EgoFinitum
04-14-15, 08:19 PM
History
The wagons slowly clambered to a stop, and after a moment, the carriage began backing up. “What’s going on?” I called, worried. I started to shove my head out the window, but the gruff voice of Stephan, my driver, shooed me back.
“Bandits, most likely. There’s a tree felled across the road, looks chopped with hatchets. We’re not sticking around to find out.” The horses pulled and clambered across the ruts across the road and soon we had turned around. It wasn’t for long though, before the roar of fire and an intense heat blazed. My gut told me to dive, and I did, slamming my body to the bottom of the carriage as I stifled a scream. The horses were making awful noises, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. The only thing I could see out of the windows above me was clouds of thick smoke billowing with the wind. The carriage door at my feet exploded open and a strong hand gripped around my ankle. I started to kick and scream, clawing to stay in the coach but whoever was pulling me was stronger than I was. My nails broke and bent trying to keep hold of the upholstery I’d been clinging to. My elbows and then my face fell into the steps just outside of the door as I was pulled out of safety.
There was only a moment to scream before I was flipped onto my back on the muddy road, rocks and ridges in the earth digging into my back. My entire world was pain, and a face covered in a mask. The mask was pure white, with black features painted on – the lines around the eyes, the brows, the cheekbones, and black lips curled into a frown. I could only see dark brown eyes behind the mask and then a short sword drawn and plunged through my ribs. Everything went hazy after that, and it was as if I were outside my body, watching as the coach was thoroughly torched. Stephan and the horses were murdered as ruthlessly as I had been. We’d all been left for dead.
All the men wore the same masks, but I followed the one who had slain me, drawn by some inexorable force. We walked together for nearly half a mile. He said nothing, and I had no answers to my many questions. Why had we died? The carriage wasn’t carrying jewels or money. My family was wealthy but not terribly important. I had simply been on my way to meet with the family of my betrothed, the man I was set to marry in three fortnights. It had been arranged since I was young, and our families had no enmity. My silent slayer gave nothing away. When he reached the river, he lobbed the murder weapon into the rush of chilling waters. As he walked away, I started to follow again but couldn’t.
It was starting to sink in. I was dead and could not leave the origin of my demise. But still, even beyond the anger and the resentment of life cut short, there was a need to know who had been behind that mask, and to have my restitution.
Name: Charlotte Grace Webber
Age: 16
Race: Human
Appearance: The ghostly spectre of her former self, Charlotte is easier to see for characters who are gifted psychically. She appears as anything from orbs of light to the lingering visage of a young girl, dressed in silk and muslin. Her dress is stained just below her left breast with blood that seeps down to the skirts. Her hair is tied up in an intricate braided bun with brown bangs and wisps of loose hair framing her face. Her eyes are a peculiar grey, as if they had once been blue but are covered in the film of death.
Personality: Charlotte is naïve, well mannered, and kind. She has a soft spot for baby animals, as many 16 year old girls do.
Important Character Information
All Spells/Abilities are tied directly to the short sword: Dirge, Gift of the End. Charlotte herself cannot use these abilities at this time. The PC that bears Dirge at the current time can use the weapon and its enchantments.
By taking responsibility for Dirge, because it is haunted by Charlotte, the player must be willing for Charlotte to appear in their threads at any moment, possibly influencing the story. She cannot appear in 1vs1 battles, or in tournaments where the two accounts are not specifically teamed up. The weapon’s abilities cannot be used in these situations as well. (For example, this character cannot post in the Serenti thread of the weapon’s current owner, and therefore they could not use the weapon as anything more than an iron short sword in return.)
If for any reason OOC or IC I decide that Dirge requires a new owner, the Spectral Auctioneer will reclaim Dirge and once more find a more suitable owner.
Charlotte’s Skills:
None: Charlotte at the moment cannot physically affect any object or person.
Dirge, Gift of the End
Dirge is an steel short sword.
Fire Enchantment:
Heartbeat Heat: The edge of the sword glows bright orange and becomes hot enough to burn flesh (the strength of a hot iron) or cause fires when pressed and held to flammable material for 30 seconds.
Heartglow: The sword’s heat can be channeled as a healing item. It can heal minor to moderate (non-lethal) wounds if pressed to them for 3 minutes, though it will leave a scar. This ability can be used twice daily.
The Spectral Auctioneer: The spectral auctioneer is an NPC associated with this account. It has the power to remove the short sword from a PC’s possession and relist it for sale to other PCs. The gold paid for the short sword disappears and does not go to this account. The auctioneer can also appear in the bazaar with the sword in order to attain “upgrades” to material quality and enchantments. The gold on this account cannot be used for any other IC purpose (OOC purposes okay).
The wagons slowly clambered to a stop, and after a moment, the carriage began backing up. “What’s going on?” I called, worried. I started to shove my head out the window, but the gruff voice of Stephan, my driver, shooed me back.
“Bandits, most likely. There’s a tree felled across the road, looks chopped with hatchets. We’re not sticking around to find out.” The horses pulled and clambered across the ruts across the road and soon we had turned around. It wasn’t for long though, before the roar of fire and an intense heat blazed. My gut told me to dive, and I did, slamming my body to the bottom of the carriage as I stifled a scream. The horses were making awful noises, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. The only thing I could see out of the windows above me was clouds of thick smoke billowing with the wind. The carriage door at my feet exploded open and a strong hand gripped around my ankle. I started to kick and scream, clawing to stay in the coach but whoever was pulling me was stronger than I was. My nails broke and bent trying to keep hold of the upholstery I’d been clinging to. My elbows and then my face fell into the steps just outside of the door as I was pulled out of safety.
There was only a moment to scream before I was flipped onto my back on the muddy road, rocks and ridges in the earth digging into my back. My entire world was pain, and a face covered in a mask. The mask was pure white, with black features painted on – the lines around the eyes, the brows, the cheekbones, and black lips curled into a frown. I could only see dark brown eyes behind the mask and then a short sword drawn and plunged through my ribs. Everything went hazy after that, and it was as if I were outside my body, watching as the coach was thoroughly torched. Stephan and the horses were murdered as ruthlessly as I had been. We’d all been left for dead.
All the men wore the same masks, but I followed the one who had slain me, drawn by some inexorable force. We walked together for nearly half a mile. He said nothing, and I had no answers to my many questions. Why had we died? The carriage wasn’t carrying jewels or money. My family was wealthy but not terribly important. I had simply been on my way to meet with the family of my betrothed, the man I was set to marry in three fortnights. It had been arranged since I was young, and our families had no enmity. My silent slayer gave nothing away. When he reached the river, he lobbed the murder weapon into the rush of chilling waters. As he walked away, I started to follow again but couldn’t.
It was starting to sink in. I was dead and could not leave the origin of my demise. But still, even beyond the anger and the resentment of life cut short, there was a need to know who had been behind that mask, and to have my restitution.
Name: Charlotte Grace Webber
Age: 16
Race: Human
Appearance: The ghostly spectre of her former self, Charlotte is easier to see for characters who are gifted psychically. She appears as anything from orbs of light to the lingering visage of a young girl, dressed in silk and muslin. Her dress is stained just below her left breast with blood that seeps down to the skirts. Her hair is tied up in an intricate braided bun with brown bangs and wisps of loose hair framing her face. Her eyes are a peculiar grey, as if they had once been blue but are covered in the film of death.
Personality: Charlotte is naïve, well mannered, and kind. She has a soft spot for baby animals, as many 16 year old girls do.
Important Character Information
All Spells/Abilities are tied directly to the short sword: Dirge, Gift of the End. Charlotte herself cannot use these abilities at this time. The PC that bears Dirge at the current time can use the weapon and its enchantments.
By taking responsibility for Dirge, because it is haunted by Charlotte, the player must be willing for Charlotte to appear in their threads at any moment, possibly influencing the story. She cannot appear in 1vs1 battles, or in tournaments where the two accounts are not specifically teamed up. The weapon’s abilities cannot be used in these situations as well. (For example, this character cannot post in the Serenti thread of the weapon’s current owner, and therefore they could not use the weapon as anything more than an iron short sword in return.)
If for any reason OOC or IC I decide that Dirge requires a new owner, the Spectral Auctioneer will reclaim Dirge and once more find a more suitable owner.
Charlotte’s Skills:
None: Charlotte at the moment cannot physically affect any object or person.
Dirge, Gift of the End
Dirge is an steel short sword.
Fire Enchantment:
Heartbeat Heat: The edge of the sword glows bright orange and becomes hot enough to burn flesh (the strength of a hot iron) or cause fires when pressed and held to flammable material for 30 seconds.
Heartglow: The sword’s heat can be channeled as a healing item. It can heal minor to moderate (non-lethal) wounds if pressed to them for 3 minutes, though it will leave a scar. This ability can be used twice daily.
The Spectral Auctioneer: The spectral auctioneer is an NPC associated with this account. It has the power to remove the short sword from a PC’s possession and relist it for sale to other PCs. The gold paid for the short sword disappears and does not go to this account. The auctioneer can also appear in the bazaar with the sword in order to attain “upgrades” to material quality and enchantments. The gold on this account cannot be used for any other IC purpose (OOC purposes okay).