---| "The Carrion Lord" |---
| name | shaw, verrin
| age | centuries, millenia, subjected to time paradoxes
| sex | physically male, subject to hermaphroditic psychic feedback
| race | once human, now more
| appearance | due to shapeshifting, varies
--tar-black hair, oily and blue/purple-sheened
--varying eyes color, copper-orange-brass-red, iris often shot through with random others
--skin gone white as if with pallor mortis, untouched by sunlight
--hands twisted, bent, ruined through sorcery
--clothing varies, certain preserved sets for special occasions, otherwise whatever is most easily obtainable
| history |
i was born nameless and nameless i stayed throughout life. urchins without names were common in that time. after all, who would miss one who did not exist? for without a name, we were worth nothing. life on the streets saw the creation of a bond, a grouping of orphans and homeless. a family of nameless.
the years pass by and my family grows. the claims of society are lies and falsehoods; the city never belonged to them. we ruled the slums, we mingled with the highborn though they realized it not. our influence soon spread beyond the walls of the city and the underground thrived. a secret empire. though our power was great i began to feel as if i had lost sight of...what? i knew not.
and so i ignored the warnings.
our glory was not to last. every great reign must fall. i only wish that my family's death had not been carried out by my own hands. there is small comfort in the knowledge that i had been fooled, deceived by them that call themselves noble, pureblood, highborn. yet it was still my efforts to save that which i loved that lead to its destruction.
in life i was a failure. so i died.
death claimed me for a time. in that void time held no meaning and i knew nothing. suddenly there was light. it was at once beautiful and painful beyond words. death had found me lacking. it seemed neither life nor death would have me. when i awaken i find myself in a world that refuses to accept me.
rejected. what a cruel reality.
a second chance had been given. i would finish what i had started.
i will make my own place in this new world.
| otherworldly |
--psychically melded with vast collective of carrion feeders ranging from insectile to mammalian and all that the term implies
--errant warp-touched warren bound to will
--host to symbiotic/parasitic things that react both of their own accord to protect the carrion lord and to commands from Shaw
--regenerative cells left over from mutation, dampened by voluntary infestation yet still potent
--physical capabilities exceeding human norm, sets Shaw comfortably on Gaian high tier
--draws strength from collective hivemind and utilizes the horde for all manner of defensive or offensive utility
--presence of a twisted warren and neverending voice of the hivemind protect against psychic assault
[ INCOMPLETE ]
---| "The Husk" |---
| name | jonah
| age | measured in scant moments
| sex | male
| race | immortal, repository for souls
| appearance | varies while under sway of SHUFFLE
--extremely aged, sixties to late seventies
--balding, wisps of thin stringy hair hang from the back of his skull
--eyes milky white, utterly blind
--teeth sharpened to a point
--lower legs including shins and feet frostbitten, completely numb
--arms stop at wrists, stumps smooth as if born without hands
--thin, emaciated
--clad in rags, no shoes
--lightweight and durable wheelchair on back, walking assisted by collapsible crutches
| history |
born from the unraveling threads of a madman's mind. designed to store stolen soul's with no deft fingers to manipulate fates. i do not remember why but i was declared broken. the madman failed to kill me and instead confined me to a cold and dark place. that is where i met my friends.
they call me 'devourer' and 'ravenous husk'. i do not understand.
i have no concept of time so when my friends gave me their plan and immediately prepared me to set out on a great journey i did not care. i did not care that they seemed to be hiding something from me. i cared only about escaping from the clutches of the madman who left me to rot in that cold and dark place.
my friends are back now. i must go. pain! there is pain! my friends...it is alright? it does not feel right. it feels wrong! they yell at me and assure me this is the only way to 'get back' at the madman.
yes. i want to go back. sorcery plays around me, cold...so cold. i want the dark place back. where is he who created me? why does he not come and release me from these bonds of light so cold it burns?
why?
| otherworldly |
--shadowed by a derehund, protective shapeshifter
--devours life energy, victims are left a withered shell consumed by a sliver of corruption
--souls devoured speak through husks, sorcerous 'skins' that change the form temporarily and surface at any moment
--bond with derehund channels coldfire through stumps, phantom hands wither the living and harbor a ruinous power
--senses sharpened, hearing/taste/smell
