F [M] Strings Unraveled -OOC-

[Silverink]

"Being human is given, but keeping our humanity is a choice"

What is the measure of humanity? How far can one go before it is forsaken? This question has been asked by scholars for centuries as magic ebbs and flows with the world's population. Every human born has a small amount of magic inside them, a mere fiber in the Sphere of Magic as a whole.

RP THEME SONG

IC Thread: https://role-player.net/forum/showthr...=1#post2669610

Spoiler: PLOT 

What is the measure of humanity? How far can one go before it is forsaken? This question has been asked by scholars for centuries as magic ebbs and flows with the world's population. Every human born has a small amount of magic inside them, a mere fiber in the Sphere of Magic as a whole. Yet, this tiny spark allows mere mortals to make mundane tasks magical through conjuring flames, healing wounds and other phenomena. A fiber for every commoner, craftsmen and even great kings a common factor in all ways of life.


A select few choose to study this fiber and find themselves as students with no success at furthering their magical ability. That was until six people came into the world with a full String. These Stringed individuals found themselves mastering a singular class of magic, but failing at all other magical talents. Still finding their stations elevated as their renown grew as years passed. Eventually the six crossed paths one another and bonds were made..and eventually broken. Ten years have passed since the breaking of bonds, and the Strings found their magic slowly consuming their humanity as thoughts of Godhood came to mind. To rebel against their human nature for the sake of personal goals and values, yet who would deny a God?


Day by day, their magics seep into their mind as unnatural parasites whispering seductive words of power, as well as something thought to be impossible. Their magical talents are expanding into the opposite class of power drawing themselves back to one another. Without controlling this magic, this is a dangerous change as none dare to teach the Strings another class of magic for fear of corrupting them further. So the only solution is for the Six to reunite with one another for the sake of the world and their own mortal souls. Yet, it won't be easy to learn from one another as the bonds were broken for a reason.


So the choices are limited; fight and learn..or find themselves mere shells of human beings possibly dead or seating themselves on the throne of Godhood remaking the world in their own image. Strings are becoming unraveled regardless of the end results..

Spoiler: MAGIC 

Magic and Strings

Magic in it's simplest form is energy that is being molded by the human in question. This could be as simple as forming a single droplet of water in snow or as complex as reanimating a corpse. A corpse would still be a corpse at the end of day, with no feelings or memories of its own. In theory, one could implant memories within the corpse's rotting body and make it a 'real' creature. That is a topic for another day. Try to not go stereotypical magical spells either, for example the String of Death can see into human bodies with a spell, see old wounds/scars etc. Yet cannot heal them etc..doesn't mean the individual can't assist in the healing process.

*GM note: I am going to be very easygoing on magic rules as long as OP spells etc aren't used frequently, remember your character is becoming the closest thing to a God. Their magic isn't normal. BE CREATIVE AND THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX WHEN CHOOSING YOUR STRING*

Spoiler: Character Sheet 

Name:

Age:

Theme Song:-Optional..just for fun-

String:-What String does your character have inside them? What are the consequences of the magic starting to consume your humanity, shorter temper/feeling the emotions of others/listlessness/companions falling ill? Make these real negative events as it won't be a cakewalk-

Magic:- Favorite spells/usage of your magic? Creativity counts-

Relationship with Opposing String:-What is the present feeling towards your new 'teacher' of sorts. Communication with your fellow String is a vital plot point, so TALK- Feel to include what drove the two apart etc-

Appearance:-Description REQUIRED- -PIC OPTIONAL-

Personality:

Everything changed:-What is your character's past like/ what was the falling out between you and your partner String through your perspective. How has life changed these past ten years after all the fame has generated and rumors spread. Did the peasant rise to noble status etc?

IC Sample:

*Feel free to include any other categories*

Character List

String of Death

Spoiler: Isis Feanel by Silverink 

Name: Isis Feanel

Age:29

Theme Song:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpgWc5u0PPw-Unravel

String:-Holds the String of Death within her body. As the magic has grown unchecked these past ten years, both her body and mind have begun to change. Her body become increasingly fragile and stiff like an elder in their final years, even the cold can immobilize her if precautions aren't taken. It isn't surprising for her to discover a simple fall could easily fracture her hands upon impact, the pain is real as it radiates within her nerves. Yet, within minutes her bones seem to mend without a second thought. Those around her could feel a small prickle of pain as her magic subconsciously feeds off the life force of others, that was until she became aware of it all and sought to escape civilization and fame. Without this parasitic behavior, she could easily become as helpless as a newborn child.

Now she seeks the company of wandering spirits and forgotten memories in ruins and graveyards as each step the burden of her magic grows. This reclusive behavior has changed her once curious state of mind into an apathetic and cold as she can feel the lifetimes of others pounding in her ears with each heartbeat and breath. It isn't uncommon for her eyes to glaze over as spirits call out to her longingly for company and mourning their restlessness, in truth she finds them preferable company to the living.

Magic:- Her magic favors the strategy that the best defense is an enduring offense. In layman's terms, her spells have the tendency to favor damaging or incapacitating a foe over time instead of bowling them over with a single blow. Strategy is a favored trait that she relies on heavily and can become frustrated if random spells are fired off at once.

Skin and Bones: The pupils of her eyes seem to contact like those a cat as a magic film seems to settle over them. This film allows her to see through the skin of other's allowing for an invasive look at bones and organs. Could be dangerous if she aims to strike an already struggling organ or buckling bone. Useful in a support role if utilized correctly by allies.

Sands of Time-A limited ability she rarely uses due to the emotional turmoil that results from the magic's answer. This spell allows her to hear the beating of a subject's heart and give her an estimate of when the heart will stop beating due to old age. Wonderful ability right, not so if she gains flashes of the subject's potential deaths before old age. This can result in her feeling grief and guilt over the possible answers.

Night of the Living Dead: Can constrict her magic into strings of sorts onto corpses or if possible bringing a spirit to realm of the living. These strings are invisible to the human eye without magical assistance as it acts a surprise tactic given it can be unnerving for a thought dead corpse to shamble towards an opponent. The drawback is the corpse cannot sustain attacks of even the weakest caliber without nearly falling to pieces. To increase a corpse's durability, Iris fuels her own blood into the puppet and will take any damage to the reanimated corpse.

Reminisce-Creates a shell of magic that results in spirits becoming visible in the mortal realm as long as the visiting stays within her vision. Speech and mobility is limited for the resurrected creature making it useless in combat, but potential in harvesting information from it.

Reaper's touch-Shrouds her hands in magic that can easily suck the life from any target with ease to restore her own wounds. Problematic in that her physical state could shatter with the touch of a feather making this an extremely risky chance. Her bones may fix themselves and muscle knit itself together, yet she cannot regrow limbs.

Hallow-Several items on her person act as a storage of sorts for a select number of spirits that she has managed to communicate and become a 'vessel' with. At the cost of the immobilization of her own mortal body, the spirit in question can connect with the human world as flesh and bone for a limited time. While this eliminates her physical weakness in close combat, there are several questionable drawbacks. To use this type of magic is extremely draining on her energy stores as she finds that can only sustain a spirit's form within a limited time range without forcing her to suck energy from those around her. The spirit could fight for control over it's body and turn against the summoner. The object it is being called upon grows frail after each calling and will eventually shatter over time.



Relationship with Opposing String:-What is the present feeling towards your new 'teacher' of sorts. Communication with your fellow String is a vital plot point, so TALK- Feel to include what drove the two apart etc-

Appearance:

Everything about her appearance seems to toe the line between approachable and MUST AVOID. A natural armor she has constructed over the years and refuses to budge for much of the world. The armor is a necessary in her mind as her short stature and fragile body wouldn't be a deterrent for any foe. Standing at a mere 5,4 and a paper-like skin texture it isn't unheard of for people to comment as if she was deathly ill. Her body is thin, with little to no muscle aiding it as her magic just seems to refuse to allow any growth within herself. Her hair once a faint blonde is rapidly detearating in color as a crisp white and thinning that she has forced herself to cut it down to a short crop style.

The only alert trait she has remaining is her eyes retain their vibrant blood-red color. A few rumors circulate that the only the color hasn't faded is that her magic feeds off the blood of enemies and grants her just that single boon. Faint scars dance across her hands and visible arms as mere raised skin formations, tokens from the puppets she conducted over the years and taken blows for.Even her attire is nothing impressive as a simple grey shift and skirt cover her body and on colder days shrouding herself in a thick black cloak. Even her feet remain bare on the cold earth as it seems to help act as conduct for her magic, or she finds shoes uncomfortable. Only her accessories give her a sign of wealth and power. Onyx rings remain shined on her thumbs as do the coins clicking at her waist like a belt of sorts. Even her throat is decorated with a precious choker made of fine black lace and gems.

While some may call this unnecessary peacocking, only to reminded with a grim smile that it's common tradition for the dead to be buried with their processions of wealth. Those knowing of her magical abilities give these accessories a wider breath given their blessing of spirits that lurk within them. The metals themselves are deathly cold to the touch, burning skin at even a simple brush. Even Isis is not exempt from their temperature as during the rare times she removes these items there are clear burns blemishing her flesh. Yet, she sees it as a sign that she is still truly living, if one could call her current state of isolation living.

Personality: Bitter and exhausted is an apt description of her persona. Her temper seems to flare up at the inopportune moments followed by fatigue and apologies. Even unintentional parasitic change in her magic can cause guilt to overflow as broken words come from her mouth. If she could control this new change in her life at any cost she would give it. What once drove her life has begun to consume her passion for the world around her making even speaking a tiresome task. Yet, there does seem to a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes if mind games are being played or if a fool is daring enough to risk their life in some task. A select few could call this playful mood a touch sadistic and cruel, which can be responded with isn't life cruel enough?

Around others if she is forced to interact, her answers are either short or sarcastic depending on the topic. When it comes to the world of spirits there seems to be enthusiasm on her part followed by tight-lipped answers if curious viewers begin prodding her about the information behind the vessels she has formed. Although there is a singular topic that she could babble upon for hours on end; that being herself in her past memories when she thrived in the world of living instead of focusing on the dead. Even a faint smile as she recalls the extravagant parties and eccentric guests that still she thinks of at times, of their path in life.

Everything changed:

Born to a family of merchants it wasn't surprising to find that she witnessed life and death dance with one another even from a very young age. The roads of trade are dangerous paths filled with bandits, monstrous creatures and even well-intentioned humans finding themselves forced into situations. So, she learned the value of wealth and coins with a well-placed smile as well as it's cost. When her magic made itself know it was a frightening feeling as she could feel the faintest heartbeat lurking within a scampering rat as if each breath could be it's last. Even her dreams had begun changing into hazy memories of places she had never even heard from before.

Eventually at the age of sixteen, a notable fortuneteller gave her a grave prediction that death would become her shadow as she was blessed with an unusually long string of magic within herself. So the corpses of dancing rats and mice became minor playthings as acts of amusement for common folk. Faint outlines of spirits called upon her to ease their restless and lonely souls. Eventually she found herself entertaining within the courts of nobles and merchant princes alike as a select few in private begged for their final moments to be looked upon. This was her first foray into the bitter existence she knew today as their potential deaths and screams of pain unsettled her quiet sleep.


Her wealth grew as did her knowledge of her magic as fellow magic users welcomed a chance for the famed Lady Death to browse their dusty old tomes. Nobles gifted her gems and precious coins in hopes of charming her into revealing the future. Nothing could persuade her to use that singular gift, even when she met the five other Strings. Each individual enormously talented in their own right, but such talent can be toxic if it falls under the grasp of arrogance and suspicion. Words of distrust whispered in her ear as each individual had the power and means to betray the other. Humans were cruel creatures beneath the facade of humanity and morals all it took was a small nudge for one to fall into insanity.

Even for all her secrets and guarded nature, Isis found herself opening up to the Strings without a second thought. It would be her downfall as fear resulted in her breaking up with the group without a second thought. Her magic had begun wrapping it's tendrils around her human soul as she drifted into the lands of forgotten people as the spirits cannot judge that of a human. Years could have passed without a second thought as her touch seeks the warmth of life, but her mind refuses to give to the growing hunger.

Still she finds her once isolated temple inhabited only by nocturnal birds and the occasional colony of rats becoming a place of pilgrimage by vagrants and rouges alike all seeking her guidance in hopes of avoiding an early grave. A few select gifts have found themselves blessed with her magic as vessels. But, humanity she fears will lead themselves and herself into a grave that would arrive too early. Yet, darker thoughts lurk in her mind..why should she let herself suffer for the misfortunate of others and heap guilt upon something she can't control. To become a Goddess among mere mortals to be ABOVE guilt and humanity as cold and unfeeling as Death.

IC Sample:

It is only midday, yet for Isis not even the warmth of sun can waken her paralyzed limbs as her back remains stiff against the make-shift granite throne. Even the rock's cold surface seems to stick to her skin as her mind comes back to the present as glazed eyes clear. Within seconds her ears assaulted by blubbering and distraught wailing of a young mother clutching a boy that could no more than ten years as her broken voice echoed throughout the temple's hall "Please, please my lady. Save my son from our family's cursed fate for our male line has diminished down to my only child as disease and ill will has taken family before the age of twenty."

The woman's weeping is silenced as Isis slowly rose from her seat with shaking hands and began a careful descent down the cracked steps. Several masked attendants shadow nearby knowing the dangers a simple fall could pose on their mistress. Calloused hands gently pat the youth's hair as ruby eyes blink slowly before lips purse speaking softly "I cannot prevent the death of your child through means of medicine nor influencing the will of the gods themselves. My means are an act of planning and prevention, some have even called my magic an act of blasphemy."

A faint smile curled the corners of her lips as hopeful eyes looked upon her as uneasiness grew in the stomach of the mother, everything had a cost. Beckoning an attendant forward with a single hand flourish bearing a silver knife before picking it up with practiced ease and continuing in soft voice "Death is a heartless creature and would not be appeased if the child escapes it's grasp. All human's die in a way, would you give your life for another? I can save your child for this cost. Give me your answer for I am feeling fatigued and growing impatient". The child merely clutched to his mother as silent tears fell from both eyes as the mother gently pushed the child away before nodding solemnly.

Several attendants subdued the struggling child as his knees hit the ground mutely weeping. Grasping the silver knife in her hand and making several deep incisions along her palms and collarbone muttering under her breath as crimson blood dripped down to the floor as black smoke curled around her palms covering them like tar. Gently cradling the woman's face as Isis felt cool tears hit her cloaked hands as the soothing feeling of another life slipped into her own wounds before pulling the cold blade across the woman's throat like a sheep for slaughter.

Crimson liquid pooled about her bare feet and stained the cracked floor beneath the two as Isis fell to her knees clinging to the woman's body as whispers of memories danced through her mind. Red eyes glazed over as the boy's various endings came and went within seconds, yet to her eyes clues of how to ensure the survival of the boy. Then finally tears slipped from her own eyes as she reached the final image of an elderly man softly sleeping and taking his final breath. Her own breath became ragged with fatigue as her magic reached out to the flickering life force of the mother in an attempt to restore lost energy as the corpse lay in a pool of blood. Isis raised her head as she found herself back among the present before rising to her feet as a flurry of activity took place. The corpse was removed, her bloodstained clothes quickly removed and replaced by a warm cloak and the presentation of a crisp new mask. The mask itself was shaped like a bird's beak composed of tiny fragments of ground bone and burned together to ensure stability. Black feathers decorated the sides of the eye wholes like plumage of a crow.

This was a ritual of her own design in an effort to understand the limitation of her own magic as well to test the extent humanity can affect people. To give up one's life for another was a selfless act indeed, but at the cost of leaving behind someone important? Crouching down in front of the boy before gently touching his cheek with a bloodied palm and whispering "Your name shall now be Kuro. I will protect you from your fate to best of my ability in the honor of your mother. I merely ask for your loyalty and for your respect." Anger flashed in brown eyes as the boy reared back a flailing hand ready to strike out at the mage who stole his mother from him. The tiny fist was caught by a burly hand of male attendant wearing the mask of a jackal, and in the other baring a needle and black thread. Anger turned to fear as liquid was forced down his throat to put him into a soothing sleep as another attendant threaded the waiting needle.

Rising to her full height as her blood-stained feet left crimson footprints as she returned to her chambers, where a steaming bath was awaiting her. Clear liquid turned pink as she sleuthed the dried blood from her body as she leaned head against the wooden headrest of the bath. A select few called her Death magic monstrous and inhuman, and in truth these words became hallow to her. Who was she to judge those that gave their lives willing away for one reason or the other. All her attendants wore the masks of various creatures associated with dead and had sewed their mouths shut as to not reveal their deaths to anyone. It was a single request she had as fate could be a cruel mistress if one tried to tempt it.

Sighing as fatigue soaked in her bones as her eyes glanced towards the open parchment decorating her bedside table as an invitation to the Court of Houes and a reunion of sorts between those she once called companions. Her magic was changing and it's parasitic nature need to be halted or at least controlled and there was only a singular mage that knew Life Magic as arrogantly as he did. Now what would fate say if Life and Death were to cross paths once more?

String of Life

Spoiler: Twyl-Clyde 

Name: Twyl

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Appearance:
A golden beauty, laced in Grecian beauty, he is like an angel, with porcelain like skin, that is pale, and snow like. His eyes are golden heaps of sun's beauty, like jewels they glisten and glimmer. He wears silken clothing, in the translucent threads are golden shimmers. He does not wear a lot of jewelry, merely a ring and a circlet. It's not as if godhood has possessed him, but not like he seeks godhood either. Godhood a compulsion the further the taint of his magic goes. He has a lithe build, hidden under layers of clothes. And stands at 5'7"

Spoiler: Twyl Face Up 

Spoiler: Swallowed by Fabrics and Obsession 

String: Life; once something that was his choice, it has now become an obsession, a compulsion. He hears and sees the ferrymen of the dead, in his dreams, in his waking life, almost simultaneously both these forces come together. He must heal and save the lives of others on an impulsive, almost obsessive whim and can no longer fight the urge or the arrogance to save everyone.

Magic:
Conjuration, specifically the conjuration of a single weapon, named the Amiglayde.
Pronounced: Ah-me-glay-d

Amiglayde; Mythology dictates that there was only ever one scythe, bequeathed to one individual and one individual only. Death himself, the Grim Reaper. But what if there was always two scythes? What if there were two halves of the same coin. What if there was a scythe of life as well? Bestowed, or maybe created by a maddening obsession, the Amiglayde was born. Though probably not a blade anyone wants to be healed by, the Amiglayde cannot cut through mortal beings. Instead it can only cut through the minions of Death and Hell. The ones that leech life off of wounded and fallen foes.

Up to three times per day the Amiglayde may bring another individual back to life. However, the Amiglayde consequence is that somewhere, out there, unbeknown to the user who uses it, someone else dies in their stead.

The Amiglayde is not a blade that kills, but instead a blade that heals wounded enemies. Strike an enemy down with the Amiglayde and surely watch them stunned as their wounds heal.

Though this may be the gift of the Amiglayde. To recharge its power to bring forth the wrought of death, the Amiglayde must heal an individual. And the more individuals it heals, the more it heals.

10 Minor Wounds, levels the Amiglayde up to heal major wounds, 15 major wounds levels the Amiglayde to cure all wounds even illnesses.

The Amiglayde can only kill one individual, and harm them. That would be death or the grim reaper or whomever possesses an attribute of death.

The Amiglayde is also the possession that drives its user mad. Because its the one who drives the user, not with an insatiable appetite for blood, but compels them to heal all wounded. If not listened to, it may wound or refuse to be used by the user till its need to heal is done.

Spoiler: The Blade With an Obsession With Life 

For every spell he uses to harm his enemy, the Amiglayde disapproves and does half the same amount of damage back to him.

Light Rust; This spell throws a ball of radiating light that dazzles the enemies as it dances into the battlefield. But this radiating ball of light is not to be trifled with. Once detonated into the battlefield, enemies and allies only have a few seconds to get out of the way, as the light spans a range of 30ft, and grows brighter and hotter. Melting anything in the radius field near the light. Well anything organic. It melts living material, people become a puddle of liquid blood, bones and all. Plants wilt into ash, and rocks swelter, but do not bend. This orb last for 2 mintues, as quickly as it was launched, it fades. Leaving the field hot.

Light's Judged Vengeance; Once per day for three minutes, Twyl may heal himself, by throwing all the damage he sustained back at his enemies. Which in turn heals himself from all damage. The amount of damage he does to his enemies stacks with the Amiglayde's damage towards him, but the Amiglayde still will punish him for this spell after harming his enemies.

Personality:
To say he is not all that there would be a great understatement. It seems when he claimed a contract with the Amiglayde, it took something away from him. So much more than his own magic. It was the first voice he had ever heard that whispered to him, it was the first voice that compelled him. It spoke seductive things into his subconscious. They had never been desires no choices of his own. They had always been a subconscious desire, but the Amiglayde had different views.

Sometimes it's hard to assume who is the Amiglayde and who is himself. Unlike the others, he never wanted to break the bonds. He reached out for them, sought out their companionship. He tried to run from the madness, slowly warping his sense of reality. Warping his sense of morality. Something slowly inside of him changing. It was gradual enough for him to realize, he was losing a sense of himself.

He could barely recognize the individual, who had a love for adventure, who was curious and knowledgeable. The person who enjoyed others company. When the Bonds broke, he grew mad. Isolated and alone, with no one there, he began to watch as his own world began to grow darker and darker.

He woke in another world. Like being awake and asleep at the same time. He could see the death the way the Amiglayde spoke of it. At first they were night terrors, that broke him. Then they were day dreams, day terrors. The madness is what drove him alone. And what drove him mad was the loneliness. He sought help. Yet, there was no one there to hold onto him. He sought to rid himself of the madness, but there was no help.

Now all that is left is a sense of corruption. A world blurred between fiction and reality. Schizophrenic ideology and a desire of Godhood that might not even be his own. The reuniting of the bonds has mind licking neural chops, as it see the others as way of ascension.

Or is it really him? Does he desire Godhood?

What could he do with Godhood, but save others. But no that's what the Amiglayde wants.

Relationship with Opposing String: WIP

Everything changed: WIP

IC Sample:



Theme Song:

I asked that you did not leave. I felt it's metal hands wrapping around my mind. I asked you to not allow me to be taken, but I watched you walk away. Now who am I? Amiglayde. No that wasn't it.

[link]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmFWSK0aGXU[/link]

String of Earth

Spoiler: Petram by DarkStarlet 

Name: Petram

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Theme Song: https://m.youtube.com/?reload=7&rdm=...?v=gpGv9Mm8Xds

String: EARTH - Petram is stubborn and prone to either swift mood changes or long bouts of silence. This leads her to being quite unpredictable and generally hard to read. She is in a constant unseen flux of change, like the world, but finds change difficult to grasp at times which can lead to sudden and swift action, normally in some form of violence. Petram tries to keep her relationships with others steady, but is often rather dense and sometimes needs the point of a situation made clear to her, which she doesn't particularly enjoy.
Petram's string leads her to incredible destruction at times, often resulting in loss of life, which she deeply regrets. This can send her into a deep depressive state in which she becomes pretty unresponsive and cold.

Magic: Petram likes to make the ground shake and crack, to become unstable and can direct it to create large fissures and minor earthquakes. She likes big magic, and can be described as being 'loud'. Petram does have some sense of subtle magic, and can use underhanded tactics to get what she wants. In a fight, she fights dirty.

Relationship with Opposing String: EARTH/AIR - In the beginning, Petram and Amyris were friends, they spent time together, comfortable in each others presence. Since Petram has on occasion lost control when angry or upset, and caused the deaths of innocents, their relationship has broken down. Petram feels somewhat betrayed by Amyris now, yet still longs for the closeness they once shared. Though she can sense it will likely never happen.
The distance that has now sprung up has made Petram wary of Amyris's motives, and still pains her, though she wishes for those feelings to fade.
Petram knows that Amyris has hurt many people, and wants to forgive him, but just can't let herself get deeper into the mess that he created.

Appearance: Petram looks to be a gentle young woman on the surface, but is far stronger than she looks. She stands at 5'2 and is very slim with lightly tanned skin. She has a sweet and innocent face, and looks more like a young teen than a grown woman. She has hazel eyes and dark brown hair down to her waist. She generally wears comfortable loose clothing and sturdy boots for walking long distances and climbing mountains. She is hardly ever without her backpack, filled heavily to the brim with all sorts of items that might come in handy. Many people might say she looks like an explorer, but others have commented that she has a nymph-like other half if they see her in more feminine clothing. Her primary clothing colours, browns, greens and yellows, help her blend into her surroundings where she can and she prefers to be in the wild.

Personality: Petram is often cold and standoffish, generally frowning at everyone, but through hard work she can be won over. Once she has warmed up to you and you have earned her loyalty, she can become loyal to a fault, which can be dangerous if you should cross her. Her temper is fearsome and often irrational, somewhat akin to a tantrum at times, but her rage is unstoppable once she gets going. Once she has calmed down however, she is surprisingly gentle and childlike.
Her calm moments are few and far between however, so it is best not to rely on getting a break from her.

Everything changed: As rifts started to form between the other Strings, Petram grew angry, not just with them, but with herself. She believed things had been just fine the way they were, why we're they all acting like they were? In an act of confused and misplaced rage, she stormed off to try and figure things out, sending ripples of her power through the area she was in, reducing much of it to dust. She was powerful, that much was clear, but not powerful enough to keep everyone together. Petram grew angry with herself, she needed to become stronger! Setting off she vowed to herself that she would become stronger than ever before, and then maybe she could force them to see that everything was fine before, that they should go back to that. In order to get that power she'd have to form a rivalry with the Gods themselves, maybe then she'd finally be strong enough. Ignoring the rest of the world she trained, forming a strange landscape far out in the ocean, a massive island where she built mountains with a breath, and tore them down again without a care.

IC Sample:

Breathe in.
Breathe out.

The sound of the wind in the grass made old whispers rise like a stormy tide. It was not something that she wanted to think about. Memories... such horrible things. They ate away at her, and she cursed it.
How long had it been now? She'd lost track of time. What day was it? When had she last eaten, last slept? Reality was a dream... no, a nightmare. She'd never wake up now, no matter how hard she tried.
Sitting up slowly she gazed out over the island, feeling all the particles as they should be.
The waves battering the cliffs, erosion like a parasite, nibbling away. The mountains, encased in ice and snow, hidden dangers to everyone who did not know where to step.
She knew.
A goat, a silly little goat, slipped and fell into the slumbering fissure, hooves clattering and sending echoes and vibrations into the earth.
Too wounded to survive, it lay there, bleating helplessly, doomed to die a slow and painful death, to either bleed out, or starve.
'SNAP'
She shut the crack and crushed the goat.
Sometimes the sweetest mercy is a quick death. It was kind of her.
A cruel person will make you suffer, and this grants you more time. A kind person will end things so you don't have to suffer.
Petram was very kind.

Breathe in.
Breathe out.

String of Air-

Spoiler: Amyris-Minkasha 

Name: Amyris

Age: Third Reborn - ?? but appears young

String: Air – Unable to satisfy solidity the curse of air has throne Amyris into cruel bouts of violent transformation. Often through the gradual extremes of his persona reaching climax, violent transitions that have consequences to the people who look up to him for guidance and to people he had wanted to call friend: the other strings.

Magic:

Aerial Rebirth - Amyris’ use of air has evolved from form to form. In his first form, he showed a lack of creativity, moving gusts. His second form, birthed from a cocoon of furious wind, sought to syphon the oxygen from all living things, hardening them into stone and mush, his actions cruel and sickening to the eye.

The third, his current form, did not explode into a new form of aerial arcane and instead ascended into a whole new entity entirely. It was gradual, whatever the second evolution was in his stages of life, was uncertain but it was a hint to the magical fortuity of the third. Thus far, each of his deaths has brought a new entity for him to become.

The Third Form;

Physiology - Transcended from human biology, Amyris’ shape has become an eternally winged youth whose very winds carry shards of hardened magic.

Transcended, his body is incorporeal, if one watches his skin long enough; one will see the scenery through him as patches of body waver in and out. It must take the strength of fire and magic. Through all things he can phase and mortal weapons shall never threaten him again, coming through him without disturbance.

Arcane Shatterstorm - Like glass, these sparkling, irregular and often jagged shaped fragments glitter and decorate his presence. Those who pass through these fields of glitter come before him wounded and bloodied, skin peeled away in serrated kisses his freckled face promises with a smile.

Waving his hand, hardened pieces of power will rush to the indicated direction, chipping away at rock and wood, eating away at hide and flesh: a sparkling tornado of erosion.

The Voice of the Wind – Amyris’ young voice is ever changeable, the air carrying soft melodies that can lull the mundane of the world into slumber or suggestion. To those of the magical quality, the other five, a roll system will be determined by the GM and will be edited here once agreed. The rolled numbers will be posted in the IC through screen pic links or other mediums to prove the roll.

Or with great harshness, syllables turn into gravitas sounds that shatter the inner workings of the ears, causing delirium, confusion and horrendous blood loss.

Air Elemental Familiar – Having lost direct control of gusts and breezes beyond the Shatterstorm, the young form has found himself paired with a familiar that is his actor of these spells. Able to throw air at the force to send horses and a dozen men flying into the air for over thirty feet. This familiar whirls over six feet tall, phases through substances, and is bound to his master by the golden cuffs he wears. These cannot phase, and can be struck with things of the mundane. Shattered, the familiar will vanish.

It is also able to take other shapes, humanoid or animal, but the golden bracelets will always be present at one or more of the shape’s limbs. Its physical strength would match that of its gale force, making the familiar’s shape shifts tremendously strong. (Four to five thousand pounds of strength)

The familiar may also be burned or made victim by other magic. It has the ability to follow complex tasks Amyris gives.

Real appearance.

Current Appearance:

Relationship with Opposing String: Amyris and Petram have become very distant. In the beginning, when the six became to know one another, Petram was a supportive and friendly face for Amyris. And while he appreciated her kindness, it only eased so much of his inward struggles. And her actions, the accidental uses of her powers that began to harm the general populace, put Amyris in darker spells. As much as she helped him, her actions also pushed him away, at times there had to be days where he removed himself from her so he could regain emotional stability enough to be a functional person.

Petram's effect on Amyris was questionable, retrospectively it is difficult to say if she was more of a help or a burden for the trouble Amyris: but either way he never said anything to her about it. He wanted her company.

Ultimately he committed suicide.

And when he returned, Amyris' violent and brutal actions pushed away everything and everyone.

And by his third form, he has become so detatched from Petram that it seems impossible to have their former relationship. He is not the same individual, down to a biological level, and his memory has eroded. What Petram feels for Amyris is irrelevant simply because the young man she knew will no longer return.

Appearance:

Spoiler: First Form 

The first form of Amyris was the face all six knew best. He was once a young man of 5’10’’ with a healthy male physic for a male of his stature. Though pale, his features soft, hair platinum blonde, he never carried any expression of happiness with him. Lumbering with depression.

Spoiler: Second Form 

His second self began to drift from the human, a bloodlust in his eyes and dull white wings on his back. He was once lanky, standing at six feet, a sort of mangy and wild looking phenome who drifted through the air, gliding among the populaces and peered down at the general populace in hopes of the kill. His arms were warped and stained black.

Spoiler: Third Form 

His current form is a new face is a shapely youth whose face is exotic and alluring. Eyes pierce so cruelly and wondrously with inhumane hues of light blue tinted with silver. His wings are pure white, even sprouting from golden locks atop his head.

His skin is marked with magical symbolism and golden cuffs of an indescribable metal that seemingly wavers in and out. His young stature is five foot two.

Personality:

Amyris current self is floats in the air, abrasive that he finds more kinship in his relationship with the emotions of being adrift rather than being forced to engage with the land dwelling. He is bright, and a conversationalist – only if someone can spark his interest. His friendships with others extend, mostly, as far as his curiosity.

Amyris will look for things to satisfy his mind after a time in the sky, randomly jutting himself into situations he shouldn’t, or does not belong. But his power, and his prestige allow him to get away with this frequently.

Unaware of his past self, emotional connections are the only lingering traces of his duo pasts. Thus, those who hold the crumbs of these emotional links will draw him in the easiest.

Hatred with dealt with sharp accusations and biting words. Amyris is certain of his judgments and perceptions and will harass people who fail to equally challenge them. Those who are able to overcome his intelligence, he finds a friend, until they get boring.

The greatest emotional quality about Amyris is his need to be free and unbound.

Everything changed:

When Amyris came into the spotlight, as his first self, there was always something wrong. He had the attractiveness, the power, but he could never achieve happiness. It was not because of the responsibility, the struggle of fame hood, but “Something I always had inside”. This internal sense of weighty wrongness could never be mended by the other five he had come to meet and grow to understand. Gradually he had distanced himself until finally he had committed suicide, leaving only Twyl a note of condolence.

Unware his bloodied body would find a new breath of life within its lungs, rebirth was not the absolution his soul sought. Here was where the friendships between the six began to tear apart. The second Amyris was selfish, angry and broken. As he dwindled life, sucking away its molecular air, his string of reincarnated vengeance spanned out to the loved ones of his former companions. Helbent on making their lives miserable, he fought them, slew their family members until Justinian Delarosa killed him.

Since then, reborn for a third time, Amyris has been away from the others, ignorant of his entire past with them and distracted by his juvenile whimsy.

IC Sample:

[/QUOTE]

String of Water

Spoiler: Ophelia by Imperial 

Name: Ophelia

Age: 29

Theme Song: N/A

String: A master of Water where others fail or falter, Ophelia finds herself increasingly distant from others, but no less compassionate for them, even as they turn their backs on her. Deeply concerned for the welfare of others, she increasingly sees her path narrowing as she strides toward the future and the decisions that await her there. Something of a utilitarian, her worries lead her down a dark road, one that her companions may not approve of.

Magic: Ophelia leans away from flashy displays of power, preferring to keep her ability under wraps until it is needed. While she can easily create water for her own use, she instead opts to take advantage of the surrounding environment so long as it can take the damage. Precision and minimizing energy use play a large part of her strategy.

Relationship with Opposing String: Tides come in and go out, regularly and with predictability. Pyrotechnics is not so studied as hydrodynamics. Fire represents the potential for change and possibly progress, but also great chaos. A wielder of Water, Ophelia watches her opposite with great anxiety and a desire to impose order.

Appearance: The name Ophelia conjures up the image of a doll of a forgotten age, prim and proper, dressed for a ball. Ophelia is much in this way. Five feet tall, her eyes are a deep, bright green like the forests in the spring. Her brown hair is cropped to her shoulders, serving almost to emphasize her stature. Red lips sit above a mouth for which a smile is a treat. Her skin is a milky white where it can be seen beneath the small widow's dress she wears.

Personality: Although Ophelia may be seen smiling and laughing, she rarely feels the joy of those around her. Disconnected from them, she plays her part to keep them happy, but worry gnaws at the corners of her mind more often than not. Worry and apathy. And there are times when she is more dangerous than most.

Everything changed: WIP

IC Sample:

The tides were like life, coming in and going out. Their motion was smooth and regular, washing over the sand one moment as if to consume the world, and then receding the next. Here the tides were life, where the fishermen, with no power of their own, plied the waves by day and night to harvest the sea's bounty for their stomachs. Some days they returned home, laden with the day's catch. Others, they returned with nothing. Still, they prepared dried fish for those bad days and life was good.

Today Ophelia stood on the edge of the sand where the water just barely stopped, her feet bared to feel the last of their rush wash over them before returning to the sea like children called back home at the end of the day. Looking out onto the setting horizon, she saw that the tides had brought one man home. He floated face down in the water, his skin shriveled and pale. Gently, the water deposited him gradually onto the sand. For him, the tides were like old friends.

There were people there already to receive him. Standing beneath her widow's umbrella, Ophelia watched as the men scooped him from the sand and brought him further up the bank, towards the village where he had lived all his life. There had been boats out in the water when he was first spotted, but she had heard that the folk her believed it better for the sea to decide when to return him. It was a romantic notion.

She didn't recognize the man. In truth, she didn't recognize most of the men or women or children here. Here, as with most places, she was an outsider. The man had lived his entire life here. Here and wherever he fished from his boat, which had disappeared a day before. His life had consisted of work and play and raising his three children - daughters all. His widow wept silently as the men brought him past on a stretcher. The villagers strode by Ophelia, giving her strange looks as they passed.

It was hard to believe that there was magic in the world in this village. This man had lived an ordinary life on the very fringe of civilization, and yet had lived a happy one, cut short though it was. Matters of magic and the power that came with it did not disturb him in the slightest.

He would be cleaned and prayers would be said for his soul, and then he would be taken back out to sea, where his body would be put back into the water. It was where he had been born and died and where the villagers believed he should return.

Ophelia yearned for more like him.

String of Fire

Spoiler: Justinian Delarosa by JayBird 

Name: Justinian Delarosa

Age: 30

Theme Song: I see fire by Ed Sheeran ((heehee))

String: Fire. His string has caused him thus far to balk at the company of others and become a recluse. He gets angry easily and it takes a while for him to calm down. Justinian does not forgive easily if ever and when he gets upset, he has a tendency to set things on fire.

Magic: He dislikes petty tricks such as making sparks appear in his hand or touching fire without getting burned. Both can be useful of course but he would never do them for the entertainment of others he feels are inferior. He much prefers strong magic such as causing an inferno to appear around him as he walks or perhaps making a tree burst into flames at a single tough. It is a much better show of his power and will show anyone just how much greater he is than they.

Relationship with Opposing String: WIP

Appearance: Justinian is a man with long dark hair, having never cared to cut it and dark brown eyes that seem to look black in a certain light. His skin has tanned over the years of being on his own, far different from the pale man he'd once been and sometimes he tends to think of it as the fire that he'd been gifted with though it seems like a curse. His wardrobe tends to lean towards darker colors and never are they simple clothes he sees fit for peasantrs. Most are gaudy and elegant just as he likes to think of himself. Justinian stands at about 5'10 with a good physique and a posture that always suggests his dislike of crowds whenever he's around others.



Personality: Justinian as you might've guessed already, has grown haughty and arrogant in his separation from the others. He does not enjoy the company of others and when he is around people, he tends to feel the need to distance them by some large display. He used to be a warm man with great compassion towards others who was always willing to help out in any way he could. Now, that part is lost, buried under a long time of loneliness and the growing power that threatens to destroy his being. Justin now sees others as unworthy of his time and presence unless they can offer him something and he hardly thinks of anyone in such a way. He has lost the ability to truly love someone but he can not find it in his heart to care. Being alone suits him much better than the companionship of any man or woman.

Everything changed: WIP

IC Sample:

((I'll fill in that last bit soon enough.))[/QUOTE]

Rules

1. Expect gore, swearing, threats and other unfortunate events as the characters themselves can find their new situation less than ideal. I welcome putting Strings through the conga trauma line for character development

2. NO one-liners, I expect at least three paragraphs per post ideally more. I understand writer's block does happen, but give fellow RPer's a feast for the eyes.

3. Try to post at least once a week. Life happens I understand, if you are going to be away for a while please send me a PM granting me permission to move your character out of the way if needed etc.

4. Have fun!

5. The Setting is fantasy, do not starting around mechs etc...unless you can convince me why your magic is capable of that.

5. Have any questions or plot ideas etc, leave a comment below!

[Kris]

Looking to get this bumped and advertised??

Take a look at the Roleplay of the Week thread! If you need a banner for a submission for RP of the Week, then check out the Banner Shop!

You can also look at the Roleplaying Games Directory to advertise your RP. Staff would be happy to help you advertise your Roleplay both here and in the RPA Tribune.

[Neutrally Chaotic]

I might join later. It looks to have the potential to be something I would enjoy being a part of. I would probably be the fire one though and I'll see if I can get my character sheet up tomorrow. I hope you get more players as well.

[StormyNyte]

Might join later

[Mr.Cynic]

I'd like to take Life, if you'd allow me to do so.

[Neutrally Chaotic]

Name: Justinian Delarosa

Age: 30

Theme Song: I see fire by Ed Sheeran ((heehee))

String: Fire. His string has caused him thus far to balk at the company of others and become a recluse. He gets angry easily and it takes a while for him to calm down. Justinian does not forgive easily if ever and when he gets upset, he has a tendency to set things on fire.

Magic: He dislikes petty tricks such as making sparks appear in his hand or touching fire without getting burned. Both can be useful of course but he would never do them for the entertainment of others he feels are inferior. He much prefers strong magic such as causing an inferno to appear around him as he walks or perhaps making a tree burst into flames at a single tough. It is a much better show of his power and will show anyone just how much greater he is than they.

Relationship with Opposing String: WIP

Appearance: Justinian is a man with long dark hair, having never cared to cut it and dark brown eyes that seem to look black in a certain light. His skin has tanned over the years of being on his own, far different from the pale man he'd once been and sometimes he tends to think of it as the fire that he'd been gifted with though it seems like a curse. His wardrobe tends to lean towards darker colors and never are they simple clothes he sees fit for peasantrs. Most are gaudy and elegant just as he likes to think of himself. Justinian stands at about 5'10 with a good physique and a posture that always suggests his dislike of crowds whenever he's around others.



Personality: Justinian as you might've guessed already, has grown haughty and arrogant in his separation from the others. He does not enjoy the company of others and when he is around people, he tends to feel the need to distance them by some large display. He used to be a warm man with great compassion towards others who was always willing to help out in any way he could. Now, that part is lost, buried under a long time of loneliness and the growing power that threatens to destroy his being. Justin now sees others as unworthy of his time and presence unless they can offer him something and he hardly thinks of anyone in such a way. He has lost the ability to truly love someone but he can not find it in his heart to care. Being alone suits him much better than the companionship of any man or woman.

Everything changed: WIP

IC Sample:

((I'll fill in that last bit soon enough.))

[Mr.Cynic]

Name: Twyl

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Appearance:
A golden beauty, laced in Grecian beauty, he is like an angel, with porcelain like skin, that is pale, and snow like. His eyes are golden heaps of sun's beauty, like jewels they glisten and glimmer. He wears silken clothing, in the translucent threads are golden shimmers. He does not wear a lot of jewelry, merely a ring and a circlet. It's not as if godhood has possessed him, but not like he seeks godhood either. Godhood a compulsion the further the taint of his magic goes. He has a lithe build, hidden under layers of clothes. And stands at 5'7"

Spoiler: Twyl Face Up 

Spoiler: Swallowed by Fabrics and Obsession 

String: Life; once something that was his choice, it has now become an obsession, a compulsion. He hears and sees the ferrymen of the dead, in his dreams, in his waking life, almost simultaneously both these forces come together. He must heal and save the lives of others on an impulsive, almost obsessive whim and can no longer fight the urge or the arrogance to save everyone.

Magic:
Conjuration, specifically the conjuration of a single weapon, named the Amiglayde.
Pronounced: Ah-me-glay-d

Amiglayde; Mythology dictates that there was only ever one scythe, bequeathed to one individual and one individual only. Death himself, the Grim Reaper. But what if there was always two scythes? What if there were two halves of the same coin. What if there was a scythe of life as well? Bestowed, or maybe created by a maddening obsession, the Amiglayde was born. Though probably not a blade anyone wants to be healed by, the Amiglayde cannot cut through mortal beings. Instead it can only cut through the minions of Death and Hell. The ones that leech life off of wounded and fallen foes.

Up to three times per day the Amiglayde may bring another individual back to life. However, the Amiglayde consequence is that somewhere, out there, unbeknown to the user who uses it, someone else dies in their stead.

The Amiglayde is not a blade that kills, but instead a blade that heals wounded enemies. Strike an enemy down with the Amiglayde and surely watch them stunned as their wounds heal.

Though this may be the gift of the Amiglayde. To recharge its power to bring forth the wrought of death, the Amiglayde must heal an individual. And the more individuals it heals, the more it heals.

10 Minor Wounds, levels the Amiglayde up to heal major wounds, 15 major wounds levels the Amiglayde to cure all wounds even illnesses.

The Amiglayde can only kill one individual, and harm them. That would be death or the grim reaper or whomever possesses an attribute of death.

The Amiglayde is also the possession that drives its user mad. Because its the one who drives the user, not with an insatiable appetite for blood, but compels them to heal all wounded. If not listened to, it may wound or refuse to be used by the user till its need to heal is done.

Spoiler: The Blade With an Obsession With Life 

For every spell he uses to harm his enemy, the Amiglayde disapproves and does half the same amount of damage back to him.

Light Rust; This spell throws a ball of radiating light that dazzles the enemies as it dances into the battlefield. But this radiating ball of light is not to be trifled with. Once detonated into the battlefield, enemies and allies only have a few seconds to get out of the way, as the light spans a range of 30ft, and grows brighter and hotter. Melting anything in the radius field near the light. Well anything organic. It melts living material, people become a puddle of liquid blood, bones and all. Plants wilt into ash, and rocks swelter, but do not bend. This orb last for 2 mintues, as quickly as it was launched, it fades. Leaving the field hot.

Light's Judged Vengeance; Once per day for three minutes, Twyl may heal himself, by throwing all the damage he sustained back at his enemies. Which in turn heals himself from all damage. The amount of damage he does to his enemies stacks with the Amiglayde's damage towards him, but the Amiglayde still will punish him for this spell after harming his enemies.

Personality:
To say he is not all that there would be a great understatement. It seems when he claimed a contract with the Amiglayde, it took something away from him. So much more than his own magic. It was the first voice he had ever heard that whispered to him, it was the first voice that compelled him. It spoke seductive things into his subconscious. They had never been desires no choices of his own. They had always been a subconscious desire, but the Amiglayde had different views.

Sometimes it's hard to assume who is the Amiglayde and who is himself. Unlike the others, he never wanted to break the bonds. He reached out for them, sought out their companionship. He tried to run from the madness, slowly warping his sense of reality. Warping his sense of morality. Something slowly inside of him changing. It was gradual enough for him to realize, he was losing a sense of himself.

He could barely recognize the individual, who had a love for adventure, who was curious and knowledgeable. The person who enjoyed others company. When the Bonds broke, he grew mad. Isolated and alone, with no one there, he began to watch as his own world began to grow darker and darker.

He woke in another world. Like being awake and asleep at the same time. He could see the death the way the Amiglayde spoke of it. At first they were night terrors, that broke him. Then they were day dreams, day terrors. The madness is what drove him alone. And what drove him mad was the loneliness. He sought help. Yet, there was no one there to hold onto him. He sought to rid himself of the madness, but there was no help.

Now all that is left is a sense of corruption. A world blurred between fiction and reality. Schizophrenic ideology and a desire of Godhood that might not even be his own. The reuniting of the bonds has mind licking neural chops, as it see the others as way of ascension.

Or is it really him? Does he desire Godhood?

What could he do with Godhood, but save others. But no that's what the Amiglayde wants.

Relationship with Opposing String: WIP

Everything changed: WIP

IC Sample:

How was he suppose to interpret these individuals? Was the first question that seemed to float in the back of his mind, it had been his first time outside of a personal cage, to spread wings that he had once clipped on his own ignorance. Zacarias took a moment, taking in the question Arno had asked.

"The witch," Zacarias began was a memory came back to him, "Said the Life Stones guide us to the others. I suspect then, with magic, the Life Stone will be our navigator. We simply have to follow the single. Pik, may I see the stone?"

Was he taking too much in charge? Zacarias extended out his hand, and Pik dropped the stone in his hand. What would the others say as he carried the Life Stone? Would they try to attack him? How willing were they to be working within this team?

The touch of the Life Stone was warm and vibrant to the touch. It began to glow at his touch, it wasn't so much a map, as more like a radio that blinked the closer and further it got from the other Life Stones. Zacarias pointed to rocky crags, towards a canyon.

"It's in there somewhere," Zacarias said and began to walk forward.

There was no time wasting standing around. The group could individually speak as they walked. As meadows crossed from green, flowery imprints, to becoming dryer, rockier, and unstable. Into a canyon spread an earthen shrine made from nature itself.

Years of erosion and years of migration through this path had carved it out as such. Archways of earth over ahead of them. Goats with unusually horns watched from rocky crevices, but only sunk back into the shadows.

There was an eerie silence about this place. And those with highly perceptive eyes could see in the corners, were warnings of trespassers who had tried to climb unstable rock. Skulls and bones decorated rocky shadows. Unbeknown to anyone that they had died here. Buried and forgotten by an ancient spirit of mother nature.

A much crueler queen than say any other.

The Life Stone pulsated and vibrated. It got brighter. And brighter. As they seemed to get closer and closer to the other individual stone. Long awaiting the return of its brethren.

"I believe it is in there," Zacarias said pointing to the mouth of a cave. Certainly the air and atmosphere of the caverns opening radiating magic. Almost as if the other Life Stone was calling towards the other. Zacarias wondered if the others could also feel that very feeling.

What none of them had noticed was peeping eyes through the boulders and earthen cracks. Eyes that pierced and peered like primal jewels of life. Sweeping from the mountains with a fifteen foot wing span was a bird that snatched the Life Stone into its talons. Flying directly into the mouth of the cavern.

Zacarias looked puzzled. But then looked at the rest of them. It was now that they would have to make a decision.

Theme Song:

I asked that you did not leave. I felt it's metal hands wrapping around my mind. I asked you to not allow me to be taken, but I watched you walk away. Now who am I? Amiglayde. No that wasn't it.

[Silverink]

Glad people are taking interest!!! Very excited to start off my new RP on this site. I need to get a move on with my sheet too then.

Jay and Clyde your sheets looks great so far will add you to the potentials roster.

[DarkStarlet]

Name: Petram

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Theme Song: https://m.youtube.com/?reload=7&rdm=...?v=gpGv9Mm8Xds

String: EARTH - Petram is stubborn and prone to either swift mood changes or long bouts of silence. This leads her to being quite unpredictable and generally hard to read. She is in a constant unseen flux of change, like the world, but finds change difficult to grasp at times which can lead to sudden and swift action, normally in some form of violence. Petram tries to keep her relationships with others steady, but is often rather dense and sometimes needs the point of a situation made clear to her, which she doesn't particularly enjoy.
Petram's string leads her to incredible destruction at times, often resulting in loss of life, which she deeply regrets. This can send her into a deep depressive state in which she becomes pretty unresponsive and cold.

Magic: Petram likes to make the ground shake and crack, to become unstable and can direct it to create large fissures and minor earthquakes. She likes big magic, and can be described as being 'loud'. Petram does have some sense of subtle magic, and can use underhanded tactics to get what she wants. In a fight, she fights dirty.

Relationship with Opposing String: EARTH/AIR - In the beginning, Petram and Amyris were friends, they spent time together, comfortable in each others presence. Since Petram has on occasion lost control when angry or upset, and caused the deaths of innocents, their relationship has broken down. Petram feels somewhat betrayed by Amyris now, yet still longs for the closeness they once shared. Though she can sense it will likely never happen.
The distance that has now sprung up has made Petram wary of Amyris's motives, and still pains her, though she wishes for those feelings to fade.
Petram knows that Amyris has hurt many people, and wants to forgive him, but just can't let herself get deeper into the mess that he created.

Appearance: Petram looks to be a gentle young woman on the surface, but is far stronger than she looks. She stands at 5'2 and is very slim with lightly tanned skin. She has a sweet and innocent face, and looks more like a young teen than a grown woman. She has hazel eyes and dark brown hair down to her waist. She generally wears comfortable loose clothing and sturdy boots for walking long distances and climbing mountains. She is hardly ever without her backpack, filled heavily to the brim with all sorts of items that might come in handy. Many people might say she looks like an explorer, but others have commented that she has a nymph-like other half if they see her in more feminine clothing. Her primary clothing colours, browns, greens and yellows, help her blend into her surroundings where she can and she prefers to be in the wild.

Personality: Petram is often cold and standoffish, generally frowning at everyone, but through hard work she can be won over. Once she has warmed up to you and you have earned her loyalty, she can become loyal to a fault, which can be dangerous if you should cross her. Her temper is fearsome and often irrational, somewhat akin to a tantrum at times, but her rage is unstoppable once she gets going. Once she has calmed down however, she is surprisingly gentle and childlike.
Her calm moments are few and far between however, so it is best not to rely on getting a break from her.

Everything changed: As rifts started to form between the other Strings, Petram grew angry, not just with them, but with herself. She believed things had been just fine the way they were, why we're they all acting like they were? In an act of confused and misplaced rage, she stormed off to try and figure things out, sending ripples of her power through the area she was in, reducing much of it to dust. She was powerful, that much was clear, but not powerful enough to keep everyone together. Petram grew angry with herself, she needed to become stronger! Setting off she vowed to herself that she would become stronger than ever before, and then maybe she could force them to see that everything was fine before, that they should go back to that. In order to get that power she'd have to form a rivalry with the Gods themselves, maybe then she'd finally be strong enough. Ignoring the rest of the world she trained, forming a strange landscape far out in the ocean, a massive island where she built mountains with a breath, and tore them down again without a care.

IC Sample:

Breathe in.
Breathe out.

The sound of the wind in the grass made old whispers rise like a stormy tide. It was not something that she wanted to think about. Memories... such horrible things. They ate away at her, and she cursed it.
How long had it been now? She'd lost track of time. What day was it? When had she last eaten, last slept? Reality was a dream... no, a nightmare. She'd never wake up now, no matter how hard she tried.
Sitting up slowly she gazed out over the island, feeling all the particles as they should be.
The waves battering the cliffs, erosion like a parasite, nibbling away. The mountains, encased in ice and snow, hidden dangers to everyone who did not know where to step.
She knew.
A goat, a silly little goat, slipped and fell into the slumbering fissure, hooves clattering and sending echoes and vibrations into the earth.
Too wounded to survive, it lay there, bleating helplessly, doomed to die a slow and painful death, to either bleed out, or starve.
'SNAP'
She shut the crack and crushed the goat.
Sometimes the sweetest mercy is a quick death. It was kind of her.
A cruel person will make you suffer, and this grants you more time. A kind person will end things so you don't have to suffer.
Petram was very kind.

Breathe in.
Breathe out.

[Minkasha]

Name: Amyris

Age: Third Reborn - ?? but appears young

String: Air – Unable to satisfy solidity the curse of air has throne Amyris into cruel bouts of violent transformation. Often through the gradual extremes of his persona reaching climax, violent transitions that have consequences to the people who look up to him for guidance and to people he had wanted to call friend: the other strings.

Magic:

Aerial Rebirth - Amyris’ use of air has evolved from form to form. In his first form, he showed a lack of creativity, moving gusts. His second form, birthed from a cocoon of furious wind, sought to syphon the oxygen from all living things, hardening them into stone and mush, his actions cruel and sickening to the eye.

The third, his current form, did not explode into a new form of aerial arcane and instead ascended into a whole new entity entirely. It was gradual, whatever the second evolution was in his stages of life, was uncertain but it was a hint to the magical fortuity of the third. Thus far, each of his deaths has brought a new entity for him to become.

The Third Form;

Physiology - Transcended from human biology, Amyris’ shape has become an eternally winged youth whose very winds carry shards of hardened magic.

Transcended, his body is incorporeal, if one watches his skin long enough; one will see the scenery through him as patches of body waver in and out. It must take the strength of fire and magic. Through all things he can phase and mortal weapons shall never threaten him again, coming through him without disturbance.

Arcane Shatterstorm - Like glass, these sparkling, irregular and often jagged shaped fragments glitter and decorate his presence. Those who pass through these fields of glitter come before him wounded and bloodied, skin peeled away in serrated kisses his freckled face promises with a smile.

Waving his hand, hardened pieces of power will rush to the indicated direction, chipping away at rock and wood, eating away at hide and flesh: a sparkling tornado of erosion.

The Voice of the Wind – Amyris’ young voice is ever changeable, the air carrying soft melodies that can lull the mundane of the world into slumber or suggestion. To those of the magical quality, the other five, a roll system will be determined by the GM and will be edited here once agreed. The rolled numbers will be posted in the IC through screen pic links or other mediums to prove the roll.

Or with great harshness, syllables turn into gravitas sounds that shatter the inner workings of the ears, causing delirium, confusion and horrendous blood loss.

Air Elemental Familiar – Having lost direct control of gusts and breezes beyond the Shatterstorm, the young form has found himself paired with a familiar that is his actor of these spells. Able to throw air at the force to send horses and a dozen men flying into the air for over thirty feet. This familiar whirls over six feet tall, phases through substances, and is bound to his master by the golden cuffs he wears. These cannot phase, and can be struck with things of the mundane. Shattered, the familiar will vanish.

It is also able to take other shapes, humanoid or animal, but the golden bracelets will always be present at one or more of the shape’s limbs. Its physical strength would match that of its gale force, making the familiar’s shape shifts tremendously strong. (Four to five thousand pounds of strength)

The familiar may also be burned or made victim by other magic. It has the ability to follow complex tasks Amyris gives.

Real appearance.

Commonly used human form. Stands at 5'10'' with four white wings on back.

Commonly used animal form - Griffin.

Current Appearance: Human form.

Relationship with Opposing String: Amyris and Petram have become very distant. In the beginning, when the six became to know one another, Petram was a supportive and friendly face for Amyris. And while he appreciated her kindness, it only eased so much of his inward struggles. And her actions, the accidental uses of her powers that began to harm the general populace, put Amyris in darker spells. As much as she helped him, her actions also pushed him away, at times there had to be days where he removed himself from her so he could regain emotional stability enough to be a functional person.

Petram's effect on Amyris was questionable, retrospectively it is difficult to say if she was more of a help or a burden for the trouble Amyris: but either way he never said anything to her about it. He wanted her company.

Ultimately he committed suicide.

And when he returned, Amyris' violent and brutal actions pushed away everything and everyone.

And by his third form, he has become so detatched from Petram that it seems impossible to have their former relationship. He is not the same individual, down to a biological level, and his memory has eroded. What Petram feels for Amyris is irrelevant simply because the young man she knew will no longer return.

Appearance:

Spoiler: First Form 

The first form of Amyris was the face all six knew best. He was once a young man of 5’10’’ with a healthy male physic for a male of his stature. Though pale, his features soft, hair platinum blonde, he never carried any expression of happiness with him. Lumbering with depression.

Spoiler: Second Form 

His second self began to drift from the human, a bloodlust in his eyes and dull white wings on his back. He was once lanky, standing at six feet, a sort of mangy and wild looking phenome who drifted through the air, gliding among the populaces and peered down at the general populace in hopes of the kill. His arms were warped and stained black.

Spoiler: Third Form 

His current form is a new face is a shapely youth whose face is exotic and alluring. Eyes pierce so cruelly and wondrously with inhumane hues of light blue tinted with silver. His wings are pure white, even sprouting from golden locks atop his head.

His skin is marked with magical symbolism and golden cuffs of an indescribable metal that seemingly wavers in and out. His young stature is five foot two.

Personality:

Amyris current self is floats in the air, abrasive that he finds more kinship in his relationship with the emotions of being adrift rather than being forced to engage with the land dwelling. He is bright, and a conversationalist – only if someone can spark his interest. His friendships with others extend, mostly, as far as his curiosity.

Amyris will look for things to satisfy his mind after a time in the sky, randomly jutting himself into situations he shouldn’t, or does not belong. But his power, and his prestige allow him to get away with this frequently.

Unaware of his past self, emotional connections are the only lingering traces of his duo pasts. Thus, those who hold the crumbs of these emotional links will draw him in the easiest.

Hatred with dealt with sharp accusations and biting words. Amyris is certain of his judgments and perceptions and will harass people who fail to equally challenge them. Those who are able to overcome his intelligence, he finds a friend, until they get boring.

The greatest emotional quality about Amyris is his need to be free and unbound.

Everything changed:

When Amyris came into the spotlight, as his first self, there was always something wrong. He had the attractiveness, the power, but he could never achieve happiness. It was not because of the responsibility, the struggle of fame hood, but “Something I always had inside”. This internal sense of weighty wrongness could never be mended by the other five he had come to meet and grow to understand. Gradually he had distanced himself until finally he had committed suicide, leaving only Twyl a note of condolence.

Unware his bloodied body would find a new breath of life within its lungs, rebirth was not the absolution his soul sought. Here was where the friendships between the six began to tear apart. The second Amyris was selfish, angry and broken. As he dwindled life, sucking away its molecular air, his string of reincarnated vengeance spanned out to the loved ones of his former companions. Helbent on making their lives miserable, he fought them, slew their family members until Justinian Delarosa killed him.

Since then, reborn for a third time, Amyris has been away from the others, ignorant of his entire past with them and distracted by his juvenile whimsy.