Just examples under the Prowess tab, there's a spot for them under weaknesses.
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| NAME: |
WOOT! Sarks is finished and we have our first Magni! Accepted!
Luciano Von Bismarck
| ALIAS(ES): |
Luci (Lu-chee), Sarks, Sonofabitch
| PLACE OF BIRTH: |
The coast of Italy
| SPECIES: |
Homo Magni
| D.O.B.: |
12/23/1904
| AGE: |
112 (looks/acts 24)
| SEX: |
Lots of it
| SEXUALITY: |
Heterosexual (while sober)
| APPEARANCE: |
Sarks stands at 6'2" with a slim-muscular build. His dark chestnut hair is always styled somewhere between professional and slightly sloppy. His deep green eyes always seem to be taking information and seem to dance when he's talking to you. His rather languid and calm demeanor has been refined from a century on this earth.
| CLASSIFICATION: |
Homo Magnus
- | ABILITIES: |
At his core, Sarks is a Home Magni, but he doesn't manifest his control over the Nox in a typical style.
Sarks has aptly named his style of magic a sub-section called Block Magic. With Block Magic, Sarks concentrates on an area immediately around him, and creates a cube-shaped construct of magical energy. The cube by itself, is simply a refinement of magic energy as pure force. Sarks takes the magic energy and simply shapes it and gives it form. With the cube(s), Sarks can stand on it, remotely control it with his mind, vary size and even punch/kick it. The cube(s) only last for a finite amount of time, in direct correlation to how much energy Sarks has put in to them.
Slightly translucent with clearly defined edges, the blocks appear a gray color and glow slightly. They're light and bob slightly in airy environments unless Sarks has increased the magic in the bottom section of the blocks to make them heavier or just make them more solid in general.
Sarks has perfected creating these constructs over years and years. He can simultaneously create multiple blocks around him (around 20). Due to them being bits of his magical energy, he's aware of their general location at all times and with a bit of concentration, can acutely feel their location and use them more precisely. As stated before, he can alter the size of the blocks. Smaller cubes are generally denser by default and the larger ones are rather light, unless he increases his magical output. This is because he has perfected the amount of energy it takes to create a cube at his "regular" size of 4X4X4. So, not matter the size, there's still the same amount of magic energy. (Of course, unless he changes his output.)
The true talent of Sarks' magic comes in his ability to use the blocks as a foundation for spells that have a variety of effects.
| SKILLS: |
Sarks has an above average amount of stamina and endurance he's built slightly with magic and slightly just years of experience.
He can create mental constructs in his mind of places and structures, hinting at an eidetic memory. His spatial awareness makes him surprisingly graceful for a man who drinks as much as he does. He moves fluidly in a fight, or just a crowded bar.
He's very aware of his surroundings. Any successful Magni should always know their surroundings. And any successful philanderer should be aware of who may sneaking up to kick their ass.
He knows English, French, German and Italian. Typical of a man who group traveling around Europe.
| LIMITATIONS: |
The blocks aren't indestructible by any means, and Sarks has to be wary of this fact in a fight, especially if he's using the blocks for defensive purposes.
Though moving a few blocks in the same direction doesn't take much out of him, but individually controlling 2 or more blocks can take a toll on him. It's another direction he has to split his attention and as such, migraines and regular headaches aren't uncommon for him.
Even though he's aware of the blocks, there's often a lag in between when a block is destroyed and when he notices it, if it's for surveillance purposes. Another block breaking will immediately take his attention and if he isnt careful, the concentration that he's built can crumble.
| WEAKNESSES: |
He's noted that certain high frequencies can disrupt the functioning of his blocks. It could be the hollow magic nature of the blocks, but high pitches can shatter the blocks easier than other things.
Regular spells are something Sarks usually has to practice. So, if there were ever a situation where he couldn't use his block magic, he'd be in a rather precarious position.
| APPLICATIONS: |
Block Magic is a way for Sarks to overcome his shortcomings in typical spell weaving and magic. It's the infusion of his blocks with certain magic energy to produce a variety of effects.
For the purpose of clarity, his base block (the gray one) will be referred to as Base Block
Combustion Block: By infusing his Base Block with bursts of heat-based magic, Sarks can create a block that takes on a red hue. This block is slightly volatile to the touch and is generally lighter than a typical Base Block. These lighter blocks break easier and upon breaking, they explode. Under the direction of Sarks, they become mini-bombs he is able to lodge or shoot at enemies through his remote control. If he's in a fight, he will typically halve the size of the standard size of the blocks and the amount of heat magic he puts in to the block. The half-sized blocks aren't lethal and are concussive force more than anything.
EMP Block: A favorite of his, Sarks infuses one of his Base Blocks with lightning-based magic. The block begins to crackle with energy and doesn't take much to charge it, as the block is relatively hollow on the inside. When he launches this at an opponent it can knock an opponent back, though a few hits aren't lethal by any means. These blocks have decommissioned many electronics and shocked plenty of people, freezing them for an instant in joint-locked frenzy. Smaller blocks generally shock only a portion of the body and can slow a charging opponent down.
Flash Block: These blocks tend to come in 1/3 of the size of his regular blocks (2X2X2). By filling them with a light-based magic and a touch of combustible magic energy, he is able to create small flash-bang cubes. He has used these many times to distract and escape or to divert attention. A simple reduction of the combustion magic energy can shift these blocks in to simply being floating beacons to guide individuals.
Latch Block: This is one of Sarks "higher" level techniques. It requires him to cast a transfiguration spell. The block takes on a darker blue color. He came up with the idea for the block because he could never master transfiguration as well as others. He could only make it part-way through. The base of transfiguration breaks and object down and morphs it in to something else. Sarks takes this spell and stops it partially through the first step, as the spell is beginning to break something down, and it's structural integrity is beginning to change becoming more "mushy". The resulting "partially-transfigured" block is gelatinous. By casting a simple sealing spell, it gives the block the property to latch on to any surface or person. The block holds weight and Sarks has used this technique to slow opponents down or cushion a fall by stacking multiple blocks on top of each other.
The Safe Block: By concentrating on the area immediately around him for a moment, Sarks can erect a large block (12X12X12) coupled with a defensive ward. Inside of it he creates another, slightly smaller block of the same nature, and then another general Base Block. This is typically used when a fight has gotten rather tough and he needs a moment to plan. The Safe Block is mainly used for a group of people. If it's cast only for him, it's about 5X5X7.
His Fighting Style: Sarks has always been a man of action, preferring to be directly involved in the action. The largest advantage, in his eyes, of his application of magic is it allows him to get directly involved in the fight. His control over his style of magic has allowed him to mix it with his boxing fighting style. Sarks can form versions of his Blocks just inside his punching range, allowing to "punch" his blocks forward, giving them a hefty amount of power and making a close-range fighter much more long range. He has even taken to using his blocks for defense as well. In a fist-fight or even weapon-fight, he is able to stay close by using his Base Blocks to slow/stop physical attacks.
The incorporation of his magic and boxing make him a skilled and fluid Mani/Fighter.
- | WEAPONS: |
http://medievalcostumesandgifts.com/images/product-images/gauntlet_gloves_ir8082_v3_amz.jpg
Conduit Gloves (The picture will likely change) :These gauntlets serve as Conduits for Sarks' brand of magic. He's found that channeling it through his hands works best for him. By focusing the magic through his hands, he can more easily create the construct, and much more quickly if he's combining his magic with his boxing.
| TOOLS: |
Spectacles of Luma: These enchanted glasses obscure the users face from everyone, except who they've deemed necessary of knowing their identity. Someone who sees Sarks wearing these glasses will be unable to recall any concrete detail about his face or identifying characteristics.
| ATTIRE: |
Sarks tends to stick to casual slacks and button-downs of varying sorts. He can don an evening vest easily and will typically roll up his cuffs before he'll put on a short-sleeve shirt.
- | BACKSTORY: |
Luciano Von Bsimarck's story is one that starts differently than most. Born to a privileged family of Homo Magni and one of four, he was cut off from most of the world. His family's survival and strength came mainly from their skill in seclusion and hiding. He was a curious child however, and constantly asked questions about the outside world and all it held. His answers were usually dismissive waves or agitated reprimands. Their family manor sat outside a forgettable village and with the help of wards and barriers, they flew under the radar. Luciano was often found skipping lessons and exploring the woods around the manor. By the age of 5, when his magic lessons started, he often took to spending time with the village children in lieu of his studies. They didn't take to him though. Some of the older children, tainted by the murmurings of their parents during the day, sneered at him and teased him for his wealth. They didn't allow him to play with the others and banned him from games. But Sarks' headstrong nature prompted him to confront them regardless. Brawls were common in Luciano's life and he learned he was natural born scrapper.
However, his parent soon began monitoring him more harshly and forced his attention during lessons about his heritage and powers.
He despised learning the history of the Nox. He despised even more the history of the Magni. The savage nature of his kind and even the dark nature of the Magni world. The second youngest, he had learned to be verbal to get attention and his outspoken nature constantly landed him in trouble. He resisted lessons and instead took to disappearing more. As the lessons progressed, he hated them more and didn't adapt to using the Nox like his siblings did. He ran away at 7 and was found at a neighboring village a month later. Even though he was in severe trouble, his father noted his ability and ingenuity to survive on his own. It only inspired him more that his son held the potential to be a great Magni.
As the years progressed, Luciano learned the basics of magic that his family practiced. However, his practice of it was a different story. It seemed he held the knowledge of the Nox, but his execution left much to be desired. His family specialized in magic that erected barriers to ward off opponents or trap them in an area where the Nox more easily bent to their will. Luciano's frustration and seeming lack of aptitude wore on his parents. They could see that part of his inability to perform as his siblings did was due to his on resilience in using magic. In sparring, he fought in his own style. Choosing to cast basic barriers and dart in on his opponent, dodging spells and getting in close to knock them back with raw magic energy. His parents didn't seem to think his adaptation of magic was sufficient. They demanded more and he resisted more. Eventually, at the age of 16, Luciano took off.
Traveling to England, he dropped his name and his past, feeling that was the only way to rid himself of the ugly nature he saw in his kind. He changed his name to Sarks, hoping to drop all of his connection to his past life. It was here that the new-found "Sarks" learned how to put his survival skills to the test. The anger and anxiety he held released itself when he found the boxing ring. Becoming a growing sport, Sarks found a natural outlet for his scrappy fighting. In the four years that followed on his own, Sarks threw away his name, family and heritage. During that time, he almost forgot how to use the Nox, he tried so hard to forget. He built something of a new life in those four years, fleeting as it may have been. Away from his family and their influence, Sarks was able to become his own person. He even adopted the style of speech and accent from his temporary home.
At the age of 20, after weeks of disgruntling dreams and lingering thoughts, Sarks thought it best to re-visit the place he'd once called home.
Suffice it to say, things didn't go as expected. (Okay, this is my way of saying go read the Sample Post).
Something in Sarks broke that day. Killing his father was one thing, but performing the Dark Rite on his own brother...he couldn't cope with. The actions he witnessed and his reaction only seemed to reaffirm what had caused him to leave initially. But now, there was no one to leave. No one worth returning to. It almost pained him as he worked to strengthen the warding barriers before he left. He couldn't completely abandon his home. But anything else, it melted from him easily, the further he walked away.
Sarks made his way back to England and spent the better part of 10 years drinking and fighting his memories and ghouls away. From there, he disappeared, secluding from the world. It was during this time that he began to study magic once more. Not for power or the sort, but out of necessity. A need to see something of the potential his father saw in him, the one time he'd felt something of a connection his family name, though he had tried to resist it. But he also needed to see that he could become something different from what his family had become. He rejected the culture of the Magni that he had seen, the savage mentality and all that was borne from it.
| SAMPLE POST: |
"Come, take a seat Luciano," his father spoke, eying Luciano over a glass of wine. Disconnected, as if this was a simple misunderstanding. The plush furniture and warm sunlight seemed to fill the room with deep reds and silky gold. The warmth sent a wave of lazing nostalgia over him. His father's languid stare, the thickness of the air, was enough to make him falter. He found his eyes wandering to his brother beside him, Emil. He looked to him for reaffirmation, that this was the right thing to do. His anger felt out of place here and he struggled to maintain it, wanting only to plop down on the floor and play by the fire in the way he used to. Luciano could feel--
'No. My name is Sarks. I don't belong to no one. No family name holds me.'
He shook his head with fervor. This wasn't right! Something prickled in his mind, he knew this feeling.
"Sit down," his father's command was curt. "Tell me how my prodigal son has fared." Sarks could feel his brother flinch beside him. Disregarded as something careless, spoken as if Emil wasn't there. His father raised his glass and motioned him over. A smile began to appear on his face--until he saw his son's smirk.
"It's Sarks, and you've got to attempt much more than a sub-par concentrated Past Days spell. I assume you erected a light barrier of sealing and concentrated the spell in this area over and over again. Emil and I were unable to detect the growing strength of the spell because it was being held back by a barrier. You were certain to captivate our attention the moment I set foot in here and let the spell do it's fast-acting work. Come, Father, you've got to bring more than that."
"I suppose you've only proved my 'prodigal' statement," his father responded behind a slightly forced chuckle. Placing the glass to the side, his father interlaced his fingers. "Fine, let's cut to the chase." His eyes narrowed in the brief pause he left between statements before he spoke again. "Your name is Luciano, not whatever delusion you've cooked up during your sabbatical from your duty in this family. I've ...tolerated your absence because I knew your talent--"
"Stop the charade," Emil cut in, speaking up. Sarks could tell simply from his voice that he was growing restless.
"Now you choose to speak. I was afraid you'd lost your voice, Emil," their father stated, eyeing his older son almost as an afterthought. "It's good to know that Luciano's reappearance hasn't stolen your voice."
"I choose not to waste too many words on you because I fear my rage might not stay in check if I do."
"Your rage? You speak as if you want to be taught that I'm your father all over again. Let's not forget that pesky little scar running the length of your back."
Emil made to lunge for their father. "You degenerate filth of a-!"
"We know what you did," Sarks cut him off, raising his hand to halt his brother. "Don't insult us with lies." Though it had been years, Sarks could feel his past flooding back to him. Memories, hours studying and even his control of the Nox. It was as if he hadn't forgotten his past, simply left it at the door on his departure. Even still, there was no way he could take on his father one-on-one. Which is why Emil was here. Maybe together they could take him on. He subtly wrapped his hands around the Conduit necklace he held in hand.
"Though you may not believe me, it truly was nothing personal, Luciano," his father stated. It was matter-of-fact, cold and curt. "I really did-"
"You killed them! Your own sons. And for what, power!? What kind of a decrepit man are you?" Emil shouted. Sarks activated his magic. It was like a door being thrown open in his mind, the bite and chill of the Nox rushing to fill every room his mental abode held. The Nox filled his hand and he felt a slight pull toward the wall directly behind his father.
"Enough!" Their father finally rose from his chair, his face set.
"No!" Sarks stepped forward, seething. "You can't cry defense, you performed the Dark Rite on your own children. You always told us our family was beyond that, and look at you! Killian and especially Odo! He had nothing to do with any of this!"
"You dwell in my house, under my name. My wealth has brought you thus far. My tutelage has given you eyes and light to see with. Don't forget that you rest under my name." His father slid back his sleeve, revealing a rune Sarks knew all too well. He pressed his fingers to it and a metal staff appeared.
"I guess it's a good thing I forsook my name," Sarks responded, jutting his hand out and activating the rune on the wall behind his father. A burst of grey light filled the room and gale gust of wind blew his father forward, causing him to stumble forward. Sarks darted forward, his speed carrying him there in an instant. Ducking down he drove his palm up, into the chest of his father. He poured a wave of magical energy laced with Combustion based magic and sent his father sailing back.
"Emil!" Sarks barked.
"I'm on it!" He produced his Conduit, a thick, stake-like wand and stabbed it in to his hand. Blood spilled to the floor and he pointed at it and began the incantation. More blood poured from his hand, prompted by the spell and rose to the air. It began to shimmer then dissipate, spreading through the room. Emil dropped his hand, pale in the face and breathing heavily.
Sarks ran back, handing him a small crystal orb. Emil broke it in his palm and breathed in deeply. A Nox crystal. A small orb infused with a spur of energy for Magni. "All right, let's do this."
Their father groaned as he sat up. "So, you've come prepared to kill, huh? Fine then, let it be. I'll wipe this mockery of a blood line and start anew! Don't think I haven't felt the effects of that Debilitation Curse you laid over the house, Emil. You've been prepping for days now, haven't you?" He grabbed his staff, pointing it at the two and charged for Emil. Sarks spun around, attempting to deliver a burst of Nox directly to his father again, fist posed for a quick jab and two hit combo. His first punch missed, oddly enough. Sarks didn't feel it connect with anything. On his second jab, he saw his fist pass through his father. An illusion.
"Remember, you're in my barrier, boy." His father said, behind him. Sarks turned around just in time to see his father raise his staff, the bottom end glowing white-hot. As he brought it down, Sarks tried to roll to the side, only for the staff to be blocked by a flash of red. The color of blood.
"And remember, I'm nothing to be trifled with," Emil spoke up, his hand outstretched. A blood barrier! The deflection threw his father off balance and in the second that he reeled, Sarks brought his foot up, kicking his father up and back. His father fell back, landing close to the fire. He scrambled to get up, grabbing at the fire poker and the like.
Emil's first spell, the Blood Aura spell, used his blood as a medium to allow him more control over the Nox in a localized area. Because their father had already erected a barrier, Emil used that to his advantage to concentrate his spell. They'd planned it before, but seeing Emil in action, Sarks was still impressed. But Sarks could also see his brother was tiring. Maintaining the Deblitation Curse took a toll on whoever cast it. Their father was strong and the Blood Aura spell couldn't have been a simple task either.
Emil acted again, bringing his hands together in an "O" formation and blew through them. A slight blur of red surrounded their father, trying to gain his footing again. The Nox infused blood and energy was bending to Emil's will.
Their father was a powerful Magni, well-versed in in the Nox. But, they'd studied under him and in that, learned his short-comings. They also held the added advantage of Sarks' fighting style, close-combat and unorthodox style, which put their father at a disadvantage. His years from real battle had slowed him in a way that an infusion of power from the Dark Rite couldn't fix. With Sarks serving as bait and muscle, they could allow proper time for Emil to weave spells to aid him.
Sarks jumped to his feet and put his fists up, releasing a series of jabs on his father. Each jab released a small wave of Nox. Sarks' aim was to distract and disrupt his father and His Nox. His father stretched out his hand, almost in a plea of mercy, and Sarks faltered. With a simple gesture, Sarks was suddenly met with searing pain. He turned to look at the source, his leg, only to find a fire poker sticking through it.
| HOME PLANET: |
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