If anyone's curious about such things: the art I'm using as reference images is uncredited, as it is technically mine: the line art itself is generated with AI, but I color and edit it.
If any of my ladies catch your eye, even if you see a "WIP" or "Coming soon" listed after their name and they've only got a partial character sheet at the moment, you're still welcome to message me with any RP ideas you might have. (You'll have to wait til I get my request thread up to see my plot bunnies, of course, but there's always a probability that yours could interest me!)
If you like what you see and want to RP with me, but my girls just don't suit your tastes, go ahead and message me anyway. If what you're after fits one of the settings I like, I'd probably be willing to bang out a character that would be more to your tastes.
Name: Ro Sydrias Race: Onyx Dragon Age: 172 Years (The human equivalent would roughly be somewhere between 23 and 28.) Sex: Female Profession: Bandit Wealth: Downright destitute by draconic standards. By elven or human standards, she might be potentially classified as very minor nobility. Orientation: Pansexual
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Appearance
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The bottom line about Ro is that she simply oozes style. It's certainly not high-class; in fact, it's shady and borderline trashy, but it is style nevertheless. Though she stands a perfectly respectable 5'4" tall, her habit of slouching and slumping her shoulders while in motion and leaning against whatever -or whoever- might be closest to her when standing or sitting only serves to make her appear shorter than she really is. The dragon is neither a buxom beauty nor a towering titaness, rather, she is as lithe, sinewy and rangy as an alleycat; with narrow shoulders and hips, long limbs and a modest bust. Though the bandit isn't a conventional beauty by any means, she could most likely be called striking, or perhaps interesting-looking. Hers is a heart-shaped face with sharply-pointed ears that might potentially be mistaken for elven, delicate yet angular features, high, sharp cheekbones, a narrow jaw and tapering, pointed chin. An albino, her complexion is a true bone-white hue; her pearlescent white hair tumbles to just above her narrow waist in loose, touseled, careless ringlets. Framed by long, thick lashes, her deep-set eyes are the color of iced pink champagne; a cool, pale yet luminous, silvered coral-pink. Emerging from a base of anthracite-black scales are a pair of tarnished-silver horns that gently curve back from her temples, the color graduating to pale silver at the pointed tips.
From her shoulderblades grow a pair of batlike, clawed and spined wings that are large enough to carry her in flight; the claws and spines are the color of tarnished silver, the wing fingers adorned with anthracite-black scales; contrasting with the ivory-white, scarred membranes. A thick draconic tail with tarnished silver spikes, covered with those same black velvet-colored scales; the scaled plating on the underside of that tail fading to the same off-white as her wing membranes; tapering to a pointed tip, that tail would measure roughly three feet in length. Starting just above her knees, her legs are covered in those same dull black scales; her clawed, four-toed feet are reptillian. Patches of scales erratically interrupt her pallid skin; starting just beneath her chin and extending to cover her collarbone. A small patch rests on both her left shoulder and thigh, while her left arm, from wrist to bicep, is covered, leaving her left hand and majority of her upper arm humanlike.
Conversely, the entirety of he right arm and hand are entirely draconic. Small patches of those scales adorn the middle left side of her back, both hips and inner right thigh. Similarly to most of dragonkind, her charcoal-grey tongue is serpentine and forked; that same hue extends to her gums, inner cheeks and throat, that color likely continuing to shade her organs and blood as well. No differently than most other dragons, she sports a dual set of elongated upper and lower canines. When the woman walks, she carries herself with the same natural, loose-limbed, stalking grace of a scavenger. Her voice is a deep, whiskey-drenched, smoky alto rasp, contained by the lowest notes of the female vocal registry; though Ro is capable of growling, hissing, purring and letting loose with deep, loud draconic screams, she is completely incapable of hitting a single high note.
Draconic Anomalies: Most other species of dragons can assume more than one form, including one that is fully draconic. Ro is not one of those dragons; she only has one form. Additionally, she does not have a breath weapon of any sort. These shortcomings have largely been viewed as failures by most members of dragonkind, for they mark her as being an imperfect aberration; moreso than her peculiar coloration does.
Sensitive To Light and Temperature: Given the simple fact that she is both an albino and a dragon, the bandit is more susceptible to light and heat than individuals with more typical coloration. She is unbothered by normal light conditions; however, when the summer days are their hottest and the sunlight is at its most unforgiving, she is afflicted by lethargy that borders on laziness and downright apathy and a near-constant, mild headache. During sweltering summer days, she is prone to dehydration and suburn; at the mildest, she might behave listlessly and at the most dangerous, she can experience nausea, blindingly dehibilitating migraines and can even end up losing consciousness. Bitingly frigid winter days and nights can lead her to experience a constant tiredness that -depending on how long she is exposed to extremely low temperatures and the glare of sunlight on snow- can include varying degrees of windburn, frostbite, headaches, watery eyes and general malaise.
Armor: Despite the fact that it was custom-made to accomodate her wings, legs and tail, Ro's armor isn't particularly noteworthy, nor is it ensorcelled by any means. A simple chocolate-brown leather collar with an iron buckle, remarkably similar to the kind of collar worn by hunting hounds, encircles her throat. This is paired with simple leather pauldrons, a scratched, scuffed and battered backless halter made of charcoal-grey boiled leather and a calf-length olive green-dyed leather skirt that has been slit to the thigh on either side. A thick leather belt, usually laden with her map-case, several pouches and a wineskin, completes her armor. It might not offer as much additional protection as what other thieves are able to wear, but when paired with the scaley patches underneath, it does a passable enough job that Ro isn't concerned about needing anything else.
Weapons: Ro's clawed fingers and toes serve her just as well as any bladed weapon could; additionally, she can whip and bludegon with her tail and she has no qualms about biting an opponent when it becomes necessary to do so.
Everyday Clothing: Even though her typical attire is usually clean and free from rips and tears, it would likely be considered entirely inappropriate by polite company, or in even semi-formal situations. Color-wise, she has a distinct preference for deep, richly saturated shades such as black, charcoal grey, coffee brown, sapphire blue, or emerald green. Not only does she prefer them to all other hues, she views them as practical (they hide bloodstains well and are easy to clean.) One of her more commonly-worn outfits is composed of an emerald green velvet corset, laced up the front with black satin ribbon. This is paired with a flowing, ankle-length black skirt that has been slit to the hip along either leg and is accessorized by a pair of small silver hoop earrings, a silver chain sporting a crescent moon-shaped peridot pendant around her neck, a pair of delicate silver bangles around her left wrist and a silver torque engraved with swirling vines and lilies around her right bicep,
Fancy Garb: The woman owns precisely four outfits and two complete suites of jewelry that could remotely be viewed as formal, despite the fact that they would be considered downright scandalous at any formal function. Her favorite (to look at, at least; she has yet to wear it) is a sapphire blue bustierre with cloth-of-gold trim at the upper and lower hems, a matching floor-length skirt so daringly slit that it's little more than a loincloth and a complete gold-and-amethyst jewelry ensemble: circlet, necklace, torque, wrist chain, multiple waist-chains and anklets.
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Personality
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She is trouble walking: the sort of individual your father warned you about; the kind of woman you damn sure wouldn't willingly take home and introduce to your mother. The life of every party, she is the first to arrive at the tavern and buy a round of expensive liquor for everyone present and the last to leave; jocular and jovial, casual, irreverent, mischievous and devil-may-care, the dragon simply seems to be larger than life and incapable of taking anything serious.: she is a gods-damned puppy; exceptionally loud and possibly rabid, but a puppy nevertheless. The woman is quick to spout off with an off-color remark about anything and everything that crosses her mind for more than a few moments and will make up (oftentimes intentionally embarrassing) nicknames for everyone she's at least somewhat acquainted with. A roguishly cockly, self-assured and unrepentantly shameless flirt, it's probably a very good thing that she's (usually) harmless when she voices a compliment or double entendre in the same off-handed manner that someone else might talk about the weather.
A rabble-rouser, riot instigator and firestarter, Ro breaks laws, challenges traditions and pushes societal norms as far and hard as she can, doing exactly what she wants to as soon as she wants to- and fuck the consequences. Oaths and promises are never given, as they are meant to be broken; her trust, respect and loyalty are things that are never freely given, they must be earned. The fearlessly outspoken, extremely opinionated bandit refuses to put on airs or stand on pretense; she is undeniably abrasive and borderline rude: she speaks her mind and gives her opinion freely, whether it is wanted or not and her words are heavily peppered with colorful, creative profanity and a measure of bored, disinterested disdain. The most reliable things about the fickle woman are how fundamentally unreliable she is and the simple fact that she cannot be depended on for anything. Perhaps thankfully, she is a remarkably lazy individual who has the uncanny ability to simply fuck off to parts unknown -that way she can either go fishing, or simply take a nap- whenever anyone might potentially seek her assistance with something, or there might be some gods-damned work that needs to be done. And yet... if she has no choice, all the chips are on the table and the circumstances appear to be hopeless Ro can and will become serious.
She's A Gambling Woman: To her, life is nothing but a game- one that's played hard and extremely fast. To say that Ro is willing to cheerfully risk it all on a high-risk, high-rewards wager is a complete understatement. Life isn't fun unless there's some kind of risk involved- and if she ends up losing what she bet at the card table, well, at least she had fun while doing it; she's got no problem having to lose with grace.
Reckless, Brash and Impulsive: The dragon isn't a stupid woman by any means; she's simply still too young and inexperienced to give much of a damn, yet. She's seeking the next massively lucrative mark, the next astounding treasure hunt, the next great heist and if she needs to dance precariously on the edge of a knife in order to find it, then so be it. Fearless and having no impulse control to speak of, the headstrong woman has the extremely bad habit of ignoring whatever advice she might be given (being young is the equivalent of being immortal, as everyone is well aware of) and will do her best to set off on that adventure, regardless of anyone else's better judgement. Unfortunately, being extremely pig-headed, not yet having any worldly foresight to speak of and having a truly reckless streak, she will more than likely end up finding herself in more trouble than she could possibly be prepared for.
I Need A Life Of Crime: Having been a bandit for the past seventy years, it's the only life that Ro really knows. As it stands, she isn't remotely interested in "stupid ideals" such as dedicating her life to the pursuit of any other trade. Not only does she (probably extremely misguidedly) believe the life of the lone, unfettered bandit is romantic in a way, she balks at the idea of willingly "serve" anyone, or any organization. Beneath the surface, there are the faintest stirrings of a hunger for something more, though- and it would only take the right person pushing her in any direction to lure her into something far more ambitious and interesting than simple banditry. A dragon's natural lifespan is quite long and eventually, there's no reason not to branch out.
The Promising Strategist: Though it is kept (mostly) buried and only becomes apparent when she stops fucking around, Ro is a remarkably level-headed, even-tempered woman who genuinely wants to learn (which she enjoys and does rather quickly) and has a naturally keen and analytical mind, the ability to think fast, improvise and a knack for coming up with ways to out-think, out-plan and outmaneuver her opponents. At the present time, her talents are raw, unrefined and she only utilizes them when she's planning how she's going to rob someone. While the training and usage are decidedly lacking, the promise is bright and only needs to be tapped into.
Black coffee is her favorite non-alcoholic drink.
She favors whiskey to any other alcoholic drink.
Ro uses tobacco, narcotic herbs and hallucinogenic mushrooms.
She has never been on a seafaring vessel or airship, but wants to ride both.
She has never ridden a horse and is entirely uncertain about them.
She wants to try every kind of meat she can get her hands on; the more exotic, the better.
The dragon is lactose intolerant.
She does not like sweet drinks or food.
Ro is very fond of cats, cows and turtles - she thinks they are extremely cute.
Her favorite flowers are anemones, begonias, purple hyacinths and rhododendrons.
Just like any other bandit, she is illiterate.
The woman navigates by using landmarks that catch her eye.
She cannot dance.
Noble pasttimes, such as plays and operas, bore her to the point that she will fall asleep during them.
Despite knowing that Lady Luck is not and never has been a deity of any sort, luck is the only "divinity" that she acknowledges.
She has never attended a festival, feast, or other such celebration, despite it only taking her three hours to fly from her cave to the nearest medium-sized town.
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Skills, Strengths and Talents
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CQC: Though she is not a master pugilist by any means, Ro is an unarmed close-quarters combattant. She knows how to throw (and take) a punch and her natural weapons have served her rather well over the years. Rather than depending on brute strength, the bandit's fighting style utilizes a combination of underhanded maneuvers, dirty techniques, feints, misdirection, agility, acrobatics and speed. Watching (or engaging) her might be very similar to observing or participating in a quick, vicious and dirty, no-holds-barred back-alley beatdown.
High Pain Tolerance: Her draconic nature has augmented her with a higher-than-average ability to withstand pain. Over the years, this has provided rather valuable, especially considering that it might occasionally give her the upper hand if she's faced with a particularly harrowing situation. She is absolutely not immune to injuries or illnesses by any means; she can simply tolerate such things as being punched or stabbed a bit better and for a longer duration than some other people might be able to put up with. It also makes her less willing to talk or break when questioned, interrogated, or tortured (though she can and will break; it just takes a little longer to push her to that breaking point.)
Resilience of the Cockroach: The woman has apparently been blessed (or cursed) with the ability to get her ass handed directly to her during a fight, only to get right back on her feet again and launch a counter-attack one more fucking time. Being an exceptionally pig-headed and proud individual, she simply will not just stay down; if there is any possible chance that she can lurch back to her feet, stagger and throw another blow, then gods dammit, that's exactly what she's going to do- and fuck the consequences. Even if it makes her life miserable in the aftermath. Only once she has been thoroughly thrashed and truly incapacitated (or knocked unconscious) will she relent. Which is undeniably a double-edged sword, as on one hand, she doesn't know how to just give up. But on the other, she is doubtlessly a clear and always-present danger to herself (and potentially anyone she might be with at the time.)
Survivalist: No one could ever call Ro a master survivalist, but she does know how to stay alive, whole (for the most part) and unharmed (for the most part) while in caves, forests, or on the plains. (She is entirely unfamiliar with places such as swamps, jungles, deserts, badlands, oceans, glaciers, flood plains and more exotic locales.) Though her current camp is located within a small cave, she knows how to pitch a small tent, safely light a fire, find shelter from a storm (for the most part), determine if the water in a creek, river, or lake is safe to drink. She is no stranger to hunting or fishing, though she would much rather simply steal livestock, vegetables and fruit from any relatively nearby farm or orchard. Identifying the most common and some less-common edible fruits, berries, nuts, vegetables and fungi in a forest or on the plains is within her skillset; along with covering her own tracks, doubling back and creating an ambush point.
Chanteuse: The dragon is rarely willing to sing in front of anyone and becomes extremely embarrassed if she's caught doing so. However, she is capable of carrying a tune, or singing without musical accompaniment. When she really opens her mouth to sing unabashedly, her voice is powerful, soaked in honey and whiskey, easily hitting the absolute deepest notes of the female vocal registry, holding a purring resonance, yet hollow. A solemn, mournful, commanding voice meant for singing battle hymns and funerary dirges.
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Her current camp is a small cave that can comfortably house up to three people, situated in the foothills of a coastal mountain rang near a river, bordered by a thick coastal forest inhabited by forest animals and monsters. It is three hours away from the closest medium-sized town, with farms and businesses scattered across the countryside. One noteworthy feature is a ghost town. I will expand on the exact location and description once I start RPing her, but I wanted to at least have a rough idea of where I wanted to put her to start with.
Her backstory, which I've got mostly fleshed out, will be revealed through RP. As things unfold, I will post them on her character sheet, as things are always subject to change, until a character is actually being played, as far as I am concerned.
I will describe her relatively modest hoard during RP and it will be added to her character sheet eventually, along with any necessary edits.
As it will be edited as necessary, her (and the rest of my upcoming characters') sheets are a constant work in progress.
Name: Nathicana Helios Goes By: Helios Race: Unicorn Age: 213 (By human standards, she would be in her early 40s.) Sex: Female Profession: Torturer Cover Occupation: Artist Orientation: Bisexual
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Appearance
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She is on the taller side, especially if compared to a human woman of average height; however, at 5'8" tall, her stature isn't remarkable by any means. The unicorn carries a long, slim, elegant swanlike curve of a neck that leads down to gently-sloping shoulders and a classical hourglass figure with a generous bosom, narrow waist, wide hips and long legs that really do go all the way to there; her musculature is compact, sinewy and graceful. Her face is oval-shaped, with a broad forehead, gently-sloping cheekbones, regal, perhaps even exotic features, full lips and a softly-rounded chin. Her complexion is a warm, rich, golden olive hue, complimenting her thick, wavy, basalt-black hair, which spills to her hips in waves and is generally worn loose and artfully touseled. Crowning her head is a pair of golden-bay furred equine ears that are capable of showing her emotions as clearly and precisely as any horse's ears show their own. Adorning the center of her forehead is a long, slender spiral horn, tarnished gold in color and the most readily recognizable physical characteristic of a unicorn.
Her left eye is large, almond-shaped, soulful and expressive; its color a pale hyacinth-purple, the shade hovering somewhere between blue and violet, without being precisely either. Obscurred by a black velvet eyepatch, all that remains of her right eye is an empty socket, wreathed by raised, jagged scars that trail upward toward her temple and stretch toward her cheekbone. Draped across the bridge of Helios's nose is a long, thin scar; the souvenier of a barroom brawl from when she was far younger. Her shoulders and upper arms are adorned by delicate ritualistic scarification patterns that resemble nothing so much as fanciful, swirling and graceful filigree; asymmetrically trailing downward on the left side, to grace the top of her left breast. The unicorn's long, thin fingers end in short, rounded nails the same tarnished gold color as her horn.
A long, thick, basalt-black horse's tail grows from the base of her spine; typically worn loose, it just barely brushes the back of her ankles when she walks. Starting at her hips and ending at her ankles, her legs are covered in a fine, thin layer of horse-hair; golden-bay in color and plush to the touch. Rather than feet, Helios's legs terminate in a pair of sharp-edged hooves, the same shade of tarnished gold as her horn and nails. Her hooves are polished, trimmed and well-cared-for, though she is unshod; though she is well aware of the fact that she is running the risk of cracking a hoof, she does not like the idea of allowing any random farrier to shoe her.
Shrouded In Silence: Having been born without vocal cords, Helios is completely incapable of voicing even the softest of murmurs. Communication with her is possible, though perhaps more subtle and nuanced than it would have been otherwise; for she relies on writing (whenever it's possible for her to write her thoughts), supplimented by a combination of gesture, pantomime and touch. If all else fails, she will attempt to draw charts and diagrams to try and explain things, though her artistic skills leave a lot to be desired. Unfortunately, in some ways, it is probably very easy for misunderstandings and miscommunications to occur, especially when she does not have the opportunity to simply write what she is trying to say.
Awake While The World Sleeps: Not only does she simply prefer to wake at sunset, but given the nature of her work, she is far more likely to meet with clients and provide her services from dusk until the sun just barely starts to rise. Being nocturnal certainly does have its own share of drawbacks, but it has also proven to be surprisingly beneficial; it is strangely far easier to get people to talk in the evening or during the night- and when the occasional corpse must be disposed of, it's normally easier to go unnoticed during the darkest, most quiet hours of the night.
Traveling Attire: Helios doesn't exactly have any reason to wear armor. At least, she hasn't been given a reason to do so yet; however, as the nature of her work means that she does frequently travel alone, the woman prefers to dress sensibly and practically while she is out. It would be quite normal to see her dressed in something along the lines of a hooded, ankle-length iron-grey travelers' cloak, over a simple, dark brown blouse with long bell-shaped sleeves and a traveler's long, loose, simple black skirt.; the outfit no different than what any other woman might wear when she's traveling alone.
Working Garb: The unicorn likes to think she is nothing shy of an artist when she's torturing someone and she fully immerses herself in her art; therefore, what she wears is just another part of the performance. As she thinks people might find it more unsettling to be at the mercy of someone dressed formally, she will wear something similar to: a delicate circlet of beaten silver, set with tiny orange carnellians, a matching collar, bracelets and anklets, paired with a sleeveless, floor-length gown of embroidered scarlet velvet, trimmed in black lace.
Weapons: Despite having a reasonable collection of torturous implements at her disposal that she could be creative with, her favorite personal weapons are her bladed fans: demure, elegant, understated and unassuming, with dark -almost black- ghostwood frames. The pannels are vermillion with shimmering orange and yellow embroidery; the razor-like blades along the upper edges of the pannels gleaming steel.
Daily Clothing: Her daily wear is fairly different than what she wears while working or traveling. Helios favors blacks and warmer colors such as most shades of brown and rust, red, orange and yellow, or the occasional red-violet and extremely rarely-worn pink. whether she's playing the part of the commonplace herbalist or just not doing much of anything, she will wear something along the lines of a mulberry-colored sleeveless silken blouse (little more than a chemise) and a comfortable, low-slung, wide-legged jupe culotte made of multiple layers of black or chocolate-brown gossamer; soft and billowy enough to not restrict her legs.
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Personality
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At a glance, she comes across as being a dignified, composed, watchful, thoughtful and incredibly patient, extremely quiet woman; the sort of individual who seems to be content with remaining in the background, mostly unnoticed as she observes what's going on around her without getting involved in much of anything, her presence is fleeting and her absences are lingering. Even-tempered and unfazed by much of anything, Helios is one of those people who are extremely difficult to get to know or understand, as she prefers to keep everyone at a respectful, professional distance; for she firmly believes that getting close to anyone and becoming involved in their affairs only results in fucking things up. She is cordial and open-minded enough that she can and will work for (or with) anyone who might end up needing her services and she has been known to accept long-duration contracts on occasion. If you've got dirty deeds that need to be done, she might not do them dirt-cheap, but she will be your back-door woman; or maybe the dagger hidden beneath your pillow.
The unicorn is a deeply understanding, observant and perceptive individual with something of a knack for reading other people. While she is not infallible by any means, she knows to watch for subtle changes in other peoples' expressions and gestures; that it's the things that are never written or said that speak more loudly and reveal far more than verbal communication ever could. This could render her capable of great insights and offer interesting perspectives about numerous things - but Helios is not the kind of woman who can be persuaded to share more than what's absolutely necessary with anyone. Information is a very valuable form of currency and she is generally unwilling to part with it, unless she is presented with an offer that she simply cannot refuse.
It's (Always) Just Business: Helios is the kind of person who does not have -or want- friends. She's got her own fair share of enemies, associates and clientele; a small handful of acquaintences and two or three people that owe her a favor. But that's it: to date, all of her interactions with other people have always been business transactions, nothing more and nothing less. There's no hard feelings and it damn sure isn't you, it's just the way things are with her. If you want to get through her thick fucking skull and break down her walls, well, you'd better be willing to use a gods-damned battering ram.
Whoever Said Unicorns Were Good Was A Fucking Liar: No one has managed to secure Helios's respect or loyalty (yet) and the lady is completely and truly amoral. She does treat other people rather well- until they bore her and are no longer useful; in which case, she will simply cast them aside, as they no longer matter to her in any way. Lies and storytelling, deception, blackmail, slander, subtle manipulation, double-dealing, treason, outright betrayal? They're simply tools in her arsenal, which she can and will try to use whenever she thinks she might benefit in some small way from doing so.
It's Not That I Can't Help You, I Just Don't Want To: There is no other way to put it; Helios is a greedy, opportunistic, self-serving, fickle bitch. Unless someone ends up owing her a favor -or eight- that she can request when necessary in the future, or she otherwise ends up benefitting in some way, she does not willingly offer her services- and the prices for what she does offer are notoriously steep. She does not advertise anything, either: if someone is truly looking for her, they will end up either finding or being led to her.
Don't Believe All The Rumors: It can be fascinating and sometimes downright surprising to hear just what people are willing to confess to when they're being tortured; it's the one time that Helios honestly believes even the world's greatest liar will resort to complete honesty. Because of that, she is oftentimes privy to information that might be difficult for others to obtain. And since information is always both a hot commodity and an invaluable currency, she is certainly disinclined to part with everything she learns- but there's no harm at all in turning a profit by acting as an information broker, from time to time.
It should surprise absolutely no one to learn that she is a vegetarian; she is an equine, after all.
She detests wine.
Fruit cordials and brandy are her favored liquors.
Helios has a sweet tooth.
She enjoys sailing and is fairly curious about flight.
Despite being a decent enough dancer to avoid making an ass of herself, she thinks it's boring.
She enjoys watching and betting on gladiatorial fights and other bloodsport.
Flowers are nice to look at, she supposes, but does not have a favorite.
She likes birds, rabbits and large dogs
She is extremely claustrophobic
She despises sheep, goats and deer
The sound of flutes and other higher-pitched woodwind instruments hurt her ears and can cause severe headaches
She enjoys thunderstorms and windstorms
She has never seen a desert or ocean
Helios is extremely agnostic and does not believe any deity has ever existed.
She is aware that people hunt unicorns for their horns and hooves- and finds the idea humorous.
Only three people have been permitted to address her by her first name during the past fifty years- and none have been allowed to shorten it.
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Skills, Strengths and Talents
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Artist (Painter): Helios may not be famous and has not received a commission from anyone of higher rank than a duke. However, she does have the education and natural talent necessary to paint well enough that she isn't exactly hurting for clients. Her landscapes, still lifes and portraits are popular enough that she isn't destitute. However, it's her grotesqueries that are sought frequently by eccentric members of nobility, or art peddlers: no two are ever alike and she is given complete creative control, which allows her to attack her canvas with wild, feverent abandon; bloodstained wonderlands, forests of corpses and nightmarish beasts illustrated in brilliant pigments, accented by colorful flowers, butterflies, ladybugs, or other small things that might be considered traditionally beautiful.
Artist (Culinary Arts): She has not cooked for anyone else in an extremely long time (the last person she had cooked for had been her mother and it's been close to a century since then) but Helios has always enjoyed cooking a great deal. She might act shifty as all hell if she asks someone to try what she has made and her creations might occasionally seem questionable at first, but she does have talent and skill; what she cooks is always edible and usually tastes good. Her artistic flair might sometimes make her dishes appear to be strange and potentially ominous from time to time, but she isn't the kind of person who would stoop low enough to poison someone's meal or drink- there are many other, far more enjoyable ways to inflict pain upon someone to begin with.
Now, Your Nightmare Comes To Life: If the artist's paintings are desired by even a small crowd, then her actual studio would probably attract a sizeable audience. Currently located in the basement of an inn in a long-abandoned ghost town, her torture chamber is unlikely to attract unwanted attention, yet probably rather obvious to those who know the true nature of her work and need to find her for one reason or another. Here, away from prying eyes, the unicorn works her magic on whatever unfortunate soul who might be currently confined. Though she does have a wide variety of more traditrional implements at her disposal here, Helios is known to prolong her subject's life as long as she possibly can, while allowing herself to completely get lost in the performance.
A Very Reluctant and Strange Healer: Unicorns are well-known for their natural ability to heal others' injuries and illnesses- it's something that has been linked to their race for as long as anyone can conceivably remember and like all other members of her species, Helios has that innate ability; it runs in her blood, just like any other unicorn. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately,) she has only ever used this ability once in her lifetime and does not know if it's something that she can do again, as it has been many years; it would have to take someone truly strange and special for her to try to use that ability again. She would much rather stab and impale someone with her horn (despite the extremely awkward and somewhat uncomfortable position necessary to do such a thing) than to tap into her only known arcane gift again.
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Like most of my other characters, Helios's backstory will be revealed through RP, because it is more fun that way.
I did try to leave the location of her torture chamber vague enough that the ghost town and everything else can be fleshed out through RP.
I don't think it's a good idea to include detailed descriptions of gore and violence in a character sheet, so in some areas, I tried to be as vague as I could.
I will include my little disclaimer here: my character sheets are basically a WIP. They will be edited as things happen during RP threads, to reflect the character development and/or changes my characters undergo.
Assumed Name: Shantih Damyata True Name: Ovoklisha-Ntiyatelb Race: Eldritch Abomination Age: Incomprehensible (In her demi-human form, she appears to be in her 30s) Sex: Female Profession: Dream Warden Orientation: Pansexual
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Appearance
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Demi-Human form: The edges of her form subtly shift and blur similarly to a mirage, lending her a vaguely illusory quality. The dream warden isn't exactly a towering giantess; however, standing 6'0" -without factoring in the additional height of her horns- she is considerably taller than the average human woman. A long, slender, elegant swanlike curve of a neck coaxes the eye downward, to narrow shoulders and an ample bosom. Long-limbed, narrow-hipped and willowy, her figure is as deceptively delicate-looking as a spider spun from glass. She moves with a fluid, almost hypnotic grace that might make observers think they may be watching a motion study in inevitability. Her ears are longer than an elf's, tapering to a knifeblade-sharp point. Shantih's face is shaped like an inverted triangle, with a broad forehead, high and sharp cheekbones, regal, angular features, full lips that are frequently curved into a bemused little smirk, a narrow jaw and pointed chin. Her large, upturned eyes lack visible sclera and pupil; they are opalescent and faintly-glowing.
The dream warden's head is crowned by six long, curving, pewter-colored, ridged horns, three on either side: the largest are six inches tall and positioned at either temple; the secondary horns are located behind the first and the third set of horns are situated behind either ear. Her complexion is a deep, rich indigo shade; haphazardly splashed by faint, bioluminescently-shimmering motes that vaguely resemble stardust. Shantih's thick, pale silvery-blue hair falls to her lower back in waves. The aberration's hands are human in structure, however, her long, thin fingers end in curved, sharp, pewter-colored claws; similarly, her four-toed feet terminate in pewter-hued talons. A visible seam extends from the outer corners of her lips and trails across either cheek; like a snake, the anomaly is capable of unhinging her jaw. Her sapphire-blue gums sport sharply-pointed ivory teeth and hooked, elongated upper and lower canines; that same sapphire hue stains her inner cheeks and throat, her long; split tongue is a dark lazuli blue.
Alternative Method Of Communication (Telepathy): She does understand both the written and spoken forms of the three most common languages. However, her multi-folded and segmented vocal cords are incapable of making comparable sounds; verbally, she can and will try to get her point across by using a variety of bestial noises, including: breathy sighs, throaty grumbles or grunts and ear-splitting shrieks. When she actually converses with someone, however, she must try to initiate telepathic communication with that individual.
Weapons: Shantih Damyata's demi-human form is a weapon; nevertheless, she carries a gnarled staff of intricately-carved dark greyish-brown ghostwood; inlaid with beaten gold and set with gold-wrapped spherical white pearls. It is topped with a copper lantern trimmed in beaten gold; the light emitted through the panes of its frosted glass is a somber, subdued silvery-white. Though her lantern-staff is mainly symbolic of her status, she can wield it like a quarterstaff.
Attire: The only reason Shantih wears anything in the first place is because it is expected while in the waking world. As she does not currently understand the concept of fashion and style, she dresses in archaic ceremonial garb. Her current attire consists of a strapless armored black corset made of embossed and tooled black leather; the trim is gilded and the frontal laces are made from cloth-of-gold; both the corset's lacing pannel and the gossamer cloak that spills down her back are deep violet. Fingerless black satin opera-length gloves adorn her arms, secured at their upper edges by heavy gold torques. A skirt-like garment of black silk is draped around her hips and spills to her ankles, cut to reveal each leg to the hipbone. Her stiletto-heeled footwear resembles fanciful dress-sandals and could almost be classified as jewelry: her calves and the tops of her feet are covered in tooled and heavily-embossed black leather, secured with cloth-of-gold lacing; both the heels and toes are left bare. A full set of gold jewelry completes her ceremonial garb: an intricate horned headdress designed to secure around the base of her own horns, adorned by a pair of faceted blue tourmalines rests upon her head. Her ears sport several simple golden studs, with a single dangling earring in either lobe. Encircling her throat is a heavy, draping collar with a solitary faceted blue tourmaline at its center; it terminates in three separate points that drape beteen her breasts and in front of either shoulder. A solitary gold signet ring is worn on her left middle finger and finally, a pair of garter-like gold cuffs are fastened around either thigh.
True Form: Ovoklisha-Ntiyatelb's incorporeal form is a colossal and ever-shifting; composed of nightmarish symmetry and broken reflections, interlaced with fractal voids and innumerable eyes. Sleeping within the deepest depths of the Dreamlands, the warden dreams remote, unreachable and unknowable worlds, spheres of reality and fractured possibilities into and out of existence.
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Personality
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Detatched, serene and deliberately inscrutiable, revealing only what she wants others to see, the aberration presents herself as a poised and refined woman whose gestures are deliberate and purposeful. When she communicates with another, her "tone" is controlled, measured and courteous, her words carefully chosen and oftentimes layered with multiple meanings, the occasional double entendre, or veiled threat. She is the kind of creature who can deliver a scathingly cutting remark with casual disregard, perhaps even seeming bored while doing so.
In a sense, the anomaly is simultaneously a mask and a mirror, inviting trust while she pushes and tests its limits. Shantih is the kind of woman who might be able to make others doubt their own truths with a well-timed question. Wordplay and mind-games are things that she enjoys and engages in often. As a cunning, calculating creature of multi-layered subtleties known for being endlessly curious and almost unfailingly polite, she is surprisingly and perhaps paradoxically honest. She withholds information and deflects questions, but she does not lie outright. She is fascinated by patterns, oddities and others' hidden intentions; very fond of ciphers and the precise moment during which someone reveals a truth they didn't intend to. Unbeholden to the laws of the waking world, ethics are dissolved and morality is irrelevant. Her nebulous purpose and motives are hers alone; she acts according to her own recondite logic and answers to no one. When she schemes, they incorporate the subtle manipulation of dreams and realities, intended to distort what others might potentially see or believe.
It may seem strange, but despite her infathomable age, she is relatively young, as far as eldritch abominations go.
She favors scorpions, snakes, spiders and rats
Ghost towns, ruins, caves, empty mines and other abandoned locations are her favorite places in the waking world.
She thinks the concept of gambling is extremely pointless and stupid.
She is rather fond of symbolism.
Shantih's sense of humor is pitch-black and extremely strange, to say the least.
The idea of "perfection" is extremely dull and boring.
Canines frustrate her; despite being cute, they are excessively loud and obnoxious.
She has no preference for food or drinks- yet.
She likes gardenias, moonflowers, datura and tuberoses.
Fortune-tellers piss her off because of their blatant dishonesty.
She enjoys severe storms
Eclipses are a phenomenon that she likes
Reading -especially ancient, obscure tomes- is one of her favorite pasttimes.
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Skills, Strengths and Talents
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She Walks In Dreams: The dream warden is capable of slipping past the blurred borders of the sleeping mind and enter another individual's dream. While there, she can draw knowledge from the dream, communicate with the dreamer -generally-speaking, mortal minds are usually more honest, forthcoming and susceptible to manipulation in dreams than they are in the waking world- and in some instances, she can reshape or otherwise alter the dreamscape itself. The effects she can have on the dream depend not only on how deeply asleep the dreamer is (thus far, she has found that the deeper asleep something or someone is, the easier it may be to shape the dream) but also how vulnerable the other individual's mind may be at the time. When waking, there something of a possibility that the individual she visited might somehow be impacted by said visit.
Mother of Nightmares: Shantih is proficient in the art of dreamcraft: she can weave unique nightmares and bestow them on sleeping minds; first and foremost, she will try to tap into the sleeper's fears, phobias and insecurities, warping and intensifying them before delivering them to her intended target, essentially in an attempt to send the to a hell largely of their own making. Playing off those subjects, the dreamscape itself will be warped and twisted to further torment and terrorize the dreamer; as these nightmares are created to fracture, crack, or downright shatter the sleeper's mind, in some instances, she might be able to pull creatures from her own domain temporarily into the nightmare. When (or, in rare cases, if) the sleeper is able to wake from the nightmare, there is the potential for lingering remnants to follow them briefly into the waking world.
Dream Surgeon: The anomaly has only ever given such assistance to one individual thus far; her boon is granted incredibly rarely and is only bestowed upon individuals she finds to be exceptional in some way. Some could possibly (and erroneously) deem it a blessing, though it does come with a price that only her chosen dreamer is privy to. Not only will she craft a unique dream that the sleeper would find truly pleasant, it is created with the intention of soothing and mending the damages that their mind has recently sustained. As actual healing and restoration are not part of her domain (they aren't even adjacent to it), she cannot and will not attempt to fix anything that had occured during a dreamer's past.
Shackled By Nightmares: If it becomes necessary for her to do so, it is possible for her to pull an adversary into the Dreamlands and imprison them there. The terms of their sentence can vary greatly, but prisoners are never left to simply rot in peace. They will be the subject of relentless torment and assault; prisoners receive no reprieve or assistance until their sentence has been fully served-- which can last anywhere between the span of simple years, or stretch as long as countless millennia.
Judgement: If she decides to judge a particular waking world and finds it to be lacking, she will reverse her grip on her lantern-staff and swing it downward, shattering the lantern's glass as it strikes the ground. This action serves a twofold purpose: symbolically, doing so is a declaration of her intention to the cosmos, proclaiming that she has claimed this sphere of existence as part of her domain and as such, it will become part of the Dreamlands. And thus, the end begins: quietly and subtly, with the dust of dead stars descending to fall upon the ground. The sun will blacken as it extinguishes itself, the moon will shatter, time and reality will begin to warp and twist as it starts to unravel. Things that should not possibly exist will slowly begin to claw their way into this waking world; nightmarish creatures and living shadows, glowing mushrooms that release puffs of narcotic spores, flowers with eyeballs at their centers, creeping vines, fractal voids of impossible darkness that open in the sky. Inexplicable, ravenous fog will blur the edges of natural boundaries; it is said that anything caught within the fog will lose its sense of time and purpose- and yet, things live within that same fog. People and animals alike will slowly fall into a sleep that they cannot awaken from. Though it moves incredibly slowly and exists outside the sphere of mortal time, the apocalypse waits for no one and this waking world will eventually become part of the Dreamlands.
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Weaknesses, Vulnerabilities and other Fallabilities
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Nothing But A Transient Guest: Despite their unfathomable existences and how damnably difficult they are to stop, no eldritch abomination is invulnerable. Reality has no room for their kind and throughout history, there have been written records of aberrations being bound, trapped, imprisoned, or banished by mortals. Sure, doing anything of the sort is difficult, rife with terror and peril -not to mention that it might have only worked a scant handful of times on other beings- but it can be done. It's just that the necessary methods differ from abomination to abomination, not to mention that finding the required artifacts, translating and learning the necessary ritual might be complicated.
No Place For Nightmares: Shantih is not beholden to the rules of the waking world; however, that does not imply that the cosmos doesn't have its own set of laws and regulations. As the dream warden, she is bound by the same laws that govern dreams and nightmares. In particular, her strength and influence waxes and wanes with the cycles of day and night: the phenomena known as "daydreams" are naught but the mortal mind's flights of fancy and therefore not part of her domain. As such, her strength and influence are diminished during daylight hours and more potent between the hours of dusk and false dawn.
Time Has No Meaning: An individual who values restraint and control as much as she does power, she only acts or invokes judgement when she believes the time is right. Time might be completely meaningless to her, but in the waking world, her deliberations could be potentially viewed as hesitation and there is always the possibility that it can lead to missed opportunities.
Not Invulnerable: Ovoklisha-Ntiyatelb's demi-human form might clearly be something far less than human; however, that does not mean it cannot be harmed. Cut it and it will bleed (even if its blood is a blakened topaz blue instead of red,) break its bones and it will be affected. Deal it a severe enough injury and she will recall it to the Dreamlands so she can repair and continue using it.
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Notes
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Her demi-human form's name are real words that mean "peace" and "self-restraint."
Shantih's true form will be sleeping in the Dreamlands (which means it's inaccessable to her), unless an RP partner messages me about wanting it in a thread.
Language-wise, the ones she understands will depend on the setting.
As always, her history will be revealed through RP
When someone dies, they usually end up staying dead. Sometimes, though, they end up coming back. Changed and more than just a little bit wrong, but -for better or worse- they've returned.
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The Basics
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Name: Velu Race: Revenant Age: Does it matter? (Died somewhere between her mid-twenties and early thirties) Sex: Female Profession: Blight Orientation: She doesn't remember who she was into when she was alive, so she'll figure out the specifics when the time comes.
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Appearance
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Long ago, she had probably been an unconventionally pretty girl, in a scrappy, rough way. Now, though? There's the potential that she might still draw other peoples' attention, but not necessarily for the same reason. The most remarkable thing about her stature is how completely unremarkable her dimunitive 4'10" height is. With a proportionately thick neck, wide shoulders, small bust, wide hips and powerful legs, she is solidly-built. Lacking any spare fat for padding and carrying a layer of taut muscle, her figure can best be likened to that of a female pugilist: while she's lacking visually-pleasing feminine curves, she makes up for it in strength. Velu's square face has a broad forehead and understated cheekbones, rough-hewn features, a nose that has been broken at least once and is now somewhat crooked, pouty lips that are normally curved into a contemptuous little smirk, a wide, powerful jaw and fairly rounded chin. The ends of her coarse, lank and unevenly-cut hair doesn't quite touch her collarbones; color-wise, it's a drab, dull off-black, hovering somewhere between wrought iron and charcoal, without exactly being one or the other. Regardless of what color and shape her eyes had once been, what remains are fathomless abyssal voids that reflect nothing.
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