The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's

In the spirit of democracy, I will submit two profiles and let the other contestants vote on which one they'd like me to use -

The WraithShow

Username:Sai
Name:
Species: Wraith
Gender: Most recently male
Color: 696969

From Musings on Wraiths - A Collection of Notes by King Ragha
Of all of the interdimensional entities that plague our world with their meddling, few are as little understood as the creatures that have been called ‘wraiths’ by those few who have been unlucky enough to have found the aftermath of their attacks.

While the most famous of the realms which drift beside our own have been named by intrepid travelers and sages of ages past - Styss, Inferno, Aeris, Aurelia, among others - more still hang in the aether nearby without our knowledge. Most such realms, however, are simply too alien for us to even comprehend. The wraiths are creatures that approach this degree of separation.

From what can be gleaned of past survivors and my own experiences, wraiths are detectable only as a vague presence. While some have claimed that there is a sense of unease in the air, I have found instead that the presence of a wraith is detectable simply as a reduction in temperature and the so-called aura of fear that is said to evince their presence is merely the result of this physical chill.

The exact nature of a wraith’s attack is unpleasant, and I will say only that it is survivable by those with a strong will. They have been recorded as targeting only mages, but I believe this to be untrue - instead, it seems that only a powerful magic user is likely to survive the attack, and evidence of a wraith’s presence is only seen by others after a mage is defeated. Indeed, it is only after a wraith is victorious in its attack on a victim that their true nature is revealed.

In almost every instance such an attack, an apparition that looked like the ghost of the victim appeared, casting the magic of the now dead sorcerer with even greater potency than the original caster was capable of. Given their preference for targeting the most powerful mages of the era, this is an awesome display to say the least. The magic is discharged in an almost always violent manner, wreaking havoc on the spellcaster’s former home. As a result, some have said that these horrors serve as a warning on delving into arts that are best left to gods.

However, the timing of the attacks matches a pattern. The wraiths have struck only on even multiples of 114 years apart and there is little similarity in either the specialty or the degree of the magic that the prey of the wraiths exhibit. Similarly, there have been mages that have showcased power that far eclipsed some that have been assaulted, and some of these even managed to die of old age. As a result, I hypothesize that the wraiths strike at regular intervals, and in the years that otherwise fit the pattern in which no wraith attack has been recorded, the victims were simply either too isolated or wielded a power too subtle for the wraith’s presence to have been noted in the histories. That multiple attacks have been recorded in several years suggests that either these are the times in which our world passes through whatever sphere the wraiths occupy, that our barriers against their intrusion are cyclically weakened, or simply that their lifecycle involves feeding at such seemingly long delayed intervals. In any case, whether it is one creature or a host as other scholars have implied, I suspect that these attacks have been far more frequent than has been reported on account of the absence of evidence that a successful assault on an unremarkable target would leave.

Background:
"Hello again." The ancient king sat in an overstuffed chair in front of the hearth. The room was small by royal standards, which still left enough room for multiple wardrobes, several suits of ceremonial armor, and a magnificent desk covered with artifacts forged or won by the monarch, to the point that it left little room for his writing. Still, it was the smallest room in his wing of the palace, and in his opinion the most comfortable. The fact that it held some of the trophies of his many accomplishments without being an ostentatious display like several other rooms had become agreed with his wizened temperament. It was the perfect place to spend his last night alive. "I suppose that I have been expecting you."

The presence that filled the space to his right was entirely undetectable by most mortals. Though shapeless, soundless, and capable of passing through solid stone as easily as air, the wraith was unsurprised that the sorcerer king was able to sense his arrival. The room grew colder, as though the heat from the fire was being pulled away to give breath to the voice of the intruder.

"You have." The voice was as soft as a whisper, but echoed in the man's mind as the speaker both spoke and projected the words directly. Speaking with sound was unusual for a wraith, but its claim was unusual enough already.

The king's reply was slow in coming. Before he spoke, he reached over to the edge of the desk to lift a rod from it. Covered in intricate silver runes, it thrummed with power as soon as it touched his hand. The many layered rings at its head began to spin and a bright light appeared between them as he pointed it into the empty space to his right. Though the spell was seconds from bursting forth from the end of the item, rather than release it he simply sighed and lowered the weapon, willing the light to fade and the spinning to stop as he let it clatter to the floor at his side. "No, I suppose that wouldn't help, would it?"

He soon felt a tug on his limp arm, as though an invisible hook had been sunk painlessly into his flesh. A second and a third soon followed, and that same ethereal voice confirmed his thoughts once again. "It would not."

"Still," the dying king said, forcing his face into a grin as he turned towards the unseen wraith. "I did manage to beat you last time, didn't I? What makes you think I won't do it again." He felt a jerk, as though the arcane hooks were pulling at his bicep, and then the room disappeared. He suddenly found himself sitting in his grand throne, and judging by the reddish rays of light streaming in from the many windows, he judged that it was dusk. The hall that was ordinarily filled with advisors and petitioners was empty save for a regal figure standing to his right. Clad in the golden armor in which he had famously fought a hundred battles, the majestic man was Ragha himself when he had been in his prime of rulership. The burden of the crown he wore had not yet sunken his posture nor had the drudgery of state dulled the fire in his eyes. "Because," the man said in a voice that was not his own "You are not the king that you once were."

The ancient Ragha sat back in his throne, contemplating the appearance that the wraith had chosen to take. "I have read about you, you know." He spoke softly, facing forward rather than turning to meet the gaze of the conqueror he once was. ”How could I not after our encounter? I found all that there was to know - even invaded a Soltek principality when I was denied access to their library. There wasn’t much about your - well, you.”
”Not many survive their encounters.”
”No, of course not. Still, some few did and others saw the remnants of a wraith attack. While there wasn’t much, there was some. Enough to know that your appearance here - even your returning at all for a second attempt - is unheard of.”
”And yet you expected my return all the same.”
”Call it arrogance, then. You said last we met that you sought out only the most powerful -”
”Not precisely.”
”No?”
”I sought only the most interesting.” He smiled then, breaking the illusion slightly, as he did so in a manner unfamiliar to any that had known the sorcerer king. ”You were preoccupied then, however, so I do not blame you for misremembering.”
”And am I still interesting now?”
The smile remained. ”Of course. Your power may have faded, but the essence of it is still there. Enough remains to build a great deal.”
”Mine is a destructive power, wraith.”
”And yet you have built an empire.”
”I have made that argument to myself before. I thought it poetic.”
”I have the soul of a poet. Two, actually, though one isn’t any good.”

The king turned then, eying the creature that appeared as him dubiously. ”You would have me believe that my soul would live on, then, after you consume it?”
”Aspects of it. Stronger at first, but fainter after your power has been used up. Still,” He took a step closer. ”It is more than would be left of you otherwise.”
”And for that dim promise you would have me surrender.”
”A dim promise is what awaits you should I depart. Weakness. Senility. Failure.”
”All things that come with age.”
”And all unacceptable to King Ragha.”
The true king snorted at that. ”Well, I am weaker now all the same. Surely you could simply rip my power from me as you have for so many others.”
”I could. I won’t.”
”And why is that?”
”I have decided that we are friends.”

No time at all had passed in the study where the aged king sat. He began to slump in his chair, as though nodding off to sleep. In the empty air in which the wraith stood, a familiar form had begun to take shape. Though still wispy as though comprised of strands of light, the body that began to take shape was exactly like the simulacra that the horror had used in his soul. It was translucent and glowed with the white fire that had defined his magic, but the shape was unmistakable all the same. ”You never liked this stark color,” it said as it looked down upon its temporary body. ”I suppose it - hmm.” Its musings cut off short as it felt an odd tug on its spectral form. ”It seems another has laid claim to this soul. I wonder what it - “
Without even being able to finish its thought, the apparition disappeared.

Gurska KarrShow

(This one is a Grand OC profile that I think would be fun to develop further)
Username: Sai
Name: Gurska Karr
Species: Taurus
Gender: Female
Color: Firebrick

Background:

When explorers discovered the literally and figuratively bull-headed sentients living on the fifth planet in the Zeta Tauri system, they were shocked by the race’s humanoid appearance. They believed that they had to be either the result of a seed ship that had been lost in that sector whose colonists must have undergone some sort of accelerated speciation or the result of a genetic experiment whose creator had since perished without releasing his notes. The latter was a far more popular theory on account of their resemblance to the minotaur of Earth’s mythos, but remnants of a seed ship’s materials found scattered throughout the Taurus settlements gave credence to the former. Because they were believed to be an offshoot of an existing spacefaring civilization, they became partially integrated into galactic society before a more comprehensive analysis could be performed. As fate would have it, the Taurus technological ascension occurred at the same time as the border skirmishes which would eventually escalate into the Nyxian-Nihensei War, so most of the galaxy paid little attention to the fairly isolated world as its denizens began to adopt modern weaponry and spacecraft.

As it turned out, they were natives to the planet, and at least as violent and bloodthirsty as humans had ever been in their own developmental period on Earth. Having already destroyed a human colony with only medieval weaponry, their rapid ascension to space age technology without a corresponding cultural acclimation would prove to be devastating. Within a decade, almost a quarter of their population had been wiped out. A decade more and fully half of their species was dead and a significant portion of their population centers had been rendered uninhabitable. A response force was finally sent to help deal with the planetary conflict from the Nihensei Republics, but with no true global government to work with, there was little that they could hope to do to help establish peace and were at first limited to providing humanitarian aid. Their support instead helped spark the first wave of mass emigration from Tauri V, and there was little they could do to ensure that the departing Tauri would remain (or, indeed, ever were) peaceful. While most of the refugees genuinely sought an escape from the catastrophic destruction of their homeworld, a significant number were devoutly warlike. These emigrants scattered across the galaxy, with most joining the burgeoning Mercenary Coalition, where their aptitude for destruction was welcomed with open arms, while others would join various pirate collectives hidden in backwater worlds. Meanwhile, the war on Tauri V raged on.

The ineffectiveness of the task force in even reducing the violence surrounding them would prove to be too frustrating for many of their members to stomach. A rogue detachment led by one of the group’s sociologists, Dr Timothy McCullen, decided that the only way to ensure peace would be for one faction to attain total dominance of the planet. Supporting one of the largest clans, the Karr, they began to fight in the world wide war themselves.Taurus histories would later elevate these humans to mythical status, especially given the fact that the genetic lock on their weapons initially prevented them from being used by the Tauri themselves. Following a human’s demise in combat, highly ranked members of the clan they supported would use preserved parts of their body to allow them continue to use these tools in combat. As a result, swearing by body parts of the fallen leader of this group entered the the Taurus lexicon (eg - “Timmy’s Fist, that’s a fine gun!”). Additionally, because native weapon technology would not catch up with the galactic standard for years to come, the Karr were able to maintain technological dominance until they finally achieved total victory in their war for unification. Though he did not live to see it, Timmy’s rogue detachment succeeded in bringing some measure of peace to the Tauri and preventing their self inflicted genocide.

Gurska was born in the middle of the winter birthing season of 11 BKD (Before Karr Dominion). In her childhood she saw her clan win battle after battle, subduing numerous rival tribes as their domain expanded to encompass the entirety of the supercontinent on which the Tauri lived. In her teenage years, the first ever Taurus world peace began to show cracks as numerous minor revolts broke out amongst the conquered clans and political conflicts between neighboring groups turned violent. Though these were quickly and brutally put down by Karr soldiers, the clan elders realized that without a global project to capture the focus of their people, their empire would collapse a mere generation after it had been established. Though being small and out of the way allowed them emerge as an independent world, their race was far too small and technologically primitive to hope to challenge the pan-galactic establishments themselves. Through the Taurus emigres that had enlisted in the Mercenary Coalition years before, the Taurus elders were able to make contact with the now vast nomadic fleet and concluded a formal alliance between their world’s government and this wayfaring bloc.

With their aid, the Karr began to take control of multiple neighboring star systems, but the close contact with the Coalition began to influence them culturally as well. While the Tauri as a whole and the Karr especially valued loyalty to the clan above all, the Mercenary Coalition thought differently. A large portion of the Coalition’s revenue came from small groups leaving the fleet to provide support in smaller conflicts wherever they may break out, and as a result they placed a high value on individual initiative. Additionally, the very nature of their organization made loyalty to a specific cause (aside from violence itself and self interest) an unreasonable ideal. The fact that they were the stronger partner in their relationship made these values seem appealing to many of the Tauri. None felt this more strongly than Gurska’s generation, which were just then entering adulthood and seeking to prove their worth.

With conquest still in the Karr clan’s eyes as she was growing up, Gurska lived and breathed warfare, learning everything from her race’s traditional style of combat with horns and melee weapons to the use of their distinctly modern arsenal and tactics. Her heritage as a member of the core family of the Karr clan, which essentially placed her amongst the aristocracy if not outright royalty as far as the Tauri were concerned, allowed her to receive training in both the cutting edge of Taurus technology and adopted alien materiel. She spent the years of peace frustrated and joined her clan’s suppression forces at every available opportunity. When their alliance with the Mercenary Coalition allowed the Tauri to begin waging war on neighboring worlds, she quickly became recognized for her talents as a combat pilot. While she was not particularly talented when compared to those born on the migratory worldships of the Coalition, the Tauri were generally awful at flying, and simply being adequate amongst the spacefaring mercs made her an ace amongst her own kind. Constantly seeking to improve herself, she spent more and more time amongst the other races of the Tauri’s allies, and eventually accepted a contract to become a full fledged mercenary soldier. She quickly came to adopt their migratory lifestyle for her own, and left the territorial wars of her people to lead small strike forces in minor conflicts across the galaxy. Born to battle, she soon acquired a reputation as a bloodthirsty warrior and a fearless commander.

Description:

Standing a full ten feet in height and bulging with muscle, Gurska is an intimidating figure even without her arsenal. With it, she is simply nightmarish. Clad in overlapping plates of reflective metal over the black gel of her modern encounter suit, her combat garb looks anachronistic in design, as though a medieval knight were to have their mail commissioned from modern materials. Designed to reduce the impact of lasers, small arms fire, and even melee weapons in the rare instances which they are used, the similarities carry over to its function as well as its form.

If her armor gives the impression of a mix between a medieval aesthetic with modern utility, her weaponry solidifies it. Her weapon of choice is a 40 mm autocannon which had been torn from the smoking hull of a downed interceptor. Designed for ship to ship combat, wide, black heat sinks run down the length of the weapon. Though large enough for a human force to consider it an artillery piece, she wields it as a hand-held device fed from a belt that feeds out of a case of ammo that she wears on her left hip. When not spitting out depleted uranium death to an effective range measured in kilometers, this weapon is worn on a strap slung over her back. When facing enemies at closer ranges, she uses the weapon with which she earned her nomme de guerre - a massive flamethrower, capable of emitting blue streams of fire that can arc out over thirty meters. Given the importance of oxygen in ships and stations, few of her opponents expected the use of this weapon, which is easily capable of clearing out corridors of enemies that she will never even see while they live. She wears this weapon in mirror to her autocannon, slung over her back when not in use and fed from a tank on her right leg. For melee combat, in the few times in which she is granted that particular pleasure, she wields an axe. Her axe, as can be expected given her size and inhuman strength, is heavy, blunt, and just as effective at taking down a door as it is at killing an enemy. It has, in fact, been used far more often as a tool than an actual weapon. Though this allows her to logically justify carrying it, it is still the source of some private embarrassment.

She bears the gravitas of those assured of their competence, and speaks with a low, firm tone. Her speech is characterized by the elongated vowels and guttural slur which are endemic to the Tauri. She prefers to phrase questions as requests for information (eg “Tell me how this device works.” rather than “How does this device work?”) and tends to be more comfortable in a position of command than speaking to others as equals. It is in part on account of this trait that she prefers to spend so much of her time deployed with soldiers under her command rather than surrounded by the generally egalitarian minded bulk of the Mercenary Coalition. It would be safe to conclude that Gurska does not know the true meaning of friendship.

Summary ads:
1) Ancient astral horror interested in flawed, powerful beings for some self serving soul searching. Call if you like transparent bodies and opaque dialog. One of us is bound to have a good time.
2) Taurus mercenary seeks worthy contracts and courageous crew. Prompt execution of missions is guaranteed. Subtlety is not. Crew applicants are advised to avoid making cow jokes.