lurkerlurks
New Member
I'm 29, enby, and have been roleplaying for more than half of my life, because of that I kinna would like to roleplay with old people rather younger hip people:l sorry I can roleplay anywhere between 200 and 3k words, I am really in love with these characters so I'll probably hit between 400 and 600 a post depending what's going on, I also could be drained and just give you the 200 but typically I like to match my partners. I'm okay with both of these plots going into any direction, I don't have anything in particular in mind but we could brainstorm stuff.
My muses want these characters:l
I have been craving two ideas, well, one is an old Pathfinder/Dnd character, he will be the first spoiler :3 the second is an idea that is based off of roleplay i've started, it is the first fandom esque rp I started in years, but it's YYH based, but a little bit different. I've essentially fallen in love with the main character and two of the supporting characters I created and would like to explore it in different ways. This can be strictly oc or you can throw in some canon characters. These stories can go in any direction for the most part. Romance, platonic, enemy.
I don't like doing fade to black, but I understand if you do. I would like to be descriptive with any fighting scene or angsty scenes for both of these plots. Feel free to dm me please if yer interested.
My muses want these characters:l
I have been craving two ideas, well, one is an old Pathfinder/Dnd character, he will be the first spoiler :3 the second is an idea that is based off of roleplay i've started, it is the first fandom esque rp I started in years, but it's YYH based, but a little bit different. I've essentially fallen in love with the main character and two of the supporting characters I created and would like to explore it in different ways. This can be strictly oc or you can throw in some canon characters. These stories can go in any direction for the most part. Romance, platonic, enemy.
I don't like doing fade to black, but I understand if you do. I would like to be descriptive with any fighting scene or angsty scenes for both of these plots. Feel free to dm me please if yer interested.
My angsty man, and honestly, we can go in any direction for this, I did want to perhaps explore his lineage, or even if you'd be interested in playing someone from his past, or inserting your character into his past I am more than fine with that :3
Rhysaiel
Rys is tall for a Sylph standing at 5'8'', a solid 6 foot when his hair is tousled about. He has very sharp features. One of the few physical features that shouts out his exact race is his eyes, they hold no white to them however the entire orb of his eyes is blanketed in hues of periwinkle, violet, and mauve- darkness kissing the edges. The iris of his eyes look exactly like Lightning bolts, causing his eyes to look like a storm frozen in time. Scars decorate around his eyes as if someone had tried to gouge out his eyes long ago. On the rare occasions his hair isn't floating around himself, it rests against his head styled almost without any sort of gel or magic (hint, it's because it's normally floating normally, so it's semi-stuck that way) it falls just at his earlobes, dark black roots that lose their color as they invade his ends- creating a natural ombre.
The young sylph has the body of a well-oiled machine, each muscle works perfectly with his quick reflexes and agile movements, some could compare his body to a well-sharpened blade- swift and sharp. While the entirety of his body is toned,his arms are the most noticeable features (mainly because one arm is sleeveless and the other isn't, but I digress) . Once having warm tan skin from childhood, his skin is now almost an off pale- olive. Dressed comfortably in leather armor. A silk gray undershirt hidden by an all-black vest with a large hood connected to the back of it, the fabric of the hood resting against his chin. The gray undershirt reaches far down to his right wrist, a black cuff folding it back neatly, his left arm bare from any fabric aside from bandage wrappings from his fingertips to his elbow. A couple of belts grip his waist tightly and hold his belongings.
Powerful legs are covered by high black boots, with smaller belts on the boots just because it's aesthetically pleasing- sometimes he'll hide stuff behind the belts. When Rys walks into a room, it feels something similar to a calm before the storm, and if he's feeling in a particularly threatening mood, when he cracks his bones or flexes his muscles he's able to have sparks of lightning appear. He is often seen walking without a word even his footsteps are silent, his hair seems to often be floating- when he's angered sparks of electricity tend to race through his silver strands as well, just enough to make his hair appear glowing in flashes much like lightning against the sky.
Rys is tall for a Sylph standing at 5'8'', a solid 6 foot when his hair is tousled about. He has very sharp features. One of the few physical features that shouts out his exact race is his eyes, they hold no white to them however the entire orb of his eyes is blanketed in hues of periwinkle, violet, and mauve- darkness kissing the edges. The iris of his eyes look exactly like Lightning bolts, causing his eyes to look like a storm frozen in time. Scars decorate around his eyes as if someone had tried to gouge out his eyes long ago. On the rare occasions his hair isn't floating around himself, it rests against his head styled almost without any sort of gel or magic (hint, it's because it's normally floating normally, so it's semi-stuck that way) it falls just at his earlobes, dark black roots that lose their color as they invade his ends- creating a natural ombre.
The young sylph has the body of a well-oiled machine, each muscle works perfectly with his quick reflexes and agile movements, some could compare his body to a well-sharpened blade- swift and sharp. While the entirety of his body is toned,his arms are the most noticeable features (mainly because one arm is sleeveless and the other isn't, but I digress) . Once having warm tan skin from childhood, his skin is now almost an off pale- olive. Dressed comfortably in leather armor. A silk gray undershirt hidden by an all-black vest with a large hood connected to the back of it, the fabric of the hood resting against his chin. The gray undershirt reaches far down to his right wrist, a black cuff folding it back neatly, his left arm bare from any fabric aside from bandage wrappings from his fingertips to his elbow. A couple of belts grip his waist tightly and hold his belongings.
Powerful legs are covered by high black boots, with smaller belts on the boots just because it's aesthetically pleasing- sometimes he'll hide stuff behind the belts. When Rys walks into a room, it feels something similar to a calm before the storm, and if he's feeling in a particularly threatening mood, when he cracks his bones or flexes his muscles he's able to have sparks of lightning appear. He is often seen walking without a word even his footsteps are silent, his hair seems to often be floating- when he's angered sparks of electricity tend to race through his silver strands as well, just enough to make his hair appear glowing in flashes much like lightning against the sky.
The storm's forgotten treasure.
The emerald islands of Brynland had been very familiar with rain and bad storms. Hidden in the hilly lands lay a town of traders and fishermen- Finavarra, the land though green barren of anything viable, nestled next to unstill oceans that would occasionally cough up a nice bounty for the town. After a particularly dark and dreary thunderstorm, the kind where the ocean was seconds away from pounding at the market place's doors. Two orphans at the prime age of one sat blissfully in a puddle of water, drenched yet babbling,outside the Orphanage's doors. The head caretaker, a half- orc, Tidark, who inherited the home from his family, had welcomed the two with open arms, an interesting pair of children: An elf, and a storm sylph, names scrawled in fading ink on their arms.
Yelina, and Ryhsaiel.
Growing up the two were inseparable. Yelina, despite being of elf descent, got along with the children, and anyone who dared to bully her- there was Ryhsaiel, who really didn't care to get along with the children. Always argumentative and looking to fight, even those who are twice his size. Anytime the two even had the possibility of being adopted they would act out, on the best occasions- Ryhsaiel devouring raw meat and making animal noises, on the worst they would disappear entirely- the longest three days by Yelina, often needing the help of a resentful ranger- Ales, to round the rascals up.
As far as Rys was concerned it was the two of them against the world.
Mercy's Paradise Orphanage
All was well in Finavarra until Yelina of Finavarra turned age five, to Ryhsaiel's amazement and everyone else's dismay, she had been a wild magician, one night unbeknownst to the adults, Yelina used her magic to light up a dark room, a kid was afraid of the dark, in response her wild magic stirred up an angry storm, starting at the center of the orphanage and working its way out. It would cause a landslide, destroying a trader's route and causing damages to the dock that stalled fishing for weeks, the route destroyed for months. Yelina had decided to tell everyone it was her, to Ryhsaiel's dismay.
This is when everything went sour, children bullied or were outright frightened of Yelina, and anytime anyone- child or adult would send the young girl an odd glance or stare; Ryhsaiel would be there to stand up for her, his words were as sharp and painful as his fists, every time he lost a battle which was a lot, he would fight harder. The first fight he'd lose would be to a teenager, the second to a group of kids his age, the third to a group of teenagers, he wanted everyone to feel the pain his friend was suffering, Yelina who had been the kindest person he knew.
The first real fight he won, he would have murdered the kid, a teenager probably around sixteen had been hurling stones at Yelina, trying to cast her out. Ryhsaiel had just turned the corner to see this, using this as his advantage he attacked the bully- he didn't have a chance. Yelina had been in tears as the fight was over, and would use her abilities to heal the bully, begging Ryhsaiel to stop fighting. As she lamented healing the bully, her wild magic would trigger another catastrophe, this time taking her vision with it. The elders of the village would succumb to a plague, the plague would last until the last elder died before disappearing as fast as it had appeared.
Trophy Boy and Omen Girl
The bully had told everyone it had been Yelina, and she would be treated far worse; Ryhsaiel at this point only stayed by Yelina's side, fighting with anyone who wasn't Tidark or Yelina. At the age of ten Yelina had triggered another minor yet inconvenient wild magic burst, turning the fish and boats in Finavarra alive for only an hour, however in that hour an entire fisherman's boat decided it would rather be dead, and capsized, killing a good portion of the crew. The town had multiple options to handle with Yelina, a portion wanted to exile her, a group wanted her dead, but Tidark decided with the help of an elderly tradesman named Odrrus would convince the council to spare her and simply imprison her in her bedroom, for both her safety and the safety of the town.
This decision would cause Ryhsaiel to even lash out at Tidark now, for two months Tidark would need Ales at his side to subdue and calm down Ryhsaiel, sometimes the young boy would lash out at the councilmen, or those who are known elf haters. The third month would pass and Ryhsaiel had switched to another tactic, sneaking to see Yelina. Nervous at first but would find that sneaking had been something that came of ease to the short boy, afterall no one was actively looking for him unless he would make a scene. It would become a habit to sneak her treats and toys, explain stories to her or how he's appeared.
As months turned into years Ryhsaiel behaved his best, the best he had ever behaved. Tidark would occasionally joke that it was Yelina who caused him to act out all those times, however, he would still run away if he even thought he was going to be adopted, often hiding by the docks or deep in the hills, after all he hadn't acted like any young man his age, he was mature, kind, and gentle, most thought he was aasimar over Sylph.
A treasure lost
For years they'd keep Yelina locked up for crimes out of her control, her blind and mostly alone in her room. Ryhsaiel, sneaking out every night to see her, comfort her and the two would speak of their freedom, far from Finavarra. He'd remain the perfect Trophy child to the orphanage, and even the town's people would grow to adore him.
The night of their fourteenth birthday, at this point they decided to combine the day of their birthdays. He had stolen a nice, yet small treat for them to enjoy, and sneaking through the shadows of the dilapidated hallway was easy for him, the rain would muffle out any sounds he made. Tonight would be different than the last fourteen years they spent together, blood stained sheets had been the only thing to greet him, and the smell of copper and devilry polluted the air.
He would spend the next two- three days looking for her, yet no one seemed to bat an eyelash, no one seemed to question nor care why there was blood in her sheets, most shrugged it off saying his blind friend had simply finally run off, doing the town a kindness.
A kindness that only brought him to a rage, to search much harder for his friend.
Fragment
It was a solid long and wet week, thunderstorms ruled the town but that didn't stop the storm Soul,only the age of fourteen when he found Yelina's body hidden far away from the town, chopped into various pieces. The sight will haunt him for a very long time.
He'd rush back to town quickly telling anybody who would listen, they would merely shake him off. Repeat that she ran away, a few people even dared to say it was her fault for running away. He knew this wasn't the truth..she wouldn't have runaway without him. She was murdered and no one cared. It was almost as if everyone wanted her dead. After a month of pleading for someone to care, he would wait for a night of a full moon to bury his friend. Promising Yelina he would avenge her death.
Starting that night he began to sneak out from the orphanage to track down clues about what happened the night she died almost a full year ago now.
Throw in the towel
It only took until he was fifteen to discover exactly who did it, well, the only good clues he had led to three people, Tidark, Ales, and Odrrus. It made sense, he had scoured the whole town and found his first clue here, at the orphanage the place he thought to be his home. After he found the first clue the rest just fell into place, the group didn't even try to hide their misdoings. It took him a month to gather the courage to confront Tidark, he was going to kill him with his bare hands.
Two humans were waiting with Tidark when he came, a tall woman with dark eyes and dark hair, and a short balding man with thick glasses and a pipe hanging on the side of his mouth. "These are your new parents, Ryhsaiel, you'll finally be able to start all over, and forget about this place."
The woman would stare down her narrow nose, her eyes looking him over before turning her back and walking off, the man would lay a thick hand on his shoulder and direct him to follow, all the shocked child could do is follow, his eyes never leaving Tidark. The two didn't say anything to him as they walked through the town, people whispered and pointed, as the two would lead him the farthest part of town and about fifteen minutes past it, a neat little home with a garden crowding the house. The trio would walk in silence until they got into the house where each room rather monotonously had been described to him, almost as if a chore- as if he, a fifteen year old boy,should magically know the layout of this house. Leading him to a room near the backdoor of the house with a thick magical lock on it, they'd push him in.
"You will not call him father, or me mother. He is Mister Quincy and I am Mistress Violet." with that they'd lock him in, the room was nicer than that of an orphanage at least.
Sanctioned Body
The months went by and he had gotten into a very strict habit. Violet had him running errands from sunrise to sunset, the errands often were harvesting, smuggling or delivering items, destroying items and even scamming customers. The two ran a shop that he had to clean once a week as part of his errands. Young Rhys was a good looking man, he was clever as well as quick so he ran scams easily. He always aimed to be the best, after all, the better he was the better he ate. Sometimes if times were slow he would be lucky to eat more than once a day.
Randomly days he did errands, Quincy would let him do half his errands then take him to see fights. It was very much the only active entertainment he could watch, observing the fight with keen interest. After he ran the errands, three days he was excluded from errands, in those three times a week she would have him study or test him for twenty four hours at a time and then let him have a short rest.
Only one day Rhysaiel would have for himself and they'd often lock him in his room alone. It took him only a year to figure out how to unlock it.
Underdog
During the single day of solitude a week he started using that time to continue the investigation of Yelina's death, documenting and using his skill of sneak to watch the three guilty.
One evening of such an event, Violet had broken her usual habits and caught him- to this day he isn't certain if she knew or if it was just bad timing. She didn't punish him, no, the errands she had him do became more stealth based. Stealing from stores, pickpocketing, and spying.
Violet promised him to keep it a secret from Quincy, he didn't know why, but he imagined it was the greed perspective, Quincy rarely interacted with him. Rhysaiel had been great at her demands and she let him keep escaping on his day of solitude.
RoughHousing
At eighteen, an unfortunate situation occurred, for pretty much all parties. Rhysaiel had a growth spurt, his small and skinny stature had grown, and due to his success he had gone from underfed, to a healthy weight. He was in his rare moments of hearing about other Sylphs, although he didn't grow outrageously- it was still enough to ruin his successful ruses.
During this time if a scam went sour he had two outs; get beaten down to a bloody pulp, run or fight. At first he tried escaping but the new weight and height was always an issue for him-at first. He would get beaten for trying to scam people, then be reprimanded for not successfully scamming people by Violet.
It would cause his solitude day to often turn into solitude days, Violet had upped the security however it was still nothing for the ever crafter Rhysaiel, deciding to plot his revenge now on those who murdered his closest friend, at this point it was the only goal keeping him alive.
On his nineteenth birthday, Rhysaiel had one of his scams go sour. Two against him, and it was one of the hardest fights he had ever been in. He was certain they were going to kill him, and in a funny way it was the first time he felt alive since the loss of Yelina. He won the fight, unfortunately in the crowd of people watching said fight had been Quincy. Embarrassed, he would turn the weekly viewing of boxing into another job the young sylph soul had to shoulder.
He was now in the boxing circuit, to this day he wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement that fueled him, perhaps it was an addictive tincture of both.
Roll With The Punches
The fighting circuit was a challenge, it took most of his energy, between the normal chores that Violet had him on, and now suddenly Quincy on his back. At first, all he did was lose, after all they often paired him against fighters twice his size. After a few months of brutal beatdowns, Rhysaiel had started to understand the way of the ring. The first fight he won had been five months into it, at that point Rhysaiel had been certain Quincey had been making him fight as punishment.
Then they paired him against the largest opponent he had ever faced, Two Slugger Samuel, a full orc- there was a rumor going around that he had killed a man with two punches. It was one of the worst beatings he had ever gotten, but it beat some sense into him. Half way through the fight Rhysaiel had realized something, he had been playing by the rules this entire time- however, the rules hadn't been made entirely for someone of his stature, he hadn't the full brute strength as most of these simply boxers. He had endurance and he used that to beat Slugger Samuel.
After that fight it was nothing but gold stars and actual meals. The young storm sylph had found a place for once. Even in pain he felt completely alive, for a moment this even took his mind from finding justice for Yelina. At age twenty he had decided to sneak out for once, and realized that Quincey had been betting on him- making a fortune off of his hard work. It was something that they always had control over for him, however, this one time- he had control over it. He intentionally started losing the fights, even to the extent he would goad on his opponent if he didn't feel they were fighting him with a true enough intent. During one of the fights while he was getting pummeled on his sides, he saw Ales- one of the men who murdered Yelina watching. He doubted the old ranger even realized who Rhysaiel was. He felt something new this time, different from the flush of emotions that hit him when he fought. He needed to get justice for her.
Months went by and Rhysaiel had started back up on following the three, unfortunately, one of Yelina's murderers had been human- and he died. He'd target the son, after all, he needed to avenge her, she deserved justice immediately, it's been too long. A night he had snuck out he had managed to hear Quincey and Violet, well to be exact- Quincey in a cry of desperation announce that they had gone bankrupt- solely because of Rhysaiel of course; well Quincey had been betting on him, and he had been losing. It's what Violet planned to do to him that would quickly change Rhysaiel's attitude on losing.
"A storm sylph's body parts are often thought of as magical, they'll gain us back our money and more. I have a few people in mind for buyers."
Pugilist
The next fights Rhysaiel had decided to put his all into it, he had never fought so hard in his life. Most fights lasted a matter of minutes, and because of this they would often pile many fights in one night. The last couple fights even drew in bigger crowds. It didn't bode well for him when Quincey explained that he was pulling him from fighting, they must have found a buyer or two, even though he knew he could make Quincey's money back.
He didn't know how they drugged him, but they managed to do so. When he awoke he had been on a stone table, strapped down with cheap rope and tools scratching at the skin around his eyes. He didn't know how hard or long he struggled, each attempt digging the tools deeper and deeper around his eyes. The bindings would break with a crackle of electricity as the door opened revealing Quincey and Violet. He was on top of Quincey delivering heavy blows to the man's face, the nose was broken by the second punch. His teeth shattered by the third, all the man could do was lay stunned either by surprise or pain underneath Rhysaiel's quick blows.
The angered sylph hadn't paid any attention to Violet shrieking as she ran to either get help or her own weapons to stop him. She'd bump into a rather tall man that smelled like a pine forest just outside of the doors. For lack of better words he was a fan of Rhysaiel's. Upon walking into the room, with the sight of Rhysaiel sending a barrage of fists at a crumpled form- Colm knew that this young man would work well for him.
Before Rhysaiel knew it he was in a tight grapple, his feet dangling from the ground as he was gripped, and Colm offered one thing, to buy Rhysaiel off their hands. Colm got a good fighter for cheap that day. For the first time in his life, Rhysaiel got a couple things he never had up to that point; an explanation and a choice and scars around his eyes.
"Wit' me boys and me, you'll eat good- ain't no one gonna cut you up here or treat'n ya like a dog, in three days you go to the docks, you'll come with me to Regland, fight for my gang." It was almost as if each of the words had been connected together and it took Rhysaiel a few moments to comprehend what had just been said to him. "By the way, how'do ya reckon the name Rhys sounds?"
He never had a nickname before either. "I'll be there to see you in three days." Colm ended up giving Rhys one more gift, coins to last a few days and a bag full of food. "Three days it is, Rhys."
KnockDown
Finavarra had been home for as long as he could remember, a home made of wickedness and filled with pain- but still a home. Doubtful he'd ever get homesick, Rhys began his plan. First it was a letter, addressed to each of the killers. Ales the elven Ranger got one from Tidark, the head of the orphanage and a half- orc. Tidark got one from Jude O'Murtaghd, the son of Tristan O'Murtaghd- a family who owned a business in the heart of the village, and Jude would get one from Ales.
He had the three meet under the moonlight, in the very spot where he found the remains of Yelina. Darkness had kept him hidden and his only issue was the elf ranger- his first strike was at him, blinding the elf as he took out the others. Jude was the easiest of the three to slay, and if Rhys could feel anything but pride out of his actions- perhaps Jude was the only one who was the innocent out of the three. Simply paying the price his father should have. Jude had the mercy of a swift death. After Jude's death Rhys made it so Ales' couldn't get away and made the elven ranger listen to the sounds of his companions' bones crushing under the weight of Rhys' rage.
Tidark got the brutal force of it all, after all, the orphanage would be a better place without him. The world would be a better place without these three. He spent all night with them, beating the bones to mush until all three of their corpses were completely unidentifiable.
At sunrise he began his journey to a new home, to him, Finavarra was nothing but a mausoleum.
The emerald islands of Brynland had been very familiar with rain and bad storms. Hidden in the hilly lands lay a town of traders and fishermen- Finavarra, the land though green barren of anything viable, nestled next to unstill oceans that would occasionally cough up a nice bounty for the town. After a particularly dark and dreary thunderstorm, the kind where the ocean was seconds away from pounding at the market place's doors. Two orphans at the prime age of one sat blissfully in a puddle of water, drenched yet babbling,outside the Orphanage's doors. The head caretaker, a half- orc, Tidark, who inherited the home from his family, had welcomed the two with open arms, an interesting pair of children: An elf, and a storm sylph, names scrawled in fading ink on their arms.
Yelina, and Ryhsaiel.
Growing up the two were inseparable. Yelina, despite being of elf descent, got along with the children, and anyone who dared to bully her- there was Ryhsaiel, who really didn't care to get along with the children. Always argumentative and looking to fight, even those who are twice his size. Anytime the two even had the possibility of being adopted they would act out, on the best occasions- Ryhsaiel devouring raw meat and making animal noises, on the worst they would disappear entirely- the longest three days by Yelina, often needing the help of a resentful ranger- Ales, to round the rascals up.
As far as Rys was concerned it was the two of them against the world.
Mercy's Paradise Orphanage
All was well in Finavarra until Yelina of Finavarra turned age five, to Ryhsaiel's amazement and everyone else's dismay, she had been a wild magician, one night unbeknownst to the adults, Yelina used her magic to light up a dark room, a kid was afraid of the dark, in response her wild magic stirred up an angry storm, starting at the center of the orphanage and working its way out. It would cause a landslide, destroying a trader's route and causing damages to the dock that stalled fishing for weeks, the route destroyed for months. Yelina had decided to tell everyone it was her, to Ryhsaiel's dismay.
This is when everything went sour, children bullied or were outright frightened of Yelina, and anytime anyone- child or adult would send the young girl an odd glance or stare; Ryhsaiel would be there to stand up for her, his words were as sharp and painful as his fists, every time he lost a battle which was a lot, he would fight harder. The first fight he'd lose would be to a teenager, the second to a group of kids his age, the third to a group of teenagers, he wanted everyone to feel the pain his friend was suffering, Yelina who had been the kindest person he knew.
The first real fight he won, he would have murdered the kid, a teenager probably around sixteen had been hurling stones at Yelina, trying to cast her out. Ryhsaiel had just turned the corner to see this, using this as his advantage he attacked the bully- he didn't have a chance. Yelina had been in tears as the fight was over, and would use her abilities to heal the bully, begging Ryhsaiel to stop fighting. As she lamented healing the bully, her wild magic would trigger another catastrophe, this time taking her vision with it. The elders of the village would succumb to a plague, the plague would last until the last elder died before disappearing as fast as it had appeared.
Trophy Boy and Omen Girl
The bully had told everyone it had been Yelina, and she would be treated far worse; Ryhsaiel at this point only stayed by Yelina's side, fighting with anyone who wasn't Tidark or Yelina. At the age of ten Yelina had triggered another minor yet inconvenient wild magic burst, turning the fish and boats in Finavarra alive for only an hour, however in that hour an entire fisherman's boat decided it would rather be dead, and capsized, killing a good portion of the crew. The town had multiple options to handle with Yelina, a portion wanted to exile her, a group wanted her dead, but Tidark decided with the help of an elderly tradesman named Odrrus would convince the council to spare her and simply imprison her in her bedroom, for both her safety and the safety of the town.
This decision would cause Ryhsaiel to even lash out at Tidark now, for two months Tidark would need Ales at his side to subdue and calm down Ryhsaiel, sometimes the young boy would lash out at the councilmen, or those who are known elf haters. The third month would pass and Ryhsaiel had switched to another tactic, sneaking to see Yelina. Nervous at first but would find that sneaking had been something that came of ease to the short boy, afterall no one was actively looking for him unless he would make a scene. It would become a habit to sneak her treats and toys, explain stories to her or how he's appeared.
As months turned into years Ryhsaiel behaved his best, the best he had ever behaved. Tidark would occasionally joke that it was Yelina who caused him to act out all those times, however, he would still run away if he even thought he was going to be adopted, often hiding by the docks or deep in the hills, after all he hadn't acted like any young man his age, he was mature, kind, and gentle, most thought he was aasimar over Sylph.
A treasure lost
For years they'd keep Yelina locked up for crimes out of her control, her blind and mostly alone in her room. Ryhsaiel, sneaking out every night to see her, comfort her and the two would speak of their freedom, far from Finavarra. He'd remain the perfect Trophy child to the orphanage, and even the town's people would grow to adore him.
The night of their fourteenth birthday, at this point they decided to combine the day of their birthdays. He had stolen a nice, yet small treat for them to enjoy, and sneaking through the shadows of the dilapidated hallway was easy for him, the rain would muffle out any sounds he made. Tonight would be different than the last fourteen years they spent together, blood stained sheets had been the only thing to greet him, and the smell of copper and devilry polluted the air.
He would spend the next two- three days looking for her, yet no one seemed to bat an eyelash, no one seemed to question nor care why there was blood in her sheets, most shrugged it off saying his blind friend had simply finally run off, doing the town a kindness.
A kindness that only brought him to a rage, to search much harder for his friend.
Fragment
It was a solid long and wet week, thunderstorms ruled the town but that didn't stop the storm Soul,only the age of fourteen when he found Yelina's body hidden far away from the town, chopped into various pieces. The sight will haunt him for a very long time.
He'd rush back to town quickly telling anybody who would listen, they would merely shake him off. Repeat that she ran away, a few people even dared to say it was her fault for running away. He knew this wasn't the truth..she wouldn't have runaway without him. She was murdered and no one cared. It was almost as if everyone wanted her dead. After a month of pleading for someone to care, he would wait for a night of a full moon to bury his friend. Promising Yelina he would avenge her death.
Starting that night he began to sneak out from the orphanage to track down clues about what happened the night she died almost a full year ago now.
Throw in the towel
It only took until he was fifteen to discover exactly who did it, well, the only good clues he had led to three people, Tidark, Ales, and Odrrus. It made sense, he had scoured the whole town and found his first clue here, at the orphanage the place he thought to be his home. After he found the first clue the rest just fell into place, the group didn't even try to hide their misdoings. It took him a month to gather the courage to confront Tidark, he was going to kill him with his bare hands.
Two humans were waiting with Tidark when he came, a tall woman with dark eyes and dark hair, and a short balding man with thick glasses and a pipe hanging on the side of his mouth. "These are your new parents, Ryhsaiel, you'll finally be able to start all over, and forget about this place."
The woman would stare down her narrow nose, her eyes looking him over before turning her back and walking off, the man would lay a thick hand on his shoulder and direct him to follow, all the shocked child could do is follow, his eyes never leaving Tidark. The two didn't say anything to him as they walked through the town, people whispered and pointed, as the two would lead him the farthest part of town and about fifteen minutes past it, a neat little home with a garden crowding the house. The trio would walk in silence until they got into the house where each room rather monotonously had been described to him, almost as if a chore- as if he, a fifteen year old boy,should magically know the layout of this house. Leading him to a room near the backdoor of the house with a thick magical lock on it, they'd push him in.
"You will not call him father, or me mother. He is Mister Quincy and I am Mistress Violet." with that they'd lock him in, the room was nicer than that of an orphanage at least.
Sanctioned Body
The months went by and he had gotten into a very strict habit. Violet had him running errands from sunrise to sunset, the errands often were harvesting, smuggling or delivering items, destroying items and even scamming customers. The two ran a shop that he had to clean once a week as part of his errands. Young Rhys was a good looking man, he was clever as well as quick so he ran scams easily. He always aimed to be the best, after all, the better he was the better he ate. Sometimes if times were slow he would be lucky to eat more than once a day.
Randomly days he did errands, Quincy would let him do half his errands then take him to see fights. It was very much the only active entertainment he could watch, observing the fight with keen interest. After he ran the errands, three days he was excluded from errands, in those three times a week she would have him study or test him for twenty four hours at a time and then let him have a short rest.
Only one day Rhysaiel would have for himself and they'd often lock him in his room alone. It took him only a year to figure out how to unlock it.
Underdog
During the single day of solitude a week he started using that time to continue the investigation of Yelina's death, documenting and using his skill of sneak to watch the three guilty.
One evening of such an event, Violet had broken her usual habits and caught him- to this day he isn't certain if she knew or if it was just bad timing. She didn't punish him, no, the errands she had him do became more stealth based. Stealing from stores, pickpocketing, and spying.
Violet promised him to keep it a secret from Quincy, he didn't know why, but he imagined it was the greed perspective, Quincy rarely interacted with him. Rhysaiel had been great at her demands and she let him keep escaping on his day of solitude.
RoughHousing
At eighteen, an unfortunate situation occurred, for pretty much all parties. Rhysaiel had a growth spurt, his small and skinny stature had grown, and due to his success he had gone from underfed, to a healthy weight. He was in his rare moments of hearing about other Sylphs, although he didn't grow outrageously- it was still enough to ruin his successful ruses.
During this time if a scam went sour he had two outs; get beaten down to a bloody pulp, run or fight. At first he tried escaping but the new weight and height was always an issue for him-at first. He would get beaten for trying to scam people, then be reprimanded for not successfully scamming people by Violet.
It would cause his solitude day to often turn into solitude days, Violet had upped the security however it was still nothing for the ever crafter Rhysaiel, deciding to plot his revenge now on those who murdered his closest friend, at this point it was the only goal keeping him alive.
On his nineteenth birthday, Rhysaiel had one of his scams go sour. Two against him, and it was one of the hardest fights he had ever been in. He was certain they were going to kill him, and in a funny way it was the first time he felt alive since the loss of Yelina. He won the fight, unfortunately in the crowd of people watching said fight had been Quincy. Embarrassed, he would turn the weekly viewing of boxing into another job the young sylph soul had to shoulder.
He was now in the boxing circuit, to this day he wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement that fueled him, perhaps it was an addictive tincture of both.
Roll With The Punches
The fighting circuit was a challenge, it took most of his energy, between the normal chores that Violet had him on, and now suddenly Quincy on his back. At first, all he did was lose, after all they often paired him against fighters twice his size. After a few months of brutal beatdowns, Rhysaiel had started to understand the way of the ring. The first fight he won had been five months into it, at that point Rhysaiel had been certain Quincey had been making him fight as punishment.
Then they paired him against the largest opponent he had ever faced, Two Slugger Samuel, a full orc- there was a rumor going around that he had killed a man with two punches. It was one of the worst beatings he had ever gotten, but it beat some sense into him. Half way through the fight Rhysaiel had realized something, he had been playing by the rules this entire time- however, the rules hadn't been made entirely for someone of his stature, he hadn't the full brute strength as most of these simply boxers. He had endurance and he used that to beat Slugger Samuel.
After that fight it was nothing but gold stars and actual meals. The young storm sylph had found a place for once. Even in pain he felt completely alive, for a moment this even took his mind from finding justice for Yelina. At age twenty he had decided to sneak out for once, and realized that Quincey had been betting on him- making a fortune off of his hard work. It was something that they always had control over for him, however, this one time- he had control over it. He intentionally started losing the fights, even to the extent he would goad on his opponent if he didn't feel they were fighting him with a true enough intent. During one of the fights while he was getting pummeled on his sides, he saw Ales- one of the men who murdered Yelina watching. He doubted the old ranger even realized who Rhysaiel was. He felt something new this time, different from the flush of emotions that hit him when he fought. He needed to get justice for her.
Months went by and Rhysaiel had started back up on following the three, unfortunately, one of Yelina's murderers had been human- and he died. He'd target the son, after all, he needed to avenge her, she deserved justice immediately, it's been too long. A night he had snuck out he had managed to hear Quincey and Violet, well to be exact- Quincey in a cry of desperation announce that they had gone bankrupt- solely because of Rhysaiel of course; well Quincey had been betting on him, and he had been losing. It's what Violet planned to do to him that would quickly change Rhysaiel's attitude on losing.
"A storm sylph's body parts are often thought of as magical, they'll gain us back our money and more. I have a few people in mind for buyers."
Pugilist
The next fights Rhysaiel had decided to put his all into it, he had never fought so hard in his life. Most fights lasted a matter of minutes, and because of this they would often pile many fights in one night. The last couple fights even drew in bigger crowds. It didn't bode well for him when Quincey explained that he was pulling him from fighting, they must have found a buyer or two, even though he knew he could make Quincey's money back.
He didn't know how they drugged him, but they managed to do so. When he awoke he had been on a stone table, strapped down with cheap rope and tools scratching at the skin around his eyes. He didn't know how hard or long he struggled, each attempt digging the tools deeper and deeper around his eyes. The bindings would break with a crackle of electricity as the door opened revealing Quincey and Violet. He was on top of Quincey delivering heavy blows to the man's face, the nose was broken by the second punch. His teeth shattered by the third, all the man could do was lay stunned either by surprise or pain underneath Rhysaiel's quick blows.
The angered sylph hadn't paid any attention to Violet shrieking as she ran to either get help or her own weapons to stop him. She'd bump into a rather tall man that smelled like a pine forest just outside of the doors. For lack of better words he was a fan of Rhysaiel's. Upon walking into the room, with the sight of Rhysaiel sending a barrage of fists at a crumpled form- Colm knew that this young man would work well for him.
Before Rhysaiel knew it he was in a tight grapple, his feet dangling from the ground as he was gripped, and Colm offered one thing, to buy Rhysaiel off their hands. Colm got a good fighter for cheap that day. For the first time in his life, Rhysaiel got a couple things he never had up to that point; an explanation and a choice and scars around his eyes.
"Wit' me boys and me, you'll eat good- ain't no one gonna cut you up here or treat'n ya like a dog, in three days you go to the docks, you'll come with me to Regland, fight for my gang." It was almost as if each of the words had been connected together and it took Rhysaiel a few moments to comprehend what had just been said to him. "By the way, how'do ya reckon the name Rhys sounds?"
He never had a nickname before either. "I'll be there to see you in three days." Colm ended up giving Rhys one more gift, coins to last a few days and a bag full of food. "Three days it is, Rhys."
KnockDown
Finavarra had been home for as long as he could remember, a home made of wickedness and filled with pain- but still a home. Doubtful he'd ever get homesick, Rhys began his plan. First it was a letter, addressed to each of the killers. Ales the elven Ranger got one from Tidark, the head of the orphanage and a half- orc. Tidark got one from Jude O'Murtaghd, the son of Tristan O'Murtaghd- a family who owned a business in the heart of the village, and Jude would get one from Ales.
He had the three meet under the moonlight, in the very spot where he found the remains of Yelina. Darkness had kept him hidden and his only issue was the elf ranger- his first strike was at him, blinding the elf as he took out the others. Jude was the easiest of the three to slay, and if Rhys could feel anything but pride out of his actions- perhaps Jude was the only one who was the innocent out of the three. Simply paying the price his father should have. Jude had the mercy of a swift death. After Jude's death Rhys made it so Ales' couldn't get away and made the elven ranger listen to the sounds of his companions' bones crushing under the weight of Rhys' rage.
Tidark got the brutal force of it all, after all, the orphanage would be a better place without him. The world would be a better place without these three. He spent all night with them, beating the bones to mush until all three of their corpses were completely unidentifiable.
At sunrise he began his journey to a new home, to him, Finavarra was nothing but a mausoleum.
So like I said, we can go any direction with this. I have his personality in mind I just haven't gotten a chance to write it down, although I'm sure you got a slight gist of it with his past.
Can be with or without canon.
In this world, there are multiple demon lords, princes or princesses, essentially siblings to Koenma. These demon royalties were pillars, sworn to keep balance between the worlds. Each has their own powers and responsibilities. A coup happened, perhaps even started by some of the royalty, this coup ends up taking out most of the demon lords, and destroying the Kekkai barrier.
This causes an imbalance in the worlds, humans suffering mysterious illnesses, and even spirit detectives being awakened naturally, some very lucky, or unlucky human's natural defense against the demon world. Dubbing this the great Awaking. Those who wake up, before they fully develop their psychic abilities their body goes through painful processes, symptoms often appearing outward. Perhaps someone was sick for a long time, perhaps some people see the barriers a little easier and just think they are going insane.
One of my characters, Queen Persephone, a demoness who is mourning the loss of one the fallen demons lords, and her husband, decides to follow Koenma's suit. Finding her own spirit detectives to help bring balance to the world. We can have it so our group ends up meeting with the yuyugang.
I have a spirit detective human, a half demon, a deer demon, and Queen Persephone so far.
In this world, there are multiple demon lords, princes or princesses, essentially siblings to Koenma. These demon royalties were pillars, sworn to keep balance between the worlds. Each has their own powers and responsibilities. A coup happened, perhaps even started by some of the royalty, this coup ends up taking out most of the demon lords, and destroying the Kekkai barrier.
This causes an imbalance in the worlds, humans suffering mysterious illnesses, and even spirit detectives being awakened naturally, some very lucky, or unlucky human's natural defense against the demon world. Dubbing this the great Awaking. Those who wake up, before they fully develop their psychic abilities their body goes through painful processes, symptoms often appearing outward. Perhaps someone was sick for a long time, perhaps some people see the barriers a little easier and just think they are going insane.
One of my characters, Queen Persephone, a demoness who is mourning the loss of one the fallen demons lords, and her husband, decides to follow Koenma's suit. Finding her own spirit detectives to help bring balance to the world. We can have it so our group ends up meeting with the yuyugang.
I have a spirit detective human, a half demon, a deer demon, and Queen Persephone so far.
I don't have pictures for these characters, however, I wouldn't mind subbing anime face claims for them if you desire.
We can discuss indepth powers if you would like, the ones I have written down are really vague and open, I don't mind being specific or changing some things. Echo would be my main character, afab nonbinary, and the two supporting characters are just really fun for my muses to play. This can go in any direction we will plot for as well. Ideally with our characters being spirit detective partners, it can go the romantic way or just the platonic way as well.
[h1]
Jericho "Echo" Vessa
[/h1]
Age: 200+
Race: Hellhound/half human- A class ranking
Personality:
A quiet person, Jericho is someone who rather observe, after all in their long life, they've learned actions scream while words, words are barely a whisper. Along with being silent an intimidating aura follows them; perhaps it is their demonic bloodline, perhaps it is the often blank or bored expression played upon their soft face. In a constant state of survival, they aren't the most trust worthy and often only trust theirselves to deal with more serious issues, once could say they have a soft spot for the humans in their gang. Another could say that they simply saw the usefulness of their humans, and treated their tools with respect, if you'd ask them, they probably wouldn't give you a straight answer.
Despite this, to those Jericho calls in their gang, they would be met with a small friendly smile, and treated with the respect that Jericho is given. They'd consider themselves fair, perhaps a bit strict, but fair. Jericho keeps their fire abilities to themselves, or other demons- however, they don't pull back their intense speeds and strengths- due to this they have a slight street name, The Judge of the Redlight district, after all, they did run the majority of the Red light district, sometimes being called the Underground.
Most would say there was a disconnect from Jericho and those around them. As if there is an invisible wall between them and those they talk too. Perhaps it is because of their ambiguous gender, which was an easy target when they first stepped in the criminal networks, perhaps it was their power, mostly it was their self awareness.
To be neither human nor demon, to stay arms length from those around them. Keeping secrets from those who feel they are the closest to them, as if constantly ready to dance to alarm bells.
Appearance:
Jericho hold's many traits of their mother, their skin olive toned, with deep bags underneath their hetrochromatic eyes, one eye being their mother's pumpkin orange, the other being their father's dark black. They have sharp features, with various black peircings along their ears, deep- black stone plugs in their ears- stretched to about an inch. A layed wolf cut, frames their face and falls just a little past their shoulders. Their hair often disheviled and wild looking.
Often a lit cigarette or joint, hanging from their mouth depending the situation and who's around them, smoke constantly dancing past their words.
They stand at 5'7, their body being muscular and well toned, often they are dressed in black baggy harem pants, and a hooded croptop, bandages often around their hands and legs. When they activate their abilities, they often burn through alot of their clothing, because of this reason they made sure to often carry spares of their clothes, although at this time they had mastered the ability to stop the flames from eating through the majority of their clothes, often stopping at turning their croptop into a tubtop and their harem pants into shorts.
Their eyes often glowing as if on fire, the sides of their mouth and claws often decorated in a rather theatrical looking spiritual flames.
Background:
Jericho is the only child to once a powerful s class demon, he had no name and only went by his race, Hellhound. Hel for short if need be, but only a very few could speak his name so informal without incurring his wrath.
Hel typically helped guard the barriers between the human world and the demon world, it had many names but he wasn't one to care for names. During one of these patrollings is when he would sense a powerful psychic energy, and his curiosity would get the better of him. Watching from afar is when he would first see her, the only name that meant anything to him. Robin Vessa, she was different looking that anyone he had seen before.
Orange eyes for a human, and sun-kissed tan skin, hiding the rest of her form under hoods and bandages. Hel would find himself almost hunting her every chance he could get, and getting a glimpse of her was more than enough to satiate himself.
During one of these hunts, is when he decided he would save her, normally he'd watch if she was losing a fight, and she was, breaking the barrier just enough to save her from death, he'd take her deep in the spirit world with him, nurturing her back to health.
At first, Robin was thankful, until she realized she couldn't leave, he would never tell her, but he didn't allow her to leave. The two would start a reluctant relationship, and eventually, Jericho had been born, Robin was the child's closest friend, next to a flayed man- a corpse-type demon named Morgue. Hel simply only wished to harden what he saw as his weak child. After all, they were half-human, even if their mother was a strong psychic at one time.
Jericho wanted nothing but freedom, perhaps it was something they picked up from their mother, and long after the mortal death of their mother, they found out their father's secret, his selfish plot. In a rage, she destroyed and devoured her father, fleeing the barrier with ease- after all, she was a half demon.
The human world at first was a shellshock to them, all they did was devour humans and get stronger, the rage of their father's sins pumping through their veins like hot gold. Through these younger days, they took up the name Echo, enjoying playing with their victims.
As the years went by, Jericho would slow down, targeting those who they deemed deserved it, to eventually looking to their humanside, by this time they had amassed a large human following, with money to even pay off law enforcement, or buy legal ways to get by. Unknown to Jericho, the spiritual powers of their humanity would offer itself up as a way to feed Jericho, so they don't starve.
They don't see any of their human team mates as close friends or family, however, they are rather protective of their members, and when demons started picking off their members, Echo would step back out, investigating on their own, to only discover that the barrier itself had been completely destroyed.
Jericho wasn't a holy being, but they didn't want the world to end- and well, a bigger fish had stepped in their pond, and they needed help; with this they'd go to the spirit world, in an attempt to find any sort of authority to help.
Abilities:
*Demon level strengths, and speeds
*Hellfire abilities- This is magical fires that burn as long as Jericho is awake and conscious, the fires often at their mouth, and claws- their main weapons. The fire can burn through most human metals, and the best way to combat it is with spiritual weapons or other demon magic weapons. The fire has three different colors, each color having a different power. A deep silver blue burns, slow and steady. A blinding white, that creates a magical darkness around it, Jericho often uses this for escape- the darkness however creating an echo of even the slightest sound, thus her name. Finally a neon green flame, that they can use heal minor wounds- it is painful and can close certain wounds that would need stitches, fatal wounds they can only help to an extent.
*Starved- due to her refusal to devour humans, or demons even anymore, Jericho eats human food as a hobby, unknown to them their psychic powers have been sacrificing itself to feed them, aren't aware that demons often need to devour humans the stronger they are.
Jericho "Echo" Vessa
[/h1]
Age: 200+
Race: Hellhound/half human- A class ranking
Personality:
A quiet person, Jericho is someone who rather observe, after all in their long life, they've learned actions scream while words, words are barely a whisper. Along with being silent an intimidating aura follows them; perhaps it is their demonic bloodline, perhaps it is the often blank or bored expression played upon their soft face. In a constant state of survival, they aren't the most trust worthy and often only trust theirselves to deal with more serious issues, once could say they have a soft spot for the humans in their gang. Another could say that they simply saw the usefulness of their humans, and treated their tools with respect, if you'd ask them, they probably wouldn't give you a straight answer.
Despite this, to those Jericho calls in their gang, they would be met with a small friendly smile, and treated with the respect that Jericho is given. They'd consider themselves fair, perhaps a bit strict, but fair. Jericho keeps their fire abilities to themselves, or other demons- however, they don't pull back their intense speeds and strengths- due to this they have a slight street name, The Judge of the Redlight district, after all, they did run the majority of the Red light district, sometimes being called the Underground.
Most would say there was a disconnect from Jericho and those around them. As if there is an invisible wall between them and those they talk too. Perhaps it is because of their ambiguous gender, which was an easy target when they first stepped in the criminal networks, perhaps it was their power, mostly it was their self awareness.
To be neither human nor demon, to stay arms length from those around them. Keeping secrets from those who feel they are the closest to them, as if constantly ready to dance to alarm bells.
Appearance:
Jericho hold's many traits of their mother, their skin olive toned, with deep bags underneath their hetrochromatic eyes, one eye being their mother's pumpkin orange, the other being their father's dark black. They have sharp features, with various black peircings along their ears, deep- black stone plugs in their ears- stretched to about an inch. A layed wolf cut, frames their face and falls just a little past their shoulders. Their hair often disheviled and wild looking.
Often a lit cigarette or joint, hanging from their mouth depending the situation and who's around them, smoke constantly dancing past their words.
They stand at 5'7, their body being muscular and well toned, often they are dressed in black baggy harem pants, and a hooded croptop, bandages often around their hands and legs. When they activate their abilities, they often burn through alot of their clothing, because of this reason they made sure to often carry spares of their clothes, although at this time they had mastered the ability to stop the flames from eating through the majority of their clothes, often stopping at turning their croptop into a tubtop and their harem pants into shorts.
Their eyes often glowing as if on fire, the sides of their mouth and claws often decorated in a rather theatrical looking spiritual flames.
Background:
Jericho is the only child to once a powerful s class demon, he had no name and only went by his race, Hellhound. Hel for short if need be, but only a very few could speak his name so informal without incurring his wrath.
Hel typically helped guard the barriers between the human world and the demon world, it had many names but he wasn't one to care for names. During one of these patrollings is when he would sense a powerful psychic energy, and his curiosity would get the better of him. Watching from afar is when he would first see her, the only name that meant anything to him. Robin Vessa, she was different looking that anyone he had seen before.
Orange eyes for a human, and sun-kissed tan skin, hiding the rest of her form under hoods and bandages. Hel would find himself almost hunting her every chance he could get, and getting a glimpse of her was more than enough to satiate himself.
During one of these hunts, is when he decided he would save her, normally he'd watch if she was losing a fight, and she was, breaking the barrier just enough to save her from death, he'd take her deep in the spirit world with him, nurturing her back to health.
At first, Robin was thankful, until she realized she couldn't leave, he would never tell her, but he didn't allow her to leave. The two would start a reluctant relationship, and eventually, Jericho had been born, Robin was the child's closest friend, next to a flayed man- a corpse-type demon named Morgue. Hel simply only wished to harden what he saw as his weak child. After all, they were half-human, even if their mother was a strong psychic at one time.
Jericho wanted nothing but freedom, perhaps it was something they picked up from their mother, and long after the mortal death of their mother, they found out their father's secret, his selfish plot. In a rage, she destroyed and devoured her father, fleeing the barrier with ease- after all, she was a half demon.
The human world at first was a shellshock to them, all they did was devour humans and get stronger, the rage of their father's sins pumping through their veins like hot gold. Through these younger days, they took up the name Echo, enjoying playing with their victims.
As the years went by, Jericho would slow down, targeting those who they deemed deserved it, to eventually looking to their humanside, by this time they had amassed a large human following, with money to even pay off law enforcement, or buy legal ways to get by. Unknown to Jericho, the spiritual powers of their humanity would offer itself up as a way to feed Jericho, so they don't starve.
They don't see any of their human team mates as close friends or family, however, they are rather protective of their members, and when demons started picking off their members, Echo would step back out, investigating on their own, to only discover that the barrier itself had been completely destroyed.
Jericho wasn't a holy being, but they didn't want the world to end- and well, a bigger fish had stepped in their pond, and they needed help; with this they'd go to the spirit world, in an attempt to find any sort of authority to help.
Abilities:
*Demon level strengths, and speeds
*Hellfire abilities- This is magical fires that burn as long as Jericho is awake and conscious, the fires often at their mouth, and claws- their main weapons. The fire can burn through most human metals, and the best way to combat it is with spiritual weapons or other demon magic weapons. The fire has three different colors, each color having a different power. A deep silver blue burns, slow and steady. A blinding white, that creates a magical darkness around it, Jericho often uses this for escape- the darkness however creating an echo of even the slightest sound, thus her name. Finally a neon green flame, that they can use heal minor wounds- it is painful and can close certain wounds that would need stitches, fatal wounds they can only help to an extent.
*Starved- due to her refusal to devour humans, or demons even anymore, Jericho eats human food as a hobby, unknown to them their psychic powers have been sacrificing itself to feed them, aren't aware that demons often need to devour humans the stronger they are.
[h1]
Persephone
[/h1]
Queen of Hell, Widow of Hades.
Personality:
Over all Persephone has a calm nature, and speaks in a diplomatic tone often, having stepped up since the passing of her husband. She tries her best to be understanding, but like the change of seasons her patience does have a limit. First and foremost, she takes her title as a King of hell seriously, or a Queen if one cared for the exact definitions- either way she was one of the few high demons who supported the old laws, and wished to keep the balance between humanity and demons.
Before his passing, her husband had been after the murderer of one of his captains, Hel, his own child was a prime suspect, perhaps their focus on the child had kept their eyes blind to the coup, blind to the barriers fall, but there were more demon lords than just the two of them.
Alot of them fell, she was certain it was just the wives and children who stood shouldering the responsibility of creating harmony once again.
Appearance:
A shorter woman, with long and curly auburn hair. It cascades all the way past her knees, and often is pulled up in intricate hairstyles and braids. A round, and beautiful woman, with brown skin, and silver eyes. Her eyes hold a softness to it, almost as if a bittersweet happiness swims in her eyes. Plump lips painted red, with a crimson necklace across her neck, red beads connecting the jewelry to her. Signs of age has caressed her face, seemingly stuck at middle aged. Laugh lines, and crows feet decorating her face, white teeth with a small gap between her two front teeth. Often she is eating red fruit that can be compared to pomegranates or even apples.
She dresses in what can be considered an ethereal aesthetic. Often dressed in sheer dresses, that drag along after her as if her shadow. If she isn't dressed in her often cream or white dresses, she can occasionally be seen in pearl colored armor, that grips her curvy form tightly. Where she walks, the scent of fresh flowers, and newly fallen autumn leaves follows, and where she steps, she grows small gardens- since the passing of her husband and inheriting his title, now the garden dies when she leaves within five feet of it, signifying the cycle of life.
When she is not dressed in her formal wear, she has armor that is often adorned on her body. It can be compared to stained glass, however it keeps that pearlescent sheen. The gauntlets having autumn leaves resting on them.
Abilities:
*Dimensional travel
*power over the seasons
[h1]
Harth
[/h1]
One of many captains of the Grim Reaper Gaurd, Queen's Guard
Personality:
A stoic and quiet Deer demon. They go by nonbinary pronouns, however at times he/him pronouns maybe used. They tend to take their role very seriously, often at the Queen's side unless they are sent off on a mission. They have a very strict belief that certain roles can't be broken out of. A long time criminal can't be reformed, just as a hero can't ignore their just ways. They are loyal to Persephone to their very core, even if they are aware of The Queen's ways always had a second motive.
Often can be considered judgemental, they aren't afraid to speak their opinion, at the very least they were that person who can't exactly hide what they are thinking. That being said, they aren't above changing their opinion either- they just have to be proven wrong multiple times. If the hero ignores the cries for help so many times, after all, even the most well trained beast often could act against it's nature.
An A class demon, they however, often don't show off their powers, preferring to be a messenger or defender of the Queen.
Appearance:
A towering deer demon, with golden antlers coming out of the top of their head. They have deer eyes that are honey brown. Often dressed in aged, well used armor, it grips their muscular tawny colored body. Black and brown hoven feet, with white freckles along their face and shoulders. A handsome and sharp face, with short hair, shaved at the sides and a curly tuft hidden under their armor.
Tattoos along their body of a black vine with autumn leaves on it, the vines reach up and hid scars under their chest, hiding the scars of some sort of top surgery under the magical markings.
Abilities:
*Dimensional travel
*Ferryman of the dead
*Demonic speed
Persephone
[/h1]
Queen of Hell, Widow of Hades.
Personality:
Over all Persephone has a calm nature, and speaks in a diplomatic tone often, having stepped up since the passing of her husband. She tries her best to be understanding, but like the change of seasons her patience does have a limit. First and foremost, she takes her title as a King of hell seriously, or a Queen if one cared for the exact definitions- either way she was one of the few high demons who supported the old laws, and wished to keep the balance between humanity and demons.
Before his passing, her husband had been after the murderer of one of his captains, Hel, his own child was a prime suspect, perhaps their focus on the child had kept their eyes blind to the coup, blind to the barriers fall, but there were more demon lords than just the two of them.
Alot of them fell, she was certain it was just the wives and children who stood shouldering the responsibility of creating harmony once again.
Appearance:
A shorter woman, with long and curly auburn hair. It cascades all the way past her knees, and often is pulled up in intricate hairstyles and braids. A round, and beautiful woman, with brown skin, and silver eyes. Her eyes hold a softness to it, almost as if a bittersweet happiness swims in her eyes. Plump lips painted red, with a crimson necklace across her neck, red beads connecting the jewelry to her. Signs of age has caressed her face, seemingly stuck at middle aged. Laugh lines, and crows feet decorating her face, white teeth with a small gap between her two front teeth. Often she is eating red fruit that can be compared to pomegranates or even apples.
She dresses in what can be considered an ethereal aesthetic. Often dressed in sheer dresses, that drag along after her as if her shadow. If she isn't dressed in her often cream or white dresses, she can occasionally be seen in pearl colored armor, that grips her curvy form tightly. Where she walks, the scent of fresh flowers, and newly fallen autumn leaves follows, and where she steps, she grows small gardens- since the passing of her husband and inheriting his title, now the garden dies when she leaves within five feet of it, signifying the cycle of life.
When she is not dressed in her formal wear, she has armor that is often adorned on her body. It can be compared to stained glass, however it keeps that pearlescent sheen. The gauntlets having autumn leaves resting on them.
Abilities:
*Dimensional travel
*power over the seasons
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Harth
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One of many captains of the Grim Reaper Gaurd, Queen's Guard
Personality:
A stoic and quiet Deer demon. They go by nonbinary pronouns, however at times he/him pronouns maybe used. They tend to take their role very seriously, often at the Queen's side unless they are sent off on a mission. They have a very strict belief that certain roles can't be broken out of. A long time criminal can't be reformed, just as a hero can't ignore their just ways. They are loyal to Persephone to their very core, even if they are aware of The Queen's ways always had a second motive.
Often can be considered judgemental, they aren't afraid to speak their opinion, at the very least they were that person who can't exactly hide what they are thinking. That being said, they aren't above changing their opinion either- they just have to be proven wrong multiple times. If the hero ignores the cries for help so many times, after all, even the most well trained beast often could act against it's nature.
An A class demon, they however, often don't show off their powers, preferring to be a messenger or defender of the Queen.
Appearance:
A towering deer demon, with golden antlers coming out of the top of their head. They have deer eyes that are honey brown. Often dressed in aged, well used armor, it grips their muscular tawny colored body. Black and brown hoven feet, with white freckles along their face and shoulders. A handsome and sharp face, with short hair, shaved at the sides and a curly tuft hidden under their armor.
Tattoos along their body of a black vine with autumn leaves on it, the vines reach up and hid scars under their chest, hiding the scars of some sort of top surgery under the magical markings.
Abilities:
*Dimensional travel
*Ferryman of the dead
*Demonic speed
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