Yitik's smexy characters

[Yitik]

Mien

Two hikers were sheltering from a violent thunderstorm in a crag on a bare mountainside. Just as the storm seemed about to close, a bolt of lightning strikes just thirty meters north of their cover coupled with a girl‘s scream cut short by the thunder. Once the hail had stopped the two men left the crag and headed towards the point of where the lightning had struck. There, laying unconscious on the ground, was a girl completely naked and badly burned, a horrid scorch mark left on the right side of the base of her neck. The taller hiker lifted her wrist to check for a pulse, and found faint life beating in her veins. He also found that the girl had not been stripped completely; a gold ring still glimmered on one lifeless finger. Greedily, he removed the jewellery and placed it in his pocket before his comrade could notice, and remarked to him in sombre tones that the girl was dead. The other nodded sadly and removed his second cloak, draping it over the girl’s scarred, naked form. They each then turned to continue to the mountain’s summit.

However, behind them, a timid female voice spoke in their native tongue:

“The tallest, the fraud, clutches my ring,
It is he who finds his skull split wide.
The greatest man, despite, once would bring
A garment for which my wounds to hide.”

Both men turned to see the girl sitting upright, staring at the ground, wearing the rough cloak. The shorter man simply stared at the raw albeit beautiful figure, but the tallest, afraid that either his comrade or the girl would attempt to take back the ring, since through the girl’s speech they each clearly knew of it, ran blindly in terror. Not watching his footing, he stepped on a sharp rock near the mountain’s edge, tumbled down the mountainside, and died on the rocks below.

***

Mien, a name fashioned by a coastal tribe whom she stayed with following her escort from the mountains, means “to shine”, either referring to the untouched beauty of the girl’s face, or the gleaming burns that litter the rest of her body. She still has the burlap cloak given to her by the hiker on the hillside and wears it with the hood up to conceal the particularly horrid scars on her neck. Her hair is jet-black and grows thinly. She leaves it cut short. She doesn’t wear her ring; instead, she keeps it pocketed, as the “greatest” hiker refused it as a parting gift - perhaps the death of his friend was still ripe in his mind. Additionally, Mien is slender, appearing thin and anaemic, almost skeletal, although this is hidden in the folds of her cloth. She is slightly taller than average at about 5’9” but is skilled at going unnoticed on city streets. Even while playing the clarinet (a skill that somehow survived the damage to her brain), people pay little attention to her.

She has no recollection of anything prior to that fateful day on that nameless mountain, and it’s likely that her psyche was permanently damaged by the lightning strike. Mien feels secure in her bizarre premonitions and believes that the day she was struck was the day she was born. She regards herself as a goddess in the guise of a young woman and drinks in the knowledge and culture of the races that inhabit the lands she is surveying. What strikes her interest isn’t exactly consistent, and she’s guided by some force or instinct known only to her, but with divine inspiration she sets out to complete whatever task she sets herself to. She doesn’t let failure faze her but doesn’t try to influence events so much as ideas, learning as she goes through streets, cities, states and nations with an unreadable albeit alert expression and an air that suggests not only to her own damaged mind but to others that notice her that she is more than she seems.

[Yitik]

Osip Lizat

Osip “Joseph” Lizat

As a baby, Osip lived with his parents in Novgorod. His family was of a higher class and very well off in comparison to the serfs of the dwindling Czarist Russia, but in the mid-late nineteenth century, Vanya Lizat moved his family out west to the British isles to follow the stories of booming economies and changing technologies. He worked as an engineer there for several years until Osip was a spoiled, but by no means lazy, twelve year old, living with high economic standards and getting a healthy English education. Vanya was considered to be talented and hard-working, and came to own a prosperous factory near the Irish border, and his son was considered to be similar to him. Very academic, he always seemed interested in everything around him, down to the tiniest detail of the world, and he constantly challenged himself with unanswerable questions about science, mathematics, and philosophy. He dumbfounded his instructors even at a young age, which usually either led to congratulations or shouting matches. Osip was only ever agreeable when present company agreed with him first. He always spoke his mind and it never even occurred to him to care what others thought considering how he presented himself.

However, at age 41, Vanya developed lung cancer and died less than a year after being diagnosed. As the family slowly slipped into poverty, Osip’s mother became frantic - not for their family’s economy, as although the factory had changed hands, it was still required for some payment to be made to the owner’s family for a time despite his death. What disturbed Anja Lizat was that Vanya’s physician could not find any definitive cause for the man’s illness, and took it down to a change in environment, as well as heredity. Really, the only reason Anja strove to move herself and Osip to Gloria* was to ensure the continued health of her son.

She and Osip arrived at this miraculous colony in 1874, when Osip was fifteen. They lived happily for years. Osip was as studious as ever in his second new home, thrilled by the new concepts and, as he continued to get the finest education available as his mother strained to keep themselves from going into debt without the percentage from her late husband’s company, he was introduced to the inner workings of the elements. While his teachers told him what was already known, he inferred what was not known, and during his mother’s funeral in early 1899, he could be found in an abandoned home right next to the freshwater lake at the center of the island, analyzing the water and soil attempting to unlock the secret of the longevity of Glorians past and present.

A year later, Osip was unfazed in his studies. People casually observing him, wondering that if beneath the irritable - although not introverted - recluse, there’s a soul, would have thought that he wasn’t concerned over her death, but really, although she was the one who kept him alive and did everything she could to ensure his path was clear, this did not allow the two to become particularly close. Osip acknowledges this, and had moved on, hoping to discover Gloria’s secret to carry on his mother’s mission of bettering his lot in life and making a name for himself.

Osip’s studies were quite primitive in nature. They take place, as mentioned, in an abandoned, impoverished home, and while most of the techniques he uses are considered the norm by western chemists, he also hearkens back to the days of alchemy, sometimes testing synthesized results by smelling or tasting them. Similarly, he is unorthodox in his treatment of people. While he isn’t outright rude, or antisocial (he is happy to boast, and is even happier when his claims are challenged), his demeanor tends to be very outright and even demanding, even to those in a higher position socio-politically.

RP HISTORY

A few years after the Crown lost interest in the science behind Gloria's mystical properties, Osip discovered evidence of gas-spewing vents at the bottom of the water-filled crater of Gloria. Before he could collect samples of the gas, however, he was apprehended by authorities. The next thing he or anyone else knew, he was alone in the heart of the Labyrinth. He has no doubt that he was about to discover something that should not have been discovered, and that those who arrested him for it were not of any savory group. He is determined to escape from the prison and return to his home for what he believes to be the Elixir of Life.




*Should note that Gloria is a ringlike island used in another RP site I was on with a very structured socioeconomic system and is the source of a miraculous water that cures all illness and drastically increases the lifespan of those who regularly drink it.

[Yitik]

Sabeen

Sabeen is a highly influential computer programmer, scripter, and hacker, having written several programming languages tailored to take advantage of security holes in current software and compile efficiently on even outdated hardware, cost billions of dollars in damages, and written tools and viruses that have brought down entire corporations. She is arguably the most successful geek on the planet, which is why no one has ever heard of her. True to her catlike species' nature, she leaves no footprints, makes no sound, and leaves no one suspecting.

It's difficult to get her to say more than a few words about anything beyond business face-to-face; she struggles to get them out past her social anxieties, but one subject she will never touch on is her family. Apparently, she left them and her country of origin at a fairly young age, fed up with their self-importance and lack of ambition. From there on she has paved her way with her skill at memorizing code and exploiting its various weaknesses, but one thing she did not expect was how separate she would feel from the world. As a result, she can generally be found quietly kneeling in front of a laptop, paradoxically in a public place out of fear that she would eventually part entirely with everything that isn't zeroes and ones.

Due to the infrequency of her meals, Sabeen is physically on the short side, and very thin. Her family is new money, hailing from a state that never winds up on the news and rarely on maps, and her sand-colored fur with darker brown points and slightly emaciated complexion reflects her heritage. Her catlike features tend dominate her anthropomorphic ones with the notable exception of her hands, which sport only fur and claws, and thicker skin reminiscent of the pads of the species. Beyond this, two defining features are her green eyes, which seize up during times of stress, and the white tufts protruding from her large ears that, out of embarrassment, she attempts to hide (and generally fails) with a navy beret. Apart from the hat, she has an almost phobic aversion to wearing other clothes, but little is visible enough on her to warrant an arrest for indecent exposure, so few take any notice.

Personality-wise, Sabeen is quiet, with a persistent smile that only seems to affect the left side of her face, but doesn't come across as unfriendly. She is easily distracted and stressed, and very fidgety. Furthermore, she is a fantastic listener (maybe due to those huge ears), and is very up-to-date politically, as is necessary when one is in a less-than-legal business. She is also quite skilled with establishing rapport with people, mirroring their mannerisms and gaining their confidence - again, a trait necessary for her occupation, though apart from these infrequent albeit necessary interactions she is shy and lacks confidence socially, generally not outwardly returning the admiration she gleans in this way. However, she does have the obnoxious habit of flicking the foreheads of people who annoy her, and is a bit ivory-tower elitist, believing that those who do not develop and exercise their skills deserve to be...well, flicked.

Despite this apparent inflexibility with her fellow beings, though, she does not consider herself to be a criminal, and does not act so either. She consciously weighs the contracts she has so that she can put her skills to uses that will not just benefit her but also causes that she feels are worthwhile. Although her judgment is not always precise, she takes pride in the fact that she does not break the law nonchalantly but picks sides. This loophole that allows her to carry on with a clear conscious is fragile, however, and due to it she's found herself in multiple dilemmas.

Along with her skill with electronics of all sorts, Sabeen is highly proficient in the Brazilian dance-like martial art of capoeira, which might potentially betray the geographical location of her homeland. She is not consistently battle-ready, but will defend herself if she feels physically threatened with sweeps, kicks, and grazing strikes and grapples aided by her natural weapons. Paradoxically, she was raised as a pacifist, and cannot be easily galvanized into combat, as fear tends to get the better of her. It is only when her anxiety gets the better of her that she will use these skills, and can only very grudgingly be persuaded to demonstrate them outside of dire circumstances.

Despite her talents, she is quite physically weak, short, easily crippled emotionally, and secretly, almost subconsciously, longs for a lasting friend: someone she can feel safe talking to, or simply just to be with. Even though both she and her estranged family are incredibly wealthy, she cares very little for money or material goods, or even her original first name, instead viewing independence and the thrills it brings with it - maybe someday, love - as the greatest rewards for her life of crime...so long as things turn out well. This illusion in life and her desire for companionship have been of great detriment to her judgment in the past.

[Yitik]

Amadeus

Amadeus was born in an aristocratic household in Teaford. His family was very religious and encouraged Amadeus to become active in faith. He did so, loving the freedom Aueism gave him in contrast with the rules and manners of his wealthy and influential family. When forced to watch the execution of an infamous smuggler by hanging, however, the pathetic gurgles the dying man uttered changed his views of crime radically. He never expressed these views while his family was alive, but wrote books in secret away from his home until they left Celia for an organized society west of the Altmires, leaving him to publish his liberal essays and articles and quickly rise in fame with the court of law.

All his life, Amadeus has devoted much of his time and energy to Aueism. He heads a congregation in Teaford that is very small due to the fact that Amadeus is a monotheist (most religious citizens of the surrounding districts are deist) as well as his unyielding defense of criminals under trial, much to the indignation of the accused. While most strains of Aueism advocate the capability of people to reform themselves, with rising violent crime rates the religious citizens of Teaford have the overall sentiment that life would be easier if they weren’t given the chance.

Necessary for one who travels, Amadeus changes his appearance depending on where he is residing. In his hometown of Teaford he wears the sharp black garb of a clergyman, skullcap and all, while in the more poverty-stricken cities and settlements he wears a simple traveling cloak. His skin is dark and slightly mottled from repeated sunburns and at all waking times he wears small round eyeglasses that sit on his pronounced sellion - he can see very little without these. Also, since being stabbed for clear reasons during a mission to Rafferty, he has carried with him a twenty kilogram stone mallet, two feet long from the base of the steel handle, chained to his belt but otherwise held loosely by a leather strap for quick access. Being a fairly powerfully-built man, he wields this with one hand. This weapon is at his side even in town and during congregations he holds on the first Wednesday of each month; when asked about the mallet he noted its representation of a crude and roughly-spoken justice system. Only once has he used the hammer for what it was intended for, out behind the End Of The World Inn, and the next Wednesday he left a notice on his church explaining that he was once again providing a defense in court.

Perhaps Amadeus’s greatest attribute is his eloquence. He can easily fit his lingo into nearly any situation and, a Celian at heart, is a master at the art of talking his way out of (or into) situations through persuasion and deception. He has formed relationships with many people in Celia and frequents the End Of The World Inn where he smokes false cigarettes and takes in the atmosphere and conversation at the heart of the nation. He is very perceptive and has a good grasp on language, and while he adheres to his faith’s avoidance of anything harmful he feels the ends of getting close enough to criminals to convert them is worth the means of using his skill in writing for signing false documents for smugglers, so long as he gets repeat customers.

The rector also plays a large role in politics, though not necessarily a glamorous one. In a stereotypically conservative society, Amadeus stands up for the rights of criminals and with his skilful speech has had them released more than once when they would have faced long term sentences or death. For this, however, most of the community dislikes him and, ironically enough, he finds he is better liked acting as a laid-back criminal in the Inn.

Aside from appearance and opinions, Amadeus can be identified by a love of language, an interest in the lives of people and, more strangely, a fascination with the sun as it rises and sets, which could be responsible for his poor vision.

[Yitik]

Bad Marceau

Bad Marceau (probably a pseudonym) is a man who, in a figurative sense, seems to spontaneously generate faces. Very few know of where he comes from and who exactly he is, and the furthest even they know is that he’s always worn his signature wide-brimmed hat, and that he is a criminal mastermind. Frankly, everyone around him is given the impression that he is a criminal mastermind, because he puts every breath he takes into exuding an unsavoury air, but perhaps to his chagrin, the authorities have yet to take him seriously. As mentioned before, he has various faces: the outermost one being something like a mafia boss, the one within that of a somewhat stunted and thoroughly complex-ridden lunatic in a hat, and, if one makes the impossible mistake of getting to know him well enough, a final face that’s unfortunately very much like the first.

Despite all appearances – or rather, reciprocals of appearances – “Bad” is genuinely bad, and is good at it. Though his deadly demeanour has fooled most people into believing he’s not deadly in the least, the people he associates with know (or, at least, have a vague feeling) that he is indeed a gifted thief, strategist, killer, con-artist, infiltrator and persuader via intimidation, as well as being a generally scary guy. Behind his feigned cleverness, there is a genuine cleverness, and those who’ve had successive successful dealings with him joke that one does not want to see what he keeps under his hat. Idiots have consequentially spread rumours that Mr Marceau has an unsightly bald spot.

Marceau keeps up appearances in heavily populated areas likely to house and water unsavoury sorts, feeding the preceding irony as well as keeping himself open for contracts. Apart from his persistently obvious battered hat that never seems to leave his head (God help you if it does), he is also known for bouncing between extremely short sentences and verbose speeches with escalating levels of slang, vocal threats, and all-around violent intent. He also twitches at erratic times, though whether this is due to any sort of health condition is up for speculation. Finally, he also speaks rather quickly, skipping over syllables and whole words that he finds unnecessary whether they are or not, and with an accent which may or may not be of any particular region or dialect. To newcomers, he’s a tad famed for introducing himself with, “I’m Bad; who’re you?” which may be either highly intimidating or ridiculously funny, depending on the receiving party.

Physically, Bad is short, and not overly stocky or thin. He has a sharp face, with eyes well-trained to glower twenty-four seven, and with a good deal of scars on his otherwise pale and well-sculpted face. If Marceau does make good money, it’s quite clear that it goes into his wardrobe: he is consistently dressed in good taste, in various greyscale outfits complete with gold and gentleman’s gloves. He’s even been known to carry a cane, which no doubt conceals a weapon. Besides this, he also holds many different knives, chains, and various mechanical devices on his person, presumably at all times. (While their functions are not always immediately apparent, they are quite reliably and instantly terrifying, and their whirring and clicking may, to his relish, precede him in a quiet room.) Indeed, the only affect of his that does not seem to be ahead of the curve, or at least up-to-date, is his poor hat.

What Bad Marceau wants from life, however, is something that is not reflected in any of his outfits. One might guess that he longs for recognition, or, perhaps, for a legacy through which his criminal exploits could continue. Money, of course, is on the mind of every thief and swindler, but though many have left his presence with empty bladders, for either reason, few if any have left penniless. Until he achieves his goal, then, or at least until he finds a fellow with more wits than the sycophants that keep the atmosphere to whom to divulge it, it will remain hidden.

I must say, your Amadeus character sounds like someone I would love to RP with. He should join my current RP. He'd fit in really well.

[Yitik]

Funnily enough, he was the one I was considering using. Was going to wait to see how things progress, but if you figure he'd work, well, I'll assume he'd work.

Glad you like him, by the way.