Viola Darkstalker
09-17-07, 12:16 AM
Name: Viola NightStalker
Alignment: Chaotic Evil?
Race: Human
Class: Shadow
Age: 21
Apparent Age: 21
Height: 5’-10”
Weight: 120 Lbs
Place of Birth: Noctum City
Physical Description: Viola has looks to die for, literally. Her hair is a deep violet from which her name was taken at birth, and it currently reaches past her waist. She has a small nose and full lips; her skin is unmarred by scars, save one, and her flesh is rather light as well. She wears a rather modest black blouse and fitted black jeans, both trimmed with a thick violet border. <Image (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v400/tiger80272/fate_rider2.jpg)>
Personality: She’s a blind girl, what more do you want to know? She’s still bitter about losing her sight and her last battle, and she’ll gladly take it out on anyone that laughs at her. She is often seen as unstable, and the diagnosis would fit if she were neither calculating nor conniving. Her external attitude is a guise to throw suspicions away from her ultimate motives, which are yet unknown even to her own mind. She can be anything she wants to be… as long as she gets what she wants. “The ends justify the means” is her way of life, not a simple motto.
Family: None living. Don’t ask why.
Combat Experience: Her skill at fighting is quite negligible, thanks to the blindness that affects her, but she has no problems whipping her spikes at noises on a whim. The accuracy of said spikes is nothing to be too scared about, but she occasionally gets lucky.
Abilities:
Negative space: A peculiar phenomenon that only manifested itself after her emergence into the land of Althanas. Space warps slightly near her body, forming a strange yet usable storage area that can be filled with a small amount of material before “closing”. It currently holds her four pikes and the lengths of chain, but that is its current limit. Only she can access this space and only inanimate objects (other than her hands) can be placed into it. Cannot be used to “swallow” attacks.
Acrobatics: Viola is lithe and lissome woman, capable of acrobatic acts and gymnastic-like stunts as long as she knows her surroundings. Her balance is also much greater than most normal people’s.
Equipment:
Pikes of Darkness: A quartet of throwing spikes with eighteen-foot chains that vanish into the negative space around Viola. What the chains connect to is uncertain, but the length of the chains never exceeds eighteen feet from her body. The spikes are one foot long and are balanced for throwing or use as close-quarters defense. They also reflect no light, hence the “Pikes of Darkness”.
Walking stick: Nothing special, it’s just a four-foot long black stick she carries around so she doesn’t run into things. Has a metallic tip so the clinks of different materials are more audible while she walks. Not sturdy enough to stand up to the stress of fighting. Has chimes so she can find it if she drops it.
History:
The screaming of those soon to die filled the streets of Noctum, the city of eternal shadows. The blood moon high above the towering skyscrapers poured its vileness upon the corruption below, but the cursed satellite was not the cause of the infernal sounds this night. Everything was red; from the asphalt streets to the titanium body armor of the elite guard that “kept order” in the wicked place, nothing was without a thick coating of the life-liquid of hundreds… maybe thousands.
In the midst of the carnage, two figures still managed to move. One was clearly feminine, her clothes shredded beyond repair making her gender unmistakable. The other was more difficult to determine, but from the way it moved and the ripped muscles covering its body underneath a layer of armor, it was most likely male. Only tightly wound bandages covered the woman’s moderate chest, but she didn’t care who saw her now. This man would soon join the thousands that had already given up their last breath; what was wrong with giving him the sight of a beautiful woman before he died?
The two figures paused for a moment to catch their breath, never allowing their eyes to stray from the other. The woman stretched herself to her full height, easily a foot shorter than the man, but given that she was standing on a pile of corpses and he wasn’t, she managed to look down on him after all. Jerking one of the four chains that laid strewn around her feet, a blood-soaked spike flew expertly to her hand. The man was instantly on edge, but she had no intention of using her toys just yet. Piercing violet eyes sparkled with evil intent as she brought the weapon up to her lips and reached for it with her tongue; the metallic taste never grew old no matter how often she savored it. This blood must have come from someone still living.
The man was revolted. His jaw started to move, as though he would say something, but he paused before any sound came out. He had come to this city to cleanse it, not to fight a psychopathic mass murderer. It wasn’t even a fight, really; she was toying with him. Jaw clenched now, he grabbed hold of the one spike that remained in his left shoulder and gave a monstrous heave. Bones snapped and ligaments tore as the wound began closing of its own accord; were it not for this ability to restore himself, he would have died long ago. It was also why the sadistic smile that seemed plastered to her face grew larger than he thought possible.
“Awww… does the poor boy’s arm hurt? You look like you’re in a little bit of pain. ”
Sultry words flowed from her vile tongue as her free hand grabbed the chain of the now-loose spike and recalled the weapon to its rightful place. The man grimaced, sneered, and bared his teeth at his opponent all at the same time, but the anger he had against her still dwarfed his expressions like the skyscrapers that towered around them.
“Are you enjoying yourself, you witch?!”
His outburst preceded a sudden tightening of his muscles, as though he was about to charge foreword, but the two black streaks that implanted themselves in his upper thighs for the forty-seventh time stopped that thought. The chains attached to them were wound around his body before the initial spurt of blood reached the ground, and the sneering grin of the woman as she delicately kissed his forehead told him what was going to happen in the next few moments. Only his returned snicker made her hesitate; what else could he do completely tied up and unable to move any part of his body?
“Before you die… what is your name, witch? I shall place it on a memorial as the only mortal that thought they could defeat me.”
“Oh? You sound so sure… perhaps I didn’t make my point well enough? I guess I can humor you… One. Last. Time.”
Something was wrong. He was too confident. But… seeing how he was going to die in a few seconds, the luscious woman satisfied his curiosity by carving her name into his broad chest. “Viola Darkstalker.”
It was an explosion that would have been remembered as monumental had the city that contained it not already been dead. Or demolished by it. There was no warning, and certainly no escape, for its intended target. Unfortunately, Viola wasn’t the caster of the spell. Searing light tore through her body, consumed her black soul, and shredded her spirit, but the effect on the male was far more profound. He simply wasn’t there any longer. There was no residue of a teleportation spell, nor was there a trail of æther that indicated he ran during the flash. Holding on to the last shred of her life with a death grip, the woman could only stare in amazement at the sheer stupidity of it.
Time passed, an unknown length of time, and something among the rubble started to move. For a moment, only silence answered the clatter of rocks falling past each other down a small hill. Then there was a scream. Unseen hands felt for eyes that had to still be there and found them, but that was all. Blackness surrounded her, engulfed her. The image of the man that exploded to kill her was forever etched into her mind. For the first time in her life, she fainted.
When she woke again, the pile of rubble and bodies she had been lying on had been replaced by warm grass and a strange heat all over her body. Given the darkness that clouded her eyes, her consumed soul, tattered spirit, and broken body, even trying to wiggle a finger was beyond her power. How fitting that her first venture into the light would start with her completely blind. The creator must be having a field day wherever he was, because only a sense of humor as twisted as that of a deity’s could come up with irony as sick as this.
It was a particularly quiet day, aside from the scream of one who suddenly lost everything. It was also that scream that drew a merchant caravan from a half mile away. Armed guards rushed toward the sound, ready for anything but what they saw. The bandage that had been wrapped around her chest, and the last remnant of clothing that she had been wearing when everything went wrong, was gone, leaving her completely naked lying in the grass. It went without saying that the guards were quite confused by this turn of events. They waved their hands in front of her face, but when they saw no response, they came to the logical conclusion that she was blind. She was certainly alive, as evidenced by the pained groans that emanated from her throat, so after explaining that they were going to get something to carry her with, the guards left.
It was a full month, according to the nurse that attended her, before she was even able to sit up in the hospital bed without aid. The first few days of treatment saw her snapping at everyone and everything until she realized that these people were not trying to hurt her, nor did they realize who she was. Both were clearly impossible on her home world; her name was spoken in whispers to scare children, and even adults, to stay away from the shadows. It took the planet’s full revolution about the sun to finish her therapy, so one year and one month after arriving in this strange, black world, she was ready to make herself known again. The hospital staff smiled and waved as she walked unsteadily away, walking staff prodding the land before her as she went. The blindness was one thing they couldn’t cure, no matter what specialists they brought in. None knew what they had done; they were just doing their job, after all. How could they know that they would be the first ones she killed once she was able to see again?
Alignment: Chaotic Evil?
Race: Human
Class: Shadow
Age: 21
Apparent Age: 21
Height: 5’-10”
Weight: 120 Lbs
Place of Birth: Noctum City
Physical Description: Viola has looks to die for, literally. Her hair is a deep violet from which her name was taken at birth, and it currently reaches past her waist. She has a small nose and full lips; her skin is unmarred by scars, save one, and her flesh is rather light as well. She wears a rather modest black blouse and fitted black jeans, both trimmed with a thick violet border. <Image (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v400/tiger80272/fate_rider2.jpg)>
Personality: She’s a blind girl, what more do you want to know? She’s still bitter about losing her sight and her last battle, and she’ll gladly take it out on anyone that laughs at her. She is often seen as unstable, and the diagnosis would fit if she were neither calculating nor conniving. Her external attitude is a guise to throw suspicions away from her ultimate motives, which are yet unknown even to her own mind. She can be anything she wants to be… as long as she gets what she wants. “The ends justify the means” is her way of life, not a simple motto.
Family: None living. Don’t ask why.
Combat Experience: Her skill at fighting is quite negligible, thanks to the blindness that affects her, but she has no problems whipping her spikes at noises on a whim. The accuracy of said spikes is nothing to be too scared about, but she occasionally gets lucky.
Abilities:
Negative space: A peculiar phenomenon that only manifested itself after her emergence into the land of Althanas. Space warps slightly near her body, forming a strange yet usable storage area that can be filled with a small amount of material before “closing”. It currently holds her four pikes and the lengths of chain, but that is its current limit. Only she can access this space and only inanimate objects (other than her hands) can be placed into it. Cannot be used to “swallow” attacks.
Acrobatics: Viola is lithe and lissome woman, capable of acrobatic acts and gymnastic-like stunts as long as she knows her surroundings. Her balance is also much greater than most normal people’s.
Equipment:
Pikes of Darkness: A quartet of throwing spikes with eighteen-foot chains that vanish into the negative space around Viola. What the chains connect to is uncertain, but the length of the chains never exceeds eighteen feet from her body. The spikes are one foot long and are balanced for throwing or use as close-quarters defense. They also reflect no light, hence the “Pikes of Darkness”.
Walking stick: Nothing special, it’s just a four-foot long black stick she carries around so she doesn’t run into things. Has a metallic tip so the clinks of different materials are more audible while she walks. Not sturdy enough to stand up to the stress of fighting. Has chimes so she can find it if she drops it.
History:
The screaming of those soon to die filled the streets of Noctum, the city of eternal shadows. The blood moon high above the towering skyscrapers poured its vileness upon the corruption below, but the cursed satellite was not the cause of the infernal sounds this night. Everything was red; from the asphalt streets to the titanium body armor of the elite guard that “kept order” in the wicked place, nothing was without a thick coating of the life-liquid of hundreds… maybe thousands.
In the midst of the carnage, two figures still managed to move. One was clearly feminine, her clothes shredded beyond repair making her gender unmistakable. The other was more difficult to determine, but from the way it moved and the ripped muscles covering its body underneath a layer of armor, it was most likely male. Only tightly wound bandages covered the woman’s moderate chest, but she didn’t care who saw her now. This man would soon join the thousands that had already given up their last breath; what was wrong with giving him the sight of a beautiful woman before he died?
The two figures paused for a moment to catch their breath, never allowing their eyes to stray from the other. The woman stretched herself to her full height, easily a foot shorter than the man, but given that she was standing on a pile of corpses and he wasn’t, she managed to look down on him after all. Jerking one of the four chains that laid strewn around her feet, a blood-soaked spike flew expertly to her hand. The man was instantly on edge, but she had no intention of using her toys just yet. Piercing violet eyes sparkled with evil intent as she brought the weapon up to her lips and reached for it with her tongue; the metallic taste never grew old no matter how often she savored it. This blood must have come from someone still living.
The man was revolted. His jaw started to move, as though he would say something, but he paused before any sound came out. He had come to this city to cleanse it, not to fight a psychopathic mass murderer. It wasn’t even a fight, really; she was toying with him. Jaw clenched now, he grabbed hold of the one spike that remained in his left shoulder and gave a monstrous heave. Bones snapped and ligaments tore as the wound began closing of its own accord; were it not for this ability to restore himself, he would have died long ago. It was also why the sadistic smile that seemed plastered to her face grew larger than he thought possible.
“Awww… does the poor boy’s arm hurt? You look like you’re in a little bit of pain. ”
Sultry words flowed from her vile tongue as her free hand grabbed the chain of the now-loose spike and recalled the weapon to its rightful place. The man grimaced, sneered, and bared his teeth at his opponent all at the same time, but the anger he had against her still dwarfed his expressions like the skyscrapers that towered around them.
“Are you enjoying yourself, you witch?!”
His outburst preceded a sudden tightening of his muscles, as though he was about to charge foreword, but the two black streaks that implanted themselves in his upper thighs for the forty-seventh time stopped that thought. The chains attached to them were wound around his body before the initial spurt of blood reached the ground, and the sneering grin of the woman as she delicately kissed his forehead told him what was going to happen in the next few moments. Only his returned snicker made her hesitate; what else could he do completely tied up and unable to move any part of his body?
“Before you die… what is your name, witch? I shall place it on a memorial as the only mortal that thought they could defeat me.”
“Oh? You sound so sure… perhaps I didn’t make my point well enough? I guess I can humor you… One. Last. Time.”
Something was wrong. He was too confident. But… seeing how he was going to die in a few seconds, the luscious woman satisfied his curiosity by carving her name into his broad chest. “Viola Darkstalker.”
It was an explosion that would have been remembered as monumental had the city that contained it not already been dead. Or demolished by it. There was no warning, and certainly no escape, for its intended target. Unfortunately, Viola wasn’t the caster of the spell. Searing light tore through her body, consumed her black soul, and shredded her spirit, but the effect on the male was far more profound. He simply wasn’t there any longer. There was no residue of a teleportation spell, nor was there a trail of æther that indicated he ran during the flash. Holding on to the last shred of her life with a death grip, the woman could only stare in amazement at the sheer stupidity of it.
Time passed, an unknown length of time, and something among the rubble started to move. For a moment, only silence answered the clatter of rocks falling past each other down a small hill. Then there was a scream. Unseen hands felt for eyes that had to still be there and found them, but that was all. Blackness surrounded her, engulfed her. The image of the man that exploded to kill her was forever etched into her mind. For the first time in her life, she fainted.
When she woke again, the pile of rubble and bodies she had been lying on had been replaced by warm grass and a strange heat all over her body. Given the darkness that clouded her eyes, her consumed soul, tattered spirit, and broken body, even trying to wiggle a finger was beyond her power. How fitting that her first venture into the light would start with her completely blind. The creator must be having a field day wherever he was, because only a sense of humor as twisted as that of a deity’s could come up with irony as sick as this.
It was a particularly quiet day, aside from the scream of one who suddenly lost everything. It was also that scream that drew a merchant caravan from a half mile away. Armed guards rushed toward the sound, ready for anything but what they saw. The bandage that had been wrapped around her chest, and the last remnant of clothing that she had been wearing when everything went wrong, was gone, leaving her completely naked lying in the grass. It went without saying that the guards were quite confused by this turn of events. They waved their hands in front of her face, but when they saw no response, they came to the logical conclusion that she was blind. She was certainly alive, as evidenced by the pained groans that emanated from her throat, so after explaining that they were going to get something to carry her with, the guards left.
It was a full month, according to the nurse that attended her, before she was even able to sit up in the hospital bed without aid. The first few days of treatment saw her snapping at everyone and everything until she realized that these people were not trying to hurt her, nor did they realize who she was. Both were clearly impossible on her home world; her name was spoken in whispers to scare children, and even adults, to stay away from the shadows. It took the planet’s full revolution about the sun to finish her therapy, so one year and one month after arriving in this strange, black world, she was ready to make herself known again. The hospital staff smiled and waved as she walked unsteadily away, walking staff prodding the land before her as she went. The blindness was one thing they couldn’t cure, no matter what specialists they brought in. None knew what they had done; they were just doing their job, after all. How could they know that they would be the first ones she killed once she was able to see again?