The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland]

Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.

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Name: Liang Fangzi
Gender: Female
Font colour: #902090
Race: Jiang Shi
Abilities: Can hop pretty dang high.
Weapon: Ceremonial Knife
Description: Tall and emaciated. Legs fused together. Shoulder-length white hair, skin coated in a thin layer of bluish-green fungus. Bones occasionally jut out at awkward angles, most noticeably near her elbows. Wears tattered, pathetic "royal garments": Moth-eaten and faded robes, a crown of rusted tin, jewelry made out of worthless pebbles and glass, and most notably a "sceptre" (more of a rotted stick with a pool ball duct-taped to it) adorned with an ornate sigil.

Personality-wise, is incredibly pessimistic and self-conscious, generally depressed with the odd outburst of anger. Doesn't appreciate much of anything anymore.

Fears: Worms, maggots, etc.; other undead; dark, enclosed spaces

Biography:

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SpoilerLiang Fangzi was, for the first twenty-five or so years of her life, a more or less ordinary farmer. Yes, she took the time to read things other than almanacs, and yes, she did have a tendency to throw her hoe onto the ground in favor of a daydream every week or so, but aside from that you'd be hard-pressed to differentiate her from the crowd. The first turning point in her life was finding an old translation of The Prince and the Pauper, laying half-buried in a puddle of mud. As soon as she had finished it, the idea of rising to royalty practically took over her mind-- whenever she wasn't occupied with something, and usually when she was, she would be imagining some preposterous circumstance or convoluted scheme that would put her on the throne of her very own little kingdom. She became lost in this fantasy until one night, she saw a shooting star, and officially wished that she could be a queen, never expecting it to come true.

Interestingly enough, a man was currently on that shooting star, traveling through space looking for potential tortures to inflict, and finding the various wishes shot towards him a perfect opening. A plea for superpowers was met with a slew of vastly more powerful archnemeses; a plea for true love would soon leave the asker regretting not specifying "requited"; a plea to become famous led to armies of paparazzi, the likes of which the world had never seen, massing up and practically massacring innocents to get a scoop; and so forth, until finally a wish to be a queen clicked into place. The man on the comet-- who was at the moment watching with glee as each wish reached its horribly ironic end-- took particular note as the woman who sent her hopes on the star fell to the ground, writhing in pain, before dying, spending roughly two months in the ground decomposing, and finally returning. Yes, her wish had been granted, alright-- she had all the trappings of royalty, and she had vassals literally springing out of the ground to serve her. A smirk played across the watcher's face as Liang realized that her legs had fused together, that her bones were tearing through her skin like a carving knife through tissue paper, and that she couldn't remove her new rags no matter how powerfully she tugged at them.

Over the course of about five years, six months of which were spent getting used to hopping around everywhere, Liang slowly got used to her new form, though she never managed to come to terms with her fate. When she was spirited away to the battle, she was simply hopping around in circles in a (well-lit) cave, counting how many laps it would take until the end of the world, too fearful to come out for what reaction the living might have to her presence.