Myka has dark brown wavy hair that hangs to her shoulders. With dark blue eyes that can almost freeze the soul if she’s angry. She stands at about 5’4”, but she uses her height or lack thereof to her advantage, making sure that she is fast and lithe. Her body style is small and thin, with muscles of someone who mildly works out, but could easily be overpowered by a man of normal stature if it came down to pure hand to hand combat.
Simple clothing, dark blue or black pants with a tighter fitting top, sometimes topped off with a patched up denim jacket and black boots.
Armor:
Lorica segmentata altered with leather reinforcements to reduce the cost and steel required to craft it with a breastplate instead of a cuirass. There are additional belts to the spaulders to hold them down and reveal less of the weakness in the armpits of the armor. There are thin sheets of plate layered on her thighs and maybe her arms instead of typical vambraces or faulds and a chainmail skirt mixed in with layers of leather.
Weapons:
Crossbow - Myka has explosive bolts(not too many of them if allowed), ones with silver tips, and ones that have shattering points full of liquid silver nitrate for taking out Scourges. It was also equipped with telescopic sight on it.
Dual daggers- One is steel, the other silver for humans and monsters alike. They are engraved with ancient text. “I am the Light, the Way”. She keeps them sheathed at her hips in a leather sheath.
Pistol - She has silver encased bullets. This is not a weapon she uses often, but she likes having on hand. She has a customized grip for her small hand sized. This is holstered on the backside of her right hip.
Personality: Cold and calculating, Myka always weighs the risks before getting into a situation. Whether it be in her everyday situations or when she is fighting. She does a lot more thinking than talking and often comes off as rude or a bitch. She does not lack humor, but hers is far more dry and sarcastic, and she often doesn’t find things funny that others do. Social skills are not her forte, and she is often quiet or gives short answers. It takes a lot to get past her walls and get her to loosen up or talk. She prefers to observe someone and often chooses whether she likes them before ever meeting them.
She knows that others view her as cold and uncaring, and she rarely addresses it, nor does she care how others see her. Myka’s icy front can be warmed, though, and she is quite loyal to those she calls 'friend' and would put her life on the line for them. She cares a lot, she just does not express it well or really express anything well. She also has a soft spot for ‘innocents’ such as children and animals.
Just as hard as it may be to make her laugh, it is just as hard to make her truly angry. If it does happen, though, she holds a decent grudge and does not forgive easily.
History:
Myka had a strict military background. Her father had been part of the town guardsmen, he protected the people of Sanctuary and he fully expected her to do the same. Just like the men and women had for so many generations before her. They were a long line of wide range of military roles including some Templar of years past.
Although she wasn’t the son that he had hoped for, he treated her no different. She began training with bows and swords as soon as she was big enough to hold them. He told her stories of the scourge beasts and had her study hard the dark creatures that plagued these lands for so long and how to defeat them should the need arise for it. He was not a mean man, but was strict and serious in his duty and raised her to be the same. He did not mind mistakes but worked with her to correct them and taught her to do everything to the best of her ability.
He was to be respected and obeyed and what he was teaching her was no laughing matter and was not a game. It made her a serious child, and not very accepted by her peers. This definitely hindered her in a social aspect, but she excelled in her training and studies.
As soon as she was old enough, she went through the militant training. With what her father had already instilled in her and prior training, she also survived and was able to become a Templar.
Myka’s preferred weapon is the crossbow, even working on her own bolts to make them more efficient for killing the Scourge Beasts. She does also have a developing love for her dual daggers, there was something about seeing light die in their eyes.. She was young, but her versatility in weaponry and her rather remarkable accuracy with her crossbow made her valuable as a Templar. Her father tried to ensure she at least knew how to pick up most weapons and point them in the right direction.
Due to her rather quiet, non-social nature, she can go overlooked which she doesn’t mind. She had managed to just blend in and do her job in Caleb’s squadron until they had attempted to arrest her. They had fought hard and endured such devastating loss and now they wanted to arrest them? She resisted with Yelena’s crew, now working to sabotage the pilgrimage with the assassins guild, and still holds quite the grudge.
RP Sample:
Myka stood on top of the old ruined building her blue eyes surveying the carnage around them, her crossbow was loaded and aimed.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Stay calm
Usually the last reminder was unnecessary, but this battle had been brutal. With the death of their inquisitor, it left even her with a sense of unease. She loosed the silver-tipped bolt, hitting one of the beasts in the chest, and almost as if on autopilot she grabbed another bolt, loading it and looking down her sights once again, not wasting much time in letting it loose, this one hit another beast in the leg. As she was grabbing for another, she heard the order of retreat.
It was all a blur after that. Myka strapped the crossbow to her back and climbed down from her vantage point. So many of the Scourge beasts, so few of them. Her face still held the stone cold expression but inside there was a fear that she had never known before. There was the uncertainty that almost left her sick to her stomach.
“Myka!” The sound of her name jolted her from her memories from where she lay in the sand. “Are you gonna shoot it, or just gaze off into the sunset?” The young man’s voice held a teasing tone, but she only rolled her eyes. “Shut up so I can focus.” She adjusted the sight on the crossbow and took a deep breath and finally shot at the target. It was at a distance that she had been trying to reach with any kind of accuracy, but had not perfected it yet.
Even as her bolt fell a couple of feet in front of the target, she gave a nod. She would get there. With the slightest hint of a smirk she turned to Joel and raised her eyebrow.
“What do you think I’m paying you for? Go and get it.”
Last edited by .Karma.; 06-07-2017 at 06:36 PM.
Spoiler: Looking for RP in all the wrong places? Click here!
Also can we move this to fb for like 20 mins I gotta shit
Originally Posted by Azazeal
I don't know who you are, or who you work for, but over many years as a student I have acquired a particular alcohol tolerance. I will find you, and I will drink you under the table
Originally Posted by Chat Noir
*singing* What can I say except 'You're welcome', for blowing into your hole..."
Kiera's armor mainly consists of soft leather to allow for ease and silence of movement when in the field of battle. The armor mainly consists of a few strategic pieces across the chest, arms and legs. Silver studs have been added across the shoulder, forearms and bracers along with additional silver rivets across the top of the legs and thighs to help ward off an attack from the beasts known to roam the Badlands.
Weapons:
Spoiler: Weapons:
She travels with a light bow and quiver of arrows. In addition, a small hunting knife is strapped to her right thigh for easy access.
Spoiler: Kaitlyn:
Current: Personality:
There was a time when Kiera was the outgoing, friendly face who always had a joke to tell or the perfect slight of hand. She could steal an ace right out from under the nose of the card sharks who weren't paying because of her constant deflections. It was a dangerous game at time; but, she was a woman who loved a challenge and just had to see how much she could get away with. Even among her fellow Templar's.
In just a short period of time, her whole personality has changed. The goofy, little sneak who enjoyed plying friends with chocolates from her stepmother's shop seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. In her place is a woman who, outwardly, seems sound of mind; but, inwardly is struggling to stay afloat. Time once spent laughing in the bar with friends has given way to an obsessive need to train and an even more excessive need to gather information on the hybrid that's proven to be a deadly threat to the city and everyone within.
Kiera has grown more distrusting of the Divine Trinity and those on the fringes of that fold. Ironically, she'll be riding out with the Most Noble Elijah Latharos into the Badlands. He didn't exactly give off a warm fuzzy; but, compared to a few of the other choices, she didn't find him completely vapid. It was hard to seek out the fellowship of the other Templar's now; but, when it came time for them to choose their paths, she was somewhat relieved to have Letum choose the Borderfields as well. They may have bumped heads in the past; but..hopefully, the task at hand would offer a fresh start.
As the days grew closer to their departure, she made peace with having to leave the walls of Sanctuary. Perhaps worst of all is the the fear her absence in the city will put Kaitlyn in danger. She'd sworn to Isaac that his daughter would be protected and cared for. In truth, she'd done all she could to make that possible. Sometimes it felt as if her feet were strapped in quicksand with no way out. While she may be down, Kiera was far from out. She now had a job to do and a promise she was sworn to keep. Come hell or high water, she'd do her damnedest to fulfill that promise.
History:
Kiera Leann Sanford was born and raised in Eden. Her father had been a successful builder before the city's lake went bad and all fell into hard times. Afterwards, he'd take any old job someone offered to keep his family afloat working dusk til dawn or longer. Illness weakened his body but a heart attack took his life. Her mother still stayed in a place normal people would consider almost unlivable. Barely a thriving city anymore, the place still hobbled along with nothing short of a death grip on the old ways. Their water fouled..the food sources all but gone. Yet the elders refused to acknowledge the downward spiral of their plight.
Even among each other, they barely trusted anyone. Especially outsiders. Too proud to reach out to the Church, too paranoid to seek any help from Sanctuary. The powers that be would rather their inhabitants sit and rot than dare appear to bow down to another.
Pride goeth before the fall. Kiera's mother saw that drop off getting closer in the distance. People were starving, wasting away and dying. Wouldn't be long before only a few remained. Even the young were suffering. That's why she made the hardest decision of her life to send her baby girl, only six years old, away. Doing so, was the best decision she could have made for the child. Even though she knew, with her daughter's youth, she'd likely not even remember the woman who'd given birth to her.
Once within the city of Sanctuary, Kiera was placed in a children's home of sorts. She was adopted by a loving family who owned a local bakery. By twelve, she was working beside her adoptive mother making fresh made bread, cookies and cakes. While she enjoyed the job, it was never an occupation she wanted to commit her life to. On the very morning of her eighteenth birthday, with her families blessing, Kiera put her name on the list for militant training. A move destined to change her stars altogether.
She didn't expect the training to be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever was. Through all the ups and down, aches and pains and all those times where it would be easier to throw in the towel and give up, Kiera endured. She wanted to be a Templar and do her family proud.
In the process of all of the training, they found her special skills and helped her hone them. Upon completion of the field test, she attained her goal of becoming a Paladin. Baking was now only done for special occasions.
Writing Sample
At least a week had passed since Isaac's funeral. Kiera, knowing she was heading to the Badlands soon, planned to hone her archery and swordsmanship skills further in preparation for such. She found herself spending quite a bit more time at the orphanage passing out cookies, candy and cake until Reverend Jameson felt the need to put a stop to the sugar high.
"Templar Sanders..ah so good to see you up and about again. I was beginning to think we needed to send out a search party to find you." Looking around at all the dirty children's faces covered in chocolate, strawberry jam and licorice sticks. Not only were the candies in their mouths; but, in their hair and on their clothes as well. It would take the Nuns at least a few hours to clean them up and get the children to ever settle into bed again. In Kiera's case, and considering all she'd been through of late, he was more than happy to oblige her in sweetening them up so. It seemed to be the first time in days the woman had even show any semblance of that once cheeky grin.
Kiera found herself surrounded by children. It did feel good to start feeling a bit more like her old self again. All the squealing little ones were a great help as well. "Hey! Hey! OK, no more sugar for you...or you..or you. Now, awwww come on! Don't shove that many marshmallows in your mouth. SPIT..IT..OUT!" And the little, red haired boy did just that, right on her newly shined boots. "Aight, I walked right into that." Before she could even get the goo clean, a five year old ran by with three peppermint sticks plastered to her head. Even the Reverend let out a hearty laugh.
"I am so sorry. Kaitlyn isn't nearly as messy as this crew." Speaking of Isaac's daughter, it was a great time to segue into more pertinent needs. "Reverend, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Ask away and I'll see what I can do." Said as he tried to pluck a hard candy from the curtains.
She paused for a moment or two. Trying to figure out the best way to spring this on the poor man who already had his hands full. "I'll be leaving for the Badlands in a few weeks. While I'm gone, Kaitlyn needs a good support system. She's been through so much already..but, I don't have the choice to stay. I guess what I'm trying to ask is for you to help my step-parents watch over her, take care of her and protect her. No child deserves the life she's had."
He was quick to acquiesce to her request. "Of course. Always. You know that."
"I know, I know. I feel so horrible having to go.." By now all the small hooligans were getting their exercise chasing a ball around outside. Giving the two privacy to speak. "If something was to happen to me. If I don't make it back, I know my parents will do all they can for Kaitlyn. I know this. I do.." When it came down to it, SHE was the one who made the promise to Isaac. Trying to keep that promise seemed impossible. "If I don't make it back, I've already arranged to give all of my wealth and possessions to be used for her care. Since I don't spend much, she should be alright for a good while. I've already filled out all the needed documents to do so. All I ask of you is to make sure those wishes are honored should I die."
The Reverend had to admire her foresight. At the same time, the thought of losing yet another Templar, and friend, to battle made his heart sink. "The church will do all we can to raise her spirits and offer her our love until you return. You WILL return, Templar Sanford. Never doubt it."
With a quick prayer for safety and plenty of hugs from now sweaty and sticky children, they parted way.
The next few weeks were no more interesting than the first. Kiera could often be found on the training grounds pummeling one of the stuffed dummies with her sword until she was covered in sweat and too tired to care. She'd practice firing off arrows not just to hit a bulls-eye consistently; but, split an arrow in half as well.
The only thing that hasn't changed over the weeks was her obsession with the hybrid. She still craved the answer to who, what, when and how. Even more so, why? To what gain? Who else was involved?
It would be hard not to notice, she still wasn't the Kiera of the past. Her spark, her smile, that wicked need to cheat at games...no more. There'd be no trips to the tavern for a pint and game of checkers. Yet, her stepmother still had high hopes that some nice young man, somewhere could catch her daughter's eye. Maybe a man with the same drive, tenacity and quest for life that she had once had not so long ago. Another grandchild would be nice after-all. None of them were getting any younger.
Are we rewriting or CS's or just using the one's we already have?
It's in my Note to veterans tab in the first post lol. Basically rewrite your CS's but make any appropriate changes on personality and history from the last RP.
One quick thing for veterans, I made a few minor changes in the CS template. Make sure y'all are using that!
Karma, you're character looks really good so far! I'll update this in the first post tom when I have computer access, but assassins are assigned to 3 different tasks. Recruiting people in the border fields, sabotaging the pilgrimage, or espionage Sanctuarys political hierarchy. Other than that, you should've good!
Also can we move this to fb for like 20 mins I gotta shit
Originally Posted by Azazeal
I don't know who you are, or who you work for, but over many years as a student I have acquired a particular alcohol tolerance. I will find you, and I will drink you under the table
Originally Posted by Chat Noir
*singing* What can I say except 'You're welcome', for blowing into your hole..."
So Mad O will be recruiting for the cuthroats huh? Hmm that'll work for the new history I'm planning for him.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Minus, of course, the robotic arm. He stands at around 5'9", is a little bulky but slim, and has ice blue eyes. Well, eye. The left one is naught but a leather eyepatch now.
Class: Knight Abilities: Hyperkinesis (specifically enhanced to its fullest capability, almost to the point of precognition. Other skills were inhibited. See History)
Equipment Casual Clothing: White button-down, tan slim fit pants, casual black shoes, occasional black cloak Armor: white shirt, small and light leather breastplate overtop, navy collared jacket (see appearance), occasional black cloak over the jacket. Black pants, brown boots. Weapons:Twin blades and, thanks to private funding from Letharos, twin pistols
Personality: Jerris has, ultimately, no personality. He certainly isn't friendly, warm, or welcoming in any way, preferring the company of his own thoughts. On the flip side, Jerris is not needlessly hostile and hardly loses his temper. He cares not for trivial feuds and small arguments, carrying an almost haughty, superior and nonchalant air about him. His voice rarely raises from a dull, knowing murmur, and it only becomes louder when he must address a large crowd.
He wasn't always like this. In his youth he was still quiet, but in more of a shy, withdrawn sense. He would smile and stutter his words, gazing with big open eyes to the world about him. Whatever happened during his transformation into a Templar changed his attitude quite dramatically. At least, that's what they told him.
Now, his eye (singular) is judgmental, uncaring, and almost lifeless, flaring with energy only in the heat of battle.
Spoiler: History
From his earliest memories, Jerris knew himself as an orphan, a street urchin. His life consisted of pickpocketing, stealing, robbing, and sleeping amongst the homeless. Food was a blessing; bed, a luxury. As he grew older, he worked closely with a band of local thieves, participating in heists and sleeping at their improvised shelters. It wasn't an easy life, but it, as the nobles called it, "put food on the table." Whether that food was legally obtained was irrelevant.
One day, his band of thieves were conducting a heist on a lavishly decorated noble home. All was according to plan until one of their new members panicked, was caught by the guards, and immediately ratted out the rest of the crew. Jerris and his band were forced to retreat, but in the confusion of the chase, Jerris was separated from them. While he made an improvised exit from one of the towers of the villa by climbing down the outside, his foot hit rotted rock, sending him plunging to the ground below. His body was broken, shattered, and within inches of death.
At least, that’s what the Church told him when he woke up many months later. They said that they took him to the infirmary immediately afterwards, stabilized his condition, and set to healing his body. Many of the priests claimed that he had lapsed into death, his heartbeat initially halted before he was "raised by gilded seraphs" back to life. He was breathing, his body was weaker than ever, and yet he was alive.
Then they told him he was a Templar.
Jerris didn't know how it had happened, and definitely not why. He didn't even remember anything about his life before, only what the members of the church told him. Was all they said actually true? Was his name even Jerris, or did they hand that down to him? He was essentially a blank slate, and the only thing for him to draw upon it was the Church's hospitality. After a year of recovery, even that was taken away as he launched straight into Templar training.
The Knight class had been bestowed upon him, but with a more specific set of skills. Instead of having three abilities like the other Templars, Jerris somehow only received the one of hyperkinesis. He never knew why, but at some point during the unknown process, he developed only one. Said power was pushed to its absolute limit at the expensive of the abilities of enhanced sight and advanced regeneration, but Jerris found that he never even needed those abilities in the first place. His hyperkinesis was so instantaneous that bodily wounds eventually became near impossible, and far sight was not necessary for what he was to become. Swordplay--dual swordplay in particular--became his specialty, along with excessive mobility and acrobatics.
His skill set was quite particular, and his quick-witted mind noticed that they were training him in a very particular way: to kill humans. Sure, those skills were eventually adapted to fend off the Scourge, but mankind always remained most vulnerable to him.
Six years of training passed. At the age of nineteen, Jerris graduated as a Templar, entering under various Inquisitors before settling under Inquisitor Caleb's hand. Senior Templar Hills stepped up to lead, and eventually, Jerris filled in as a sort of assistant for him. He sought to the squadron while Hills could not, keeping order and running private missions with the occasional advice to the Senior Templar when asked.
In the end, however, his loyalties lie with whatever will get him answers. After the Senior Templar's death, his capture and torture, and his improvised meeting with Elijah Letharos, Jerris learned that he was a companion of the Most Noble before he lost his memory. He was told that he had agreed to Letharos's experiment to turn him into a weapon against the Scourge, and he consented to work once again at his side.
Spoiler: RP Sample
Disgusting.
Jerris exhaled slowly as the Lycan violently tumbled to the ground, now missing its head thanks to a swipe of his blade. With a brisk flick of his wrist, he dislodged the drops of blood and bits of fur that clung to his sword and wiped the broad of it clean on the hide of the black beast. It was his fourth Lycan of the day, a prize of his hunt at Letharos's command. Over the past month he had given Jerris covert missions to complete within Sanctuary, but they had recently grown in both peculiarity and distance from the city walls.
He slipped a knife from its sheath behind his back and knelt down behind the corpse, quickly and shallowly drawing the blade through the skin and down the length of its spine. The Most Noble had requested a specific muscle fiber along the spine from four separate Lycans, for reasons Jerris couldn't even pretend to understand but still appreciated. Letharos was always precise in his demands with specific quantities, qualities, and time frames for his missions;
in this one, for example, he requested exactly four fibers and not a single more. Perhaps, he suspected, Letharos wanted to curtail his impact on wandering Lycan populations, therefore minimizing suspicion. His attention to detail was curiously similar to Jerris's, so completing his sometimes bizarre requests was hardly difficult.
Yet the entire time, even with Letharos's assurance that they worked together in Jerris's past,
he refused to let his guard completely down around the Most Noble. There are too many things he isn't telling me. A month has passed, and I'm no closer to the truth of this plot.
With delicate slits at the top and bottom of the spine and a hearty tug, the length of muscle fiber came loose, somewhat messy but in acceptable condition. Jerris tucked it away in the sack at his side with the other three muscles, his hands coated in the reapplied blood of the Scourge.
It was a feeling he was well acquainted with after years of killing beasts, but this one felt peculiarly different. The dissection of and hunt for various pieces of the Scourge provided a sensation quite unlike simply killing them. It was certainly less satisfying, but he knew he was working towards something more useful. Whether that was some sort of weapon Letharos was constructing or gaining his trust to get more information, that had yet to be determined.
Snatching the bag and tying it closed, he walked to his horse and mounted. Give me some more time, Isaac. I'm so close, I can taste it.
Standing at 5’6 with a slim but defined figure, she is often passed over. Sophia has shoulder length dark brown hair which is pulled up into a tight bun when in armour, when off duty she will let it sit as it naturally dries in loose curls and soft waves. With cream coloured skin and dark brown eyes, she gives off an almost innocent first impression. Her body is littered with thin small scars, especially over her upper arms and thighs. She often cuts a vein to gain her blood and will often be seen with bandages littering her arms.
A scrappy fighter, she uses speed to outmanoeuvre her opponents. She quickly picked up the bow and arrow during her training, showing skill in her precision in deadly kills. She rarely fights in close combat but when it is forced upon her she gives her all.
Equipment
Casual Clothing: Normally seen in dark earth coloured clothing. Legging like trousers, paired with a cream shirt and tight fitting waistcoat, finished with her signature heavy brown boots. Keeping to her childhood she hides a small silver cross under her clothing at all times.
Spoiler: Armor
She only uses the covering over the face and head when she is in battle. She also had a tendency to rip the cloth away from her arms in a last minute attempt to reach her veins.
Spoiler: Weapons
Spoiler: Bow and Arrow
Spoiler: Throwing Knives
Small daggers are used only when she has limited arrows left, or she is forced into close quartered fighting.
All her weapons will be coated with her blood before battle. She often has little vials of her blood stashed on her person in case of emergency's.
Personality:
Sophia supposedly has her father’s temperament, calm even when under extreme pressure. This calm demeanour will crack when the right pressure is placed. Pure extreme anger will break through and she gives no thought to her own safety. Years of squashing these emotions, Sophia taught herself to hide these feelings and never try to use them for her advantage.
Gone is the young girl who gave forgiveness to all, she sees all as sinners in this horrid world herself included. Sophia holds a single shred of her faith behind, she believes that only with the destruction of these monstrous creatures will God return to them. An old soul in a young woman, she views the world with a spiteful gaze and cold heart. Quiet, preferring to watch the goings on of others, allowing them to break each other as she sits on the side lines. She does have the strange ability to command a room, learning how to make her voice bounce and fill a space from her father.
She has a pure and burning hatred for the royal classes, believing them to be responsible for the slums of the city. This hatred is kept hidden under wraps and only peaks out in small snapping words and glares. She will not be swayed in this hatred when fighting. Growing up on the streets, she learned how to defend herself with poisonous words. No matter the gentle heart of her “family” she was a quiet but angry child. Sophia has managed to quell her anger and is now often viewed as a cold almost snobbish quiet woman, much to her own amusement.
The only shred of kindness comes forth with children. They are pure precious creatures in this dark world, they must be fiercely protected from the hatred and evil that lurks in the streets. It is the only time that she will smile or speak freely with what could be perceived as happiness. They are her one weakness.
When fighting, all previous personality traits will go out of the window. She likes to taunt her opponent, using their anger to her advantage. She will sneer, smirk and tease, all in any attempt to get the upper hand especially with her small stature. When the battle is over, she will quickly return to her cold and quiet ways.
Spoiler: History
Found as a days old child on the steps of a crumbling church in the slums of the Sanctuary, she was taken in by an elderly priest. Gifted his name, he raised her as well as he could in darkness that sleeps in the city. From day one she was taught the way of God and in her younger years she was fiercely loyal to the religion of her father. Sophia learned and believed that with faith the Lord would protect them, rid these evil creatures from the world and bring the city to the prosperity it’s people needed. It was when she was 8, seeing the castle from afar, seeing the grand houses and knowing they were filled with food, gold and happiness that she grew spiteful. Why shouldn’t they have those riches, why shouldn’t they all have the opportunities those spoilt brats had. She was still a child of the slums even if she did reside with her father in the middle level.
Strangely, after a small scrape amongst her and another child, she showed her father her ability to defend herself. Her kindness and faith disappeared as soon as the first blow hit her skin. Crashing blow after blow into the small girl she fought against, she had to dragged off her by her hair. This deep rooted anger filled her father with fear. The child would never truly leave the slums. Her father spent her next years teaching her to control this anger deep within her. It was in this time that she learned about the Templars. These men and women who were protectors of the church. They seemed to have the right idea as Sophia thought, to rid the world of the evil of the Scourge you needed to destroy every single one of them.
This anger burned deep within her for many years as he attempted to find out about her past. Who her parents truly were, why they had such faith in the church to leave their child there. Why did they leave her behind? Sophia had accepted from a young age that her parents didn’t want her, that they were probably unable to feed her or were drug addicts of the slums. She knew she was better off with Father Adams. He passed away when she was 14. Not seen legally as his family she was out on the streets.
Sophia returned to the slums where her father had fed family’s for many years. Hiding in the shadows, she managed to survive with only minor scrapes and limited dabbling in the drugs of the city. Still viewing herself as her fathers daughter, she tried to keep her faith. But it was violently squashed out of her.
As days passed by her, she realised her only escape from a life in the darkness was to head into the military. Some shred of her past faith stayed deep within her as she tried to follow the footsteps of many into the Templar order. The process near enough broke her, clinging onto that hope that she could try to complete her fathers wish of bringing faith back to the masses. In some twisted way she believed that through ridding the world of these horrid creatures, God and light might return to the world.
Sophia had a darkness within her which is why the Blackguard class was bestowed upon her. She had poison floating through her veins before, she found it fitting that her blood now was poisonous. She felt a new found power and thoroughly enjoys her service…even if it doesn’t always look it.
.....
Rage has always been a part of her soul. Deep seated rage, the type to crawl under your skin and slowly suffocate you. Rage has been a constant companion since they left Sanctuary. There was too much loss. The small attempt of what she would have once called a family had crumbled. Split harshly into two groups. Forced to decide between damnation or to be hunted. She had always imagined dying at the hands of an scourge beast...now she envisioned a fellow templar that would smother her final breath.
Sophia would not bow down and enter her home like a criminal. Not after everything she had done for that wretched place. So fleeing was the only option. Disagreements and death continued to crumble the small group she had found herself within. Not a single member of that group did she trust with her life. In fact a few...would drive a knife into her back at first chance. But her time is not up. She will not rot into the dirt just yet.
Options were gifted to the group by their 'rescuers' and the only one that appealed to her was to the stop that fucking pilgrimage. To sabotage Sanctuary. It would have been a joyful sin had it not been for the company such a role brought with it. She did not hate the young pup, but the young pup hated her with a rage that Sophia was very familiar with. Never one to back down from an argument, especially if an insult was thrown at her, her time with Templar Catriona was joyous.
Any chance that Sophia could get.she would torment the woman. It never came to blows but oh how Sophia wish it would. Anger controlled that young pup and it would surely get her into bother some point soon. But Sophia knew anger like an old friend, welcoming it when it was needed and able to ignore it. Rage filled her veins, knotted her stomach and crept up her throat. But it would never cloud her mind...not again.
Spoiler: Poison Baby - Initial RP Sample
With her body low to the ground, she placed a palm flat on the cold concrete. Her eyes searching through the darkness for any movement. A small burst of vibration came from her left and she snapped her eyes across to the man who stood half hidden by a pillar. She let her eyes flick over her surroundings, they were now hued almost to a dark purple. But she could make out the crumbling structure that they stood within. In near perfect silence she moved a step to her left, raising her body slowly from the ground. A hand moved to the knives strapped to her back as she slowly crept closer to her prey. The closer she got the stranger the individual appeared, she blinked rapidly seeing flaws in the picture. His arms were strapped to his sides…he looked like one solid unit.
Movement to her right and she just managed to turn her eyes to the hand which gripped her around the throat. Crashing her back against the wall. “Keep your eyes open Adams.” Growled the owner of the hand biting at her neck. Her own hand was pressed to his neck, the knife digging into his skin. A lamp was lit behind him, enough to show Sophia her attacker. She lashed out again as the man chuckled and dropped her to her feet. She removed her hand from his neck, happy to see a small line of crimson against his skin. “Fuck sake Erickson. It’s a training exercise.” Came her raspy reply as she glared up at him.
The man merely chuckled again and glanced over his shoulder at the man holding the light. “Come on. That’s enough for today.” Sophia snapped her eyes to the hastily made contraption to her left, the one used to confuse her. Make her think she had found her victim. Erickson cleared his throat and made a small gesture with his head. It had just been a training exercise, something to keep them attuned with their new powers and to make sure they were always on their toes. Sophia dragged her eyes back to him and moved her hand to her mouth. Wiping up the blood that had trickled from the corner of her lips. Erickson scowled and Sophia raised an eyebrow sticking her tongue out. Showing the deep bite mark she had made in the pink flesh of her tongue. “Oh you wouldn’t have.” He said crossing his arms over his chest as Sophia walked by.
Sophia let out a soft chuckle, her mind conjuring up the image of his howls of pain. The way his flesh melted from his face, how he eventually struggled to breath as the pain became overwhelming until he dropped to his knees. All because she spat at him. A mixture of blood and saliva hitting him in the face, corroding through the flesh. She passed him and pulled her hair down letting it bounce on her shoulders, “Who knows Erickson Who knows.” She said continuing towards the soft orange light.
Spoiler: New RP Sample.
"You should get some sleep, luv."
His words punctured her silence. She dragged her eyes to the man by the doorway. About six foot, scrawny build, getting on in life, with grey speckled through his beard. She didn't open her mouth. She just stared at him, a look of indignation that would echo through his bones. He shook his head gently and she heard the floorboards sigh as he walked from her room. Her fingers tightened around a small silver chain. Only when silence settled again did she move her gaze back to the window. The following day…she'd be out on the street again. Not a soul willing to help her. Not a soul willing to give her the chance she needed.
A plain silver cross was tight in her fist. Hate was burning through her tongue, it flooded her lungs and stiffened her muscles. She was alone in this world, she'd been abandoned once more. Her father had been put into the ground mere hours ago. She had originally wanted to gift him back the chain that he had given her. Throw it in with his casket. Something so that he could remember her. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't let it go. This was all she had left. All she had of her father and the only kindness she had been shown in her short life. She let her eyes drop to her hand as she uncurled her fist. The cross almost shone back at her. It looked like pure silver…could get her a pretty penny. Maybe get her another night in this place…or some bread to stave off the gnawing in her stomach. But she couldn't bare to be without it.
…..
Only in times of great need did that cross leave her neck. She had convinced herself that she was not a religious person. She believed in no god. No one would come to save them. No angel would bring light back to the world. But she had believed in him. In her fathers faith, she watched it move masses. How his smile could light up a room. How it creased his eyes and made his cheeks push up his glasses. The cross was snugly held in her fist as she took a deep breath. She felt like it was 10 years ago. When she was alone in the world. Not a single soul that was meant to be with her…felt like they were. She lowered her eyes down to the small cross and let her left hand drag over the thin chain. Gently whispering words to herself. Words that were etched in her mind.
"May your holy seven comes to us Lord. May they light our path to you Lord. May we find ourselves with your grace."
She kept repeating the words, letting her fingers drag over the links of the silver chain. Only on her seventh time of letting the words tumble from her lips, did she tug that chain back on and over her head. She tucked it underneath her shirt and pushed herself to her feet. She let her bones click as she reached her hands above her head. Letting her footsteps echo through the room, she headed out into the main area of this dingy place. She spotted a few familiar faces but ignored them. Most ignored her in turn, excluding one whose glare would make any man turn and run. But Sophia merely tugged a smile on her face and winked. "Evening pup!" She let her words dance to Anna as she left the building. Greeting the darkness like it was an old friend.
Originally Posted by Stormwolf
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