Shattered Realm: Atonement

[Jays]

​

In Character || Lore || Interest Check || Discord

"The greatest wonder of all is a seed sprouting from barren soil."

- Faeru Proverb​

Important Info Character Context Character Sheet Gifts Details

• Welcome to the broken world of Aeon, a land devoured by destruction and the darkest pit of humanity. First and foremost, there are things that you MUST know before proceeding:
  
  1. Read the Lore carefully, a link to it can be found at the top of this post. You may skim the general history, but the rest are crucial to the story so please have a good understanding of the setting before creating a character.
  2. The character submitted will NOT be the character you play. Explanation is on the next tab.
  3. All of Iwaku rules apply. The only Roleplay-specific rule is don't be a dick.
  4. Character death is an option. It is unlikely, but if a character decides to try to be stupid and jumps into what looks like certain death, they will definitely find it there.
  5. Potentially disturbing imagery can be included, such as the issues of nudity, body horror, torture, death, rape and suffering. Sexual issues however and especially the act of sex itself will be kept non-graphic and implicit.
  6. The ideal number of players is 7. If it happens that I find there are more than 7 good enough sheets, I will consider expanding the roster.
  7. Playing multiple characters is not an option for both the plot's sake and my sanity's sake.
  8. I dislike Thread OOC, so please use Discord. It's not that difficult to figure out and you can use the browser version if you don't want to download it.
  9. Deadline for submission of a Sheet is September 2nd.
  10. If you have any question, ask me on Discord.
• Main idea: rebirth, reincarnation.
  
  The world is dying. Gathering the last of its strength, it creates 7 pure souls, untainted by the darkness and despair clinging to the land like a foul stench, and deposits these souls into 7 corpses, reanimating them, turning them into beacons of light and power with the undying lingering hope of a last chance of salvation, or atonement for humanity.
  
  Players will play as these fledgling souls, which while inheriting all the memories of the body they inhabit did not live them, does not truly know the extent of cruelty of the world, and so has a chance of becoming something more than men and women born into despair's slavery ever could.
  
  ATTENTION: Gifts are not related to the past body. They manifest at the beginning of the RP as something granted by Aeon alongside rebirth.
  
  1. The Character Sheets are NOT for your character, they are for the corpses they inhabit. How much of the dead person will remain? How much of their personality and plight and humanity will be left behind, or fed into the fuel of transformation? That is entirely up to you. This is a journey of self-discovery as much as it is a journey of saving the world.
  
  2. There are 2 character options: inhabitant of the Sorcerer-Kings' City States, or Dune Nomad.
  a) The first option will be limited to those from the domain of Udu the Corruptor only for the sake of consistency. All of the City States have very similar structure so you need only refer back to the Lore thread.
  b) There isn't a lot of info on Dune Nomad in the Lore, and that's because there isn't much social or structural personality to their tribes as they struggle to survive the desert. Work with me to create a tribe where your dead person comes from.
  
  3. Your characters don't have to be good people. Hell, nobody is good in this wretched world. The idea of rebirth and reincarnation is meant for more creative freedom, so characters don't have to be limited to the usual roles of "slaves" or "reluctant bad guy with the heart of gold". Your dead person can be villains, slavers, torturers, sick monsters who enjoy others' suffering. Because it's not important what's fed into the forge but what emerges. Even names don't have to remain.
  
  4. I don't judge sheets based on Gift. Skipping your sheet because I already considered 2 other Druid sheets accepted won't happen. We can have 7 Druids, or 7 Mages, or 6 Enchanters 1 Mage. It does not matter. Choose whatever is appropriate to the character concept you go with.
  
  5. The way you write is as important as the sheet's content, if not more. Try to write here how you'd write IC so I can get a sense of you as a writer.
  
• A simple coded Character Sheet skeleton can be found below. Use it or make your own, play around with the format as much as you want as long as all the required information are there, whatever you choose. Add more content to the sheet if you think of something important not included, it'd be a plus.
  
  General Information
  Full Name: (read Lore for reference to naming)
  Nickname: (optional)
  Gender:
  Age: (at death)
  Character Image: (optional, realistic artwork if you can. No anime, cartoon or pictures of real people.)
  Written Appearance:
  
  Personality:
  
  Life: (until death)
  
  Gift: (Druidism, Magic or Enchanting): These are not quite important to the character creation process, as they gift manifests at the beginning of IC and not in anyway related to the rest of the Character Sheet. However I still like to know these things to plan them out ahead of time.
  
• For the details regarding Gifts, read Lore: Aeon for reference. In this section I will lay out the pros and cons of each Gift which will most likely come into play IC. Note that at the beginning of the roleplay characters are granted a seed of power, not full-fledged power itself.
  
  Druidism: The Orders of Mountain and Cloud are available.
  - Pro: The most powerful out of the 3, Druids are the natural children of the land with control over the shattered earth and sky as well as resilience to the environment.
  - Con: Attunement to the land means that Druids constantly hear the scream of the world in their heads. There are records of Druids being driven mad by the unending wail. They are also one of the most sought after prize, and so a simple reveal of power would bring any and all into a frenzied hunt fueled by greed.
  
  Magic: Specific combination of utilization of Runes will be discussed upon acceptance.
  - Pro: Powerful, unpredictable, the culmination of a thousand different destructions, Magic is capable of almost anything in the right master's hands.
  - Con: technically forbidden, Magic cannot be practiced openly, with practitioners actively hunted by Inquisitors. There is little source of life force for Magic within the boundary of cities and nowhere in the desert. Mages had been known to siphon the Kings' Gardens discreetly or build secret Gardens of their own with personal Transmuters, an unimaginably expensive endeavour. Magic is fueled by knowledge in its purest form, and as such one's only hope to advance in power is to plunge into the dark, hidden underground societies where monsters make home.
  
  Enchanting: the abilities of an Enchanter is universal, although one could focus their talent toward specific aspects of their power. Enchanting = Telekinesis + Telepathy + Mind Control.
  - Pro: Enchanting is of the bloodline, instinctual in its utilization, subtle and imperceptible. Within Cities, the bloodline is seen as a symbol of status, a key into higher society and favour with the Bloodhounds.
  - Con: Although neither forbidden nor limited by one's knowledge, an Enchanter's power is weak during its infancy, their Reserve limited. Years of rigorous exercises and practice are required to make an Enchanter formidable.

Code for Character Sheet

[div=
   font-variant:small-caps;
   font-size: 30pt;
   letter-spacing:5px;
   word-spacing:10px;
   color: #(color code of your choice);
   border-bottom: 5px groove #(color code of your choice);][div=text-align: center;]NAME (or title/nickname, whichever one you'd prefer your dead person to be known as, in full caps)[/div][/div]
[tabs]
[tab=General Information]
[SIZE=7][COLOR=#(color code of your choice)]Name[/COLOR][/SIZE][imga=right]Character Image Link[/imga]

Nickname:
Gender:
Age:

Appearance:

[/tab]
[tab=Personality]

A paragraph or two
[/tab]
[tab=Life]

A paragraph or 3
[/tab]
[tab=Gift]

Druidism (include Order), Magic or Enchanting
[/tab]
[/tabs]

 

[Greenie]

RIYUTA

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Riyuta
  
  Nickname: Riyu, Riri
  Gender: Female
  Age: 23
  
  Appearance: Average height and weight, Riyuta has fair almost porcelain-like flawless skin, with just enough pink in her cheeks to look healthy rather than sick. Her eyes are a light blueish grey, surrounded by dark lashes. Her long dark brown hair tumbles past her shoulders to the small of her back. She has a shapely body which she enjoys flaunting by wearing sheer revealing dresses. All in all, she is a beauty to behold, and she makes sure she continues to look that way every day.
  
• Frankly said, Riyuta is not a nice person. Looks can be deceiving and that is certainly true in her case. Inside her beautiful shell, one will find neither sympathy nor regard for others except herself. Selfish and narcissistic, she believes that whatever she wishes should be hers, and if for some reason that does not come to pass, she will mete out consequences.
  
  Having a cruel streak, even something as small and petty as spurned affections will have her send someone to be tortured and killed. On the flip side, she is more than willing to toss aside someone who no longer interests her.
  
• Born to a rather wealthy family, Riyuta was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Even before she could speak any words, she had a selfish quality of wanting what she wanted, and any obstacle that came between her and what she desired would have her screaming and crying until she had what she wished or she was given something better.
  
  As shew grew up, her cries and screams changed, though not for the better. Living among others much like her, she was a quick learner, studying her parents and siblings in the art of seduction and deception. From a young age she came to realize that men and women were all creatures who easily fell to their base desires. However, Riyuta was the picky kind and even as a plaything, not every person was good enough for her. There was no fun in seducing common person who would have fallen for her by just one whiff of her present. The richer and more influential sort were who she enjoyed playing with, preferably those who were already taken by someone else.
  
  As always, she didn't believe consequences had anything to do with her. Her narcissistic attitude proved to be her downfall. Having used and thereafter spurning away the affections of one lover, she had expected him to disappear in his shame, just like the others she had treated the same way. However, this man was truly vengeful, being something of an egocentric fool himself. If he could not have her, then he would make sure no one else would. Returning to her one evening in the pretense of begging her to take him back, the man pulled out a dagger and plunged it in Riyuta, who was clearly not expecting such a display of violence against her. Unsatisfied with simply stabbing her through the heart, he continued stabbing her until she bled out completely, ending her life.
  
• Druidism- Order of Mountains
  

 

[DekuNightFury]

Tear

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  
  
  
  
  Tear
  
  
  Nickname: N/A
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Age: 13
  
  
  Appearance: Tear had seen the way a child should look by his interactions with the children of the noble family, and it was safe to say, he was not like them. Where their faces were clean, his own was scorned with blemishes and bruises, a small scar sometimes seen upon the youthful face. Where a child's face should hold a smile, his own held a constant frown. Where a child's eyes should hold joy and wonder his only held sadness and wept without a single tear. Hence his name. Tear became a slave for a noble family as their personal 'chore-boy', and though he shed no tears, his face always looked as though he were silently crying. His hands held the most scars, each digit shamed by the countless thin white lines or a deeper gash from the various jobs he was assigned to do, forced to work instead of play. The clothes he adorned were simple, but they hid the mainly thin body that kept prying eyes from seeing his ribs as they stuck out against his skin, and sleeves hid his gangly arms.
  
  
  
• Tear was a quiet boy who kept to himself, sometimes hardly ever uttering a word. He tried to stay out of the way and do his job, to save himself from punishment and hopefully earn a meal, and was often timid around others. His life and the world had long since destroyed his childish imagination, his empty and saddened soul prevented any hope or wonder to fill his heart, cast aside like a rag doll to gather dust and forgotten. There was no room left to hope or feel joy, no energy to smile or to laugh, a husk of what he was supposed to be. An innocence that always looked to others as though to tell them, "Why? Why have you done this to me? What have I done to deserve such a cruel fate?"
  
  
  However, Tear was a hard worker, and he never complained. Though this was mainly due to the fact that he received instant punishment should he complain, he tackled each task and saw each one through to the end, no matter how hard the task may be. Some such tasks often caused him injury, such as climbing the roof of the noble family's house to clear away dust and other such debris, which resulted in a fall every so often. Sometimes breaking a bone or causing his body to be covered in scratches or bruises. If a bone was broken it was put into a simple splint and he would be bed ridden, fed enough to keep from starving but left completely alone, then expected to work as soon as he could walk. He had been cut, beat, pushed, pounded, thrown, crushed, all sorts of mistreatment during his work though had never stopped. If nothing else, his determination and focus were the only things that kept him going and stay on his task.
  
  
• A broken boy from the start. His parents were lost to him long ago, though their exact demise is unknown to him, nor does he remember their faces. For as long as he could remember, he worked as a slave for the personal family, at first starting off with mediocre chores before steadily growing into tougher ones. He had been chosen specifically because of his age, since young slaves often lived longer if treated correctly and could grow as long-time slaves for the family, that way the family had no need to get another slave for a long while. Plus he had come very cheaply, again due to his age, since his size and body prevented him from doing any hard labor or entertainment in the coliseum. His size allowed him to move quickly around the house and get the work done, so he had been a good enough choice as a personal chore boy, much to the familys' relief.
  
  
  Though his life was perhaps not nearly as bad as most slaves, Tear was not treated kindly even though he was a child. He would constantly be yelled at if doing a poor job, and if yelling became insufficient, punishment resulted in beating. He would be punched, slapped, even dragged or thrown as though he were nothing but an object. Such treatment and the lack of love resulted in a closed-off child who flinched at every sound or lift of the hand. A beating became more natural and constant to him than food. He had learned long ago that tears did nothing but make matters worse, and so he did not cry, even when severely hurt. He would only hold back his tears, and cry silently in his sleep when he knew he was alone.
  
  
  The day of his demise had not been his fault. Truly, he had been doing his chores like always, till a group of kids came running by. They had been three other boys from different families, playing with the son of the noble family that he served, Sven. Instead he went about his business, wiping the floors clean, doing his best to stay out of the way. But as they ran by, one of the boys had pushed Sven towards him, and the lad stumbled over the bucket of water that Tear had beside him. It all happened so fast, but before he knew it, there lay a suddenly screaming Sven as he held his arm. All Tear could do was stare as Sven held an oddly crooked arm, seeing blood spill onto the once clean floor, a bone protruding from the wrist. The other boys had grown scared, and immediately ran from the scene, leaving Tear to deal with the mess they had left behind.
  
  
  Before Tear could do anything, an older gent had come running at the sound of Sven's screaming, and tended to him quickly. More adults came, before his master and his lady came running, and they demanded to know what happened. Tear's mind was still trying to catch up with his body, and he had no words to explain the situation, though they would not have believed him even if he told them. Instead what ended up happening was that the three other boys laid all the blame upon him, telling the adults how Tear had grabbed Sven from behind and pulled him back and he had stumbled over the bucket. Tear had been mortified, though he could not speak out against them, and he wouldn't have been believed even if he told them.
  
  
  As a result, the father told the mother and the rest to get his son instant medical attention, before he grabbed Tear by the back of his shirt and dragged him down the hall. Tear had never been so scared for his life. For the first time, he began to cry as he struggled against the man's pull, tears falling down his fear-filled eyes. He begged to be released, apologies spilling past his mouth faster than his tears, but they went unheeded. He knew. He knew deep down in his gut, that this was the end, and he was afraid.
  
  
  He was thrown down into their basement, and in there, his master beat him to death. Not wishing to deal with the body, they paid a couple of shady characters to take the body and dispose of it, and so they did. Tear's body was taken out to the desert, where he was thrown aside and left as food for scavengers, forgotten and uncared for. As the sun began to set, a single beam of light rested upon the lifeless body, like a sun-lit tear.
  
  
• Druidism-Order of Clouds
  
  Theme Music:
  
  
  

 

[Nemopedia]

Warden

Art by: KimDingWall

Name: Warden
Nickname: War, Den, Warty
Gender: Male
Age: 19

Appearance: art by: KimDingWall

Personality: Warden is a man of grand gestures and metaphors. With a love for all that is artful and beautiful in his eyes there is rarely a time where he won't give into chase to take what he claims to be his. Drama is his wine, as is it his bread, attention is his air and youth his blood. Everything about this man is indulged and given over to theatrics, the world being his stage.

Hating to be predictable Warden tries to do the unexpected, always. An explosive persona at one moment, then wearing the mask of charity, changing into the hero of the moment. There is only one thing consistent about Warden and that is that he treats life as a play. A game for him to play. He flirts and dances around, sings and drinks without ever settling down, or sit still. While willing to learn new things, and always seeking out new experiences Warden's greatest fear and avoidance is; to be chained down.

Life: If 'The Emperor's New Clothes' was a person, Warden surely would be its personification. Vain as he was the man insisted on only surrounding himself with everything that he considered beautiful. Of the firm believe that one is with what they surround themselves with the man chased and collected that what he believed would do exactly that. Never did he know that his obsession would end him.

Born into an artistic family it was only natural for Warden to enter their footsteps, being surrounded by the arts all day. However, it was clear that the boy wanted more, that he was more ambitious than his simple family who were satisfied with just their craft and the appreciation. For Warden it was obsession and the obsession had him disagree with the hearth at a young age, giving him a reason to depart and demand more.

Living lavishly, as he felt that befitted him and his mind, Warden often found himself without money and often had to survive on the charity of others to replenish his sack. His great spendings and lack of business sense is what drove him into the arms of older wealthy women who liked a pretty thing and could whisper sweet words over his arts. It was in a combination of his pursuit for the fine arts and his lifestyle that had him one day brutally beaten and left to die by an enraged husband. It was, as Warden would have said it if he had survived, a theatrical, but unsatisfying ending.

Gift: Magic

 

[Itari]

NYX

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Nyx
  
  Nickname: The Lynx
  Gender: Female
  Age: 23
  
  Appearance: Nyx is just over 5'4", but her long legs can make her seem taller at times. Her skin is a tan color. Her dark hair is usually kept in two tight French braids that start at the crown of her head and end at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are narrow and light gray in color. Her body is well-toned and covered in various scars from her time at the Colosseum.
  
• Nyx was known for her voracious curiosity when she was a child. It often got her in trouble, as she wandered away from the safety of the village to explore. When she wasn't training or attending to chores, she was learning. She learned everything she could, in every subject. Her quick tongue and short temper often got her beatings, but they never seemed to deter her. Nyx was always blunt and never afraid to say what was on her mind, calling respected elders in the tribe "wrinkly old men." She held grudges. Those who slighted her would never be forgiven, but she was also fiercely loyal to her friends and those she trusted and would not hesitate to lay down her life to those who were closest to her.
  
• Nyx grew up in the desert. Her tribe made their home in the sides of a narrow ravine. Despite being called Desert "Nomads" her tribe only traveled for supplies due to the secure nature of their home. She was trained at a young age. Every member of the tribe was expected to help hunt for food and defend their home and family from hunters and foreign tribes. Their strength lay not only in their intense early training but also their ability to work as a group and trickery. They were known as one of the more aggressive tribes and many were warned to never attack them unless you somehow managed to catch a tribe member alone. The day Nyx was captured she was 15. She had gotten into an argument with her parents, and in her anger, and left the safety of the ravine and wandered out into the desert alone. She was found by a group of hunters and was quickly taken captive.
  
  The trek to the city was grueling. She and the other nomads that been captured with her were all chained together and were forced to walk with bare feet on the hot sand with very little food and water. Walking too slowly resulted in being whipped or beat. Many died along the way, their bodies dragged along the sand by those who survived. The hunters made the journey slow on purpose, and while they stopped often, the desertmen were never allowed to stop walking, even during the night. Every time they stopped, they were forced to walk in slow circles, watching as their captors ate and drank and slept in front of them. The slower they traveled, the more time they had to break them in before selling them to the mines. After a week, Nyx decided she had had enough. The first things Nyx did, was kill the person next to her and eat their portion of food. The hunters said nothing. They didn't care too much how many of them died. There were no druids in their group after all. After killing the one, she was able to threaten another to give her their portion as well. Then, she waited.
  
  That evening, Nyx attacked one of the guards that had been watching over their walking. He hadn't been expecting it so she had surprise on her side. The dead bodies that had rotted and fallen out of the chains gave her more leeway to work with. She managed to sweep the guard's feet from under him as she walked past. The other slaves cried in surprise as they were unexpectedly dragged along. The commotion woke the other hunters, but by the time she had been subdued, Nyx had already strangled the one guard to death. In a way, Nyx got lucky. Ordinarily, she would have been killed on the spot. However, the leader of this particular group of hunters was a big fan of the Colosseum, and he was the one who decided to send her there.
  
  Nyx saw the Colosseum as a blessing. At least here, she had a chance, though small, to go home. So she trained. She became known as "The Lynx" because of the way she pounced at her enemies like the cat. She was known for outsmarting her opponents for victory, making up for what she lacked in strength in speed and wit. After 4 long years, and careful tracking, she finally reached her 100 victories. However, when she went to the Colosseum master to ask for freedom he only laughed, telling her "You're not even halfway there." She stood there numbly, half listening to him tell her that many of the fights she had, despite that fact that she and her opponent had been fighting to the death, were not officially, "fights to the death." That was when she knew everything was a lie. She was stuck here. Forever. Still, she fought and she survived until of course, she died.
  
• Enchanting
  
  

 

[Spekkun]

NIKLAS

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Niklas
  
  Nickname: None.
  Gender: Male
  Age: 33
  
  Appearance: Niklas is quite tall, a trait that went will with his imposing and cruel nature. His eyes are a near-yellow amber color and his hair a deep black. His complexion is largely fair, if not bordering on pale. He generally dresses to impress, refusing to look any way that might be considered even halfway decent. He lived by the standard of beauty he upheld, after all.
  
  
• 
  
  Arrogant, uncommonly cruel and covetous, Niklas is not a person to make friends with. His greed and love for beautiful things is the driving force behind the majority of his actions. Precious metals, gems, silk, and ivory, whatever catches his eye, whatever he desires, he will stop at nothing to get it. He will kill, blackmail, manipulate, torture or worse.
  
  While his love for the material is the main driving force behind his actions, he does take joy in doing them just because he can. He derives pleasure from the misery of others, most notably those who think highly of themselves. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And he finds the hard falls delectable.
  
  
• 
  Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Niklas did not know what it was like to struggle for something as a child. His family name carried weight, and he would use that weight to get whatever his heart desired, namely to build his collection of treasures. Any money he spent largely went towards jewelry, clothes, sheets, anything rare or beautiful. Even his personal servants were required to meet a certain standard of beauty, should they be around him.
  
  As he grew, his taste continued to evolve and his greed continued to grow. There were items that he couldn't buy no matter how much money he threw at the owner, and his methods of retrieving those items changed to suit that. He would blackmail, kill, kidnap and ruin the reputation of other wealthy families in the pursuit of wares. He found that there was a beauty in the cruelty of his actions that he'd grown to appreciate, a rush that was unlike any other. Soon his actions were just for fun rather than in the search of stones and metals.
  
  Eventually, he acquired a piece that someone with just as grand a taste as his coveted. Just as he had hounded, ruined and taken the lives of many for his treasures, this person did the same to him. Niklas killed in his own home, a knife plunged into his chest and his body left to rot in his now empty room of treasures.
  
• 
  
  Magic
  

 

[Aero Blue]

Omo

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Omo
  Nickname: N/A
  Gender: Male
  Age: 19
  
  Appearance: Art taken from - Granblue Fantasy. Omo looked boyish enough even in death, although his pale skin -- that in life had been protected by face-wraps -- had been burnt to an unsavory, peeling pink by the sun. He is of short stature, 5'3", and a lean composition, with most of the vestiges of his strength seemingly devoted to his legs, thanks to his time running upon the dunes. His comportment is weary, withdrawn, yet capable of bursts of frenetic energy, like a starving rat scurrying for food before retreating.
  
  
  
  
• 
  Omo had been the runt of the litter, the weakest of his pack, and thus lived with the viciousness of the unproven. His low cunning and penchant for deceit were counterbalanced by his impulses, and his incredible lack of foresight. He was insecure, and found validation only in claiming dominion or superiority over others, and measured himself constantly against his betters -- when he was found wanting, he would only grow more savage.
  
  His savagery extended to moments of pure sadism, and his being a walking embodiment of crass and lascivious behavior -- still, he would often demonstrate just enough social sense to cling unto his betters. Never an agreeable sort, Omo had often been a barely tolerated pariah, until his final moments.
  
• 
  Omo was cast from that pure, horrifically wondrous forge; the waste, the dunes, the shadow of the Machine. Casting his lot in with a pack of nomads, his construction was derived from the scavenging. The leavings of the Machine were never enough for him to grow strong, but he was strong enough to run, and famished enough to hunt -- and so Omo came to be possessed of the raw tenacity of the scavenger, eyes keen enough to stalk a mark through the obscura of the sands, and the hunger that could never be sated.
  
  And the hunger could never be sated because the pleasures of what the Machine left behind were ephemeral, transient -- scraps of food that were energy enough but for a day, flimsy steel that grew brittle from use and disuse alike, baubles already cracked and ruined. Omo found only satisfaction when he looked upon the leader of the pack, -- their Famished Queen, their Lady Gaunt -- a malnourished girl whose back never bent in the wake of a long trek, and whose eyes never lowered to dodge the scorch. So powerful were her convictions, that Omo -- of body stronger than hers by a ways -- was convinced that at least she would outlast him, which in turn made her worth taking for his own.
  
  The truth of Omo, however, was that he was not suited to such worthwhile prizes. When his crass courtships failed, he took to force -- but he had never been the strongest of their pack. The rest tore Omo away from her, as he kicked and screamed in his impotent rage and longing, and nailed him to an emplacement in the sand. He was left to bake in the swelter, maimed and unmanned, tortured by the sight of his Lady Gaunt fading away in the distance.
  
• 
  Magic
  

 

[Joan]

KARA

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Kara
  
  Nickname: N/A
  Gender: Female
  Age: 26
  
  Appearance: Kara's skin is tanned and covered in scars, both from her time in the desert and her time in the Colosseum. She stands slightly below average height and has a compact, leanly muscled build, built up over the years. Her brown eyes are round and wide, and she tends to stare at others in an unsettling manner, sizing them up. She moves about quickly and lightly, never staying in one place for long, always looking for a better angle of attack.
  
  
• 
  
  Kara is a woman who has been forced to fight for her life longer than anybody should have to, and it shows. Always looking warily about, refusing to let anybody near her, lashing out at those who get close; all are a result of her long life spent fighting. She has spent so long simply not trying to die that she can barely even remember what living is supposed to be.
  
  On the rare occasion she gets a chance to talk to people, she is bitter and angry. She sizes people up in an instant and spits insults at them based on her observations, and she has a hard time believing anybody isn't immediately trying to kill her. Considering how many times people she meets are trying to kill her, it's not surprising.
  
• 
  
  Once, Kara lived in the dunes, and her name was Iline. In that life, she was one of the strongest warriors in her tribe. She often led hunting and foraging parties, and when Hunters inevitably showed up, she would fight them off, along with the other warriors of her tribe. It was hell, but she believed it was better than slavery, though she questioned herself sometimes, on those days when there wasn't enough food or water, or when they lost children to the desert. Then, one day, she strayed too far ahead of the rest of her hunting party. She didn't stand a chance against the Hunters by herself, and though she took several of them down first, they managed to take her captive. She was brought to the Colosseum, where her life became a different kind of living hell.
  
  Any sense of self she had was stripped away, replaced with what her captors imposed upon her. She was forced to answer to a new name if she wanted to avoid being beaten. She was made to fight other captives to the death, lest she be killed herself. She was forced to do all this for the entertainment of the thrice-damned nobility, simply because it amused them. As a Colosseum fighter, she was treated better than the majority of slaves, but it was slavery nonetheless, and it broke her.
  
  She fought, first to survive, then simply because she didn't know anything else. The thought of death crossed her mind sometimes, but the will to live was always stronger, and she kept fighting. She got to seventy-three fights before she was killed. Her foot slipped for a moment, unsteadying her, and the pale-skinned woman she was fighting used the opening to kick her to the ground and drive a spear through her chest. It missed her heart, but it didn't matter. She was pinned down, and all her opponent had to do was wait for her to bleed out, and that's exactly what she did.
  
• 
  
  Enchanting
  

 

[Kuno]

VAAL

General Information Personality Life Gift

• 
  Vaal Tor
  
  Nickname: The Spider
  Gender: Female
  Height: 5'2
  Weight: 115 lbs
  Age: 41
  
  Appearance:
  
  Vaal was the porcelain doll that adorned her palace, a ghoulish presence that rarely sought the light of day. Her vigorous efforts to preserve her youthful features left her skin the charred white of sun-bleached bones. Atop of her pale skin sat copious layers of makeup: white powder to hide her scant wrinkles, richly colored eyeshadow to conceal her sunken eyes, luscious red lipstick to bolster chapped lips. Her carefully structured image was an inflated projection of herself, a piece of art that never quite hid the illness that ate at her from within.
  
  
• 
  
  An empress in her own right, Vaal's visage was not to be tainted by the presence of an unworthy being. She was obsessed with cleanliness and the higher morals of life, a walking paragon of a self-proclaimed god. Her self-centered arrogance swelled as she gained more power. The callous efficiency with which she attained her goals only asserted her own ideas that she was, in fact, a higher being surrounded by the meaningless bodies of others.
  
  Her crude disregard for life helped fuel her carnal desire for flesh. She desired to conquer the body as well as the mind, and did so in scandalous proportions. Vaal was well aware that the disease plaguing her could make any breath her last, and so lived on the basis that whatever she wanted, she would take--forcefully, if need be.
  
  
• 
  
  The hands and legs of the Spider never worked. Birthed and married into wealth, Vaal Tor was as close to a god as the pitiful wretches who slaved for her could have. She never walked, but was carried; she never reached out, but was instead given. The mass of slaves that served her were an ever-growing web of loyal worshippers, her eyes and ears for the places she could not be and the things she could not hear. Woe to any who opposed her! For lo, would she come, a curse of the night borne on the backs of flesh and bone. Her ornate palanquin was a symbol of death to the most miserable of souls.
  
  Only her illness threatened to curb her ambitions. Born sickly and powerless, it was by great measures she sought to raise her own station. Marrying a Steel Inquisitor gave her some sense of protection, but it was not enough. Her future was precarious, a giant vein left exposed. Vaal desired a stronghold, something her enemies never thought she could have. Her husband--the spineless fool--only wanted children, something else her sickness strove to destroy. She was not to be outdone.
  
  She bore her husband seven sons. Seven scourges of the city. Seven blights upon which Vaal could fully assert herself as a conqueror in her own right. The secure future for which she had sought now seemed in place. She began to rest. The fire that had spurned her on began to fade, and the disease finally took. It was a peaceful ending. Her heart ceased to beat while she bathed, and she passed seamlessly from one life to the next. She died before she could watch her sons destroy the empire she'd so painstakingly built.
  
  A small mercy.
  
  
• 
  
  Enchanting
  

 

[marcy]

Is there a deadline for sheets? I'd like to express interest and reserve this spot for my CS.

 

[Jays]

Is there a deadline for sheets? I'd like to express interest and reserve this spot for my CS.

Apologies, the deadline was yesterday, I forgot to change the prefix. This sign-up is now closed.

 

[Jays]

SIGN-UP ANNOUNCEMENT

@Greenie @DracoGale4 @SkittlesAndSpike @Kuno @Shizuochan @Nemopedia @Joan You guys are in. We'll get started soon.

@ItariChan Thank you for your interest and the effort you put into your application, I really do appreciate it a lot. Unfortunately, your character sheet as fun of a read as it was, wasn't what I was looking for. You are more than welcomed to hang with us in Discord and in the future if a spot opens up you'll be the first to know. Cheers and good luck.