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Murder of Crows
Topic Started: Oct 30 2011, 12:56 PM (937 Views)
Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Kurt Behrgian

NICKNAMES: Prefers to be called Dag, short form of Dagger, his original nickname in the cage fighting circle

SEX: Male

AGE: 47

BIRTHDAY: October 31st

AGE RESEMBLENCE: 19

RACE: Animal Demon, Wolverine

OCCUPATION: Bounty Hunter/Cage Fighter

ALLIANCE (IF APPLICABLE): None

APPEARANCE: Dag has three forms to choose from.

Human Form: In his human form, Dag has a head of messy brown hair with a mess of black streaks in it. It actually looks and feels more like fur than human hair. His eyes are yellowish and seem to pierce through anything they look at. His canines are larger than normal, not just in length but in width as well. His bicuspids are actually fused with them, giving him a much more feral appearance when he smiles or grins. His skin is somewhat tanned, though not incredibly so. He's not very big, edging towards the skinny, with well defined muscle tone.

For attire, he generally wears a simple black tank-top that's a little big on him with a green army-style jacket over it, which he never has closed. The jacket has several homemade patches on it, the most notable being the one that says “GENERATION DEAD” in bold, black letters across the upper back and the one on his right shoulder, which is a simple red shield with the words “Oro en Paz/Hierro en Guerra” in black inside it. He prefers to wear baggy cargo pants, though he never sags, with a pair of worn hiking sneakers.

His job has left him a few scars to show for it, though his accelerated healing makes it so only the most impressive wounds leave anything noticeable. There is a line about two inches long right over his heart from a stab wound that almost killed him, a smattering of shotgun pellets on the right side of his stomach, along with some tearing from the interaction with his flesh they had. The most impressive scar, however, is the three lines that wrap all the way around his chest and back, almost on top of each other, where he was wrapped in a coil of mono-filament wire and almost cut in half.

Demon Form: In his demon form, he morphs to look like a humanoid wolverine, growing to be about five-foot-nine. His eyes remain much the same, as they do in all his forms. He gets a tad bigger in build as well, which is why he likes to wear looser clothing. His fur, which covers all of him, is the same as his hair, brown with black streaks throughout it. His tail pops out a seam in his pants, cunningly designed to only pop open for such an occasion. His hands gain very sharp claws, and his mouth is full of teeth.

Animal Form: Dag hates using his animal form. In it, he becomes a rather large wolverine. Like, the size of a large jaguar. His fur is still the same, brown with black streaks, and his eyes are still the same yellow.

HEIGHT: 5'6”

WEIGHT: 165lbs

ITEMS:
Dag's never without a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, no matter the situations.

WEAPONS:
Folding Karambit: Dag's Karambit is custom made. The blade is as long as the hilt, a full four inches, and is made of mythic Damascus Steel. The inside of the curve of the blade is extremely sharp. Said blade is very hard, nigh unbreakable. The ring is rather large, so he can use it even in his Demon Form, and has several hard Damascus Steel studs around it to make it useful as a bludgeoning tool. The hilt has a rubberized grip with notches for his fingers, making it much easier on the hand. The blade opens with a push of a button just below the ring, opening very rapidly so he can be ready on a moments notice.

Custom FN Five-seveN: Mostly the same as a stock Five-seveN, a pistol firing 5.7mm rounds, lightweight, easy to handle. The gun has been extensively customized by some of Dag's contacts, however. The gun itself has many enchantments making it nearly indestructible, with no need for maintenance. The rounds are all designed with runes to blow through body armor with ease, actually turning any material they cut through into additional mass, so shooting a target through body armor increases the damage dealt rather than decreasing it. Each magazine has a small pocket dimension in it, increasing the magazine size to fifty rounds rather than twenty.

ELEMENTS: None

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES:
Blood rage: While in his animal form, and to a lesser extent his demon form, Dag can enter a state of uncontrollable rage. It's rather easy to tell when he does this, as his eyes bleed into pure red and his scars seem to glow red as well. This is also the only time he puts out any real perceivable aura, and aura of danger and fear that can make lesser opponents back down from sheer instinctive terror. During this, the more he gets injured, the harder he fights. He doesn't get any stronger physically, but his lack of concern for his own well being means that he is able to ignore his bodies cries for rest or restraint and use his muscles to their fullest, as well as ignore grievous injury. It doesn't make him invincible, in fact it almost makes him more vulnerably. Because he is ignoring his body's warnings, he'll tear his own muscles over time, and with no sense of self-preservation, he won't think to avoid anything but the most dangerous attacks, making it possible to simply wear him down with smaller strikes.

Exceptional Senses: Dag's senses are beyond that of a normal human. He can see in near perfect darkness in all his forms, though his vision is actually only marginally better than that of a human, though he sees fast moving objects much easier. His sense of hearing is quite keen, and he is capable of picking out specific sounds even in busy places. However, it is his sense of smell that is truly astonishing. It's been compared to that of Bloodhound, and once he gets a scent he never forgets it. All these together help him in both of his chosen professions.

Incredible Physical Capabilities: Dag is a wolverine. A demonic wolverine. As such, he is freakishly strong for his size, getting stronger in his demonic and animal forms, consecutively. As a human, he is strong enough that simple jabs can crush bone and splinter concrete, and throwing cars is child's play. In his demon form, throwing a laden cargo truck is par for the course, or ripping pretty well anything that isn't, or even is, bolted down clear out of the ground. In his animal form, this strength turns him into something of a juggernaut. If he doesn't want to be stopped, nothing short of the thickest and strongest barriers is going to. This strength is only aided by a surprising amount of speed. He isn't super fast, but he is exceptionally quick, able to keep up with all but the most skilled combatants, and even surprise them if they don't keep their guard up. His stamina and endurance are likewise unreal. All together, he is likely one of the most dangerous people alive in close combat.

Accelerated Healing: Dag heals incredibly quickly. It's almost as if instead of elemental or magical ability, his body was given the power to regenerate incredibly fast. Grievous wounds heal in minutes, even loss of limbs is only a temporary set back. He can even regenerate his body after having his head cut off after a week. It does take a few seconds for his ability to kick in though, an opening a skilled or quick opponent can take advantage of. Brain damage is no barrier to his healing either, his brain can recover just as quickly, if not quicker, and with all his memories and skills intact. He isn't completely invulnerable, however. If his brain is completely destroyed, his body will survive but he'll effectively be a vegetable, with nothing for his brain to build off of his memories and thought processes will be lost. He can survive being completely frozen, but only for a few hours, after that the damage to his brain is too much to recover from. He can deal with being set on fire for a time, but being subjected to extreme heat and pressure for long enough will eventually destroy him.

Expert fighter: It would be an insult to martial artists everywhere to call Dag one. Martial artists spend years upon years perfecting their craft. Dag is a brawler, taking cues from everywhere and making his own style with what works. His main inspirations appear to be traditional boxing and perhaps a little Muay Thai, but everything he's seen gets worked in in some manner. He's not above fighting dirty and hitting below the belt if necessary, and will pull out a weapon the moment he senses he's in danger. His fighting sense hasn't proven him wrong yet.

HISTORY:
Dag is a relatively lucky individual. Kurt Behrgian was born the smallest of his litter of five brothers and sister. The first five years were relatively normal. His mother, while not the most gentle creature, was loving and caring to her children. However, after five years, she decided that she couldn't raise all seven of them. Only two would be allowed to live. She placed them all in a room with a simple order: Only two were allowed to come out. After two days, she opened the door to discover Kurt and his sister, Dawn, sitting calmly, eating the remains of their siblings. There wasn't a scratch on Dawn, but Kurt was covered in wounds which were rapidly healing. Their mother stood in amazement as Dawn told her what had happened: Kurt had beaten them to death with his bare hands, protecting his sister with his own body from their own attacks. They had thought them the weakest, but Kurt had proven that what he lacked in size he made up for in ferocity and sheer strength.

After that, his mother took them both under her wing. She taught them the lessons they needed, how to hunt, how to forage, how to survive in the most inhospitable places. She was a harsh, often cruel teacher, but Kurt understood that this was her most important lesson: The world was not a nice place, and they would need to fight to survive it. Even against her. He often went to sleep hungry because his mother took the kill, him and his sister huddling together for warmth. This existence continued for some time, until he was old enough to forge his own path. And he did, leaving his mother and sister to find his own way. He hasn't seen them since, he doesn't even know if they're alive, though he sometimes wonders about Dawn.

His natural ferocity and strength attracted many people when he first came to the city, and it was there that he found his first love: Cage fighting. Brutal, no holds barred fights with fists and feet. His small size was often a source of ridicule, before his opponents discovered that his size gave him a fair amount of speed and agility while his unnatural strength gave those blow a sting that no one could ignore. He had many victories, he had several defeats. But he loved every moment. It was after a particular bout in which he accidentally killed an opponent with a particularly vicious blow that he gained his nickname. They called him Dagger, because he was small but lethal when put in the right place. It stuck, later being shortened to Dag, an obvious knock at his stature. But he didn't care.

He stuck with this for some time, making it his sole source of employment. But an event outside the ring would lead him to perhaps an even bigger joy. While buying a sandwich at a convenience store, he was party to a hold up. The burglar, thinking him an easy mark, ordered him to give him his money. Feigning compliance, Dag suddenly shot a knee into the man's stomach, proceeding from there to beat the man into a near-death state. A minute later, a man walked through the door, utterly stunned at what he'd seen.

“You should be a bounty hunter,” the young looking fox-demon had said.

The idea stuck in Dag's head, and it wouldn't go away. A short time later, Dag received his bounty hunting license. The fox-demon contacted him not too much later, getting him into contact with his... well, his contacts. The Magic Gunsmith, Lucas, and a master assassin and expert marksman, who declined to give her name whenever he asked. They provided him with the weapons he now carries and the skills to use them effectively as a bounty hunter. Over time, he gained a reputation for himself. Not the best, but good enough for nearly any job. Which was good enough for him. He still enjoys cage fighting, regularly taking matches when he isn't chasing a mark, but he'll readily say his primary profession is that of a bounty hunter.

He'll be the first to tell you his life isn't perfect. But it's good enough for him.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Anastasia Kalashnikova

NICKNAMES: Anya, White Devil

SEX: Female

AGE: 85

AGE RESEMBLANCE: 12

RACE: Altered Elemental Demon (Metal)

OCCUPATION: Child Prodigy Violinist

APPEARANCE: Anastasia is very pale, being mistaken for a vampire at times. It's an easy enough mistake to make with her wine red eyes and raven hair, which she wears in waves down to the small of her back, making her skin appear even paler in contrast. She is often mistaken for a child, especially with her childlike personality. She has the beginnings of a petite build, like a gymnast, with slender limbs. Faint surgical scars crisscross her abdomen, from her chest and down her stomach.

Anya prefers to wear heavy clothes, even in summer. Under her mink furred great coat she wears a simple pair of jeans and a red shirt. She likes to wear a traditional ushanka that matches her coat, along with a pair of valenki on her feet. If it does get too hot, she substitutes a lighter brown jacket and a pair of boots.

HEIGHT: 4'6”

WEIGHT: 101lbs

ITEMS: None

WEAPONS: Anya can actually morph body parts into various guns due to the extensive modifications done to her. While she can make any weapon she has touched, there are a few weapons that were grafted specifically into her.

Red Rover: Anya can morph one of her forearms into the barrel and cylinder of a massive revolver with a wine red finish. The rounds are specially designed to home in on targets with great speed and agility, in addition to being just huge pieces of metal moving incredibly fast. The cylinder holds six shots, after which they reload automatically after ten seconds of downtime.

White Russian: Anya can morph one of her forearms into the barrel and slide of a massive semi-automatic with a pure white finish. The rounds are specially designed to work especially well on angelic or demonic opponents. The internal magazine holds ten rounds that require a ten second reload time.

ELEMENTS: Metal

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES:

Armory: Her primary ability is to morph her body parts to form any firearm or part of a firearm she has ever touched and examined, enhancing normal weapons with her demonic aura and keeping the aspects of more mystical arms. She makes an unlimited supply of the ammunition, but the weapons DO need to be reloaded periodically. It takes about a second for her to form most weapons, though larger ones will take more of her body and take longer.
The process is a little... strange. Her body is capable of actually changing her cells between organic and a special bio-metallic compound, turning skin and muscle and bone into metal. The shells propulsion is achieved using blasts of aura instead of gunpowder, though they oddly the smell, sound, and muzzle flash is still there.
-AK-47 – 30 rounds
-Makarov – 8 rounds
-GshG-7.62 – 500 rounds

Preternaturally Skilled Marksman: Anya has complete mastery of marksmanship, able to make nearly any shot with ease.

Gun-Fu Master: Anya is extremely skilled in using guns in close combat in conjunction with several close combat techniques. She has to make adjustments due to her immature body, but she has learned to use her small size to her advantage.

Metal Armor: Anya can cover herself in metal, forming a suit of pure white Russian-style plate armor. This metal is incredibly strong, capable of shrugging off an enormous amount of physical punishment, protecting her from cutting strikes, blunt force, even high-powered weapons fire. She can even regenerate it if its damaged, though not the flesh beneath it. As it metal, however, it is an excellent conductor for electricity and heat, which should be avoided.

Metal Control: Anya can freely control metal in the environment with her mind, though it gives her migraines if she does it too often.

HISTORY: Anastasia Kalashnikov is the granddaughter of the great Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov, her grandmother being a Metal Elemental summoned by the Thule Society during World War II. Anastasia had a relatively normal upbringing, with a loving mother and father in New Haven. She went to school, she made friends, got a job, all that good stuff. Sure, she saw the horrible things that happened with alarming regularity in New Haven, but it never occurred to her that anything would happen to her. Until it did.

The night of her fiftieth birthday, Anastasia was kidnapped while on her way back from a party. Her kidnapper was none other than Alexei Kalashnikov, a direct descendant of her grandfather. He hated her family line for their demon powers while he, the human descendant, was left with nothing. He lusted after that power, after her, and the respect his grandfather had gained from his revolutionary weapon designs. He wanted it all. And so, her life of hell began.

For the next thirty years he experimented on her, cutting her open and rearranging her insides, taking things out and adding new things. He tortured her for three decades, delighting in her screams and her pain. He changed her, took advantage of her powers to follow his own agenda of making himself known throughout the world. He gave her power beyond anyone's reckoning, though she never wanted it. If that wasn't enough, he even changed her form, turning her from a teenage bombshell into a prepubescent little girl. While he never assaulted sexually, he often too his lusts out on her with knives and pummeling blows from fists and feet.

After thirty years of hell, her chance finally came. The bastard object of all her hate left her unrestrained, thinking her broken. With her newly “gifted” power, she shot him through the chest and fled. Her psyche, however, was shattered. She now honestly thinks she's only twelve years old, even though it's been a few years since then. She was luckily picked up off the street by a nice family, but they have no idea the nightmares that still plague her.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Megan Fullgear

NICKNAMES: Meg, Shifter

SEX: Female

AGE: 64

BIRTHDAY: April 3rd

AGE RESEMBLANCE: 18

RACE: Animal Demon, Rabbit

OCCUPATION: Waitress/Cage fighter

ALLIANCE (IF APPLICABLE): None

APPEARANCE: Meg has three forms to choose from.

Human Form: Meg might as well have been a model. With her perfect hourglass figure, flirty, bright blue eyes, and impressive bust, she positively radiates sex appeal. And she knows it, carrying herself like the gift to men she knows she is. Her black hair shimmers with a healthy shine as it cascades down to the small of her back in waves, with two black rabbit ears poking out the top. A puffy bunny tail sits at the base of her spine, she has holes cut just so in her clothes so that it can poke through. Her skin is very tanned, giving her the appearance of someone of Arabic descent.

She picks her clothes to accentuate her body, generally wearing low cut tops and tight jeans when not on the job. Her uniform, which she picked out herself, consists of a black leather mini-skirt, a pair of fishnet stockings, high heels, and a black corset with white pinstripes running down it. Her fighting gear is tame in comparison, a simple pair of gray shorts and a gray sport top.

Demon Form: In her demon form, Meg grows short, soft, inky black fur all over her body. Her face morphs somewhat, gaining a few more rabbit like features while remaining as attractive as ever. This form gives her incredible leg strength, able to jump much higher than normal and move much faster. Her kicks also gain incredible strength.

Animal Form: Meg transforms into a large, black rabbit. Her legs are even stronger in this form, able to leap from one end of the city to the other. As you can imagine, getting kicked by her in this form would be bad.

HEIGHT: 5'8”

WEIGHT: 128lbs

ITEMS: None

WEAPONS: None

ELEMENTS: None

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES:

Fighting Conditioning: Meg has been extensively trained by Dag in the art of cage fighting. Through submissions, breaking of bones, and just overall ass kickings, Dag has given Meg a body capable of taking a serious amount of punishment and keep on coming. She isn't to Dag's level, what with his regeneration, but she can take having most of her bones broken and just keep coming.

Enhanced Speed: Meg is capable of moving at incredible speeds, her legs being awesomely powerful. In human form, she can temporarily break the sound barrier with a hard kick off the ground. In her demon form, she can more like this near constantly, with reflexes to match. Her animal form is even faster, though it isn't well suited for combat. This speed also means her kicks can be lethal.

Expert Fighter: Just as her body was conditioned by Dag's constant fights, her skills were taught by him as well. She utilizes her legs more, but the effect remains the same: A brutal, unpredictable style.

HISTORY: Meg had a good upbringing. Borne to a pair of wealthy parents, she was raised in the manner of a socialite, being shown off at parties and doted on with anything she wanted. She loved her life dearly, appreciating everything her parents did for her with a wisdom that defied her years. The fellow students of the private school were she was sent resented her for her wealth, but she accepted it with an air of enthusiasm, confident she could change their minds through being a model student. Instead, their resentment only grew as she appeared to be what they all wanted to be: perfect.

In an alley after school one day, Meg's classmates ganged up on her and beat her. The boys were prepared to rape her, though she begged for someone to save her. And someone did. The wolverine demon fell upon the students like the Wrath of God himself, throwing them around like ragdolls. When they had fled, Meg threw herself into her rescuers arms and sobbed, falling asleep safely in her knight's arms. When she came to, she was in a dingy apartment in the industrial area of New Haven. Her rescuer sat at her bedside, regarding her with his yellow eyes. He told her that now that she was up, she should leave. She begged to stay. He said he wouldn't keep a burden around. And so she told him to make her not a burden. And so the training began.

Dag was not a gentle teacher. Night after night he tossed Meg's broken body around, training her through pure experience. Many nights she thought she would die, being left bleeding on the cage floor. Though every morning she awoke, her wounds bound and a blanket over her. And the lessons would continue. Slowly, she noticed the change. She could strike back. His blows didn't hurt as much, and she could continue fighting even after being hurt badly. Her body became a weapon as lethal as any, though still nowhere near that of her rescuer. She became a force to be reckoned with, and after a scant year, he told her she was done.

Five years later, Meg gained a job working as a waitress in a seedy bar in Downtown. The main attraction for her hadn't been money or the free drinks. It had been the cage. The cage fights held nightly at the bar drew her in, giving her an insight into the mind of her rescuer, who she'd become rather intrigued by. The men who entered that cage weren't him, but they carried themselves the same, thought the same. Then, he came. The Dagger. In a fight like nothing she had ever seen, Dag utterly destroyed his opponent, not as the methodical teacher she had known but as a raging beast, pummeling his opponent with blows from all angles, ignoring the blows that rained down on him.

After the fight, she cornered him in his seat and demanded that he fight her like that. He accepted. She barely heard the starting bell when she found herself swarmed by his fists. But she was unrelenting, fighting back with equal ferocity. It was for naught, however, and he knocked her out with a stunning uppercut. As she lay broken in her infirmary bed, he came to visit her. He asked her why she had challenged him. Her answer was simple: She wanted him to look at her with the same eyes he had his opponent. Pure emotion had taken over his being in the ring, and she wanted those eyes upon her. That night, she got her wish.

In the years that have followed, she's kept up her work at the bar, and even fights every so often. While she may not be a help to Dag in his work, she's a safe haven for him to come to after a hard days work. That's good enough for her.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Raethar and Ramthar

NICKNAMES: The Twins of Terror, Chaos Knights, The Twisted Templars

SEX: None

AGE: Unknown

AGE RESEMBLANCE: Unknown

RACE: Formerly Dark Demons

OCCUPATION: Mass Murderers

ALLIANCE (IF APPLICABLE): None

APPEARANCE: Raethar and Ramthar are twins, almost identical in appearance. They are covered from head to toe in black armor. The armor is made of a multitude of black scales, sharp and jagged, the scales sticking out at random angles and lengths with no real pattern or symmetry. Their helmets are narrow with six thin eye slits, glowing blue light emitting from them. From the back of their helmets hang thin blue horse hairs, ragged and wrapped with thin chains. Raethar is thinner and somewhat taller, while Ramthar is more broad and shorter.

HEIGHT: 6'2” (Raethar), 5'9” (Ramthar)

WEIGHT: 187lbs (Raethar), 221 (Ramthar)

ITEMS: Armor of Chaos: The armor the twins wear is an incredible piece of equipment. Steeped in ancient arcane magics, it protects its wearer from magical and physical attacks, though how much is completely random. They may nullify it completely or it may not stop it at all. It also makes them incredibly strong and quite fast

WEAPONS: Weapons of Chaos: Raethar and Ramthar each wield a myriad of weapons. Dual swords, scythes, spears, halberds, sword and shield, warhammers, axes, all sorts of medieval close combat weapons. And they are constantly switching out, without any regard to the twins will.

ELEMENTS: Dark

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES: Weapons Masters: Raethar and Ramthar are masters of all close combat weapons. If it exists, they can wield it to a degree that is just downright scary. Period.

Soul Thralls: Raethar and Ramthar are no longer truly demons. Instead, they consist purely of the souls of countless psychopaths and murderers, clumped together by a mad sorcerer in his quest for true immortality. He succeeded, in a manner of speaking. The twins can't die, not really. Enough damage will cause them to disperse, only to reform around a week later in a random location. Furthermore, they can't actually heal from any wounds they receive, so continued engagements will leave them too damaged to fight effectively. Any wounds they do take, however, is strictly to their armor, as there is nothing inside it but a swirling mass of energy.

HISTORY: Raethar and Ramthar do not truly have a history of their own. Untold years ago, a mad sorcerer, who's name has been forgotten by history, created them in a desperate big for immortality. Molding the souls of countless murderers sent to the block for their crimes, he toiled to create an endless form which he could take over in order to live forever. He succeeded in his bid, but he underestimated his creations. The melding of so many crazed men, driven even further into madness by their new found state of existence, drove the two golems mad. They slew their creator before wandering the earth, slaughtering everything in their path. Over time, their wounds accumulated until they could be destroyed. Only for them to reform in Hell.

Over the years, the twins have amassed some of the largest bounties in all three worlds, as they indiscriminately kill anything in their path before finally succumbing to their accumulated wounds. Their few surviving victims describe them as merciless and crazed, their devilish cackling endlessly echoing in their nightmares for the rest of their lives.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Katherine Claud

NICKNAMES: Is known as Octopussy in many of her fetish videos, is known as Kat to her friends

SEX: Female

AGE: 167

AGE RESEMBLENCE: 23

RACE: Kraken Demon

OCCUPATION: Porn Star/Assassin

ALLIANCE (IF APPLICABLE): None

APPEARANCE: Katherine has three forms available to her.

Human Form: Katherine's human form simply oozes sexuality with her wide hips, slim waist, and large bust. Her high cheekbones, full lips and angled, ice blue eyes give her face a regal appearance. Her skin is the color of fine porcelain, without a blemish anywhere. It contrasts sharply with her raven black hair, which she has touched up with midnight blue highlights. She wears this hair straight down to her back, with a lock curling over her right eye.

She's normally seen wearing a simple purple blouse and a pair of white jeans. A pair of stylish sandals serve as footwear in fair weather.

Demon Form: In her demon form, Kat's skin morphs to be more akin to that of an octopus, keeping the soft and supple feel but with cool shades of blue and green throughout it. Her eyes turn to pure black, emitting an aura of both danger and alien sensuality. From her waist emerge fourteen octopus-like tentacles that hang to her feet, along with a flap of skin between them extending down like a miniskirt. The tentacles are incredibly strong, able to crush bone with ease, and are lined with suckers on their underside. And as a Kraken, she has the ability to breathe underwater and survive at any depth, as well as seeing clearly in even the murkiest or darkest waters. Her speed and agility is incredibly underwater, she can quite literally outrun pretty well anything in while in the water.

Animal Form: Kat's animal form takes the form of an octopus-like creature the size of a compact car, with tentacles about forty feet long. Small ridge-like horns over each of its black eyes hint at its demonic heritage, as do the barbs in the tips of each of its fourteen tentacles. A massive beak is nestled on her underside, within the circle of her tentacles. It has all the abilities of her demon form, but enhanced even further, doubling in strength, speed, and overall power.

HEIGHT: 5'9”

WEIGHT: 156lbs

ITEMS:

WEAPONS:

Tentacles: In her demon and animal forms, Kat has access to fourteen tentacles. These are incredibly powerful, able to crush bone to dust with ease in her demon form and crush solid titanium in her animal form. They are also deceptively fast, and can extend to twice their apparent length in an instant, catching an unwary opponent by surprise. The underside of each tentacle has an array of suckers along it, each one capable of varying degrees of suction independent of each other. With them, Kat can climb straight up glass buildings, suck the skin off a would-be attacker's face, or give an expert massage, and many things in between. In conjunction with the tentacles formidable strength, escaping her grasp can be quite difficult, though many would say it's more fun in her grip.

Flexible Skeleton: Kat's skeleton is incredibly flexible, giving her the capability of squeezing into very small spaces or bending in ways that would probably kill a human being. It also makes bone crushing attacks far less successful, as her bones just flex with the impact.

ELEMENTS: Water

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES: *Means Demon and Animal Form only. All techniques are more powerful in her demon and animal forms.

Toxic Cloud: Kat can exhale a cloud of toxic fumes from her mouth. These fumes can cause hallucinations and temporary numbness, being more potent in her animal and demon forms. Not an incredibly potent weapon, but one of the few she can use on a moments notice in all her forms.

Camouflage*: Just like an octopus, Kat's skin in her demon and animal forms can shift in color and even texture to match the environment. She can basically blend in perfectly with any surface, giving her an impressive amount of stealth.

Force Bubble: Kat forms a bubble of water with incredibly high surface tension and internal pressure. She can then throw it, and upon impact it explodes like a grenade, though with pure kinetic energy instead of fire and shrapnel.

Water Slicer: Kat fires a thin stream of water from her hand, the incredible water pressure cutting through even thick steel with ease. In her demon and animal forms, these can be fired from her tentacles as well, with even more cutting power.

Swallowing Bubble: Kat forms a bubble of water around her targets head from the water in the air. She can then either leave them to drown or force the water down their trachea to explode their lungs. Often used as a silent assassination technique.

Drowning Pool*: An extension of her Swallowing Bubble technique used as a trap. The extra power her demon and animal forms lends her allows her to leave a pool of water on the ground. When someone steps in it, the water will quickly crawl up their body and force its way into their lungs down their throat. Another technique used primarily for assassination, though it can also be used during combat to deny the opponent room to move.

Flowing Armor: Kat makes a formfitting sheath of crystal-clear water covering her body. This water is in a constant state of flux, flowing around her at a deceptively slow rate. Any physical blows are swept off course by the raging current just under the surface, and are slowed by the water pressure. Punches, kicks, even things like sword swings and stabs as well as bullets are rendered far less effective. Naturally, the fact that she is surrounded by water means that fire is far less effective then otherwise. Her own attacks are relatively unaffected, as the water automatically retreats from the effected area just before the blow hits.

Shielding Current*: Another evolution of another power, Kat forms a massive ball of water around her. This ball is spinning incredibly fast, basically catching and throwing anything it catches. She can't move while using it though.

Water Manipulation: Kat is more than capable of manipulating water in the environment, throwing it around in walls of water to slam into a target or surround them and crush them with the pressure. This becomes incredibly dangerous when fighting underwater, as she can strike from anywhere at a moments notice.

Blood Lock*: Over half of blood's volume is a suspension liquid known as plasma. Plasma is ninety-two percent water, and as such, is Kat's to command. To some extent. With a few moments of concentration, she can cause the opponent's blood flow to back up. The body doesn't like this, and it goes into a brief period of lock-down in an attempt to fix the problem. It's a very brief window, only a second at the most, but it's a second in which they'll find their movements greatly slowed, every twitch of their muscles and every breath coming with agonizing pain. Their very heartbeat will cause damage to their heart and even more intense pain.

HISTORY:
In Kat's relatively short life, she has encountered the greatest joys life has to offer, and been inflicted with its greatest suffering. She has been loved, and she has been betrayed. She has been cared for, and she has been tortured. She has gained everything she ever wanted, and she has had it all taken from her.

Kat was actually born in the realm of the humans, and has lived there all her life. While discrimination for her heritage is common, she has gotten by through her beauty and wit. She had always attracted a fair number of suitors, and it wouldn't be inaccurate to say she hasn't enjoyed the company of quite a few men, and even more women. Fifty years old and with a body to kill, she could have anyone she wanted, and she knew it. But even all her liaisons and confidence hadn't prepared her for the vixen that stole her heart.

Her name was Ember, the daughter of a Flame Elemental and a Fox Demon. Kat couldn't take her eyes off her from the moment that she had walked into the club where Kat was working as a waitress. She didn't even have to push, for Ember had eyes on her as well. And Ember took what she wanted. The night that followed curls Kat's toes with the memory of it, even today. Their relationship was far from perfect, their two dominant personalities clashing with regularity and ferocity. But anyone could tell that both of them were deeply in love, and neither could remain mad for long. Especially not after their partner decided to make it up to them.

But Ember had skeletons in her closet, skeletons that would be revealed not a year after they met. Ember owed quite a bit of money to a powerful group of demons, money that she had no way of repaying. But the leader of the group had been watching them, and had grown rather interested in her lover. He gave Ember a three-part ultimatum: Pay them back every cent, turn herself in to pay for her debt, or turn Katherine over to them. Under the guise of a romantic picnic in the countryside, Ember led her lover into the wilderness, where the demons lay in wait. She begged for her to help her as they ravaged her, but Ember had already gone, fleeing before they decided they wanted their money anyway.

They kept her as a pet and a toy for nearly three decades. At one point she had a child, a baby girl, which they allowed her to keep until her twentieth birthday. Then they raped and killed the girl in front of her, turning on her while her blood still covered their bodies. Their message was simple: We own you, and will do what we will to you. It was a message she received all too well, and had had enough of.

In the dead of night, once they had exhausted themselves of her, she walked among them and killed them, silently drowning them with their own sweat and bodily fluids. She made her way out of their hide-away and back to the city, where she had determined to make a living. While many would lose the joy of contact with another body from her experiences, she had learned to compartmentalize the good and the bad, and quickly found a field in which she had a bit of skill. Pornography. Her first video became an almost instant sensation, earning her the set name Octopussy and cementing her as a figure in the world of smut. She's quite proud of her work, seeing it as a form of expression of the basest of instincts rather than a perversion.

Life has dealt her many a bad hand in her short life, but she is determined to turn it around one way or another.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Malcolm Altweiler

NICKNAMES: Mage Killer

SEX: Male

AGE: 21

AGE RESEMBLANCE: 21

RACE: Human

OCCUPATION: Assassin

APPEARANCE: Malcolm is a rather unassuming character. He's very lean, bordering on skinny, with a messy head of auburn hair. His right eye is green while his left eye is ice blue and lacks a pupil, actually being blind in that eye. The left side of his face is marred by a skew of electrical burn scars, with his left arm having the same from the hand down to his elbow.
He generally wears baggy cargo pants and tight t-shirts, with a baggy hoodie over them. Black leather gloves are a constant, as are his white trainers. Sometimes where's a black sling-style backpack for extra gear.

HEIGHT: 5'6”

WEIGHT: 121lbs

ITEMS: He's always got a snack of some kind on him.

WEAPONS: M93R: Adapted to mount a suppressor, uses exclusively with extended twenty-five round magazines. Matte black finish.

Nightshade: A suppressor with a unique property. Any round that passes through it gains the ability to cut through obstacles with almost no hindrance, slicing through thick walls to reach their targets without losing momentum and thus lethality. However, the magic starts to unravel after the round hits the first barrier in its path, completely wearing off after 50 meters of travel.

Shadow Stakes: Five stakes made of black rock, when thrown into an objects shadow they act as anchors, holding them in place. It doesn't matter how strong they are or how fast they were going, the only way to regain the ability to move is by pulling the stake out or removing their shadow from the equation.

M18 Claymore Mine: Your standard Claymore, Malcolm is fond of using these as ambush weapons and traps. Various triggers are used, from your standard command detonation, motion sensors, and trip wires, to more exotic ones such as aura sensors, seismic triggers, and heat sensors.
He carries varying amounts, depending on the job.

ELEMENTS: Shadow

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES: Wealth: Malcolm's inherited the family fortune, an amount in excess of several hundred million. He's mostly left it alone in various accounts, not caring about it beyond paying for his needs between jobs. Speaking of jobs, he charges a good amount, which keeps those accounts nice and full.

True Sight: Malcolm's left eye Is blind. Most of the time. The reason for this is that it's actually powerful magical artifact that allows him to see the Truth of beings. When activated, his entire eye turns black, with a cross made of four outward blades appearing in the same ice blue it normally is. Just by looking at someone with this eye activated, he can see the Truth of them, seeing their talents, their elements, their skills. He doesn't know this information consciously, but in his subconscious mind he knows exactly what they can do and what to expect from them.

Excellent Marksman: Malcolm is a very good marksman, able to make difficult shots with a little preparation.

Null Presence: Malcolm doesn't seem to exist. Magical senses seem to slide over him like he wasn't even there, though if he starts shooting or sprinting the effect is lessened, and once they see him it's hard for him to escape their notice again.

Shadow Melding: Malcolm can bend the shadows around him to hide from view. Nothing special, just hiding. He can deepen the shadows to hide from enemies with night vision, though thermal and aura sensing will see right through it.

Familiar Control: Malcolm has control over familiars that he is contracted or bound to. Through this bond, he can issue them orders mentally and always knows where they are. They can be summoned to him at any time from anywhere. Should they be injured, he can banish them to another plane, where they'll be fully healed within twenty-four hours no matter how badly injured they were.

Dibats: Malcolm can call these small bat-like familiars to aid in reconnaissance. Each one has incredible vision and hearing, and they can link themselves with him to allow him to see and hear through them. He can have upwards of a dozen of them active at a time, though he has hundreds in reserve. They are, however, mostly harmless. As sharp as their teeth are, they're still very small, about the size of a vampire bat.

Molcus: Malcolm can use a group of mole-like familiars to help in scouting out the area or setting up his traps and ambushes. They can quickly dig through dirt, rock, even concrete to get to where they're needed. Once there, they can open small portals to his armory and grab things like bombs, triggers, trip-lines, and other assorted goodies. They are, of course, incapable of defending themselves, so getting them out of the area before the enemy reaches them is paramount. Malcolm can call on a dozen of these as well.

Siegfried: Malcolm's main familiar is a hero of old. Spirit bound into corporeal form by dark means, Siegfried is bound to serve Malcolm until his death. Standing at six feet tall, Siegfried's hair is long, down to the small of his back, and is the color of spun silver. His eyes are a bright bluish green, and his skin is quite pale. He is clothed in a suit of silver plate armor, ornate designs with a tree and leaf motif covering it, for it depicts the World Tree itself, Yggdrasil. The armor has thick pauldrons and gauntlets, and the knees have sharp blades designed as a leafy branch sprouting from them.

-Dragon Slayer: Siegfried as a mortal was one of the few humans to have ever slain a dragon alone and lived to tell the tale. His new existence only enhances the abilities he used to do this. He is incredibly strong, cracking concrete and denting thick armor plating with his bare hands with ease. He's also quite swift for his size, and his reflexes are incredible. His swordsmanship is second to none, it would not be an exaggeration to name him as one of the greatest swordsman to live.
Perhaps his most unique trait is his devastating effect on dragon-kind. His magical state has actually turned his dragon slaying ability into a true effect. Any wound he inflicts on a dragon or member of dragon-kind seems to open just a little more or grow just a little worse.

-Balmung, The Streak of Screaming Silver: Siegfried's sword is none other than his sword of legend. A greatsword nearly as long as he is tall, the two-handed hilt is wrapped in gray leather. The pommel is thick steel, useful for bashing, and the cross-guard is ornate but functional. The sheathe is dull gray with gleaming silver inlays of falcons in flight. The blade itself gleams like silver, giving it its title, and is indestructible on top of being sharp enough to hue through all but the strongest of materials.
When invoked, however, Balmung can be swung at a speed that screams past the sound barrier and sends a wave of solid sound forth. This wave, and the swing it comes from, have the power to hue through anything, cutting down the thickest of trees or cleaving buildings in half. However, this is taxing on him, and can only be used once every few hours.

-Eldritch Indemnity, The Blood of the Slain Beast: Siegfried bathed in the blood of the dragon he slew, and it gave him great power. His entire body is immune to magic and aura based offenses, none can break through its power. Save for a spot on his back, of course. A spot the size of his fist in the shape of a tree leaf is still vulnerable to these offenses. It also granted his body great durability against physical attacks, aided by his own grueling regimen of training and fighting.

-Dragons Heart, The Gift of the Feast: Siegfried consumed the dragon's blood and heart in his mortal existence, and the summoning of his spirit have turned that into a core of his being. His heart is that of a dragon, and with it come the gifts he gained in life, made more powerful than before. He can understand the language of beasts, being able to talk to any animal. They see him as he is, a noble being who will not harm them unless they seek to harm him, and will treat him as such.
The second gift is perhaps the most dangerous. The gift of prophesy. Siegfried can gain tiny glimpses into the future, often jumbles of images that he cannot understand. In battle, however, he can gain the occasional foresight as to his opponents strikes. It's not often, only once per conflict most of the time save when they drag on. They're also not exactly prone to giving him the most lead time, often happening just before the strike in question, leaving him only time for the most desperate of counters.

HISTORY: Malcolm is a strange fellow. He was born into a wealthy family, had a loving home. But he hated it. Hated every moment of it. His first murder was actually his mother at age four. He pushed her off the balcony, the police deemed it an accident. His father was next, the breaks on his car mysteriously cut. Leaving poor Malcolm all alone.
Just as he liked it. Malcolm delved into the art of magic, an art his parents had refused to allow, with a zeal that frightened his teacher. He wanted to learn everything he could, everything there was. Unfortunately, the teacher had found knew only one form of magic: the creation of familiars. Malcolm delved into it anyway, the control of other beings appealing to his dark frame of mind. His first familiars were simple, but he gradually got better.
At the same time, his access to his family funds was limited. A teenager, the courts appointed him a legal guardian who was in charge of his funds, and even their access was limited. The answer came to him quickly, of course. Murder for money. It was easy, he'd done it before, and everyone had someone they wanted dead.
A few years pass, and he finds himself in a dark room. Bones strewn around the room and blood filled a cauldron. With the aid of his teacher, Malcolm bound a powerful spirit to the blood and compressed the bones and blood into the form of the man. Siegfried, a hero of legends. The hero's arms and armor formed from the screaming spirits of those sacrificed, and the contract was complete. His first task? Killing his new master's teacher.
The duo have made a name for themselves over the years, though Malcolm prefers to keep himself in the shadows. Being known gets you killed, afterall.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Tair

NICKNAMES: Hellgate, The Hero of Turgaska, The Butcher of Cleotem, and many, many others

SEX: Male

AGE: 37

AGE RESEMBLANCE: Unknown

RACE: Human

OCCUPATION: None

APPEARANCE: As Tair is permanently bonded to his armor, its appearance masks his own. The armor encompasses him entirely in a suit of brilliant gold gothic plate. Ornate etchings of fabulous palaces and gardens crawl along its surface, all burning and glowing with faint heat. The armor isn't bulky, rather it appears to have been crafted to almost hug the contours of his body. It is sleek and athletic, clearly crafted after the form of a predator. The sharp edges of the individual plates are designed to slide along one another as to not hamper maneuverability and flexibility. The helm is fully enclosed and curves smoothly, the face an unbroken plane of featureless gold save for the curved eye-slits through which brilliant blue eyes peek. The sides of the helmet have more ornate carvings of fire and death with a pair of fox ear ornaments pointing up from the helm. From the back of the helmet sprouts a mane of brilliant crimson hair that reaches down to his waist. A large fox pelt hangs around his neck, the paws linked to the armor on his chest. The pelt is that of a golden fox with eight tails hanging down to his knees. A myriad of red silk and black chain belts rest around his waist haphazardly with an ornate sheath for his blades on either side.

While his human form is fully encompassed, rents and damage to the armor during battle reveal heavily scarred and tanned skin with sinewy muscle.

HEIGHT: 5'10”

WEIGHT: 212lbs

ITEMS: Armor of the Scorched Earth: Tair's armor is an incredibly powerful artifact from his world. It enhances his strength and speed to supernatural levels and protects him from even heavy physical offenses. Magics, however, are another matter entirely. Flames and heat of all kinds are completely ineffective against him, the deity that dwells within it is a goddess of destruction and flame and holds dominion over such things. Her sheer power protects against other magics as well, though in its current state only the weakest of magics will be completely nullified. The armor itself can be damaged, but completely destroying it is almost impossible. It regenerates itself very quickly, sealing rents and punctures. This ability also manifests in the armor's ability to manibulate itself. It can open rents in its own make to remove obstructions or allow its prisoner to receive medical attention.

In addition, the armor keeps him alive through almost anything. It heals his own wounds, though slower than it does itself and with a great deal more pain. It also sustains him, Tair has no need for food or water, though he can still take them in if he chooses. Its also keeping him from aging, making him functionally immortal unless he is killed
.
The pelt that hands from the armor is said to be the pelt of the goddess herself, and it bestows the control of heat and fire to the wearer of the armor. All flames are Tair's to bend to his will... if he could control it fully. His fractured mind makes fine control difficult, only the broadest of controls. When She takes over, however...

WEAPONS: Arduen and Urtain: Twin double-edged blades crafted of almost pearlescent metals with gold and ivory ornamentation. The pearl-like qualities of the blades themselves comes from their origins, the fangs of a truly massive dragon. They are identical to one another, double-edged broadsides with a slight curve towards the point. The great smith Arkade crafted them into preternaturally sharp swords, capable of cleaving through stone and steel with ease. And, as the dragon they came from, they are fully capable of releasing a maelstrom of flames. The swords surround themselves with a swirling vortex of dragonfire on command, from simply setting the blades alight to forming a tornado of fire to scorch the area.

ELEMENTS: Fire

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES: Master Swordsman: Tair has lived by the strength and ability of his sword. While the length of time might be short compared to such things as demons and angels, few of them can claim to have been in a truly constant state of war for that entire time. Tair's skills have been forged in battles that have lasted years without rest, and as such he has truly become a swordsman of the highest caliber. He abuses the strength and speed that his armor grants him, as well as his durability. His sword isn't one of grace, its one of ferocity and violence. And he is very, very good at it.

Null Aura: As Tair is not a being from this Plane of existence, he does not possess aura, nor do his attacks or his weapons. Anything that affects aura or senses it will not work on him, he is a blank. By the same token, however, anything that requires aura to function is alien to him and unusable. Neither can he learn the magic of this world, at least without finding a way to tap into his own magical power to improvise.

Scorched Air: Tair is almost constantly surrounded by a heat haze due to his armor. The air several meters aroujnd him is constantly hotter than the ambient temperature, ranging from sweat inducing to setting fires. He can change this very, very rapidly, either by his own demands or his own mental state. The constant haze blurs his image, making it harder to actually hit anything specific.

Tails of Flame: One of the easier to use techniques Tair has discovered, he can manipulate streams of flames extending from the tails of the fox pelt or from his swords. Or all of them at once. These streams of fire can be used to lash and whip and cut, slicing through things as easily as any sword and burning whatever they touch at the same time. Each one can be formed to be several meters in length, allowing him to reach more distant targets.

Burning Step: Tair can move from place to place by traveling through a strange Plane, disappearing in a burst of smoldering ash before reappearing elsewhere in the same manner. He can make a few short steps every few seconds but a longer distance will render him tired and require rest.

Vile Beast: The beast within his armor is constantly poking, prodding, waiting for his control to waver. When it does, it manifests in changes to his armor... and his power. The fingers of his armor turn into wicked claws unsuited to holding a blade, the helmet warps into a more vulpine shape complete with a fanged maw of jagged metal teeth. The air around him becomes hot enough to cause serious burns and set fire to anything that comes close enough to him, his image wavering and shimmering violently. The sheer amount of malice that comes from him is an almost physical thing, causing feelings of revulsion and... wrongness in those that see it. When She is in control, he becomes a crime against nature itself.

HISTORY: Tair is not from this Plane, or Heaven or Hell. His Plane has no real name in relation to those, not that Tair would know it if it did. He was born a slave, as all men were there. A servant to a powerful Master, a Matron of the Empress's Court. While he was young, he spent his years sleeping on rough straw and begging scraps from the table. Her daughters entertained themselves making him do tricks for food and attention. When they weren't finding excuses to beat him or take the lash to him, at least. As he grew older, his duties grew and the beatings became more scarce. He was gifted to the Master's youngest daughter on her Name Day, a tool to be used for the breeding of her own daughters or slaves. Her lusts were... violent. Especially after the firstborn was male, a bad omen. The second, at the least, was a daughter. He would've been killed had it not been
.
But after the abuse he sustained, he had begun planning. While she was still tired from her labor, he stole away from his owner. He killed a wall guard and ran, choosing to live his life in squalor and hiding rather than continue like that. Surviving in the capital's underbelly required him to do some unsavory things. He lied, he cheated, he stole, and he killed, all in the name of survival. It didn't last long.

He'd been driven into the catacombs, deep under the city. The guards were after him, a runaway slave. Some of them from the very house of his former Master. He ran, deeper and deeper. Into places that light had never touched, navigating blindly and stumbling over the bones of long dead monarchs and nobles. And the deeper he got, the louder the sounds of metal clashing echoed. It wasn't the sound of plate boots on stone, it was something harsher.

The light of the fire after so much darkness almost blinded him. The sound of hammer on steel was deafening. And the shape at the anvil... was not human. He was massive. His bulk filled the room he toiled in, twice the height and bulk of a mountain bear with four arms and covered in fur that shone like steel. Iron hooves sparked at the stone under him with every shift he made, the rapid hammering of a smith at work drowning out the tortured screams they must have made.

And even though Tair had hidden, even though he could not have seen him... he spoke to him. He spoke of the world. He spoke of the positions of men and women, of slaves and masters. He told Tair of the secrets of the Magic that divided them. He told him of the gods and goddesses that decreed that his life must be suffering. The great smith spoke of great arms and armor that he had crafted, of weapons that had cleaved mountains in two and of shields that had held back the very ocean. And he spoke of regret that he had not seen the machinations of the very pieces he was crafting.

He moved then, his bulk seeming to fade away as he moved deeper into the catacombs. He spoke of a choice that Tair could make, a choice to be more than a slave and less than a man. To choose power over his own soul. The sounds of boots on stone sounded behind him. A brilliant suit of armor lay on the anvil, faint whispers sounding in his mind. Promises of death behind and life ahead. His hand reached out, fingertips brushed ever so gently over metal.

And then blackness. Pain. Fire. Twenty years of death, before nothingness swallowed him and he found himself somewhere else.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Isfet

NICKNAMES: War, The First Horseman, The Crimson Rider, The End Bringer, and countless others

SEX: Male

AGE: 3303 physically, immeasurable spiritually

AGE RESEMBLANCE: 34

RACE: Godlike

OCCUPATION: Isfet himself is unemployed and homeless. He is the chosen vessel of War, the First Horseman and Herald of the Apocalypse

ALLIANCE (IF APPLICABLE): Isfet is aligned with no one, War's sole loyalty is to Fate itself

APPEARANCE: Isfet in his mortal form is a tall and especially broad shouldered man. His ebony skin ripples with powerful muscles that wouldn't be out of place on a professional body builder or athlete, though he manages to avoid appearing utterly grotesque. That same skin is marred by countless scars from varying sources. Bullet wounds, burns, slashes, gouges, his frame has been tormented by an incredible variety of misfortunes, he's lucky not to have been disfigured. His hair is kept in a neat set of cornrows while his eyes peak out from under bushy brows as twin sapphires, almost unnaturally bright and piercing. In this form, his homelessness is apparent from his attire being cheap, baggy shirts and stained cargo pants with a pair of worn sneakers. He keeps his hands wrapped in bandages, though they're constantly frayed and stained with old blood.

As War, his appearance changes. He becomes taller and broader, and his vary blood vessels glow with power to reveal a network of red light throughout his body. His cornrows unravel and his hair grows in length to become a messy set of dreadlocks reaching down between his shoulder blades. His eyes glow with power, turning from bright sapphires to burning rubies of baleful light. His attire changes to something befitting the very physical embodiment of conflict as well, ornate iron armor with a predatory motif forming around his body and legs, while his forearms are encased in vambraces, leaving his upper arms and hands bare. Over his head forms a crimson hood with thin chainmail of gleaming silver over it. At his will, broad wings of blazing feathers erupt from his back, stretching twice his height in their span.

HEIGHT: 6'9”, 7'3” as War

WEIGHT: 225 lbs, 355 lbs as War

ITEMS: Raiment of the First: The Raiment of the First is War's battle armor. It is incalculably old, existing since the universe began and War came into being. It can resist all but the heaviest of blows and is, in fact, a sentient being capable of assisting its wearer in combat by directing their limbs in ways they may not have noticed were necessary. The armor itself is also fully capable of regenerating any damaged pieces, though this can take some time based on the level of damage ranging from a few minutes to a full day for complete destruction. Much like their owner, the only way to truly destroy the Raiment of War is to end all conflict in the universe, which would destroy not just the Raiment and War, but the universe itself.

Desolation: War's fiery horse, Desolation is less animal and more a construct of War's own will. Do not allow that to fool you, this construct is sentient and, in fact, far more intelligent than a mere horse. And far more malicious. Desolation's hide is made of the ashes of those killed in war and his innards burn with the fires of their wrath and hatred, the desolation of their lives making him what he is. He can travel at speeds beyond the sound barrier and never tires, as he has no muscles to burn. The beast is far more resilient than any creature has a right to be, however he can be temporarily destroyed. Temporarily being the key, as a construct of War's will he can simply be willed back into existence at any moment War sees fit.

WEAPONS:

Calamity: Calamity is a khopesh of grotesque length, nearly three and a half feet of blade and a hilt fit for one or two hands. The sword is wrought or black iron, with no shine to the blade in any light. It is simple and without ornamentation, an instrument of death and nothing more. The blade, much like War's armor, is nearly impossible to destroy and its edge is preternaturally sharp, fully capable of cleaving through the armor of another immortal with the strength War can put behind its edge.

Ruination: A black iron glaive two meters in length and of much the same construction as Calamity, Ruination is a deadly weapon in its own right. As with its brother weapon, Ruination is without ornamentation or flair, simply designed to kill with ease. It is incredibly difficult to destroy and can cut through any mortal and most immortal materials with ease. In the hands of War, it is a weapon that has spelled the end for armies.

The Chariot of War: This item is shrouded in mystery for the time being...

ELEMENTS: Fire as it is known to mortal beings

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES:

Aspect of Conflict: War is not a living being in the strictest sense, rather he is the manifestation of conflict on a universal scale. This is not simply violence or warfare, but conflict all the down to the subatomic level which exists in order for the universe to exist. As such, without stopping all of this, it is impossible to truly destroy War. He can be sealed, though this is a difficult prospect at best, and he can even be temporarily dissipated with a great enough effort, but truly destroying him would mean destroying the universe itself. As an aspect, he regenerates at a frightful rate when not being injured, fully healing from even the most grievous of wounds in mere minutes, from near total destruction in a bare day.

Embodiment of War: War is, well, War itself. He is a master of all forms of combat, whether they be past, present, or even future. The greatest of swordsmen are but students in the face of his own skill, the greatest masters of the martial arts simply amateurs. He uses this to brutal effect, abusing the flaws in all forms of the arts with arts known only to him. Matched with his godly strength, fully capable of causing tectonic shifts with a slam of his hand or flinging buildings, he is a combatant that almost certainly cannot be matched in head-on battle. But then, he knows all forms of tactical and strategic maneuvering as well, so attempting to best him in these arenas is a challenging prospect in itself.

Endowment of Conquest: An extension of his will and his mastery of combat, War is capable of taking any object and using it as a weapon. But most objects simply wouldn't survive more than a single blow when being used as his weapon, and for this he imposes his will upon them to turn them into his weapon. This gives them a measure of durability akin to a weapon worthy of his immortal frame and allows them to injure even godlike beings such as himself.

Flames of War: The flames that War controls are the fires of warfare themselves, the physical manifestation of all-consuming violence as the majority of beings sees it: and unending tide of flames, a might conflagration that consumes all in its path. As such, resistance to fire is meaningless in their path. It may bestow some measure of protection, but it will not prevent the inevitable. And with his ability to mentally summon and manipulate them, the Flames of War are never far.

Conflict Control: War is able to control the very energies of conflict, the manifestations that give him existence. In its raw form it appears as blobs of orange energy with a deep, black core. He can utilize this to cause conflict in whatever this energy touches. He could force it into the ground to cause earthquakes, make a building shake itself apart, or force an opponent's pieces to explosively separate from one another. Of course, he is limited with this power as the energies are want to separate, at conflict with themselves, and must actually physically force them into what he wants to affect.

The Touch of Chaos: War's mortal name is Isfet, which in the original Egyptian was the name of chaos itself. The chaos of war extends to his very presence and should he not reign it in, his presence changes reality around him. The air becomes tinged with dust and grime, and the shrieks and sounds of battle emanate from everywhere. Artillery strikes fall at random, storms of arrows and rains of javelins or missiles appear out of nowhere. War is able to manipulate this field somewhat, summoning these occurrences as yet another weapon to use against his foes. He can freely extend it to cover all the way out to a kilometer should he wish, or keep it tightly reigned so as not to effect the area at all.

The Seals of Armageddon: The Seals of Armageddon are powerful beyond even the reckoning of the gods, and even War cannot say what placed them upon him. For now, they are dormant, but should something occur to release even one of them, it is unknowable what might arise from such an event. But it most certainly would not be pleasant for anyone in War's path.

HISTORY: In the beginning, there was nothing. And in that nothingness stirred the beginnings of conflict. As the Creator stirred the inky blackness, he began the wheels that spurned on the first being of truly malevolent intent in this universe: before even the universe had fully taken shape, War was born. In this shapeless, formless existence he suffered his urges for violence, an act that had not yet even been created, and conquest, a state that had yet to be discovered. He could only watch, simmering in his hate, as the Creator played with his Creation. When he created Man, War saw opportunity. He watched Men expand, witnessed their capacity for violence, and sought a vessel.

It was many, many years before he found one, a homeless wrench in the New Kingdom of Egypt. The boy had been declared cursed and cast out from his home, beaten and abused whenever he so much as looked at another. War fell upon him, whispering in his ears tales of vengeance and slaughter that he could bring upon them should he open himself to violence, he had only to let War in. The boy resisted, at first, truly believing that if he simply allowed them to abuse him long enough that they would accept his curse as being lifted. But War goaded them on with whispers in their ears to further acts of cruelty on him until he could no longer stand it. Opening himself to War, he followed War's instructions to the letter.

He fell upon his tormentors one by one in the dead of night, visiting such violence against them that it struck fear into the hearts of those that remained. After the first, they beat him cruelly, hoping to leave him dying on the ground so he could not strike again. War kept him alive, and after the second they sought to kill him outright with swords and stones. But again War kept him whole, and another was found, more brutally disposed of than the last. They began seeking to placate him, visiting him with gifts and kind words of apology. When the next one was found, his gift firmly lodged in his backside, they turned to pleading. After the next, to worship. But he did not stop, not until they were all dead.

From there they wandered, from battlefield to battlefield, sating War's lust for violence. Isfet became numb to the depravity War urged him towards, seeking to live his life quietly. But War ever found a way to push him back into the fields where he would bath in blood and gore and glory. It wasn't until nearly a thousand years after that fateful day when a powerful sorcerer, using a spell conceived by a god itself, sealed War and Isfet in a tomb, hopefully for all time.

But there is nigh-on nothing capable of sealing War forever. Cracks appeared in his tomb two millennia after the seal was placed, his tomb moved to a museum in what had been known as New England. And as War burst from his prison, he swore he would find the decedents of that accursed spellslinger and make them pay for their ancestor’s trickery.
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Karas
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Level 5 Commoner
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
FULL NAME: Lucas Einhetz

NICKNAMES: The Magic Gunsmith

SEX: Male

AGE: 19

AGE RESEMBLANCE: 19

RACE: Human

OCCUPATION: Gunsmith and gunman as the situation calls for it

APPEARANCE: Lucas is the embodiment of lean muscle, just being lanky and thin overall without any bulk whatsoever. He keeps his long, dirty blonde hair tied up in a ponty tail with a bit of black ribbon, the tail reaching all the way down to the small of his back. His right eye is a prosthesis, carefully crafted to be utterly indistinguishable from the emerald green of his natural left eye. When he engages it, however, a tiny targeting reticle can be seen flitting around the iris should you be in a position to take a close look.

His choices in clothing would be called utilitarian or bland, t-shirts and cargo pants with an abundance of pockets being the norm. His shooting gloves are rarely left behind, the same with his coat and its assortment of even more pockets and pouches. He's got a pretty large belt pouch that he likes to keep handy, too, and if need be he's got some nifty body armor. And yes, there's pockets and pouches on it, too.

HEIGHT: 5'7”

WEIGHT: 154lbs

ITEMS: Various tools 'n parts for gunsmithing and the fabrication of firearms are pretty much always on his person... somehow. His pockets have pockets. There's plenty of ammo to go along with them, too. His eye is somewhat more impressive, featuring highly advanced programs to help calculate all the various variables that will affect his shooting to make him all the more accurate. It can see into the infrared, ultraviolet, and even aura spectrums to make sure very little can hide from him. All this and it can zoom up to twenty-five times with exceptional filter systems to keep dimming from being a problem.

WEAPONS: Adler: The eagle is a .457 caliber top break revolver with a seven-round cylinder and ornate engravings of blowing winds and eagle feathers crawling all over the weapon. While its caliber would be fearsome enough to most foes, the Adler's cylinder is imbued with powerful magics to grant the rounds the ability to seek their targets, arcing around cover and curving through the air at angles that are quite a bit sharper than physics would argue is possible. On impact, the rounds convert their mass into energy in a rather violent explosion, carrying enough force to rip your average commercial car to shreds and certainly enough to render a human being into so much red mist. It's generally carried in a drop holster on his right thigh.

Krankheit: The base Glock 18 selective fire machine pistol has been extensively modified, carrying an extended magazine with spatial warping enchantments to support a full sixty rounds. Runic enchantments in the grip act to lower recoil and muzzle climb extensively, allowing far more precision and control during even sustained firing. The slide and barrel are further enhanced to keep from sustaining any wear and tear from constant firing and the dangers of overheating. Each round that enters the chamber is imbued with a curious enchantment that causes wounds to fester immediately, growing diseased and slowly beginning to decay. Along with the risks of such infections, the wounds attract flies and over insects with a supernatural lure to distract and bring further risks from infection or being bitten and, over time, eaten by the horde. With proper treatment and disinfection, however, the wounds will lose their sickly status within a few days. Lucas usually keeps Krankheit in a shoulder holster on his right side.

Sturm: Sturm was, at one time, an MG42 light support machine gun until Lucas got a hold of it. The MG42 could already spit death at a furious rate, but with some rather dubious parts and further abuse of magics, Lucas has given it a firing rate that could only be considered unholy. The weapon has been extensively reinforced and enchanted just to take the force of this furious fusilade of 7.92mm rounds from its spatially warped drum magazine of four hundred and fifty rounds at a rate just north of two-thousand rounds of electric death per minute. Each round that explodes from the chamber of this weapon is wrapped in chain lightning, delivering searing shocks to whatever it hits and everything around it. Individually these will cause a good deal of pain and some burns, but with the sheer numbers of these rounds the lightning becomes a true storm of electrical wrath. The weapon is usually carried on a sling which is also enchanted to lower the weight of the weapon and actually aid its wearer in firing it so that it may be used more akin to an assault rifle than the heavy weapon it truly is.

Donner: Thunder made manifest. Donner is a 105mm assisted bolt-action sniper rifle and siege cannon built from the barrel and other pieces of an M101 howitzer. Donner's sheer weight precludes any attempts from a mere human to even carry the thing, which required a very powerful spatial warping enchantment to allow Lucas to summon the weapon from wherever it might be to wherever he is at that moment in time. It would take a truly godly force to prevent this transition. Even then, the weapon is a full eight and a half feet in length, making it unsuitable for use in a standing or unbraced position for anything but a true giant. The rifle sports a mechanically deployable bipod two feet behind the muzzle brake for ease of use and an incredibly powerful scope fully capable of integrating with Lucas's eye for precision delivery of rounds at ranges well in excess of three miles. Each magazine holds three rounds and, due to their sheer size, a full bolt-action would be impossible. Thus, the action is mechanically assisted to complete the process. The weapon is further enchanted with recoil dampening and sound dampening to keep the firer from going deaf, but even with those and the reciprocating barrel the recoil is tremendous, as fitting what used to be an artillery piece. Each round can be custom enchanted before firing, giving Lucas a selection of death to choose from.
Buster – Buster rounds are made for penetrating and destroying hardened targets such as hardened bunkers or warships. The rounds punch through the outer shell with super-hardened tips before converting the surrounding atmosphere to plasma instantly, causing a massive energy transfer to everything within the confines of the target.
Shatter – Shatter rounds are made for taking out softer targets, detonating when they reach within a few meters of the actual target. On detonation, the shell separates into long, thin shards of itself which spread out to cover a wide area ahead of itself. Each shard becomes incredibly dense in this last phase of approach to aid in piercing any light armor, up to your average main battle tank. These shards do not detonate further, relying on pure kinetic energy to deliver killing force.
Explosion – These rounds are incredibly simple compared to the others. On impact, they act much the same as Adler's rounds, simply converting themselves to energy in a massive detonation sufficient to rip apart a city block. Anything within that area that isn't quite durable will be subject to enormous forces that would simply annihilate your average human being.

ELEMENTS: Fire and Metal

SKILLS AND TECHNIQUES: Master Gunman: Lucas has complete mastery of every firearm in existence, more or less, an artifact of him having been trained from the time he could walk to utilize every firearm under the sun. His ability to acquire, evaluate, and engage targets is lightning fast and simply unparalleled. He is a marksman of nearly unparalleled skill, able to “Robin Hood” bullets in targets quickly and efficiently, putting them in the same hole nearly every time. He's also very adept at using his weapons in close combat, using their recoil to his advantage. As a result of his training, he's completely ambidextrous, though his right hand is just a little sturdier.

Magic Armsmith: Lucas's main calling is that of the gunsmith, but it isn't fair to simply call him such. He is a true master of the modern war machine, capable of crafting any conceivable firearm, war engine, support system, even cyberwar systems. He has been trained to seek and demand perfection in all of this, and as such he attains greatness in all of them. He knows their quirks, their sounds, their feels, everything there is to know about modern war machines and equipment he knows.

But if that was all he could do, he would be simply extraordinary. His family's craft of magic is what makes him the Magic Gunsmith. The Einhetz family's magic is to take an object's history and turn it into power. While he can technically do this with any object of note, weapons tend to have a great deal of history and often very powerful histories. With the proper rituals, Lucas can turn a museum piece into a weapon of mass destruction.

Armory of Ire: Lucas's personal magic is a bit stranger. His connection with firearms is such that he can actually control their constituent pieces with his mind. The parts he carries on his person aren't simply for tinkering with, they're for defense, as he can command them to assemble and shift and rearrange their very structure to create any firearm he has need of in a matter of seconds. These guns can be further enchanted in the act of their construction, but only with the most rudimentary of enhancements, elemental rounds or magical tracking or what have you. The magics also tend to play hell with his prosthetic eye, so he usually closes it to avoid any damage to it.

The greatest weakness to this ability, however, is that the weapons are unstable. They are structurally sound, but for whatever reason upon emptying their last round they immediately fall apart, requiring Lucas to use precious seconds to reassemble another firearm for his use.


HISTORY: The Einhetz family's history is actually quite checkered, their lineage of gunsmiths stretching back all the way to the Revolutionary War. Family lore states it was an Einhetz that actually crafted the first rifled guns, the design being stolen by the more popularly known creator. In the olden times, the family was quite extensive and would often find themselves on opposite sides of many conflicts, their seemingly genetic competitive streak causing them to actively seek opportunities to prove themselves better than their family members. By the time the second World War broke out, this streak had all but killed off the family.

Lucas's father, alone with the boy after his wife died in childbirth, was determined that his son would learn from those mistakes, cultivating a sense of right and wrong in him all the while teaching him the same lesson countless others had before him. The Einhetz philosophy was simple, to create you must understand, to craft you must use. By the time he was nine, Lucas was a world-class shot and began his training in the building of war.
For the first few years it was simple, crafting the orders the shop got from the ordinary everyday people of the city. Slowly his father introduced more advanced, more exotic works to him. He worked on trucks before he worked on armored vehicles, handguns before moving on to artillery pieces. He was taught to understand their workings, then he was taught to understand their history. And as he now understood, he would learn to use.

The Einhetz magics were his final step, taking the history of those weapons and turning it into power. That power he would then bind with arcane calculations and twist to his whims to create weapons of power beyond all but the most fearsome mortal creations. His first attempt was disastrous, the explosion ripping basement of the shop to pieces and costing him his eye. His second, however, yielded him his trusty revolver.

After that, he simply worked in the shop. He'd done his training, he'd mastered his craft, now he had to endure the monotony of mostly peaceful times. That is until ANGEL caught wind that an Einhetz survivor lived in the city and came calling. The argument was heated and ended in blood, a quickshot putting a round into his father's shoulder and starting a violent gunfight that ended with the squad of men sent to recruit them dead and Lucas's father's arm completely dead from the shoulder down.

One had escaped, and heedless of the risk Lucas chased him down. The shootout stretched from one end of the city to the other and left dozens of innocents dead, thousands of dollars in property damages, and a bounty on Lucas's head that would lead to a rather eventful and fruitful friendship in times to come. But when he had finally cornered his quarry, a lucky round sent the sidearm from Lucas's hand.

That's when he unleashed the buried power that had been building along the lines of his blood, the collective knowledge of generations cemented into teachings and a magical lineage stretching back hundreds of years to form something new in that moment of need. He assembled the weapon he needed in that moment from the scrap parts he had on his person and put a round in the bastard's gut that burned him alive from the inside out.

Then he went home as if nothing had happened to move on to the next chapters of his life.
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