Name: Raith (no known last name)
Gender: Male
Core: A mysterious, deep sea creature dredged up from the darkest depths of the ocean. Its corpse remains rotting forever in the ruins of the empire it devastated with its poisonous, festering flesh.
Aspects: Necrotic, Watery, Poisonous, Eldritch, Rotting.
Description: Raith's frame is immediately reminiscent of a starved, long dead corpse. The skin is drawn tightly over all-too visible bones; in fact, the ribs are very nearly poking out of his chest. However, the resemblance with a dead human body ends there. His face is composed of a multitude of pale eyes, clouded as a stale fish’s but each with a piercing, glowing blue center, and an maw filled with rows of sharp teeth stretches occupies the bottom. While it looks a normal size at first, Raith can pull back his lips very far to reveal an impossibly large mouth. Instead of hair, a mass of thick tentacles sprouts from the crown of his head, the longest reaching down near his waist. Glowing, electric blue streaks run down their lengths like veins, filled with some alien fluid. His face is strangely void of ears, but he can still communicate effectively. He possesses unusually long and lean arms and legs, with patches of skin missing as if they have rotted away. Despite his overall thin nature, it is clear that he possesses more strength than a normal being should. Powerful, coiled tentacles are visible through the rotting patches on his limbs, entwined among the yellow bones. His arms and legs end in long and abnormally sharp digits, with skin stretching between them like webbing on a duck's foot. A pair of small, withered arms rest underneath his main upper limbs, and seem mostly useless, with two thin fingers and thumbs on each hand. Most Shells he meets are immediately repulsed by his distorted, cadavre-like appearance. Despite his form being created through powers greater than he, he does not have much skill in magic.
While you would suspect that a figure such as his would be covered in leathery, rough skin, unpleasant to the touch, the material that covers his body is very different to what you would imagine. It is infinitely smooth, and is covered in a clear, oil-like fluid that is continuously secreted by invisible pores, making it very difficult to get a grip on his skin. The exceptions to this are his hands and feet, which are covered in coarse skin and have no film of smooth oil.The hue of his skin ranges from a deep, dark blue to an ink black, with colors generally getting darker (but only slightly) as its location grows further away from the center of his body. However, most of his body structure and the state of his skin is covered loose robes and a large hood, which he typically wears whenever he moves about outdoors. Despite making him look exceedingly suspiclous, many Shells he meets have been known to frown with disgust at his figure or be too frightened to speak normally.
His bile and saliva are highly corrosive, and so is his skin oil, though to a much lesser degree. Any items he wants to be using for a long time need proofing against this (un)natural mechanism. Some materials are easier to proof, such as metals, and, as long as Raith doesn't spit on them, will last as long as equipment normally would.
Background: Algon was the name of a mysterious patron of a fledgeling empire. It is said that Algon could be communed with through strange rituals, and in the tales of old it is said that Algon reached into the waking world with his incorporeal hands to guide each new ruler into yet another age of prosperity. Under his eternally wise guidance, the people enjoyed an era of plenty, where the working class and the nobility alike could be assured of food on their tables and a long life. The empire made great strides in science and in magic, and their neighbors they conquered with abandon.
However, this state of affairs could not last. The nobility, growing lustful for their patron gods power, seeked to elevate themselves to the status of godhood. Depleting their safes in a vain attempt to give themselves power, they grew ever more curious, and looked where they should not have looked, doing things they should not have done. As they grew ever closer to the terrible secrets that lay at the heart of their mystery, the thin fabric that lay between the waking world and theirs was slowly eaten away, and strange creatures emerged that should have never seen the light of day.
Slowly, the inhabitants of the empires major cities were either driven mad by the secrets they discovered or killed by creatures that now stalked the night. Those who weren't quickly learned to keep their doors locked and fastened shut at night, or fled to safer areas, generating a massive amount of refugees that could not be handled by the increasingly corrupt and destabilising government. Eventually, the only people left in the coastal capital city were those who were mad and fanatical enough to still want a scrap of godhood, who now worked towards the insane goal of procuring a gods flesh; to eat, of all things.
The ritual they used to summon the great beast was so terrible it was told to children for several years afterwards to frighten them. A great many of those who had attempted to flee had bern rounded up and kept just for this purpose. One by one, the great priests tore out the throats of those who once stood among themselves, and threw their bodies into the lake. They turned the harbor red with the blood of hundreds, such was their zeal. The fanatics chanted an ancient hymn who's meaning has now been forgotten, and never should have been remembered again. The fishers dredged up a great carcass from the red waters, and the crowd leaned forward to get a glimpse of the catch. It was a terrible, wretched beast. Its face was a plethora of eyes and mouths, all inside one massive maw, and a long, bloated, sluglike body stretched back from its head. Barbed tentacles of a variety of lengths trailed back from its heaving, gasping abdomen, and as the beast was dragged onto land it let out a small noise, at once like the cry of a baby and the full throated wail of a woman mourning. Immediately the priests sent butchers to cleave the beast in twain, carving up the flesh so that it could be eaten. The flesh was presented raw on delicate white plates, staining the plate blue-brown with its blood. However, there was one man among the mad crowd who refused to take part in the feast. Despite his insanity, despite his fanatic belief, his primal instincts dictated that the meat was too unwholesome to eat. Indeed, despite coming from a freshly killed beast, the meat was riddled with maggots and felt as if it had been lying in a cellar for several months.
The man who refused to eat wandered out shortly afterwards, as the rest sat down to their meal, feeling a faint throbbing between his eyes. As he leaned his rapidly weakening body down against a wall, he heard a multitude of cacaphonic voices coming from the hall. At first he thought that he had missed ascension for want of good food, the thing he had been working at for several years. However, he soon realized that the calls were not of ecstasy, but of agony. He peeked through the door to the feasting hall, and what he saw terrified him so much he still does not speak of it today. He ran from room to room, whimpering and trembling with fear as the screams and beckoning calls of his former friends grew closer. He ran all the way to the great gates out of the city, but they were closed and bolted fast, as they had been for so long. In desperation he begged for mercy once again from Algon, clasping his hands in fevered prayer.
Just before the sources of the screams reached him, he felt a white-hot pain in the pit of his stomach. He felt his body changing shape, felt his bones cracking and re-fusing. His fingers and toes grew longer, his hair fell out and was replaced by tentacles, and tentacles stretched underneath his skin and ate at his muscles. It was excruciating, but at the same time he felt euphoric. In his ears, which had become simple holes in the sides of his head, he heard a voice which sounded like a choir of voices both young and old, telling him: "Even in your madness and pride, you had the nerve to pray to me, the one you wanted to overcome. Very well. For my own entertainment, I have become your saviour. Your god-given mission is to guard this forsaken place with your life, and never let anybody looking for the secrets here inside so long as the city exists. Some secrets should remain undiscovered." As he heard this, the great gates were flung open, and he dashed outside. Before the indescribable host could follow, the gates were shut and barred by a mysterious power, and the capital city was shut off from the rest of the world from the inside.
For many a year the beast, who could no longer be reliably called a creature of this world, sat alone on a smooth rock just outside the gates, occasionally hearing an ear-splitting guttural roar and banging from inside. At last, the treasure hunters Algon spoke of started appearing, filled with grand misinterpretations of the tale of ascension. Every time the beast who sat alone on the rock would fight them off. At first, he would only just manage to beat them due to his natural ability, being beaten to within an inch of his life as he ended each battle. As he became more skilled stories about "the Beast at the Gates" started becoming more well circulated than "the Elixer of God-Kings". Those who travelled in his direction all hoped to best him in single combat, though adventurers only came from relatively local cities. One day, an old man named Orgo appeared and challenged the beast to battle without an obvious motive, wielding an impressively lengthy glaive. His prowess with the weapon was evident, but his age held him back from a decisive victory. He managed to keep the beast out of range with the glaives superior reach and dealt a multitude of tiny blows, aiming to bring his adversary down with a thousand cuts. However, the beasts unnatural constitution allowed him to continue fighting long after Orgo had expected to overcome him. As they both grew exhausted, they called a truce and sat down together under the shade of the rock, bonded for a moment by battle. The man named Orgo propped himself up by the beast, who sat with his legs folded, and said "What's your name, boy? I haven't had to fight with so much effort in such a very long time." As if unused to speaking, the beast slowly pulled apart his lips into a many toothed equivalent of a smile, blinking his many eyes, and said, in a deep and surprisingly melodious voice: "Raith". The beast hadn't had such friendly company in a very long time, either. Just before Raith fell into a deep sleep, he heard Orgo telling him "Remind me to give this glaive to you, eh? It's served me well, but it will serve me no longer."
The next day, Raith found that the old man would not wake up, despite his persistent shaking. Shaking his head sadly, he stood up, stretched, and looked behind him. To his great surprise, the gate had disappeared, replaced by a layer of solid stone similar to the rest of the city walls. He could no longer hear the terrible noises he had slept next to, day after day. In his ears he once again heard a choir of voices, which he had not heard for a several years.
"Your service is done; you may go where you please. You are forgiven." Raith felt the powers that had allowed him to beat all of these mighty warriors despite their skill flowing out of his body, leaving him almost as weak as a normal human being but still possessing his grotesque bodily characteristics and some of his skill in combat. He picked up the glaive that the old man had insisted he take, and left for the rest of the world. He had been sitting on that stone for so long, and had forgotten much of the world. It was time to find a new purpose.
Stats:
Efficiency: 1d8
Perfectionism: 1d2
Improvisation: 1d7
Hastiness: 1d7
Skills:
> Melee: 7
Combat > Ranged: 0
> Magic: 0
> Problem-solving: 0
Adventuring > Travelling: 1
> Wisdom: 2
> Crafting: 0
Science > Analysis: 2
> Utility: 0
Equipment:
Orgo's glaive (weapon)
Aspects: Metal, Crafted, Ancient, Heavy, Memorial, Otherworldly.
Type: Melee
Qualities:
Increased Range: Orgo's Glaive is lengthy enough to permit attacking at a distance shorter weapons are unable to reach.
Durable: Whatever strange material it was forged from gave it impressive durability. It does not react to Raith's corrosive skin oil, and does not bend unless it is distorted by great physical stress.
Description: A heavy blade made of some black metal, about 50 centimeters long, forged onto a two meter pole of the same material. It is slightly longer than Algon is tall. Though the weapon is heavy, Algon's slender frame handles it with ease, his fighting style revolving around broad, sweeping slashes accompanied by swift stabs, keeping all enemies at bay. It is sparsely ornamented, but features light pink gold hammered into the metal of the blade and handle in delicate patterns, reminiscent of a cherry tree's blossoms. It is named for the legendary warrior who wielded it long ago.
Cuirass (armor)
Aspects: Metal, Crafted, Heavy, Ancient, Otherworldly, Modified.
Type: Medium, Torso
Qualities:
Durability: Being made out of the same metal as the glaive, the Cuirass is very durable.
Non-restrictive: This armor allows Raith to most fully make use of speed in combat, and rarely obstructs his movement in any way.
Storage: Several pouches allow Raith to quickly access materials he needs to use, such as medical equipment or stimulants. Also provides a bit of extra storage without too much encumbrance.
Description: The main body of this piece of armor consists of a breastplate connected to a backplate, with layered belts of metal underneath to provide flexibility and protection to the lower torso. There are also pauldrons and vambraces included to protect the shoulders and forearms. It is forged from the same material the glaive Raith wields is made from, giving it impressive durability. The armor provides fair protection against most blows, but certain compromises are made in order to allow Raith to use his speed and skill most effectively in battle, resulting in imperfect protection for more combat effectiveness. A few small pouches are strung across the the armor on belts to allow for quick and easy access to materials in stressful situations.
Inventory:
- Bladed weapon maintenance equipment.
- An almost empty satchel of common medicinal herbs, as well as more exotic ones. Raith has knowledge of the use of herbs but he does not remember why.
- Silver flute. Raith's actually fairly good at playing it.
Author
Topic: Form and Function - An Adventure RP - OOC [6/6-7] - Starting! (Read 5567 times)