War breeds necessity, and it's necessity to have good vehicles and equipment. Steamships and trains are the fastest modes of transport possible, with the fastest steamship able to go from London to New York in little under two days. However, everything runs on steam power, as the gas fields have long been abandoned after the great Egypto-Briton war, with Egypt coming out as the victor. Telegraph is still the main means of correspondence with any kind of speed, though radio waves have just been considered as a form of communication. Much of the world remains undeveloped, though China has recently become an incredibly powerful trader. To the west, America remains a rugged, untested country full of backwater populists and Indian natives, a land of opportunity -- and savagery.

The only country in Asia besides China which has not become some form of colony is Siam, the Jewel of Southeast Asia. Boasting a king styled in Western fashions, Siam remains three parts wild to each part civilized. A small country with many ocean ports, it is heavy with jungles -- and perhaps untold riches. Particularly, the medical trade has become ever more interested in the rainforest and its wealth of plants,
which are used more now than ever in different medicines. It is even rumored that there is a plant in that jungle that can even stave off the ravages of death...
The Job: There are several, actually.

At the moment, the expedition head -- Mr. Charlie Green -- is looking for:
(1) Doctor
(1) Navigator
(1) Chronicler
(2) Cook
(1) Rifleman
(1) Botanist
(1) Machinist

If further interest is garnered, these roles shall be expanded upon and explained.
The Expectation: The story has been kept slightly vague, I know. For those interested: think of this as a Lovecraft inspired "Atlantis: The Lost Empire". There will be, of course, adventure, but heavy horror elements will ensue, and if you are uncomfortable with horror or suspense elements, this may not be your cup of tea (which is perfectly fine, of course!).

I am looking at posts being actually quite short, and I hope to have things run quickly. There will be heavy involvement from me with regard to what your character will be experiencing by way of PMs. As always, I am open to questions!

I will only accept a small amount of people! This is due to story, as well as management, concerns. Therefore, applications will be necessary to reserve spots. If you have gotten this far, thank you for reading!

Doctor Jax · Oct 29, 2017

Ardlith Amarra || The Scavenger

"First impressions are the only impressions."

Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Bright Blue
Weight: 145 lbs
Height: 5'5"
Age: 23
Race: Half Sur Elf
Distinguishing Marks: a mechanical foot up to the knee, engraved -- built by a Vuaturi friend, well-maintained and well-loved; orcish tattoos across her arms, back, and chest; three earrings in each ear
Magical Affinity: Arcane

"What lies in our past dictates our future."

Ardie did not ever have it easy.

At the border of the Sur Woodlands, where Faledrin ended and elvish land began, lines sometimes became... blurry. Ardlith's mother, a trapper, often made sojourns to Faledrin's border towns to trade her pelts, and it was here that she met Ardie's father, a local lord. Foolishly, the two began a tryst, and as luck would have it, Ardlith's father was married. Upon discovery of the affair, the enraged and scorned Lady threatened to expose his infidelity to his people as an elf-lover, and she gave him an ultimatum -- make this disappear.

Ardlith's mother guessed the Lady's intentions and ran, already two months' pregnant. Thus, Ardlith's life began on the run, switching between caravans traveling the Northlyn continent, going as far as Northal in Baladur. She quickly grew to be a child with an intelligent mind and a dangerous curiosity. Ardlith took to rebellion like fire to twigs, and Ardlith's mother found it difficult to control her.

At the age of twelve at the north edge of Valnahar, Ardlith found herself left behind during a river crossing. After several weeks waiting along the river for her mother, passing Sur elves noticed her distress. After much coaxing, they convinced her to come to Eversyth with them to Elder Lannya's home. However, even among other half elves, she felt foreign, not to mention restrained by so many walls. After four years of tutelage, she ran away despite showing promise magically. She joined a traveling band of Vuaturi headed to Valnahar, where she first encountered her true calling: treasure hunting.

For the next seven years, with the help of a Vuaturi elf she befriended, the two dug their way across Valnahar and bartered with orcs and men. In the course of her travels, Ardlith lost a leg when a Baladuri archer stuck her with an arrow, and a consumption took hold of her. Fearing for her life, her Vuaturi friend was forced to cut off her leg and fashioned for her a metal replacement. Lately, she's stuck closer to Faledrin. She is curious about who her father was or what he might have been like, as her mother had given her no clue as to her true parentage. However, unbeknownst to her, she plays something of a dangerous game. In the meantime, she has been on the hunt for a particularly rare book to add to her collection called Ambrose, reported to hold forbidden knowledge about Shadow Magic...

"Know thyself, and take hold of the wheel to life."

Ardlith is a free spirit overall. She hates the power others may have over her, bucking at authority. However, Ardie also has a strong sense of justice for the downtrodden, the weak, and the diamonds-in-the-rough. She considers herself a realist and relativist, that morals are often something that could be bent for the situation at hand.

She feels quite strongly about most things, and there are few subjects upon which she does not have some sort of opinion. A keen conversationalist and charismatic despite her almost demanding nature, it is obvious she has a knack for reading others and understanding their motives. She would rather defuse situations than fight, but if violence is called for, she joins in with almost reckless abandon. Her determination is often what gets her through most sticky messes, and once she has something in mind, she finishes it, sometimes to her detriment. She is not easily swayed, and often she takes things too personally, jumping to the defense of others before thinking things through. Often, her Vuaturi other half has to calm her down and get her to consider other options.

"I care about what you can do, not what you can spout."
Weapon(s) of choice: Several. She has a small knife hidden in her boot and a mailbreaker for tricky chain mail hidden in her fake leg. Her main weapon, however, is a hatchet.

Specialization in the Cult of Thieves: Acquisition, usually of rare artifacts. She has a large network of buyers and sellers that she has procured over the years, and that which she cannot buy, she finds. She also has a large repository of knowledge about history, ancient languages, and styles of elvish or human make regarding weapons, books, jewelry, pottery, and tapestries. She specializes in jewelry, mostly.

Strengths: Ardlith can haggle like nobody else. She is adept at negotiating prices, as well as reading the seller. Years of watching her back has given her an acute intuition about others, and she immediately knows whether or not she likes someone after a few minutes. Her knowledge of artifacts and other languages also makes her invaluable as an assessor, able to pinpoint location, time period, and make of most antiques, as well as their going price. Ardlith also has a mind for finance, able to keep good records of how much money is spent where -- and how to launder it. As far as magic goes, Ardlith is rather crude in her use of the Arcane, typically going for very straightforward magic blasts. A more trained Arcane mage might be able to teach her how to use her abilities better.

Weaknesses: The half-elf can be rather too straightforward, sometimes forgetting her goal for oneupmanship. Typically cocky, she also overestimates her own ability, especially if she feels that others are holding her back. With such an independent streak to her, it will take a firm hand to reign her in and get her respect enough that she would willingly work in the way intended. Her insatiable curiosity also leads her to pursue avenues outside of the original goal.

Doctor Jax · Feb 8, 2018

Igieda Monterrez
Segundo

Physical Appearance Zanpakutō: Estrella Pesada, "Heavy Star" Specialties and Abilities Resureccion Personality Assessment History Additional Information

Chronological Age: 579
Physical Age: late 30s
Gender: Female
Height/Weight: 250 lbs./5'11"
Build: muscular, but wiry
Tattoo: Inside palm of her right hand
Aspect of Death: Stillness
General Appearance: Igieda is built like a runner or archer. Her body is well-toned, with long arms and legs, large hands, and a confident, if quiet air. Typically her hair is half-way pulled back into a small ponytail, leaving the rest of her blonde hair flowing. Her eyes are completely hidden behind a visored fragment of her mask, which curls into horns near her ears. She often wears very thick clothing, covering all skin other than her hands and her face. She is rarely seen without her thick, white fur stole pinned by a bird's skull. Typically, her wardrobe is monochrome. Her Hollow hole is located in her forehead.
- Post-Resureccion: A thin black line bisects her face, and her hair is left free. Her mask grows teeth, as well as four horns in the manner of a Jacob sheep. She sheds her fur stole, leaving a sleeve-less set of black coveralls.
Zanpakutō: A meteor hammer of great weight, both ends equaling the equivalent of 60 kg each, despite their size. The chain is around two meters in length. However, the chain can "stretch" an additional two more meters. To those unaware of this fact, this discovery is rather unwelcome and not at all enjoyable.
Basic Abilities: Alongside the typical use of bala, descorrer, cero, and gran cero, Igieda specializes in:
- Hierro - hers is among the thickest, if not the thickest, iron skin among the upper level Arrancar. Due to the nature of her fighting style, this is necessary.
- Pesquisa - the range of her perception stretches to ten kilometers square in every direction. However, her accuracy is largely dependent on the distance between her and the target. At a kilometer out, she is able to tell general area, velocity, and direction. The closer they approach, the easier it is for her to tell reiatsu, size, speed, and even disposition.
However, Igieda has below average sonido. She is unable to move as quickly as those in her class, but her fighting style and defense make up for this lack of speed. Also due to her abnormally high Hierro, she heals at a much slower rate than other Arrancar, balanced by the fact that taking damage is a rare occurrence for her.

Unique Abilities:
- Advanced Strength: While moving rather slowly, Igieda is extraordinarily strong, to an impressive degree. While her blows are easy to dodge with sufficient speed, few defenses are left standing after a direct hit, and her swings are often coupled with an explosive blast of displaced air - thus, getting clipped has severe consequences.
- Interferencia Deconstructiva: A passive ability. Within a kilometer in every direction, Igieda 'cancels out' the spiritual pressures of those around her, up to and including Captain-level Shinigami. This ability especially applies to those who have high amounts of reiatsu. While those captains may still have access to their reiryoku, the pressure of that spiritual energy no longer risks crushing those in the vicinity. Therefore, her own subordinates can assist her against those enemies who have a high spiritual pressure, and she herself does not have to contend with it either.
- Sirena Calmante: Igieda's voice is able to instill apathy and complacency among those who are in earshot. Unless possessing either sufficient strength of will or beeswax in one's ears, those who hear her voice will immediately stop what they are doing, lulled into stillness.
- Arenas Movedizas: By manipulating the density of the objects around her, Igieda can turn the battlefield into a massive field of quicksand, the only safe space to stand being the ground right beneath her feet. Getting stuck - coupled with a heavy hit - often proves fatal. This effect extends for several meters around her.
Command: "Estrella Pesada - te levantes."

Appearance:As noted above, Igieda's attire and mask changes. In addition, she no longer has her meteor hammer. Instead, she is encased in a large orb made of white bone of extreme density, about three meters in diameter. This orb only has two entries - the very top and very bottom. Igieda levitates in the very middle of this orb.

Abilities: Her Interferencia Deconstructiva no longer applies, and her own spiritual pressure is of course released. This spiritual pressure is immensely heavy, akin to wearing a lead blanket. Subordinates on the field are immediately crushed by this pressure. However, the biggest change is also a physical change - the very gravity of an area 30 meters around triples.
- Entierro Gravidad: Gravity in the 30 meter range is lightened to .25 Earth gravity, before abruptly reverting to a whopping 6 times Earth gravity. This has the same effect as a slam attack, lasting less than thirty seconds. There is, at most, a five minute cool down. Effects include concussive blasts from the displaced air, wrecked buildings, earthquakes, pressure changes within the body, and popped eardrums.
- Tango de los Calabozos: Up to five singularities pour from the orb, opening into miniature black holes. These holes draw in material - foe or otherwise. The black holes last, at best, two minutes.
- Tango de la Estrella: The orb she inhabits falls from the sky to the ground and may roll about, crushing whatever is in her path.
- Salida: Of course, if needed, she may exit the orb to fight completely barehanded, though this is largely a last resort. In this case, the orb unfolds into a star formation she can use as both a shield and a large, round blade.
Igieda has been described as a sort of standoffish mother, exhibiting a warmth that is largely only skin deep. She is softspoken and polite, often referring to people by their last name, even lower level subordinates. She is not given to losing her temper, and she very rarely raises her voice, speaking in a low, almost male voice. She is not often stirred to action, and she prefers to keep the status quo, rather than risk change.

However, she is a benevolent dictator, disallowing any sort of sedition or attempts to undermine her authority. She can be reasoned with, but her patience is mercurial, and often she will decline compromises she sees as too much to her disadvantage. She is fiercely protective of her own, despite her arms-length manner, however, but whether this is due to an actual affection or a sort of pride, there is no telling.
Beginning as a Gillion, Igieda quickly asserted herself as a careful and slow-moving entity, drawing back when other Gillion were apt to destroy those that were far too strong for it. Swiftly evolving into an Adjuchas, she realized that it was easier to rule than to outright destroy - at least on her own. Recognizing that she was an individual who had the capability to bring order and protection, as well as the ambition to see it out, she "offered" protection to other Adjuchas who were devolving by offering to eat a portion of them and gain their ability - or suffer the consequences, by merely being eaten whole instead. Most Adjuchas, realizing that the alternative was worse, agreed to her protection racket, and before long, she had a whole cadre of subordinates with mixed feelings.

After consuming the parts of many, many Adjuchas, Igieda realized that she was becoming something else entirely - a Vasto Lorde. Inside the fortress she built, looking out over her little spot of Hueco Mundo, she was astounded by the stillness and peace within her fief. It was around this time that she tore off her mask and became an Arrancar.
Igieda is completely blind. It is unclear whether she was 'born' this way, or if she was damaged in a fight with another Adjuchas. Her Pesquisa is enough to allow her to know where others are, and she can roughly echolocate.

Doctor Jax · Feb 24, 2018

Bad News

Name: Obvaerd "Obi" Yunikva Matroshki
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Blood Type: B
Date of Birth: January 5th
Class: Lower

That Face, That Hair, That Body

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs.
Build: lanky/thin
Hair: oil slick black
Eyes: hazel-green
Written Appearance: All soft edges and delicate features, Obi looks more like a porcelain doll than a boy.
His skin is a creamy pale color, with a hint of a blush that shines his cheeks. His lips are almost unnaturally pink, as if they'd been airbrushed on. His short black hair gleams slick in iridescent colors under neon, and his hazel eyes are shaded by thick, black eyelashes. Coupled with a voice that borders on feminine, Obi is downright dainty.

But perhaps his most striking feature, when they're out and about, are his hands. Obi has extraordinarily slender and dexterous hands. Often they're fiddling with a prewar coin, or a piece of paper, a small toy. His feet are much the same - slender, white, and extraordinarily flexible.

The rest of his body is almost waifishly thin, both a product of poverty and an active lifestyle characterized by running from building to building. Dotted here and there, scars dot his pale skin, mostly road rash from sliding down buildings on accident, or against the ground.

Powers That Be

Powers: Peripheral Glia

Obi has extra nerve cells bundled in his arms, hands, legs, and feet - basically a beefed up peripheral nervous system. Each glial cluster acts very similarly to a tiny brain all on its own, allowing him to do a separate task with each limb independently of the other limbs, i.e. finishing a Rubik's cube with his left while juggling two balls with his right.
Pros:

His sense of touch is also extremely sensitive, able to pick up tiny discrepancies across surfaces. He could pick out a ledge 100 nm tall with his fingers.
His hands and feet can react to stimuli much faster than a normal person. However, that's not to say his hands and feet are 'omniscient'. Unless he sees/hears it, or something touches his hands and feet, he can't react to it.
He has a phenomenal ability to multitask, often performing two actions at the same time.
His muscle memory is excellent.

Cons:

The sensitivity can be a real problem if someone figures it out. Breaking skin on his fingers/toes is extremely painful.
His hands and feet can very quickly "get bored", as he calls it. He has to keep them occupied.
That muscle memory is also a huge deterrent if he learned how to do something the wrong way.
It quickly becomes a trial to 'unlearn' bad habits.

Technological Augmentations: None.
Glow: White-gold

It's All About Me

Personality: On the outside? A lovely, naive boy with a kind heart, a wide-eyed sense of wonder at the world, an almost palpable kind of trust as he listens intently to those who speak to him. Others would call his trust madness, considering the madcap world of Takym, as he seems to swallow the things people tell him wholesale.

They could not be further from the truth.

Obi is extremely jaded, to the point of distaste for his fellow man. He despises other human beings with a passion at their callousness, the lengths they will go to survive, the levels they will stoop to for just a few decas. More than once, someone jumped at his supposed naivete, only to have the tables turned on them. He believes that he's long given up the hope that he'll find a truly selfless person somewhere. Then again, he's not really looking, either. In private, he's a somewhat nervous individual who hides it well, paranoid to a fault, and always wondering what exactly it is someone wants from him.

Backstory: The act was not always an act. As a boy, living in the lower class of Takym, his mother worked in one of the many Packet factories making a few decas so that they could get something to eat. His mother would often transfer a few decas from her paycheck into a savings account under Obi's name. Despite the predatory savings rates, she was faithful to that scheme, and he was always grateful for how much she worked.

Then, one day, a man asked if he could see Obi's barcode, to check that it worked. Being a seven year old boy, he didn't see why not. That man stole every last penny out of that account. When his mother came home, she did not weep. She did not cry. She did not even say a word.

She beat him. Black and blue.

He learned not to trust very quickly after that. A lesson can only be learned through pain, and he learned his lesson very well. Though his mother never beat him again, he continued to resent her for that day, burying the hate in his heart over that lack of an "I'm sorry, I did you wrong." He later learned the savings account was a way to hide her money - not a way to grow his own. It was never his to have to begin with.

As time went on, and money grew tighter, Obi learned to steal - not decas, though. That was too hard. No, he pickpocketed whatever valuables he could lay hands on. He grew a network of fencers who knew where to sell. He hid his ID, and he hid it well. At some point, he stopped living with his mother - when, he doesn't even remember. They just seemed to grow apart.

Now, he largely lives in a large apartment complex, known for his sweet nature, but largely unassuming. However, he's starting to wish that he could have something more than just the leavings of others...

Doctor Jax · Mar 25, 2018

OBI

WOULD THIS FACE LIE TO YOU...?

"Ladies and gentlemen… Her majesty. Reigning queen of the night. The illustrious, the lovely, the sultry vixen we know and love. Madam!" Isaaliah's introduction rung through the Flower Street house, the man's flamboyance collapsing into silence upon the scrutinizing gaze of the woman before him.

"Thank you, Izzie." Madam murmured with little inflection, "Were you only so enthusiastic on the arm of Chantilli Kohlman last night. I might find myself in a better mood."

The young escort's expression soured and sulking back against the wall, his shoulders pinched in a shrug, "I can't help it if she wears too much perfume and makes me sneeze."

"My darling…" Madam chimed in dangerous singsong, "It is your job to help it. Fail to remember that again and you will find yourself tooling for spare decas in the gutter where I found you."

The smile never left her face, not once, but by the time she finished, the other faces in the room were consistently murky. All except Isaaliah, who had gone pale, a feat for the man who was nearly albino white.

"Now then." Madam continued, "Where is Hex?"

"Her room." Isaaliah muttered darkly, pointing up the multitiered structure to the topmost balcony.

"Thank you, Izzie. Now go see Dr. Mamet about those allergies, hmm?" The woman cooed, heading for the spiral staircase. Up she went, and at the very top, Alytheca 'Hex' Deljaris found that stony, coal-dark stare fixed on her.

"Did you get one…" She asked, before Hex had a chance to greet her, "An invitation?" Her wrist rose as she tapped a red lacquered nail on the holocom and from the frown that creased the high arch of her brow and pinched together her severe features, Hex knew what the woman was referring to.

"To Sanctuary? Yes, Madam." Hex answered, with a measure of caution, her tone even and reflective.

"Good." Madam noted, with a nod.

The words came as a surprise, which was unusual for someone generally prone to understanding the minds of those around her. Unable to hide her astonishment, she was afforded one of Madam's rare, genuine smiles.

"I… I don't understand…" Hex started, with an apprehensive stammer, "I thought you'd be upset?"

"Hex. You are my best student. I tell you this often, but I mean it, and I know you can tell as much. Losing you would be less than ideal. But I admit, this… Sanctuary has me quite curious. I would be remiss if I did not find out as much information as I could about it. I can't go myself, of course. Not with my darling pupils to tend to, but I was sure you would be picked… and there's no reason you shouldn't go and check it out." A slightly less honest smile crept across her face, "Provided, of course, you don't intend to stay?"

Lowering her eyes, Hex looked down at her hands, pristine white, each nail manicured down to a half moon just barely past the edge of her fingertips, "What reason would I have to stay, Madam? This is my home. It has been for more than half my life."

"It's a tempting offer, Hex." Madam confessed, "I can't pretend that I can give you the same benefits."

"Tempting? Maybe. But you know where my loyalties lie." Looking up again, Hex's lips curved faintly, "I've no intentions of leaving you."

"...Then it seems I have nothing to worry about." But as she bowed her head in a nod, Hex got the distinct impression that there was an implied thread of warning behind those simple words. That, however, was how life under Madam's employment went. One never quite knew when the welcome would wear itself out. She had seen too many students turned away, too many people relegated to life on the streets for the simplest of offenses… and whatever Madam said about the invitation, Hex didn't imagine it was unwise to be wary of going.

| | |

Still… she went. The day arrived and balancing on a wire of trepidation and excitement, Hex found herself in familiar waters, in the most unfamiliar way. This was not close to the first time she was made privy to the way high society lived. Her job, in essence, was to blend in, to walk alongside the Elite and offer an impression of respectability, of poise and grace. But this was the first time she was facing those things on her own.

Madam's only stipulations were that Hex should treat the journey as she might any other job and follow House rules. Upon Madam's gentle insistence, Hex wore her traditional Ochaya garb. It was strange, donning the ornate robes and mask outside of the Hanamachi, but in a way, a welcomed design. To the other guests, Hex would be a complete stranger, and it was, perhaps better that way… It did occur that this was Madam's purpose entirely, that social interaction might engender in Hex some notion of escaping the life she had been sold into… but the older woman should have known better. Hex had no desire to leave her home. Not when there was still work to do. Not even paradise could tempt her away from her goals.

On the train, Hex watched the world breeze by in incandescent streaks of color through the eyeholes in the porcelain-like Volto mask, her concentration fixed, despite whatever conversations might be happening around her. The pristine nature of the train was unnerving, sterile and cold, lacking warmth, like so much of the upper class world she walked through nearly daily. Idly, she wondered if Sanctuary possessed that same frigid, unnatural quality.

Not long after she boarded it, the train arrived at their destination and with certain, tempered ease, Hex navigated to the exit. Across marble tile, she moved with purpose and passing through the archway, she approached the receptionist, offering her holocom with a pleasant, albeit perfunctory greeting. From the desk she found her way to the instructed room and stepping inside, she wove through the first few rows of chairs, sparing a casual glance to the girl eyeing the buffet table like a forbidden paramour, before settling into a seat. Gone were the days of wonder and awe for Madam's best student… but she could still appreciate it in others, at least.

"You should eat." She said, the gentle inflection of her voice slightly muffled beneath the unmoving lips of her mask, "It's all quite good."

TAGS || \\ code courtesy of

Doctor Jax · Mar 28, 2018

Hanna Wojciek

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