THE TAINTED
"Well, shit."
Name: Olivier Whyte
Age: 34
Race: Human
Magic: None
Appearance: Olivier is a handsome man of middling age if not a large one. He's taller than most and his shoulders are as solid as they are broad. His jawline is strong and his gaze is often accompanied by a brow either furrowed or quirked. Beyond that, Olivier is rather muscled, his upper body in particular hone and bolstered right down to his core from years and years of life as a laborer.
Naturally, transformation makes him look nearly unrecognizable. His eyes remain their distinct shade of blue but beyond that any trace of the man is replaced by an intimidating mantle of a beast, muscle and bone covered in a coat of sandy colored fur that all work in conjunction to kill, mercilessly.
Personality: Olivier was a simpler man before. He was the sort to drink and cheer at the local pub and he was humble and good-natured because his beginnings were. Becoming
Tainted changed him irreversibly, twisting and contorting his soul into something unrecognizable. On the outside Olivier has become surprisingly whimsical about it all, sardonic even. He treats nearly everything with an inappropriate amount of levity but does so knowing the harshness of the world all too well. His humor and dry wit is his form of coping as Olivier is constantly and relentlessly tortured by his affliction but only allows himself to truly feel it in private.
History: The Whytes pride are a hardy bloodline. For what they lack in money and reputation they make up for it with stubbornness. Olivier's mother died shortly following his birth so he was raised under the stern but loving hand of his father alone. Through his father, a dedicated whaler who never let his child truly see the devastation his wife's passing had on him, Olivier learned early on that it wasn't the status that made a man but his beliefs. It was the first of many lessons Olivier had to learn about the cruel and harsh reality of the classicism in Faledrin.
As a child he was well behaved and responsible but during his teenage years he grew a little more rambunctious and fun loving. When he wasn't apprenticing under his father, he was out and about drinking and charming what ladies would give a young man like him the time of the day. His years as a young adult were hallmarked by countless nights of debauchery and yet every single time, being the kind of man that he was raised to be, Olivier Whyte met his father at work the next day. Head splitting pain and all.
He loved that man and it was a tragic day when he died of a sickness Olivier could not afford to cure.
Olivier's response to such a tragedy was to pour himself entirely into his work as a whaler. He labored and fished and worked until it ached so much it felt like his bones would give out on him. The pain was a form of self inflicted torture and in that torture he felt like he was paying respect to his father who gave his entire life to raising him. It was only when a young man who reminded Olivier too much of himself for his own good came to work at the whaling company did he finally relent. Thomas. That young man's tongue was coated in such silver that Olivier would joke that he should cut it off and just live off of the profits.
Despite it all Olivier took to Thomas and assumed the role his father had played for him. He mentored the young man, let him have his fun, but always made sure that he came back... and one day he came back with such fear in his eyes that the image still haunts Olivier to this day. Thomas had made a mistake, a grave mistake, he had stolen money he could no longer return and it all traced right back to the warehouse. When the guards came for Thomas it was Olivier who took the blame and Olivier who was presented to the noble that was wronged.
He expected a lashing, jail time but the noblewoman felt like she had a better idea. In a course of an evening Olivier Whyte went from whaler to servant, from his own man to a manual laborer and a verbal punching bag for Faledrin's aristocracy.
Indentured servitude became his hellish reality... and that was before shadow magic got involved.
Weapon of Choice: Longsword. Himself in desperate times.
Role for the Cult of Thieves: Having spent plenty of years under the service of the nobles before they cursed him, Olivier can be quite the everflowing spring of information in regards to his captors and tormentors. Dirt, secrets, promises... he's heard his fair share and is more than willing to extend what he's learned to whoever might guarantee his freedom. Olivier can serve the cult as an
Informant and if worst comes to worst, a monster.
Writing Example: Sometimes the pain reaches a point where you truly don't care whether you live or die. You are just there, hurting, and you are convinced it no matter the outcome you will always continue to. Olivier Whyte, as he was strapped down once again, was a that point. Having long forgotten the number of sessions he had had by then, Olivier was delirious, groggy and sweat caked the rags that he had been subjected into wearing.
They stood a few feet from him dressed in silk and fine jewelry, the nobles, and the familiar sense of magic that made his breathing stop and his eyes panic grew with every foot they came closer. Olivier could hear them speak, indeed they often cared too little to filter themselves around him, and he heard of their considerations in regards to killing him. He was resistant to the taint and for the love of everything holy they could not figure out why.
Olivier didn't know the answer either of course but knowing the frustration he was causing gave him enough energy to crack a lopsided smile.
But then she turned, the red haired beauty whose face contorted with such anger that it scared Olivier, and the smile on his face faded. Perhaps she was a sadist or maybe she just enjoyed torturing him in particular, either way the noblewoman made it very clear she was not giving up on him just yet. The sense of magic heightened and the pain came in torturous waves.
His shouts were bloodied and said things he never thought were capable of coming out of his mouth. The pain was just too much, it was too intense. It boiled his blood, thrashed his heart and suddenly... suddenly the bindings weren't enough to hold Olivier. His form contorted and his mind went red. Up until that point in his life Olivier had been a great deal of things. A son, a charmer, a whaler. But now, as his body took on a whole new form, he became a monster. He became one of the
Tainted.
The case of Robbie Valentine is a peculiar one. Is his heightened intelligence and telekinetic powers apart of a mutation? Is his ability to read minds but not control who's a result of a botched super soldier experiment? Robbie has his theories but really he doesn't know. He knows he's always been smart, hell probably one of the smartest, but up until the coma the only voice that he could hear in his head was his. 
Robbie's powers are all centralized around his mind which is rather fitting considering the disposition to intellectual pursuits he once held. The manifestation of his abilities led Robbie to theorize that his intelligence was a product of a mutation all this time but the man knows that the hypothesis has its holes.