Fantasy The Crystalline Blood (Eternally Accepting)

[SniperBus]

Name: (Or alias)


Gender: ( :/ )


Severity of Osen Poisoning: (None, Slight, Light, Medium, High. The lower the amount of poisoning, the longer you will live and the more physically fit you can be.)


Discipline(s) of Osen: (Feel free to take this one out if your character has no poisoning)


Soul-print: (A picture of it is cool, a description of it is required.)


Appearance: (I don’t care about real, not real, etc., just no kawaii desu schoolgirls from moe moe anime high, k?)


Physical Description: ( Height, weight, discrepancies from picture.)


Personality:


Fears: (Bulleted lists will get your cs thrown out immediately)


Background: [spoiler}Backgroundhere

(Just fix the spoiler tag after making your background)


Miscellaneous information:

 

[Euclid Leaf]

...

​

Alias: "My name? Hmm... Sate, yes, I like that one."

Age: Unknown, he forgot.

Gender: Male

Height: 6'4 ft.

Weight: 142 lbs. /67 kgs.​

Appearance:

​

Severity of Osen Poisoning: Severe.


Discipline(s) of Osen: Gao & Xne


Soul-print: Being born with a exceptionally high case of poisoning, his harsh upbringing only worsening it, the affects of this strange 'disease' can be witnessed all across his body. His eyes are black with filmy pupils and his skin is slack and a chilling white. While quite a tall man, Sate is thin and flimsy like a withered reed. To hide the innumerable scars both those born with and many more inflicted, he decorates his body in tattoo art and other trinkets, as though to hide away the truth.


When he exerts Ose, his body will exude a discomforting black haze. The further he invokes his powers, he gains streaks of white hair, and upon stressing himself to the fullest, the black becomes fully white.


Personality:


A clumsy and aloof individual, Sate can often be found wandering around the land enjoying everything there is to life.


Simply put, Sate is a person who wishes to experience everything that can be considered odd, delving in all manners of exotic delicacies and activities without second thought. Living a life like a normal person would be a waste, especially when he is so special.


If something seems interesting, Sate can be sure to indulge in the pursuit once, or twice, but doing something one too many times will bore him. He's always suffered from this facet, a shortcoming that he both loathes and appreciates. But one thing that always satisfies his lust for inner and outward pleasure is the act of taking a life. Such a thing as watching a the life drain from the eyes of a person is a sight beyond beauty to him. The ecstasy they must feel is something he greatly envies. Of course he doesn't just go around killing willy-nilly, that would be absolutely preposterous. How can he savor the taste of low-brow prey? As such, there are 'conditions' that must be met for him to enact his talents. Sate prides himself in being open-minded to deviancy and perversion, as he is a product of oddity in itself, but certain acts cannot be forgiven, no matter the reasoning. As such, his victims are only those who he deems ugly and unfit for the pleasures of this wondrous world. Often times acting on this peculiar curiosity leads to trouble, but he can't complain, after all, a busy life is a fun one.


His friendly mannerisms hold a stark contrast to his appearance, a cold, almost dead man. Glimpses of a different man can be seen now and then. But he will always deny such a thing.


Fears: Sate is scared of few, rather the more erratic or strange, the more it will entice and fascinate him. But one thing he cannot tolerate is being left to his own thoughts. He suffers from heavy insomnia and is victim to numerous accounts of relapsing psychological trauma, which are kept to a minimum by distracting himself, in any way possible.


- "Everyone has something they're scared of, right? Mine is that ticking in my head. The voice I can't close out."


Background:

Spoiler

Whenever anyone asks about his past, he can't really tell them much, this is largely due to the fact that there are many things he can't remember, or more than likely; wish not to.


But the things he can willingly recall are terrible experiences that he'd rather not to relive, besides Sate isn't the type to sully a perfectly good mood either. Scraps of faded memories are all that Sate can muster, bloodied scenes and maddening cries. Even then, much of these fleeting images are not something he can control. However painful they may be, he will never display it if able. Such occurrences should never dare trace outside the confines of his mind. A pained laugh is always the way he ends such conversations. On rare occasions he might state a fact or a hand-picked quote from the past, though this only leads to more questions than answers.


...


This was recent happening, one night a few weeks, back at in a small town located at the outskirts. Such a place was not particularly fun in itself, but it was common stopping place for caravans. Sate was hoping to find some fun to end the night on a good note. Coming across a particularly crowded campfire, he took an interest in their wild stories and found himself a cozy spot against one of the carts so that he can listen to more. After a while, Sate noticed the sky was clear today. Soon enough, he was captivated, starting in wonderment at the glittering spectacle. Both the happy sounds nearby and the sight put him in a state of ecstasy and he lost track of time. Suddenly everything went quite, it was so jarring, like a door being slammed shut in his face.


Sate blinked a few times in shock.


Turning his eyes, he saw all of them were turned his way. He had tried to blend in with the shadows, so he didn't think they would notice him so early.


Well, this is unfortunate...


He was an intruder after all, so it was only natural. Just when Sate was about ready to start running for his dear life, one spoke out to him.


However, instead of telling him to leave, one of the men asked him to tell about himself.


He was surprised by their homeliness. His lips then upturned in delight, his black and white eyes twinkled like the stars above. In a good mood, he decided to humor them.


He straightened his back and cleared his throat.


"A place called Ose, you ever heard of it? You have? Great, that means I don't have to go into detail about that droll, crumbling state. Not that there would be much to say. It's so boring." he frowned jokingly, "Anyway, I suppose that was where you can say I was born. Physically at least. And as for why I left? Hmm..."


His lips squirmed in puzzlement, "The kings and queens had certain ideas about how to treat their country and people. I didn't like them very much, so I went and gave 'em a piece of my mind. I found my way into one of those fancy big-headed noble's homes... oh, what was his name?" he muttered, scratching his chin, "Well, whatever, that much doesn't matter. Creeping down a hallway, I noticed they were having dinner. Watching them pick about their plates in silence, it was like watching a bunch of dolls." shaking his head, "I almost felt sorry for them. Putting up airs all the time, no wonder they're driving the nation to the ground. They must be so grumpy. I figured they needed some entertainment and so I barged into the room and leapt onto the table and danced across."


Sate grinned wide, "You should've seen the look on their faces! Especially that fat nobleman! He was so angry he looked like a roast pig! That night, his whole private army practically chased me about the city!"


The thin man let out a hearty laugh and the people around joined him. They were so enthralled by his dynamic behavior, how he would sometimes personally act out parts or give funny voices to certain characters, that they kept him speaking for most of the night. They loved it all so much in fact, they even offering him a place among them.


Sate accepted. But the next morning he was nowhere to be seen.

Miscellaneous information:


"Huh, you wanna know something about me? Hm. I dunno... I like frogs."

...

​

 

[Lunar Lunacy]

Lillia Annette Mondra

Gender: Female


Severity of Osen Poisoning: Light


Discipline(s) of Osen: (Feel free to take this one out if your character has no poisoning)


Soul-print: Lillia's fingers and nails will start turning a digusting color of deoxidized blood. While her Osen is not severe, the very thought of losing her mind terrifies her yet gives her a thrill of power. Her skin is slightly grey as she begins losing her true self.


Appearance:

Physical Description:


Lillia was born with dark hair and a full head of hair when she was born. She prides herself in her hair, keeping it as almost a seductive weapon to use. Her eyes are dark brown, which can often lead to others thinking that her Osen is a bit in the medium range. Her skin is grey-tan as a use of her abilities. Every tattoo on her arm represents something close to her. Whether it be her flowers, her sister, there are many bits and pieces of tattoos to explore. Lillia wears provocative clothing as a way to get what she wants. Her body figure reminds many of a dancer, very graceful in how she appears. Her style can be known for leather, bits of white cloth, and a few rings.


Personality:


Lilliana grew out of a family of hatred. Everybody cutting each other up for the sake of their own safety. She believes in the you have to be cruel to be kind. Her potty mouth has gotten her kicked out of many places. Along with a few getting into fights with the young woman. Her tough as nails attitude can be a bit hindering while she fights others. A little cockiness never hurt to add in. Lilliana can use her street skills to bring something good to the table.


Yet on the inside, she's naïve about her abilities. Growing terrified of what will eventually happen to her. Except the aspect of growing power can overrule that fear.


Fears: Lilliana is terrified of dying, and also losing her mind to what she will eventually succumb to one day. Her life is a ticking time bomb. Oh yeah, she also is scared of centipedes.


Background: [spoiler}Backgroundhere

Lilliana watched how her parents practically murdered each other for a chance to raise her their own way. The two of her parents were arranged to be together.


Miscellaneous information:

I'll finish this later. But anything I need to fix for now?

 

[Noivian]

Name: Nova


Gender: Female


Severity of Osen Poisoning: High


Discipline(s) of Osen: Gao, Ondra


Soul-print: Nova bears tattoo-like markings on her shoulders and down her arms in the shape of wings. The more she exerts her power, the tattoos start to leave her arms and form inky wings branching off her shoulders. The wings don't do anything, being insubstantial and made of ink. Even if they were solid, they would be too small to allow her to fly.


Physical Description: 20 years old, 5'4", 100 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin. Typically seen wearing long, heavy cloaks over thin clothing.


Personality: Nova is the adventurous type. She likes to go places and do things, rather than being cooped up in one place forever. Outgoing, but relaxed, Nova likes to go with the flow, not making decisions and just following the group. She doesn't like being alone; one can tell when something is wrong, as she'll request alone time. Many people would describe her as apathetic, and for the most part, they'd be right. There's not a lot that Nova truly cares strongly about, but when she does, you'll know. She can be very loud and assertive over things she deems important.


Fears: Nova has a fear of losing herself. Despite how much she prefers the discipline of Gao, she fears that one day she will turn her body into something horrifying and not be able to turn back to her regular self.


Background:

Spoiler

Born and raised in Vulstendunn, Nova grew up with only her father a merchant. There wasn't anything unique about her father: he was a normal trader and made enough money to get by on. Nova learned about economics and being frugal from him. He doesn't like to talk much about Nova's mother, so Nova doesn't know anything about her, other than she looked just like Nova.


After discovering her talent for Osen, Nova trained every day, practicing in the disciplines of Gao and Ondra. She killed and bound the souls of many of the mice that loitered in her home, and when they ran out, took to the streets, using her new-found abilities to hunt down wild packs of dogs and take their souls. Despite her preference for the discipline of Gao, Nova found herself training more in Ondra.


Eventually, animal souls weren't cutting it anymore. Using her abilities, she manipulated the street animals into eventually killing another child from down the block, binding his soul to hers. Fearful of his daughter, Nova's father cast her out at the age of fifteen. She hopped onto a caravan and never looked back

Miscellaneous information: None.

 

[TheLoneRook]

Name: Razoras (Raz) Thornlick


Gender: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmasculinity


Severity of Osen Poisoning: Slight


Discipline(s) of Osen: All disciplines (not that he can do much with any of them)


Soul-print: Though rare, when Raz's Osen is awakened smoke clouds his hands and floats up between his fingertips. A rather mundane aesthetic, but one he finds dazzling to stare at for hours on end. Sometimes he will ignite miniscule portions of Osen in his hands just to set off the print itself.


Appearance:

Physical Description: About 6'2", 170lb, Raz sits in peak physical condition, and is typically dressed in suit clothes, although these suit clothes have armored plates sewn into them to provide for additional padding. Rumor has it he made them himself. His ears and small tail were a result of a childhood accident in which he tried to transform himself into a wolf with the power of Gao. The incident left him with his changed body, and even though his parents explained to him time and time again how to change back, he refused to attempt it out of fear that something worse would happen, and they have remained like that ever since.


Personality: Raz is a very balanced individual. Calm, approachable, kind, good sense of humor, not too bad of a temper, good with kids, fun for the whole family, the whole nine. He contrasts from the usual storybook character in that he's entirely...normal. That being said, he is still very much normal. He can be hurt, offended, bruised, afraid, concerned, just as well as he can hold his positive attributes. He's human, and though his life experiences have changed him for the better, he's not all that outrageous in any color.


Fears: *insert bulleted list here*


IUNNO, DEATH?!


Background:

Spoiler

Raz was born the son of two incredibly powerful Osen-manipulators. They had planned for him to be the successor to their family line, to teach him the ways of Osen, to train him to be even stronger than the both of them combined!


Instead, he came out a bit....underwhelming.


His poisoning was weak, and his desire to learn his parent's ancient art even weaker. Throughout his childhood he fancied himself an artist and an artisan, taking up whatever craft he saw and then moving on to the next. He would listen to his parent's teachings in the arts of Osen, and was proficient in technique, but his lack of raw power gave him little incentive to pursue magic. He preferred to fight with his hands, and with swords. He was the strong member of his family, of his village, the only one with low amounts of Osen in his body, as it were. He became a skilled tailor, a blacksmith, a cook, even a swordsman. He took it upon himself to be able to provide for every need he had, as his family was so accustomed to relying on acts of magic to get them through life. Once he was of age he abandoned his home and his family in search of new passions and crafts, ever eager to explore the world around him.

Miscellaneous information: No, he's not going to act like a wolf.

 

[Orion Pax]

Name: High Priest Orpheus


Gender: Male


Severity of Osen Poisoning: High


Discipline(s) of Osen: Ondra and Sol


Soul-print: Orpheus has a fungus growing on his back that will glow purple when he uses his ose. The luminosity of it depends on how much he is exerting himself.


Appearance:

Physical Description: Orpheus stands a bit above average height, at around 6'1". His current state leaves him significantly underweight, only weighing around 135 lbs. His skin is rotting and deteriorating from years of heavy osen use. He typically wears long, grand, cloaks, in order to instill awe amongst his believers.


Personality: Orpheus is the populist leader of a religious sect comprised of mainly Osen users. He has adopted an awe-inspiring, larger than life persona in order to play this role. In public, he is grandiose, pious, and commanding. As a priest, he delivers sermons and orations with confidence and humble professionalism. However, in private he is a much more calm and compassionate person. He believes that most governments are corrupt and should respect the wishes of their populace, however he also believes that the common people do not know what is in their best interests, and uses his position to coerce them into taking hostile, sometimes violent action against the government. To him, he is not deceiving the people, but rather opening their eyes to the injustices in their lives.


Fears: Orpheus fears the day he loses his voice, whether it be from death or people stop listening to him. He believes that his influence is essential for bringing good to the world, and without it the people will accept their position and injustice will prevail.


Background:

Spoiler

Orpheus understands that he is destined to lead the people of Ose out from under the oppression of the government and into their rightful position as world leaders. He was born to a noble family and spent much of his time training himself in the use of Ondra and Sol Osen. When he was a boy, he would spend time controlling small animals and healing them of their injuries. As he grew older, he began to become educated as a doctor since he was a second-son and would not inherit any land. When he grew older, he began to travel around the country, healing the people. His observations of the lower class peasants and serfs lead him to believe that they were blind and oblivious to the oppression force upon them by the government. He took it as his personal calling to open their eyes and lead them in revolution. Using his potent Ondra Osen, he began his own church by manipulating lesser-minded people into joining and spreading Orpheus's writings. He is currently working on igniting the anger of the populace, but worries that he will be consumed by his Osen before he has a chance to start his revolt. He has been seeking out Osen users for their souls, believing that their lives are worth giving up for all the good he could do for the people of Ose.

Miscellaneous information: SMITTYWERBENMANJENSEN

 

[Axion]

Name: Snow


Gender: Male


Severity of Osen Poisoning: Medium


Discipline(s) of Osen: Vordunn & Keleik


Soul-print: He keeps his hands inside his sleeves or pouch and his hood on to hide the markings he was born with. It starts at the back his neck and travels down from there; on his back are three large slashes that stings if anyone touches it. From the torso down to his hands and feet are scars that look closely similar to barbed wire wrapped and/or criss crossing each other.


Appearance:

Physical Description: 5'8 ft, weighs about 120 lbs, black hair, blue eyes, wears a purple-black striped shirt, a cord hoodie(to cover his neck or hide his face), black jeans, is a bit weak, cunning, silent and quick.


Personality: You could say Snow is not a fighter but he sure would say that he's not a lover as well. He's a bit laid-back and doesn't like to help much people (even his own family). He sees to himself rather than to his own kind.


"Why should I care? Isn't it all last man for themselves in this realm?"


People see him as a coward, for not fighting back, and a emotionless freak of nature.


But in real truth, he doesn't want to hurt himself or others, he would take on a problem alone so that others could escape.


Fears: What everyone fears the most, whether they admit it or not: Death.


Death haunts him. Deaths loathes him.


Background:

Spoiler

Born and raised in Ardenfall, his life wasn't rainbows and sunshine. It was absolutely terrible, from the homed he lived in with family, being poor all the time, the neighborhood of criminal activity, and to top it off: Being an Osen user.


Though the populace wasn't so hard on it, you could clearly tell they still didn't want any trouble from Osen users and made rules that just stops anyone from using it within the country.


Snow's family would move town to town, because of work or his mom marring somewhat rich men who lived far away from their original home. Snow is the eldest of his family, with two brothers and four sisters and another one topping it off. Even though they get set with a rich dad, sooner or later all that money gets spending away on drinks and clothes.


Snow is one of many who were curious about the Great Fissure. He never got the chance to see it but he hopes one day that he will and somehow get across the ravine, to look for a better world. Untouched by mankind.

Miscellaneous information: He has a pocket knife. Don't worry. It bleeds.

 

[ObviouslySketchy]

• Appearance
• Psyche
• Miscellaneous

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Moira Frayne
  
  
  Gender:Female
  
  
  Severity of Osen Poisoning: Light
  
  
  Discipline of Osen: Ondra, Sol
  
  
  Soul Print: When using Osen, small particles of light will gather around her hand/s, following its movements. The more Osen she uses, the particles with clump together, forming flames. Although harmless at the moment, Moira is certain that if the flames grow in intensity, they may end up harming her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Height: 5'6" (167 cm)
  
  
  Weight: 116 lbs (53 kg)
  
  
  Eye Color: Myrtle Green
  
  
  Hair Color: Auburn
  
  
  Complexion: Fair; freckles along the nose, cheeks and chest.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Origin: Daelyn
  
  
  Personality: Moira is uncompromisingly honest, with a love for knowledge that has gradually inched into obsession along the years. She will do anything if it means gaining more insight into her research, including putting others in danger.
  
  
  She has no strong allegiance to good or evil and will more likely act on what is most convenient for her at the moment, but if push comes to shove, Moira believes that it is better to ally oneself with the good rather than the bad.
  
  
  She has a strong dislike for restrictive rules and doesn't mind the criticism other people throw at her, so long as it's logical.
  
  
  Moira loves planning and will spend hours mulling over the same thought, prodding at it from all angles to ensure her decisions are correct. The downside to this is the sheer amount of time it takes her to reach a conclusion.
  
  
  Because of her rational thinking, Moira will often misjudge the feelings of other people. She is not known for her sensitivity and affection.
  
  
  Fears: She is afraid of heights and small spaces. Insects of any shape and size also make her skittish.
  
  
  
  
  
  Spoiler

  
  Born as the eldest of her family, Moira's inquisitive nature has always been encouraged by the men of the house. She was taught how to read and write by her father, an arcane scholar, like his father before him, who possessed a numerous amount of knowledge on Osen. Her mother was a seamstress, and would make clothing for her and her two sisters as birthday presents.
  
  
  The day the poison revealed itself was not a happy one, but Moira would much rather look at the good than the bad: she became very close with her father, whom shared with her the knowledge he gained over the years. Despite her parent's cooperation, years passed in which she was forbidden from using Osen.
  
  
  During her late teenage years, Moira decided to walk the path of Ondra, and started training on creating illusions from the elements surrounding her.
  
  
  When the thread of Xne became palpable enough, Moira's love for the arcane turned into an obsession, driving her to leave her family's home in search of answers, new paths that an Osem could walk in order to either eliminate the threat of Xne, or, at the very least, survive through the whole ordeal.
  
  
  She has recently started dabbling in the discipline of Sol, but the looming threat of possibly killing another being keeps her from practicing on live souls.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  She has a low-tolerance for pain.
  
  
  Has a silvery voice but is known to chortle when laughing.
  
  
  Carries a knapsack that contains basic survival provisions, along with a small knife, an oilcloth (weather resistant) and a blanket.
  
  
  

Spoiler

(I have no idea why this took so long >< Anyway, it's finally done; now I can go get my remaining 4 hours of sleep before class)

 

[SniperBus]

Alys Arin

(credit to dropdeadcoheed on deviantart for art)


Gender: Female


Severity of Osen Poisoning: Medium


Disciplines of Osen: Vokyll, Vordunn, Sol


Soul-print: Near when she was still a child, her father passed down a family heirloom, the last thing that would ever live in their household, even long after the family would pass away. It was a simple rose, that never wilted, sustained by the Osen of it’s wearer to live.


When exerting any amount of Osen, the small rose in her breast pocket blooms, spreading out a small amount of thorny roots. As the amount of Osen she uses increases, the roots spread, and the size of the flower increases. The roots will eventually cover her entire left arm down to her hand, and up her shoulder to her neck. However, the thorns will never prick her.


Physical Description: Alys is 5’4” / 160cm, and 114 lbs / 51.7 kg. Despite being quite muscular, impressively so for her type of poisoning, countless foodless nights have stunted her growth and made her on the brink of dangerously underweight for her size. Despite this, even when she has plenty of food, she usually doesn’t think to eat.


Personality: Protective. As if she can make a difference, Alys tries to protect everyone she meets, be it from danger, fellow Osem, or themselves. She shows compassion and keeps an open mind, willing to listen to people’s problems for as long as they’re willing to talk. Everyone needs to vent, after all.


Out of conversation, she’s bored, usually keeping her hands busy by doing minor tasks or working on skills she’d like to keep. Her eyes seem to lose some of their warmth, as if being alone makes her feel unsteady. In conversation, however, she seems to have a peculiar glow around her, as if she leaks out warmth into the room around her. Coupled with this, she's amiable, passionate, and beyond willing to offer up ideas. She seems to hate it when a conversation dies out.


Fears: Small slip-ups that could cause someone their life, or worse, make the rest of their life hell. It’s a constant concern for her, especially when she’s mending wounds and stitching together whatever she can’t heal. Sometimes this fear makes her hands shake as she tries to do her intricate work, causing mistakes that only aggravates her fear. Additionally, she’s scared of losing her rose, the last tie she has to her home.


Background:

Spoiler

Officially born in Xne, Alys got the pleasure of living up on a tall hill, watching mayhem and chaos erupt around her. At the foot of the hill, there was only war, raging fires, people screaming and dying before her. At the foot of the hill, there were corpses, plagues, and starving mothers whose hands were cut off the moment they stole bread to give to their children.


And yet, she watched on, strangely enthralled. No one at the bottom of the hill ever bothered to come up the hill, and no one on the top of the hill ever dared to go down. But every day, the line of dead grass slowly crept up the hill, at a barely noticeable pace.


Years later, Alys was now six, and inherited the family heirloom just a few days prior. Isn’t that a pleasant way to say that both of someone’s parents were murdered by the vicious plague? Still grieving, she woke up with fever blisters covering her neck and face. Upon looking out of her window, she saw the dead grass was now spread around her entire house. Of course, she could’ve been mistaken, it’s hard to see when the eyes are being swollen shut by an oozing blister.


Alys was considered a casualty, and was thrown onto the dead pile and carted out of town with the other bodies. Just another victim of the war and the plague.


Every breath was laborious, but she was warm, even in the midst of winter. Even as the corpses were loaded onto a barge to be burned, she was warm on the inside. The barge was left there for days, little Alys struggling for every moment alive on a platform of rotting, festering corpses with open eyes and grimacing faces. The fourth day, the blisters on Alys started dying down, and she fell off of the barge as she winked off, thinking that she was closing her eyes for the last time as a flame sparked to life

Miscellaneous information: Fluent in Common and Vulst.