My username is Uennie, my payment method can be Gold or RL Transaction, and I Agree to being Zephuu's little bondage bunny forever and ever and a day.
_ _ _When I was a little girl ... I had two sisters ... And almost loved killing them both ..._ _ _NAME:
_ _ _Dorje. Bhutanese script Chokkey is identical to classical Tibetan. Dorje is a MALE name, and means Indomitable or Thunderbolt. I chose it because it is a male name, it would lend itself to her personality. Bhutan is known to its people as Druk Yul which means "Land of the Thunder Dragon". Bhutanese do not have legitimate surnames but more titles of where they are from.
_ _ _ALLEGIANCE:
_ _ _Dorje is loyal to the Legion. Why? She hates the Noble Retainers, and has killed two of them already. It was purely a logical decision ...
_ _ _PATH:
_ _ _She is a Fighter, and actively practices Angampora. Angampora is an Indian martial art, and India borders Bhutan to the south, east, and west. Here is a sample video. She usually fights without weapons but has two old Pulwar Sabers and two plain Quarterstaffs for quick killing or practice. Please also view these other awesome YouTube video examples.
_ _ _MAGIC STYLE:
_ _ _Soul Magic. Dorje took her talent for magic and honed it specifically to use to heal herself in dire crisis, of course with large limitations. The ability for her to pour spiritual energy into a body and toy with its makeup is intoxicating to her, and perhaps deadly to anyone else she may get carried away with. Limitations would of course be her energy level, only so much can be done within the capacity of the body. Energy doesn't just come from nowhere, and to use her magic at maximum capacity she must be at or at least somewhat near her physical/mental capacity. Because she tampers so much with herself, she will never be a full-fledged healer, only a minor one at best. A jack of all trades can be a master of none.
_ _ _APPEARANCE:
_ _ _Dorje is 5'7½", weighs 130 lbs., and has an athletic body with 26C measurements. Her scales are #054C4E, her eyes are #3A0271, her skin is #DEB7A6, and her hair is #E44406. Her hair curls in thick ringlets, which she takes immaculate care of. She has no visible tattoos, piercings, or other body modifications besides the lotus bindi tattoo on her forehead and the matching lotus tattoos on each her feet. She wears spectacles but they are purely for reading with. Her fingernails are half-an-inch long and lacquered with minute crane patterns in gold, her toenails are kept trimmed short and painted gold. Her fingers and toes are both webbed with membrane coloured #4AF1F9. Her scales are on her cheeks, neck, shoulders, tops of her hands, outer hips and thighs, and shins.
_ _ _CLOTHING:
_ _ _Dorje does not care what colours her clothes are, necessity triumphs fashion, and as such the clothing colours she chooses are at random. She is partial to delicate embroidery featuring cranes (her favourite creature) and peonies (her favourite flower). She generally wears a high-collared wrap that fastens at the front of her neck and drapes over her shoulders, stopping just above the bustline. beneath is a large skein of cloth wrapped around her breasts and dropped several feet between her legs before swept up under her to tie to the front cloth under the collared wrap at her left shoulder, leaving the ends to dangle behind her. Around her waist is a cinch for the short-cloak to tuck into. The short-cloak sags around her forearms down to long sleeves to obscure her hands when static. Dorje wears no shoes, but large gold bangles around her ankles and wrists - she loves gold more than any other metal. In her sleeves she hides a money-pouch, a handkerchief, a vial of poison (lest she be taken prisoner and put to the question), and her dragon-carved smoking pipe. She removes the short-cloak and spectacles when she fights.
_ _ _PERSONALITY:
_ _ _Dorje is passionately fierce when she fights - it's the only time she feels truly alive. She is currently experimenting with ways to use Soul Magic to tamper with her senses while she fights - possibly enhancing them. So far, no luck, but her hunger for power pushes her forward and into even more drastic ideas. Dorje finds absolute joy in utter control over other people, and can sometimes fly into private fits of anger if she is unable to manipulate someone. She is ... slightly unbalanced. Dorje borders on the psychotic, and has more than once contemplated ways to kill people, how to properly dispose of the body and completely disappear off of anyone's radar.
_ _ _Her psychotic tendencies can range from constantly needing everything in its place, to quiet self-destruction. She hates mirrors, and looking at herself. Dorje wears an inordinate amount of makeup to hide behind, and she keeps herself in almost complete solitude unless it cannot be helped. The mouthpiece of her pipe is marked with tooth-grooves, a nervous habit she seems to have all the time. The only time she finds absolute peace is when she is engaging in combat. It is the only time she has nothing else to think about, or reminisce upon. Dorje feels consistently caught in the past, and isn't quite sure whether or not she wants to come out of it. Her voice lilts, almost mockingly so, dry like dead leaves with barely a sprinkling of moisture to keep her sounding "human". When she is angry she simply goes dead silent, and she seems to constantly be cutting her eyes at people.
_ _ _She never trusts anyone, or at least never expects the best. There is no concept of conversational tact, or even basic socialization. Despite her spectacles making her look scholarly, the only things she reads are circulated reports on enemy propaganda, maps, or tactician's manuals. She is of average intellect. There is no personal interest in them, Dorje is simply refuses to be left behind in her endeavors with the Legion. No matter what, she knows that her assigned place as a Fighter comes before anything. If she does not comply, she understands she may as well find herself out in the cold - again.
_ _ _Dorje's primary modus operandi is desperation and fear. A fear of being on the streets, of no where to go, of having no direct purpose. Because of these fears she has manifested purposes to continue on. Pain, rage, anger, revenge, and guilt, they fuel every bone and vein in her body. Constantly tormented by self-inflicted demons, where some people would find a strength in moving on, she steeps herself in it. Dorje tends to giggle to herself, in these moments of delusions or hallucinations, and these are the only times she laughs or even remotely smiles. When she is alone at night, she sometimes weeps soundlessly. Her eyes remain wide open, her mouth parted slightly for breath as tears stream down her face, she will stare into nothingness for hours upon hours until she falls asleep. At times she will use her healing abilities to tamper with her own body, experimenting with pleasure and pain sensors in her brain to wrack her body with sensations, slowly driving herself even madder as she makes herself completely dependent upon it.
_ _ _She smokes, heavily, but has not experienced anything other than tobacco or hashish. It's not cost-effective. Besides domination, fighting, playing with her brain, and smoking, the only thing she finds any semblance of sanity in is hypnotizing herself as she watches decorative fish in lotus ponds lazily swirling back and forth in the waters. The mindlessness of it gives her a relief similar to the swarm of focus in fighting. Her hobbies include whittling pipes and fishing. In fact, she made her pole herself. Dorje sells her pipes to soldiers in the Legion, but has never been exceptional enough at it to have requests made. However, her fishing rod seems to have the most work put into it. The intricate designs of dragons chasing each others tails to a small engraved pearl at the top make it look more like it should be on display rather than used. The only other important possession in her life is an ivory comb inlaid with amber peonies. She uses it to brush her hair incessantly. There is nothing in the world that makes her truly happy, only little things that either give her mindless or sadistic pleasure. Any task she can lose herself in and escape herself is welcome.
_ _ _HISTORY:
_ _ _Once upon a time ... not so very long ago ... I had a mother ...
_ _ _Dorje has no living relatives. Dorje's mother was part of the Noble Retainers, and very loyal, as was her father. Her father on the other hand had no interest in Dorje as she was not a boy. As he disappeared her mother gave her a boy's name, as though attempting to compensate for her own failure to produce one. Dorje was raised as a boy, treated as a boy, and got away with it until she began to go through womanly changes. They lived in utter poverty, and Dorje's mother was far too poor to afford her own farmland. They lived one crust to the next, dirty, frightened, and begging. As she began to physically mature she lost her identity as a boy, and suddenly - for causes either unknown or mentally repressed - her mother died. As she lost her mother and the only family she had ever known, Dorje grieved, unable to be consoled by anyone who would even venture to try.
_ _ _She did not notice him at first, the tall darkly handsome man who strode along with two young women at his side. As Dorje wept bitterly, her unruly hair matted with oil, practically caked her to her face with mud. It was not until they stepped lightly past her that she looked up, and made out his face through blurred eyes. This man her mother had pointed out to her hundreds of times, this was the man her hair was hacked short for every birthday, her father. Here he walked, carefree, affectionately patting the two girls on their head, the two ... older girls. The anger ate away at her, he had abandoned her mother because Dorje had not been a boy, but perhaps that was not really the reason. They passed her, as she dug her nails into her palms until they bled, quietly biting her tongue.
_ _ _Daddy, tell us again about this sad woman who threw herself at you, like that lady in the play.
_ _ _Shrieking, Dorje stood, and ran. Towards them she sprinted, rage the very depiction of her face, quiet tears creating clean lines in her dirty cheeks. Her pain, her folly, it was all on them. Grabbing hold of him she lunged, determined to kill him, kill him, end him. Kill this man! She screamed in her mind - and she was thrown back. It never occurred to her that this woman they were referring to was not her mother, but did she really care?
_ _ _The two women stood before her, preparing to grasp whatever Magic they possessed, and anger seized Dorje's chest. Their words blurred together, a spiteful mumbling of grating in her ears, mocking her, degrading, never-ending. She looked at him, in those stormy blue eyes only two of his daughters had inherited, and in her, he saw another woman.
_ _ _Kill her!
_ _ _As much as she had wanted to kill him, would she have been able to go through with it? As a youth barely into her growing years, would she have had the capacity?
_ _ _She attacked me! Kill her!
_ _ _To her, the woman moved sluggishly, slowly. He knew, and still he wanted nothing to do with her. Dorje was Dorje, an un-wedlocked birth, a threat to reputation, Dorje was Dorje. Dorje was never worthy. She felt her heart breaking, shattering, splintering into pieces that tore at her soul and ripped at her mind. Her head erupted in pain, and as she screamed in agony, she moved.
_ _ _Her sisters lay dead in the street, passersby vomiting at what had happened in almost a single moment ... and he was gone. A coward until almost his very end. He had run, and abandoned these daughters that he actually loved ... or at least seemed to love. Her heart ached, and she looked at the glazing eyes of her half-sisters. Were they really? In blood, but was it really her fault? They never knew who she was ... She never knew who they were. She began to weep, gently touching their foreheads and brushing the titian hair all three had shared. Dorje was Dorje, and Dorje would not wait until happenstance granted him to her again. Dorje would hunt.
_ _ _WHAT HAS SHE TO OFFER THE LEGION:
_ _ _She will follow through on orders no matter what, she has nothing to lose. She will not stop, she will not rest until told to do so. Her submission to the Legion only fuels her ambitions to rise above all else. She serves the Legion unquestioningly to aid in her personal endeavors, to hunt her father. The Retainers never quite figured out how her mother died, and her hatred for her father and guilt over her sisters has caused her madness to believe that he as a Retainer tricked her into murdering them. Her Soul Magic abilities are incredibly useful on the field of battle, a rest of the hand on someone's back becomes increased stamina or even partially healing a wound.
_ _ _WHAT ARE MY INTENTIONS WITH HER:
_ _ _The idea of having her permanently rooted in being a murderous psychopath is not ideal to me. In fact, I chose Angampora as her fighting style specifically because it is compared to a butterfly. Right now, she is nothing more than a stunted caterpillar trapped in a cocoon she wove around herself. Everything that is wrong with her is her own creation, and she must find a way to break out of it or it will consume her and she will never fully emerge to her potential. Will she ever realize her revenge? That's not something I can predict right now. This character is ripe for evolution and development. Perhaps she'll even be able to make a friend, and stop torturing herself when she's alone. I absolutely look forward to the roleplay and interactions with other Lunarians as she struggles with her personal issues and being forced to accept other people in her life.
