RE: The Grand OC Season II: Week 3: FAILURE
07-17-2015, 07:35 AM
Username: To use the Man
Name: You're expecting 'em to just whip it out without provocation? What kind of deviant are you?
Species: Pixie? Kobold? Fairy? Why do you lot insist on names for every damned thing?
Gender: Neither lover nor fighter
Color: Suck my sparkle-shitting thorax, human
Biography: The culture of the fae folk is carved and warped by human interaction, and not in some quaint superstitious fashion like the mark they left on us. Pollution of their enchanted spaces was the main one, the draining of their magical wellsprings forcing them to collectively adapt into something a little less... glamorous.
The modern fairy troupe are pack hunters and scavengers, the veneer of mischief which gilded their malicious tendencies replated in testosterone and aggression. They still possess a link to the world's magic, chiefly around dominion over Names, but between macho posturing and resentment at changing times, most troupes relegate magic duties to one poor bastard, sealing them into servitude by extracting their Name out of them. Selection customs vary from region to region, but cage matches to the death between the weakest members of the troupe are common. The winner/survivor is borderline-drowned in the nearest source of magic until the desired phenotypes resurface.
These Casters (with a kay) play a vital role in the troupe, enticing unwary prey into ambushes by the pack. It's astounding how many people haven't gotten the memo that the classical fairy is pretty much extinct in the wild, though that's probably the glamers and the low-level mind control plastering over the gaps.
Description: True name Sil-a'*' Nyst-fane-del, though in the interests of fairness they'll probably only be introduced as Sil. The * is a thoracic thrum on the edge of mammalian hearing, in case you were wondering. About two thirds the height and a quarter the weight of their toddle-sized packmates, humanoid, of insectoid (vaguely mantid) biology, and pretty in that way you expect the magically augmented to be. Sports an ethereal glow that obscures most of their body's details, six gossamer wings to give them a dragonfly's grace in flight, and mouthparts better-suited for talking and smiling entrancingly than tearing flesh.
Sil, like many Casters, considers themselves a "temporarily embarassed warrior". They were never physically imposing to start with, but magical exposure's rendered their build even frailer, and their attitude toward most other creatures even nastier. They'll not spare much courtesy to anyone, not when you can poke around in their brain afterwards and render their general impression of the encounter as fuzzily pleasant.
Weapons/Abilities: Sil's exposure to a magic wellspring is responsible for the "classic fairy" look, which brings with it a bunch of spells, mostly of the illusory/sense-fucking variety. They're carnivorous, but can subsist on magic at the cost of a stable personality. Considering they're trying to clear the magic out of their system and become a violent paragon of modern fae society, that really is a last resort.
Their only physical weapon are two spurs at the base of each thumb, which can retract partway like a cat's claws. These are basically only good for forcibly making someone unhand them. Much to Sil's shame, their main arsenal is the magic. Like all fae, they hold dominion over Names and can exercise sway over anyone whose true name they know.
Name: You're expecting 'em to just whip it out without provocation? What kind of deviant are you?
Species: Pixie? Kobold? Fairy? Why do you lot insist on names for every damned thing?
Gender: Neither lover nor fighter
Color: Suck my sparkle-shitting thorax, human
Biography: The culture of the fae folk is carved and warped by human interaction, and not in some quaint superstitious fashion like the mark they left on us. Pollution of their enchanted spaces was the main one, the draining of their magical wellsprings forcing them to collectively adapt into something a little less... glamorous.
The modern fairy troupe are pack hunters and scavengers, the veneer of mischief which gilded their malicious tendencies replated in testosterone and aggression. They still possess a link to the world's magic, chiefly around dominion over Names, but between macho posturing and resentment at changing times, most troupes relegate magic duties to one poor bastard, sealing them into servitude by extracting their Name out of them. Selection customs vary from region to region, but cage matches to the death between the weakest members of the troupe are common. The winner/survivor is borderline-drowned in the nearest source of magic until the desired phenotypes resurface.
These Casters (with a kay) play a vital role in the troupe, enticing unwary prey into ambushes by the pack. It's astounding how many people haven't gotten the memo that the classical fairy is pretty much extinct in the wild, though that's probably the glamers and the low-level mind control plastering over the gaps.
Description: True name Sil-a'*' Nyst-fane-del, though in the interests of fairness they'll probably only be introduced as Sil. The * is a thoracic thrum on the edge of mammalian hearing, in case you were wondering. About two thirds the height and a quarter the weight of their toddle-sized packmates, humanoid, of insectoid (vaguely mantid) biology, and pretty in that way you expect the magically augmented to be. Sports an ethereal glow that obscures most of their body's details, six gossamer wings to give them a dragonfly's grace in flight, and mouthparts better-suited for talking and smiling entrancingly than tearing flesh.
Sil, like many Casters, considers themselves a "temporarily embarassed warrior". They were never physically imposing to start with, but magical exposure's rendered their build even frailer, and their attitude toward most other creatures even nastier. They'll not spare much courtesy to anyone, not when you can poke around in their brain afterwards and render their general impression of the encounter as fuzzily pleasant.
Weapons/Abilities: Sil's exposure to a magic wellspring is responsible for the "classic fairy" look, which brings with it a bunch of spells, mostly of the illusory/sense-fucking variety. They're carnivorous, but can subsist on magic at the cost of a stable personality. Considering they're trying to clear the magic out of their system and become a violent paragon of modern fae society, that really is a last resort.
Their only physical weapon are two spurs at the base of each thumb, which can retract partway like a cat's claws. These are basically only good for forcibly making someone unhand them. Much to Sil's shame, their main arsenal is the magic. Like all fae, they hold dominion over Names and can exercise sway over anyone whose true name they know.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow