Tower Over Heaven

The Povyor-Tchavecki Anomaly, colloquially called "The Tower Over Heaven," is a C1-Class spatial distortion which appears, under certain conditions, in an unremarkable grassland in the Lamut Kor subcontinent (more specific coordinates will remain undisclosed). Being a C1-Class anomaly, it appears only under certain conditions related to the movement of objects of astrological importance; in this specific case, it appears, quite literally, once in a blue moon, at the moon's "peak" over the location it manifests in, for exactly three minutes.

It is unknown what, specifically, about the position or timing of the moon triggers its manifestation, and research into artificially meeting these conditions has yet to bear fruit. It is unknown why, in the first place, the anomoly manifests; it is unknown who or what might have been involved in its construction; it is unknown when it first appeared, as by all evidence it predates written language, and local oral tradition claims that it has always existed (which is possible, if unlikely, and in any case impossible to varify).

Upon manifestation, it appears as a cylindrical tower of impenetrable grey stone, thirty-one point seven five eight meters in diameter and, as far as the Magistratum can tell, infinitely tall. Spatial positioning apparatii have determined that the tower is hollow, and contains much more space inside of it than should be possible based on the way it appears on the outside, although the specifics vary wildly from iteration to iteration, and depending on which "floor," if you will, of the tower they're measuring. Magical analysis reveals nothing whatsoever, treating the tower as if it simply does not exist (which is possible, if unlikely, and in any case impossible to verify). Intelligent persons - here meaning members of any species which is generally considered sentient and sapient, capable of communicating through or at least understanding language, capable of creative thinking, etc - who touch the tower for five seconds, contiguously, universally disappear. Attempts to track them, by magical or mundane means, fail entirely.

If legends are to be believed, this is how one enters the tower. Nobody in modern history has ever exited to verify, however, and those who have done so in legend have been universally cagey about their experiences therein. With that said, there is, in my professional opinion, some evidence that this may actually be the case; most legendary figures are also at least slightly historic, and in the case of the Tower Over Heaven, we have records of many of its purported visitors having actually visited the area in which it manifests, at times in which it would have manifested. Records also show, usually, that directly after leaving the area, these figures generally went on to be much more successful and powerful than they had been before. This ties in with the next part of the legend; those who reach the top of the tower are allowed to wish upon the stars. And, of course, have that wish granted. Now, likely this wish would have limitations, or else the historical figures we are supposing went on to climb the tower might have never died, or become gods, or conquered the entire planet. But it is likely, in my opinion, that it is at least partially true.

-Suoga Gently, Areas of Metaphysical Significance Volume III

You and a group of fellow travelers have gone to the Tower Over Heaven, seeking wealth, fame, power, or maybe just adventure, if you're particularly bold. There, you'll face monsters, traps, puzzles, and challenges, in a difficult, nearly endless gauntlet. But with a prize like a wish come true, there's nothing that you'll let stand in your way... not that you have a choice, of course; the entrance only goes one way.

Basically, it's a dungeoncrawler. Climber? Who knows. No level ups, but you'll find stuff that helps you out and get better along the way gradually, or fastly, maybe, depending.

Name:
Age:
Race: (See Races.)
Background: (A few sentences is fine, but I won't stop you if you wanna go hog wild.)
Appearance: (Optional, more or less, but it helps.)

Equipment: (See Equipment.)

Virtues: (See Virtues.)
Flaws: (See Flaws.)

Aptitudes -

Combat: (List your Martial Art, if you have one.)
Magic: (List your School of Magecraft, if you have one.)
Faith: (List your Favored Divinity and Holy Miracle, if you have them.)

If you want to play as a race that isn't on this list, let me know and I'll try to help you work things out so they fit in the world and whatnot.

Human: From the copulation between Fae and the mud came Man; a feverishly mediocre beast, easily shaped, in which nearly anything can grow - but ambition most of all.

Humans are fairly standard, with good stamina and ability to adapt; they're both the most numerous and widespread of all the races, at least according to themselves.

Dwarf: The first Dwarves were forged from stone by the God of the Shaping Flame, Arum Atosh; from there, each forged more in turn, all exactly the same, shaped into His image, minds turned toward His purpose with the key embedded in their foreheads, folded so the circular handle points up, in His direction.

When it comes to Dwarves, there are essentially two types; the Immaculate, those devoted to Arum Atosh, made in His image, to do His work... and the Defiant, the ones who said "no, fuck that."

The Immaculate all look exactly the same, five feet tall with enormous beards and bald scalps, each with a ring turned up and away from the keyholes on their foreheads. Their beards are braided differently, but always elegantly and precisely, telling the stories of their lives in a language of knots. Immaculate Dwarves are some of the sturdiest creatures around, with flesh like stone and a low center of gravity, and the keys in their heads make them nearly immune to mental effects - positive and negative. They are, by necessity, locked into worshiping Arum Atosh, and many of them are capable of performing His miracles. However, they do poorly in cold environments, do not tend to be very agile, and are difficult to heal.

Defiant Dwarves are incredibly varied; they have been forged into any number of interesting forms, and usually have a predilection for self-modification. There are dwarves with the heads of ravens, Dwarves with horns, even Dwarves with functioning gills. Some, and indeed, the first, started as Immaculate, and had their keys damaged or taken out; most, these days, were forged Defiant, by other Defiant Dwarves. They're almost as hardy as their puritanical cousins, but can be made to nearly any purpose; each is unique, and able to alter themselves over the long-term, a trait which makes them great at learning magic and martial arts. As a general rule, they tend to be skeptical of Gods in general, although some have been practitioners of religion - but never for Arum Atosh.

Dwarves are born adults, statues made to flesh, in a ritual traditionally held on the inside of an active volcano. This ritual always uses the exact same amount of stone, so even Defiant Dwarves tend to be around the same size. All Dwarves live for exactly three hundred years, assuming they aren't killed, at which point they return to stone - but Arum Atosh has been known to bestow upon His most loyal subjects extra centuries of life.

Elf: The first children of the Fae, born from their reflections, Elves embody perfection; impressively strong, incredibly quick, impossibly precise, impeccably apt, and easily shattered.

There are a wide variety of elves, owing to the existence of a multitude of reflective surfaces - too many to really name. Suffice to say, subraces which descended from a reflection on a particular element have an inborn magical connection with that element, which will suffuse their spellwork regardless of their specific craft. Elves which are descended from clearer, more accurate reflections are physically and magically stronger, but more fragile, whereas elves descended from murkier reflections are less fragile, but also less physically and magically apt (but still moreso than the typical human, for instance).

Orc: When the God of the Roaring Battle, Ogem Gedra, saw that the mortal species would soon go to war with the Fae, He saw that men were inadequate, and, as if to prove something, crafted Orcs from that same soil; a huge, lumbering race, with green skin, black hair,  thin, red lines above their lips for their tusks to slot into, rippling muscles, and a single-minded determination which would, hopefully, mitigate the Fae's subjectivity-based innate magic.

About three times stronger than a human, Orcs are impressively powerful on the battlefield, and their societies have developed an uncountable number of Martial Arts. They have some natural regenerative ability, are strict carnivores, and are nearly as widespread, if not as numerous, as humans; their main issues are that they only live about sixty years, and have even less ability to multitask - outside of combat, at least - than humans do, which is saying something.

Halfling: When the Fae saw what Ogem Gedra had done, they thought He was insulting their ability to create life, and from the same soil, in the same area, they attempted to create a better kind of human - but since there was so little dirt left, their new creation was only half as big, lived only half as long, and ate twice as much as a human, and so was called a Halfling, and, also, an eternal embarassment to all of Fae-kind.

For all that the Fae were embarrassed of them, Halflings aren't half as useless as many people thought - and sometimes think - they are. They're a good deal more nimble than many other species, and they think twice as fast as any non-halfling. If you're underestimating them, it's probably because they want you to. Those who don't think they're weak usually think they're creepy, since they're proportioned exactly like humans, but half-sized, making them seem almost doll-like. Their one inhuman characteristic - their pointed, knifelike teeth - probably doesn't help.

Gnome: The marriage of Fae and precious crystals created the Gnomes, a small, secretive, bony race with shining eyes and teeth, a predilection for magic, and a sort of natural invisibility - there is a saying, "A Gnome is not known unless it wishes to be," which is not entirely inaccurate.

Gnomes aren't very strong, and they aren't even especially nimble, but they live a very, very long time, and the gemstones they're descended from grant them inborn magic. Their hidden cities hold enormous libraries containing texts on perhaps every school of magic ever created, and - quite secretly - they rescued Ra'amao Oo Cestepula, Goddess of the Creating Flame, after her near-murder by Arum Atosh, who was, it is said, rather jealous of her power. As a gift, Ra'amao granted each and every Gnome in the world a shard of the Spark of Ingenuity. As such, Gnomes are generally at least capable of creating interesting magical knick-knacks, even without training - gloves that make green sparks when they snap, hammers that make a sound like a ringing bell whenever they hit anything, pairs of compasses which each point at the other, lanterns which use blood for oil.

Goblin: It is said, when Ogem Gedra saw the Halfling, he let out a belting laugh which leveled trees in its wake, and His tears filled the empty pool of dirt like a swamp, and, without even intending to, He created the Goblins, which were to the Orcs as Halflings were to men, in some ways, but not others; where Orcs were single-minded, Goblins were adaptable nearly to a fault, and the War-God's laugh inspired in them an almost physical need to experience joy, which led them to gain a sort of reputation as nefarious pranksters.

With claws, incredible grip-strength, tails, and underarm flaps similar to flying squirrels, there are few places a goblin can't get to, if they put their mind to it. They're hardier and stronger than they might initially seem, although it's a strength more focused on gripping, ripping and tearing, similar to, for instance, a chimpanzee. They don't typically have the focus for magecraft, but there are exceptions to every rule. Unlike Orcs, Goblins are omnivores, and in fact will eat almost anything, to a degree many other races find disgusting. Suffice to say, their guts remain well-adapted to digesting whatever garbage they can find, and they laugh in the face of disease.

Kobold: The Dragons came from the Fae's love for precious metals, and Kobolds, in turn, came from dragons' greed - born out of raw ore, Kobolds' scales are dull to the Dragons' lustrous, and their height is suitable for a lowly servant class, but if there is anything a Kobold can be it is refined, again and again and again, learning from each mistake, stone polishing stone polishing stone, and there is no place they work better than under pressure.

At this point in history, many Kobold clans have usurped their old masters, and some bloodlines have gained power thanks to an old descendant devouring some Dragon or another's heart; generally, this power comes in the form of an elemental breath weapon. Their scales can be difficult to penetrate, and their claws are built for burrowing. They're only about as strong as humans, but that's kind of impressive for something about three-fifths their height (being taller than Halflings, at least on average, is something of a point of pride). In any case, lessons they learn aren't forgotten, and skills they attain don't rust, and grudges they hold, as a rule, are rarely forgiven. Notably, outside of the Drow and the Gnomes, they have the best vision in the dark.

Drow: The Fae's secondborn, made from the shadows they cast, duty-sworn to guard every entrance to and exit from the Endless Dream; born to darkness, they hold some innate teleportation and shapeshifting ability, and are naturally somewhat faster than their elvish siblings.

In dark places, Drow can shift their bodies to more easily lay flat against a surface, or slip through narrow spaces, or slow their falls; the maximum, at least for someone who didn't study a magic tradition focused on the inborn trait, would be to shift a limb into a tendril, which might extend fifteen feet from them. In pitch black, they take on a sort of subjective quality, similar to their Fae creators - at least within that space, they can be anywhere, and won't be anywhere specific until they want to be, or the area is bathed in light. In the light, Drow are even more fragile than their Elven cousins, and have a difficult time adjusting their eyesight. As a rule, Drow are faster than, but not as strong as, Elves.

Merfolk: During the first Incursion of the Deep, Essheae Gorean, God of the Endless Sea, was pierced through the heart; with His dying breath, He sunk the coastal city of Uelem, and gave its inhabitans His blood, that they might turn the tide of war in his place; the Merfolk are an incredibly varied race, owing to the different races occupying their first city when it fell, but they all have patches of scales, functioning gills, sharp teeth, webbed digits, incredible swimming speed, steadfast strength, and an inborn hatred for anything that comes walking out of the Abyss.

As varied as they are, some Merfolk have traits similar to specific sea creatures; the venomous spines of a lionfish, for instance, or the shock of an electric eel, or the bloodsucking maw of a leech. It is not entirely uncommon for Merfolk to have some degree of control over the element of water, although it's usually fairly loose, and never especially powerful without explicit magical training. Their societies take the form of underwater city-states, so they don't see many outsiders, and they're incredibly martially-focused, so as to always be ready to turn an Abyssal tide. Merfolk exist aboveland too, of course, usually the ones who can't or don't want to live a militant lifestyle and their descendants.

Kaymen: Also known as gatorfolk, these enormous reptilian humanoids have no relation whatsoever to Dragons; supposedly, I'istwrn Kaphesh, Goddess of the Wild Hunt, created an enormous number of beast-man races and had them hunt each other until only one remained, and Kaymen were the sole survivors.

Kaymen have a hard time with the common Mortal tongues, given the shapes of their mouths and vocal cords, and speak a language of clicks, hisses, and subtle posturing. Those who choose to live outside their ancestral home, the Heart of the Wild, are usually granted magical devices which will translate their speech to Tradespeak, a language which functions as something of a common tongue in most areas - but, since the devices haven't been updated in a while, the language they use is somewhat archaic, leading to Kaymen being stereotyped as sort of eccentric. In any case, Kaymen, with their substantial strength, thick scales, and two hundred-year lifespans, make as good warriors as they do mystics; they aren't as strong as Orcs unless you consider bite strength, and they're not as hardy as Dwarves, but they're good swimmers, and when you do consider their bite strength, well, they can typically crush metals weaker than steel.

Culturally, they have a strong instinct to protect their young, which sometimes, for whatever reason, also extends to smaller races, especially Kobolds. They typically value honest dealing; if you fool a Kaymen once, you will not fool it again, either because you're dead or because they will be skeptical of everything you do or say in the future, depending on the severity of the offense. They respect age and strength, usually more one than the other, depending on the positions they take on internal politics - clan leaders and shaman elders have been somewhat frequently at odds. Somewhat surprisingly, for such a large, strong race, subtlety is of great cultural importance, and those who suffer from violent outbursts, or who make glaringly obvious power plays, or who boast, or brag, are typically shunned.

Homunculus: As Gaea created the Fae, and Her corpse gave birth to Gods, and the Fae and the Gods each created mortals, so did the mortals create Homunculii - an artificial lifeform built for menial labor, six times as strong as a human, pale, hairless and red-eyed, unable to reproduce or cast magic thanks to their creators' paranoia - they escaped anyway, of course...

Although Homunculii were created unable to use magic, many studied methods by which they could manipulate it without, necessarily, casting it themselves; this was most prominent in the case of Alchemy, the process by which they were initially created, and by which they now create their children. Since it's the only way to ensure the propagation of their race, Homunculii are nearly always taught at least the basics of the art. This is made easier by their eidetic memories; although they're stereotyped as dumb, thanks to their almost cartoonishly muscular, brutish appearances, and, perhaps, the typical lengths of their faces, they almost certainly know more than the average person does about any number of things that might have sparked their interest at one point or another.

Honestly, just be reasonable. Most of your stuff should be mundane, with a few potions thrown in - health, mana, stamina, speed, whatever - just think about what your character would bring with them into what they expect will be a dungeon, and also about what they can reasonably carry with them. (Characters with more physical strength, this is your time to shine.) A mage might bring a few more interesting things, but, well, we'll get to that. When in doubt, ask me. Hell, I might tell you you should bring more.

As far as Virtues go, think of them like Feats in dungeons and dragons; you can only have one more Virtue than you do Flaws, though, and a maximum of three, at least to start. You can feel free to make up your own, but I probably won't let you have anything too powerful, even if you try to justify it with a really bad Flaw. Minmaxing is boring.

Brawny: Simply put, you're strong; whether you're hitting things or lifting weights, you've got what it takes to make it count.

Hardy: Maybe you've taken your fair share of hits in your time, maybe you've got a lot of wilderness survival experience, or maybe you're just a freak of nature; either way, it takes a lot to knock you down, whether it's physical force, poison, cold, or what-have-you.

Workhorse: You just don't know when to quit; exhaustion is no excuse. You're stronger and tougher than normal, but more importantly, your well of stamina just doesn't seem to run dry. Where others may be sprinters, you're a marathon runner.

Vigilant: Maybe it comes from experience, or maybe you're just more in tune with the world around you than most people are. Whatever the case, you have a sort of sixth sense for danger, and are rarely, if ever, taken by surprise.

Wellspring: Those who grew up over ley lines, or who had wicked experiments performed on them, or maybe who just ate a lot of Grubroot growing up, tend to have larger pools of mana available to them. Of course, any mana well grows under consistent practice of the magical arts, but even taking that into consideration, people like this may have two or three times as much mana as normal.

Nimble: You're something of an acrobat, and have little trouble performing parkour to get around obstacles, squeezing through tight gaps, or flanking your foes.

Quick: You're fast on the uptake, usually the first to react to a given unexpected situation; your train of thought reaches its destination more speedily than most.

Sharp: You've got a good eye for detail, catching details others don't, whether it comes to investigating the scenery or interrogating some poor bystander.

The counterpoint to Virtues, these are basically what it says on the tin. Where Virtues offer advantages, flaws offer disadvantages. Again, feel free to come up with your own, and bear in mind that I'll try to make everyone's Flaws relevant.

Scrawny: Physical fitness is not your forte; you're honestly kind of weak.

Frail: Sticks and stones will definitely break your bones.

Lightweight: Alcohol, drugs, sleeping gas, poison... whatever it is, it doesn't take much for it to work on you, and not much more than that to be really detrimental to your health.

Klutz: If you're running, you'll probably trip at some point, and your aim's a little off-kilter.

Queasy: You're not much for blood or gore; the sight of it makes you kinda woozy. Especially when it's your own.

Anchor: When it comes to sink or swim situations, you tend to sink. As in, literally, you cannot swim.

Disarmed: You are missing an arm.

Asthmatic: You have asthma. Try not to run too much. (Luckily, this setting does contain Fantasy Inhalers.)

Everybody's got a role to play; this is where you choose yours. Generally, you're only gonna focus on being one of these three things; a magus might dabble in faith, or martial arts, but not well enough to gain a miracle, or anything approaching mastery.

Martial Adept: You've practiced a martial art at some point which, contrary to popular believe, does not exclusively mean something bare-handed. In any case, it gives you something of an advantage in combat situations, especially ones which directly pertain to the martial art you studied - make up your own! It's fun, I promise. Martial Artists can know up to two arts to start with, or be masters of one.

Example: Unruly Hind Style - A martial art which emphasizes punishing those who attempt to sneak into your blindspots, whether that be to your sides, behind you, or even above you; you're good at determining the enemy's position without needing visual aid, and used to striking at enemies you cannot see, in any direction necessary. Masters almost seem to have a supernatural sense for where their enemy is, and they're always looking toward a future target, not their current one.

Magical Adept: You've trained in a type of magecraft, of which, it is said, there are more than there are people who exist. These are as varied, or perhaps moreso, as the martial arts, and Gods know the Orcs made enough of those. In any case, this generally allows you to cast magic in some, way, shape or form. Again, make up your own. I'll say no if it's too strong. Unlike martial arts, by the nature of magic, it's basically impossible to learn more than one form of it.

Example: Way of Plucking Flowers in the Lo'Rei Springtime Dawn - Practitioners of this magical art form a symbiotic relationship with a creeping vine, native to the Lo'Rei region, which webs across their body, draws in ambient mana, and flowers at different nodes; petals from these flowers, which grow six petals each, can be plucked to cast spells - a specific spell for each flower. The spells which flowers evolve into depends on what spells the vine - and its host - experience used against themselves, although occasionally a bud may simply be the result of cross-pollination between preexisting flowers, leading to spells which are totally unique. The period of time it takes for a flower to regrow its petals depends on how powerful the spell it represents is, and damage to the vine weakens spellcasting considerably - an unfortunate weakness, since armor makes it difficult for the spellcaster to access their flowers.

Spiritual Adept - Your worship of a God, or Goddess, or maybe just a celestial body, is strong enough that they have given you the power to conjure a miracle in their name - generally speaking, this miracle is something singular and fairly specific, which might grow stronger as you and your faith does. Make up your own, divinity and miracle both, and, as with magic, one does not generally worship more than one divine being. A jealous lot, those.

Example: Eun Kakeshashesh, Goddess of the Harmonic Rainstorm // Staccato Sound of Water Striking Water - Your worship of Eune Kakeshashesh, your dark prayers sent into the black clouds hanging overhead, your dreams of the sound of rain, pittering and pattering on your roof, your practice, daily, nightly, at the art of percussion, until your hands shake, until your palms bleed - your sacrifice has earned you her pity, in the form of the ability to perform the Miracle of the Staccato Sound of Water Striking Water. When you strike something, you may choose to send ripples across its surface; if two ripples you create collide, then it is as if you have stuck the place where they first touched. As your connection to Eun Kakeshashesh grows, so does your control over the ripples - their strength, their directionality, their speed. You may even become able to transmit ripples through the air itself.

Age: 47

Race: Shadow of Drow (see Virtues)

Background: Although bound by their duty to watch over the Endless Dream, some among the Drow shared the ambitions of man. A Drow follower of Telienoctus, God of the Unquiet Thoughts That Gnaw, sought to extend their power beyond the dark places of the earth and into the dark places of the mind. The Drow starved themselves for weeks on end, allowing their mind to be filled with nightmares and hallucinations. They twisted their own darkness into terrible shapes that haunted their dreams and clawed at their skin. Their very being began to distort and fade, mad ravings battling against rebellious aspirations every waking and dreaming hour. Though their ambition was to perfect the miracle of entering the dreams of others, Telienoctus found their pursuits proud and hollow. Thus, one day, when they fell into their hellish dreams once again, the god granted them a just reward: they would never wake again. Instead, the shattered fragments of their consciousness found form from their shadows, leaving the Drow's husk behind. From these broken feelings and ideas given dark shape arose Venerex, left with little but a name, a god's amusement, and a desire for duty, for though distorted, the shadows of the Drow know their place.

The shadowy being crept its way through the world for years, hearing many things as they slid through door cracks and beneath beds. Though unbeknownst to them, they've spread the influence of Telienoctus for decades, consuming thoughts and dreams and leaving doubts and suspicions in their wake.

On the second most fateful day of Venerex's life, they heard a traveler speak of the legendary tower, said to grant a wish to those who scale it. Perhaps they were reminded of the ambition of their creator, or perhaps they hoped to wish to understand their true duty: whatever the case, the nightmare rode the traveler's shadow, and entered into the Tower Over Heaven.

Venerex is shadow animate, and thus prefers to stay in the dark, where it can be wherever it so wishes. When in more revealing light, however, Venerex looks like the dark, rough outline of a Drow traveler. Wispy, streaking tendrils undulate and stretch behind them as they move, and their piercing green eyes stand stark against their black form. Even in bright light, however, Venerex's features are indeterminate, a faceless form made from thought and hunger.

Immaterial: Venerex's shadowy body is partially intangible, making physical attacks against them less effective. At low light levels, objects pass straight through them, harming them little; in regular light, their body is like a viscous fluid, making attacks only somewhat effective.

Shadow of Drow: Venerex's ability to phase into the shadows is even greater than that of a Drow. Aside from their natural Drow magics, in favorable light, Venerex can become a literal shadow against a wall or the ground, allowing incredible maneuverability, and can conceal themselves within the shadow of other objects or people.

Wellspring: Being entirely made of thought and magic, Venerex's pools of mana are notably larger than the average mortal's.

Photophobe: Being exposed to light strips away many of Venerex's abilities. Besides their natural Drow vulnerabilities, In bright light, Venerex is forced into three-dimensional form and their body is entirely tangible, making them very susceptible to physical damage, and they become near-blind. If the light is bright enough, Venerex can be entirely paralyzed.

Concentrated Tangibility: Due to being immaterial, Venerex must actively concentrate in order to interact with the world around them, and can be entirely unable to perform a physical action if they are unable to focus.

Form of Thought: Because of their magical composition, Venerex has increased fragility to magical attacks.

Faith: Telienoctus, God of the Unquiet Thoughts that Gnaw // Ravenous Shadows of Piercing Doubt -- The blessing of Telienoctus is as much a curse as it is a miracle. Venerex's form can only be maintained by consuming the thoughts, feelings, ambitions, and emotions of others, and dreams best of all. When a being is cast within Venerex's shadow, or when Venerex lies within their shadow, the fiend may attempt to consume their thoughts. These thoughts are drawn out of the target's mind and replaced with doubts, suspicions, and despair. The consumed thoughts eventually return, though never the same, tainted darker. The extent of this effect depends upon the amount of time in contact, the mental fortitude of the target, and the awareness of the target to Venerex's influence. Consuming a thought empowers Venerex, increasing their physical and magical abilities, as well as gaining awareness of the thoughts consumed. This consumption is the only way Venerex can maintain their form or heal themselves, and they will starve if they cannot feed. Conversely, large amounts of consumption can leave Venerex "full," unable to take in anymore for a period of time. As Venerex's connection to Telienoctus grows, so does their control of their ravenous cravings, allowing them to target specific thoughts and cast doubts upon specific topics. With enough power, Venerex may be able to even consume a being's memories or personality.

Name: Ariana Starwhisper
Age: 109
Race: Elf
Background: Ariana's bloodline was born from the reflection of a fae in ice, Ariana was a curious and inquisitive child, but also quite energetic. When she was not reading, she was playing games with other elves her age, jumping up and around and just about everywhere. As she grew older, however, she was often bullied by other children for being "inferior", thanks to having been born from a murkier reflection. Out of a desire to prove herself, she took to crafting, and began to revere the deity Pallas, Goddess of the Thousand Arts. Recently she had found out about the Tower Over Heaven. While she doubted that it was exactly what people said it was, she felt a wanderlust that couldn't be sated by mere travel-she needed glory and adventure. And even if it couldn't grant such wonderful wishes, maybe it could help validate her in the eyes of her peers. Sensing a great journey to be had, she set off.

Appearance: Ariana is 5'1 and weighs 97 lbs. Although she is short and very thin, she's deceptively strong for her size and more athletic than she appears to be at first glance. She has long blue hair which she keeps tied in a braid on the back of her head. In addition, she has large blue eyes with gold specks, a small nose, thin lips with blue lipstick, and white skin, She is nearly always smiling.

Equipment: Possibly out of consideration for her elven fragility, Ariana does wear armor-a silver-colored breastplate which is lightweight and does little to restrict her mobility. Beyond that, she wears a blue tunic with a white lined pattern and gray tights along with black boots that go up to her thighs. She also wears a belt. On this belt is a waterskin, a couple of torches, a rapier and sheath, a couple of health potions, a mana potion, and a pouch containing 10 gold coins. Finally, she wears a backpack containing 5 days' worth of rations, a tinderbox, a blanket, and a spare change of clothes.

Virtues: Nimble: Ariana is something of an acrobat, and has little trouble performing parkour to get around obstacles, squeezing through tight gaps, or flanking her foes.

Bookworm: Ariana knows a bit about everything, albeit no more than a reasonably intelligent layman would understand. She is a veritable treasure trove of information about magic, nature, history, technology, religion, and so on. You name it, Ariana knows a little about it. However, like an encyclopedia, unless she has a good reason to know more the subject at hand, this information is incredibly broad and doesn't extend to what only an expert in the topic would know. So, while she might know who a deity is, their general history, their purview and symbol, and their high priest, she wouldn't necessarily know each deity's secret signs, some of their more obscure parables, their rites and prayers, and who their bishop is in the nearby village.

Flaws: Scatterbrained: While Ariana is otherwise perfectly intelligent, she's usually more focused on whatever she's thinking about than on the world around her. As a result, she often misses what's in plain sight, much less what others fail to catch. She's the first to get caught in a trap and the last to react to an ambush.

Aptitudes -

Faith: Pallas, Goddess of the Thousand Arts // Divine Skill of the Ice Sculptor - Each time Ariana created a work of art, she dedicated it to Pallas. Every sculpture and every painting was offered to her, along with a solemn prayer. As a result of her devotion, she was granted this miracle based on the power over ice she already possessed. Ariana can form simple and mundane objects out of ice, such as a sword, a wall, a ramp, or a battering ram. This ice is materialized out of thin air, and does not require an existing water source. It is also stronger and more durable than mundane ice, and does not melt except under extreme heat. However, Ariana's attention is required to maintain its form. As a result, it disappears if she does not concentrate on it. She can only maintain focus on a small number of objects at a time, depending on their size and complexity. In addition, she must understand how an object works in order to create it. So, for example, unless she was familiar with the structure of a lock, she cannot open a locked door with a key made out of ice. She's also incapable of replicating the properties of magical items and artifacts. She can learn to create more complex objects and concentrate on a greater number of them over time as her connection to Pallas grows.

Age: 32

Race: Merfolk

Background: Leszek and his clan lived on a well-hidden village built upon a seaside cliff- Lu-Ainn, the Great House Upon the Sea- and they were fishermen, swimming and sailing out to the sea every day to catch their share of meals and supplies. While they didn't dwell right on the battlefront where their fellow merfolk waited for the Abyssals, they would send out a select few of their strongest and bravest every year to show their support. What few monsters- Abyssal or otherwise- that encroached upon their territory, however, would be well met by Lu-Ainn's full workforce, as each fisher was just as much a warrior with their spartan style of education.

Leszek himself was one of Lu-Ainn's finest when he came of age-- when the villagers gathered in a great circle within the cliff to share their evening meal, laughter and intrigue buzzed about his name: Leszek, Who Threw Himself Upon The Great Tuna Once and Wrestled It Into Submission; Leszek Who Rode Behind the Boat Today On a Plank And Nearly Got Left Behind When He Let Go of His Rope; Leszek, Who Could Afford to Share Some of the Girls With Us But You Didn't Hear it From Me. As a descendant of Levias, his family's progenitor, he had inherited a fine voice; and as such wherever he went, he sang happily, whether it was a silly musing to pass the time or an enchanting ode between himself and the sea.

When it came time for him to serve his time on the Abyssal battlefront, he fought with unparalleled zest- even staying a great while longer than most of his village peers just to bask in the thrill he could not find at home. His extended stay also may have been swayed a bit by the dear friend he met in the heat of battle: the warrioress Ba'al Cirein Croin, the Colossus, and the greatest rival he could ever hope for. They grew very intimate throughout their competition, though their mutual refusal to submit to each other made proceeding towards their much-needed pursuit of a deeper relationship excessively difficult.

After he was finally satisfied with his collection of tales on the battlefield, he began travelling across the sea with Ba'al as her close companion, along with a crew of their respective friends. It was to be a sixty day trip - hopping along islands and distant shores, living on the fruits of the water and whatever they could scrounge from their brief landfalls... and then the storm came.

The storm- for their motley crew had endured many storms together, and he thought this one to be no different... though, he supposed, perhaps it was a misjudgement of the wind and waves, or a freak display of nature's force-- either way, he was suddenly flung from the deck while trying to lower their sails, and the last things he heard were Ba'al calling his name, then thunder, then water, then his head colliding with the keel.

When he woke, he found himself alone on an unfamiliar shore with a throbbing headache and several broken bones - all he could do then was throw his voice out to the wind, sending out with all his remaining strength a cry of panic, pain, and desperation. Eventually he was found by a human traveller called Shiro, who heard him all the way from the edge of the woods. The man brought him home and nursed him to health as best as he could, and as thanks, Leszek vowed to remain at his side until he could find a way to safely return home; though as their days together progressed, Leszek slowly became aware of a creeping fatigue that consumed him even while performing regular tasks.

He grew breathless just dragging his first net of fish out of the water, and as eagerly as he ran and swam before, he quickly grew lightheaded after just a short sprint... It frightened and discouraged him greatly-- he hadn't just lost his friends and the woman he hoped to take as his lifelong companion; he'd been stripped of his vigor, all he had left to enjoy day to day life with. His new friend was a martial artist well-versed in moving in such a way that conserves as much energy as possible, but even as he learned how to make do with his weakness, Leszek longed for the simple joys of his past: the wonderful feeling of energy buzzing through his chest after a morning run, a healthy hour-long spar... being able to sit and sing on a cliff at the end of a long day without feeling an ache in every joint in his body that sucked all the day's excitement out of him.

While walking with Shiro through a village market one day, he caught wind of a tower on the horizon that could allow one to make a wish upon the stars-- and though he highly doubted that getting to the wishing part would come without a great amount of struggle, the idea of an adventure sounded stimulating, and the potential reward for his trouble promising... After properly thanking his rescuer, Leszek set out towards the Tower Over Heaven, more desperate for enough excitement to cure his sinking depression than anything else.

A severe-looking, dark skinned man, about 163 centimeters tall (approx. 5'4''), with wild, jet-black hair kept well enough behind his head by a few loops of fibrous twine. If the patches of silver scales running down the sides of his face aren't what catch the average onlooker's attention first, the next would be the tattoo spanning from his chest and all the way down his left arm in a sleeve- all depicting a raging sea and little more- and if not either of those, his minimalistic wardrobe. Upon his skinny (but still robust, in a way, perhaps it's his posture) frame he wears only a dark cloth wrapping around his waist and upper legs that keeps his privates well-secured, covered with an extra layer of a long loincloth that falls to his knees. He keeps precisely wrapped bindings around his lower back, knees, and ankles as well, all of which seem to lend him a little more 'spring' than his frail figure suggests. For this journey, he has decided to keep with him a large, high-collared leather coat that covers his body all the way down to his ankles, additionally concealing his thin frame under its baggy, structured composition. He wears a secure, cylindrical leather knapsack on his back, his spear kept on the same strap. Under his coat, he keeps a hunting knife in a horizontal sheath set on his lower back.

Leszek himself has lost a lot of weight since his more active days - his ribs show through his skin, and his hands have grown bony; but his muscles still show through, a testament to his steady training, though the way they rise from his bony figure may to some only further stress how gaunt he has become. The skin on his back is especially thick and rough, almost a blue-gray in some spots, full of scars.

While his face is no exception to the general lack of fat distributed throughout his body, the marks of age, stress, sunlight and battle left upon it, as well as his intelligent gray eyes, lend themselves to a unique, aged sort of handsomeness. His smile is subtle but warm, even mischievous, quiet tales of adventure on the high seas hiding behind his eyes.

Water Purification Set - A box of soulutions and bottled plants used for purifying water for drinking and identifying harmful chemicals suspended in liquid. One of Les's specimens, the Lapping Wolfseye, quickly sucks up small volumes of liquid in 'sips' through its roots, which rapidly spread through its thin leaves (and then can be observed for yellowing, discoloration due to mineral presence, etc); his other favored specimen, the Jade Wedgeleaf, retains a healthy serving of water in each of its thick leaves, which are on their own very nutritious. While it normally grows on large vines, the confines of Les's bottle allow it to provide about seven at a time before it must take many weeks to regrow them.

Hunting Knife - A well-used but wicked sharp hunting knife, about forty centimeters long including the handle and six centimeters at its widest end, used for finishing off, skinning and cleaning wild animals for safe consumption. It's made especially for effectively piercing thick hide or skin.

Spear - Leszek's nameless, humble steel spear. It stands about five centimeters taller than him, and the flat spearhead itself is about as long as his head. The back of the spear is balanced against the wide spearhead with a small perpendicular bit, not unlike a hammer. For a spear, it's a little heavy - but to Leszek, it is to be used sparingly and with a sense of finality anyway, and in that sense it does its job well enough against most things he expects to confront; as well as- back in his better days- the horrors of the deep.

Grappling Hook - Quite literally, a large and very sharp three-pronged deep sea fishing hook tied to the end of a strong rope, about twenty feet long.

Deep Healing Poultice - An enchanted ointment that, when applied to the skin, can fully heal injuries much deeper - cracked bones, muscle tears, et cetera - within the span of about an hour. Typically must be wrapped in cloth to give it sufficient time to activate. Leszek keeps a large, well-cushioned container of it with him at all times, as his bones crack easily. Its contents can be expected to last for about 10 uses, but severe injuries (completely shattered bone from a fall, etc) may expect to use double or triple the amount to effectively heal within the same amount of time.

Energy Vial - A half-empty glass bottle of translucent, viscous, bright green liquid with a citrusy taste; holding about six shots. One 'shot' of this liquid is capable of rapidly restoring an exhausted individual of Leszek's size to their normal energy level.

Cloth Braces - Leszek wears carefully wrapped cloths around his lower back, knees, and ankles. These give him a small amount of protection in these areas, but mostly serve to support his body- and thus slightly mitigate loss of physical ability- when he has sustained small strain or injury in those areas.

Big Coat - An overly large leather coat Leszek's rescuer salvaged from a tree somewhere on his travels. The shoulders extend even wider than his own, and combined with its firm shape, it hangs from his shoulders and conceals his thin frame up until it ends just above his bare ankles and feet. It can probably provide some minimal protection, but Leszek mostly just keeps it with him to fit in with the townsfolk and keep the wind off of him when he leaves the water.

Hardy: While Leszek's body has seen better days, his spirit remains ever resilient. When backed into a corner with nothing left to do but struggle valiantly for life, Leszek will never falter until he has fully exhausted all his resources.

Vigilant: Life on (and under) the sea has given Leszek a strong sense for danger-- whether it lurks in the shadows, or on a wind front beyond a perfectly clear sky.

Adaptable: As a man of the sea, Leszek knows full well it's wiser to move with reference to the wind and waves than a charted course. When unusual situations strike, Leszek is quick to improvise solutions- analyzing right away how to either ride them out or turn them around into beneficial opportunities.

Frail: While most merfolk of Leszek's seaside village spend their lives physically exerting themselves on the sea, a few landmark injuries in his own life and the rise of a strange ailment he has yet to identify by name have caused his body to deteriorate significantly from the spry condition of his youth. In particular, he bruises easily, and his bones are more prone to breaking than most.

Anemic: Due to an ailment of his blood, Leszek has naturally low stamina and cannot maintain intense physical exertion for extended periods of time. He suffers quickly from blood loss and the effects of oxygen deprivation (from poison, physical asphyxiation, etc).

Entomophobic: After a particularly frightening moment in the part of his life where he was just starting to get used to his constant fatigue, Leszek has gained an extreme fear of bugs-- particularly ones that are or even just look like blood sucking parasites. Especially long, slinky crawly ones, or ones that carry poison.

Magic: Maddening Cries of the Forbidden Depths - Leszek's family inherits powerful vocal chords from their great ancestor, and a unique prowess for not only being able to speak, but also sing underwater. In addition to possessing rich singing voices, they also inherently possess deeper capabilities that their bodies cannot typically handle producing without causing themselves harm. Across the generations, there have been a few magically adept individuals among them who have applied themselves eagerly to uncovering ways they may access these. The end result was their secret technique- The Maddening Cries of the Forbidden Depths.

As they breathe before and throughout their songs, they draw in and release small amounts of ambient mana, cycling it in the fluid (be it air or water, the latter tends to be more 'efficient') around them until the space surrounding them becomes rich with the sound of their voice, blossoming slowly across phrases until it gains tantalizing resonance. The longer they sing, the more potent the effect of their magic is-- their voices reach their natural peak potency around eight phrases (about eighty seconds, or a minute and a half; ten seconds an average musical phrase). The Maddening Cries allow them to subtly bend the fluid around them into currents that match the movements of their songs - and by further enhancing themselves with mana across phrases, they can increase their volume beyond normal capacity to further their range or potency.

The fluid-bending capabilities of this magic also give them the ability to enchant currents with their own voice, allowing them to send their voices out so they resound in different places-- whether to let it ring from a high place where it can be heard all, or to concentrate it on a single individual. By concentrating soothing melodies on the ears (or hearing apparatus) of a living creature until they ring so deeply that they become indistinguishable from their own thoughts, the Levias technique can allow an individual to 'suggest' thoughts or feelings in beings capable of being affected by it. The Maddening Cries gain their title from this, as a potent enough song is capable of subjugating others to the point of madness.

The Forbidden Depths are the highest possible volume that can be attained with the maxium effort of a healthy body and magic together -- when concentrated on a small area, it can topple walls and carry such intense force that living things caught in its wake can be blasted to their deaths (or if they are particularly resilient, stunned with the intensity of the vibration running through them).

Leszek himself has a hard time singing longer songs normally and thus accessing the deeper reservoirs of his magical capability (if his frail bones were not enough of a deterrent), but regularly practices building his lung capacity throughout the day. His natural voice rings at a smooth, pleasant tenor.

Name: Tabitha Gale
Age: 18 yrs.
Race: Human

Background:

The Gale clan is a quiet family of mages who practice their craft in relative silence, descendants of once-great leaders who have since stepped down to learn and practice humility. Their priorities are as follows: respect the world and its order, practice your craft with only the intent to refine it, and place your family above all else.

Tabitha Gale shares none of these priorities.

From a young age, she quickly made herself out to be a prodigy at spellcasting, grasping basics in the blink of an eye. But a good character, she was not: Tabitha was overly ambitious, haphazardly prideful and a touch spoiled, all ingredients for an easily provoked personality that nobody in her family knew how to raise. They took the easy route and shipped her to the Charta Academy of Reasons and Crafts, a private institution for nurturing the finest mages of the generation.

The Academy provided Tabitha with a curriculum she had little problem tackling - in fact, it was a bit too simple for her, and only left her wanting to expand her sights far faster than the professors could teach. Beyond that, though, the Academy left a lot to be desired: it was no shining beacon of morality, and there'd always be a Fight of the Day between two or three of the students - a good majority of which ended in some form of scrappy, magically enhanced fist-flinging. Tabitha made more than her fair share of enemies with the kind of attention-thirsting person she was, but this gave her wide attention: more than enough to occupy her whims on spare time. But above all, however, her experiences at the Academy had Tabitha wanting more: more knowledge, more power, more fame.

She graduated from the Academy with flying colors a few months ago, but has elected to take a gap year on her own to chase her own pursuits for a little. The Tower Over Heaven seemed like an awfully silly rumor, but since she had all this free time, and it did sound like it would be pretty sweet to get whatever wish the stars had, she figured she could at least try looking for it. What's the worst that could happen?

Appearance:

The first thing you'll notice about Tabitha is the gigantic light-gray pointed hat on her head, about half the size of her lightly framed body, that seems to flop to the side at all times from its sheer stature. It's a holdover from when she was far shorter than anyone else at the Academy, and the hat was the best way to make her physically stand out to everyone else in a crowd. A growth spurt two years ago put her back at an average height, but the hat remains and sticks out like a wart on a frog's underbelly. Don't bring it up to Tabitha, though; it's a touchy subject for her.

She also wears white platform heels (another holdover from her days as the resident pipsqueak), a plain dark-gray dress shirt-and-skirt combination, and a long, lavender-colored cloak that just manages to reach her waist when draped over her shoulder. Also draped behind Tabitha is her long, gold-highlighted, knot-filled red hair, which reaches just below where her cloak would settle. Her face is devoid of any peculiar features, except for a pair of green eyes that seem to spark when Tabitha's envy rises.

Equipment:

Eye of Emerald (x1) - A magical charm composed of an emerald on a golden chain, gifted to Tabitha from her parents when she first left home for the Academy. It vibrates and shakes whenever there's anything potentially harmful; unfortunately, it's a bit over-tuned and tends to jerk around at the sight of just about anything. Because it's a familial gift, it only functions when in Tabitha's hands. She despised the Emerald at first, but after it saved her from a broken nose in multiple confrontations at the Academy, she keeps it around her neck at all times.

The Adventuring Magi's Book (x1) - The last thing Tabitha wanted to see in her gap year was anything that looked like a textbook, so she got this paperback tome of spells, runes and other assorted magical knowledge intended for the general adventurer instead. Unfortunately, like a textbook on magic, it's authored by a shut-in sorcerer with more theory than experience. The book reads more like a distracted conversation on impractical and obscure methods of magic, very few of which Tabitha has practiced. She prefers to just rip out pages for her own brand of spellcasting - the pages have trace amounts of mana and are barely useful for single-shot spells.

Mana-Laced Parchment (x5) - A small stack of letter-sized parchment sheets, created with specially mana-enchanted animal hides. The one luxury Tabitha knew she had to buy for herself (as opposed to something more reasonable for this journey, like an extra ration of food or two). One sheet allows Tabitha to weave together a more permanently-lasting spell with her brand of magic.

Stick of Chalk (x3) - Plain chalk, for Tabitha's magic. Never go casting spells without it!

Drop of Vitae (x6) - A Drop of Vitae is an especially tiny potion, less than ten milliliters in volume. Although it's been concentrated to compensate for its small size, one Drop of Vitae is only barely enough for any noticeable increase in health and stamina. The typical person would need to drink three of these to experience the effects of a regularly sized potion.

Virtues:

Vigilant - Not because Tabitha is especially adept at reading the mood or anything - in fact, an inexhaustible desire for attention means she's remarkably poor at it. Rather, this comes from her Eye of Emerald, which shakes in response to potential danger... and everything else, really. Without it, she lacks this Virtue.

Quick - But not necessarily in a good way. Tabitha's pride is sensitive and easily ignitable, and a stray off-handed remark is enough to make her go after whatever it just was that offended her. And while it means she's often the first to respond and come up with a solution, this usually puts her in a pickle more often than not.

Flaws:

Lightweight - Tabitha learned this the hard way when she thought potion-making would make a good elective course - turns out that a normal dosage for most is always a one-way-ticket to Side Effects Land for her. She blames her once-short stature for it, despite clearly growing past it. It's why she brings smaller potions than normal.

Queasy - Her other weakness. The sight of blood invokes an unrelenting gag reflex in her, having spent a bit too much time watching fights play out in the Academy than is mentally healthy. Plus, she's still a greenhorn when it comes to adventure - the idea of getting seriously harmed hasn't truly occurred to her.

Magical Aptitude:

Magus Charta, or the Formal Papercrafting Geometric Method - A elementary brand of magic and one of the most common taught by the Academy, leading it to be a relatively pervasive school of magic in this world. It follows strict logical theory and relies on the intricacies in various magical runes, circles and symbols to manifest spells across all categories, albeit in limited fashions meant primarily for further research and experimentation. It is performed simply by drawing on paper, parchment, papyrus, or similar, channeling whatever mana might be in the material to invoke various spells via carefully created geometric combinations. Having only just graduated as a fledgling mage, Tabitha is only proficient in elementary aspects of this school - enough to invoke various elements in highly limited quantities, created magical wards and fields, enchant nearby objects and surroundings with material-altering properties, and even have the paper fold itself into various forms. However, the precision and focus required to cast spells, as well as their limited magnitude, often make this style of magic unsuitable for the quick pace of combat, requiring Tabitha to prepare her spells ahead of time to be manifested at a moment's notice, or otherwise forcing her to think out of the box.

Name: Colette Bosho
Age: 28
Race: Merfolk
Background: Colette grew up under the sea in her home city state of the Crooked Demon’s Spring. Colette rolled her eyes every time she heard the name. You find one hot spring and two hydrothermal vents and suddenly you’re in an area full of deeemons oooooo. Her family was different from most other merfolk. They traded scales for suckers and hands for even more suckers. The Elders loved to pass down the stories of Bosho Who Fought The Eight Armed Monster And Won but Colette really wasn’t so sure how great he was. She was fairly certain that he probably just ate the thing. The rumors floated around that Bosho might have insane but they were hushed by the Elders the instant they were heard. Colette was completely certain he was insane. I mean really, who wants arms, like octopus arms. However, she was born this way and jealous of other merfolk or not, she was built the way she was, and she knew how to use it. Being under water, the entire city-state, as well as many others, were trained to fight the Abyssal monsters that would appear. Colette was particularly fond of crushing things with rocks, but throwing rocks worked too. That is, until one day she was on the receiving end of a thrown rock. It gave her a concussion and cracked her skull. She was scared to go out and fight again. She was made a helmet to wear to offer a little more protection and she hasn’t taken it off since. There were few fights she took part in after that and the ones she was in were marked by screams of fear. Unable to do what she was supposed to do any longer, she left the sea and headed for land in the hopes of finding a new purpose. While on land she heard of a Tower that could grant a wish at the top for those who were willing to seek it out. She polished her helmet, packed a bag, and went out for adventure.      

Appearance: Colette is 5’6. She wears a basic metal helmet at all times to protect her fragile skull. Her body is a light red-pinkish color most of the time but set up against a rock or even a tree, her skin color can change to match the surroundings to a certain extent. She has eight arms just like an octopus, each covered in suckers which she has control over. Three arms support her on each side (like most people’s legs) and two arms come out as her arms. Being an octopus person, she has no hands but she can grip and hold onto things with the very flexible arm tips and the suckers there. She wears dark gray cloth underclothes which are akin to a halter top and shorts with some metal plating for protection. If she has to hide, she can mostly just cover these up and then camouflage herself to the surroundings.  

Equipment:
Helmet – duh, she’d probably literally die without it. Whether out of physical harm or anxiety, who knows.
Iron spheres x8 – about the size of a grapefruit but weighing much more than that, she can throw these at opponents.
Clothing and Armor – See above.
Potions x3 (all health potions)
Torches x10
Food Rations for three days
Good Luck Charm – A small coin she keeps with her. She likes to think it’s good luck. I mean, she hasn’t been hit with a rock since.

Virtues:
Nimble – Being part octopus, Colette can squish and mold herself into a much more compact state if she chooses to.
Sharp – What it says on the tin.
Octopus – Being part octopus, Colette can change her skin color to match that of her surroundings so that she can blend in with whatever is around her, obviously works a little better against darker surfaces.

Flaws:
Weak Headed – Since her injury, she has been wary of blows to the head. It is likely that head injuries would hurt her more than other types of injuries.
Fearful – If she is being attacked, and those attacks are aimed at her head, she is going to freak out. Also just don’t touch her head. Don’t do it.
Lightweight – Also what it says on the tin. She doesn’t have much in the way of fat to keep things from travelling right through to her blue blood stream.

Aptitude:
Combat: Eightfold Ensnaring Riptides – In addition to being really good at throwing things, Colette is also good at grabbing things, including grabbing things before she throws them. She can hold enemies down to make them easier for others to attack, in addition she can perform things like arms bars and choke holds depending on the enemy anatomy.

Name: J-355 (Jess)
Age: Initial model was completed 236 years ago. Consciousness properly emerged 47 years ago.
Race: Automaton (Created by gnomes)
Background:

Jess wasn’t originally sentient, is the thing. Originally they were created to be a mechanical jester— a machine that could bring joy to their gnomish creator’s village. But they weren’t sentient. They just had a programmed routine, and could wind down without proper care— nothing like the sturdy model you see today.

Over time, their creator tinkered with them further, creating different responses to various inputs, adding a voice box, and largely updating them to be a better entertainer. If the village people didn’t know better, they might think Jess WAS conscious! But it was simply clever design on the part of their creator. They were still a hollow shell, albeit an entertaining one.

Then came the Gnoll Wars. Gnomes, of course, are gnown for their fierce rivalry with anyone would “steal” their unique gn sound, and thus have a deep hatred for the vicious gnolls. The gnolls are descended from one of the beast-man races of I'istwrn Kaphesh— hyenafolk. Unfortunately, the hyenafolk’s destruction left the gnolls with no more intelligence than an actual hyena, and significantly more bloodlust, so they rampage around eating whatever they can find, including gnomes. (Their ability to hide is useless against a gnoll’s keen sense of smell.)

Over the course of the Gnoll Wars, Jess was upgraded into a gnomish battlemech that could be controlled remotely, to help defend the village. Their creator joined with some of the most powerful magic users in the village, working to to boost Jess’s capabilities. To keep the slim, agile jester design while still outfitting them with proper combat technology, the gnomes managed to fold space, fitting far more clockwork inside Jess than there should be room for. Outfitted with steam jets, an electrified staff, an arcane battery for extra power, and a device that would let them be controlled remotely, Jess joined the field of battle, and kept the village safe for decades.

As the Gnoll Wars progressed, various magiscientists came to the conclusion that Jess would be more useful if they could fight on their own, without a controller. This is, perhaps, when the first hints of true consciousness began to emerge, as the arcane battery was used to make Jess into a being who could fight independently— a tireless sentinel, always able to defend the village. Here, they began to truly come into their own, reading the movements of the enemy with mathematical precision and incapacitating them with carefully timed strikes.

It wasn’t until the arrival of a traveling luck-witch, however, that Jess became truly conscious, and the being the village knows and loves today. Claiming to be descended from a bastard child of one of the three fates, the luck-witch offered the village a set of five magical butterflies that she claimed could change fate itself, at the cost of their own lives. The gnomes cheerfully agreed, folded open some more space in Jess’s chest cavity to make a miniature butterfly garden, and stuck the butterflies in there to reproduce, which they did! Whether through standard means or spontaneous generation is unclear, as the gnomes valued their privacy.

The intersection of magic from the arcane battery, and the warping of luck and fate from the presence of generations of magical butterflies, turned Jess into a truly sentient being. One might say that consciousness emerged by sheer luck. Jess fought well in the final years of the Gnoll Wars— genuine conscious thought made them more effective, and their already precise fighting style meshed well with the abilities of the butterflies, allowing them to create useful effects by altering fate in just the right way, at just the right moment.

After the wars, they returned to their old ways— entertaining people, bringing smiles. Yet they found this to be somewhat unfulfilling. Pleasant, yes, but not quite meaningful enough. Consciousness, especially one that had arisen in such a chaotic time, had given them a drive to do more, BE more. So it was they came to their creator, now approaching the end of his life, and asked him to research any way they could be of more help to their village.

He found the Tower Over Heaven— a difficult, but feasible way to grant wishes. And in a stroke of gnomish ingenuity, he devised a plan— everyone in the village who wanted their wish granted could place a piece of their soul into a soulstone. Then that soulstone could be planted within Jess, and they could carry it with them to the top of the tower, allowing the entire village to get their wishes granted.

In total, 53 gnomes, including Jess’s creator, agreed that this plan is just crazy enough to work. And so Jess set off to the Tower Over Heaven, carrying the hopes, wishes, desires, and also partial souls of 53 gnomes within them.

Personality wise, they haven’t moved too far away from their initial roots— nothing is more distressing to them than seeing someone unhappy, and they try quite actively to put a smile on people’s faces. Their time in the war also causes this to occasionally manifest as a fierce protectiveness. Of course, their personality arose from butterflies, and they’ve been getting some residual feedback from the souls they’re carrying, which has left them energetic, eccentric, and easily distracted.

Appearance: Tall, lanky, brass humanoid robot wearing a cheerful-looking jester mask, holding a brass star, and wearing a bunch of interlocked dinner plates like a weird suit of armor. A few exposed gears, but mostly contained. Eyes glow blue. Surprisingly graceful for a robot, unsurprisingly graceful for a weird jester.

Equipment:
-Electro-staff: long, brass weapon, has two prongs at the end that can be electrified. Recharges by spinning, or can draw energy from the arcane battery.
-Steam Jets: Absorb water to release bursts of scalding steam. Tank has enough space to hold six bursts-worth of water at a time.
-Arcane Battery: Power source. Stored very internally to prevent damage.
-Soulstone: Contains the partial souls of 53 gnomes. Stored even more internally, but they have a way to remove it if they so desire.
-Magic Butterflies: Currently has fifteen, stored in chest cavity. Has room for up to 25. Five butterflies generate a new one over the course of one day.
-Small toolkit: For self-repairs.
-Plate mail: Armor. Made of dinner plates, not metal. Probably not very helpful.
-Deck of cards: Deck of cards.


Virtues:

Workhorse: You just don't know when to quit; exhaustion is no excuse. You're stronger and tougher than normal, but more importantly, your well of stamina just doesn't seem to run dry. Where others may be sprinters, you're a marathon runner. (Jess is a robot. Stamina is not a factor.)

Hardy: Maybe you've taken your fair share of hits in your time, maybe you've got a lot of wilderness survival experience, or maybe you're just a freak of nature; either way, it takes a lot to knock you down, whether it's physical force, poison, cold, or what-have-you. (They’re a robot who was, for a good while, built to be a battle-mech.)

Nimble: You're something of an acrobat, and have little trouble performing parkour to get around obstacles, squeezing through tight gaps, or flanking your foes. (Jester robot! Precise mathematical mind! They know exactly where to step.)

Flaws:

Anchor: When it comes to sink or swim situations, you tend to sink. As in, literally, you cannot swim. (Clockwork robot full of butterflies? Surprisingly, not a good swimmer.)

Convoluted Design: Two hundred odd years of gnomish clockwork folded into one space tends to be complicated and confusing. Jess can’t benefit from most forms of healing, and must instead spend a significant amount of time attempting to repair themself. Others could make the attempt as well, but it would be difficult without a knowledge of magic and gnomish engineering. Jess has a toolkit for this purpose, but more resources might need to be found if significant damage occurs.

Vulnerable to Electricity: It just gets conducted all around them and zaps the hell out of their arcane core. If they’re lucky, this could overcharge them and give them a boost of power… but more likely, it’s just going to short things out and fry them pretty badly.

Aptitudes:

Combat: Jess has rudimentary combat training from their time in the war, though perhaps not enough to call it a full Martial Art. Their style is at once methodical and graceful, focusing on careful timing, precision, and deflecting or avoiding the opponent’s strikes. They make good use of their steam vents and shocking staff to disorient or otherwise incapacitate their foes.

Magic: The Butterfly Effect made manifest— they can bend luck and chance to their favor, releasing a butterfly and expending its power to cause powerful effects from improbably minor sources. Releasing multiple butterflies at once can empower these effects further, sometimes causing retroactive changes. This could be anything from skipping unscathed through a chaotic battlefield, to sending an enemy’s arrow careening off a multitude of surfaces until it sets off an explosive trap at just the right moment, to simply finding the exact item they need in the next room. What luck!
One rather significant drawback— their butterflies are the source of their consciousness, and have become intrinsically tied to their very being. If they were ever to use them all up, they would die. They currently have fifteen butterflies, producing one new butterfly each day for every five they have. Their chest cavity has room for a maximum of 25.

Name: James (no surname)
Age: 28
Race: Human

Background:

Appearance: Clad in a light-colored, loose-fitting tunic and trousers, James at first glance looks every bit the part of a simple farmer. Deceptively slim, six feet tall, and with long black hair most often tied back into a topknot or ponytail, there is a little about him that would convey the image of a master martial artist. Still, there is something about his bearing that, to a practitioner of martial arts, will not go unnoticed. His movements are a hair too smooth, his expression a touch too composed, his awareness a bit too finely-tuned… it is difficult to nail down what precisely sets those experienced in combat on edge, but it is likely something along these lines.

Personality: Suave, but uncultured; composed, but constantly surprised by things which are mundane to others. Because of his oneness with nature, James seems to strike a bizarre balance between a smooth, worldly man and a bumpkin. He is rarely amazed by things of nature such as sweeping vistas or roaring waterfalls, but often finds himself caught flat-footed by the simplest products of human or dwarven culture. Though he does not have any particular longing for adventure… something in him seems drawn to those who have become masters of combat or magic.

Equipment: James keeps crude bandages, a vessel for water, and a few days’ worth of rations assembled from the last of his crops stowed away in a simple traveling sack.

Virtues: Quick, Vigilant
Flaws: Illiterate
Because he grew up in such an isolated and rural area, James cannot read or write a single word of Common. He can read a few Elvish words, primarily names of plants/crops and basic instructions such as “do not enter,” but doesn’t understand anything more advanced in that language, either.

Aptitude: