O'kihp Tia
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Contents
Tainted by a poison that has resided within him since he was quite young, he has succumb to the darkness and the beast inside—forever. A series of unfortunate events caused his resolve to shatter, and the tight seal within his subconscious was permanently broken. The joyous boy once known as Chip became drowned in a crimson pool of murder and buried under an immeasurable number of transgresses. A being forged of wind-aspected crystal and tainted by the chunk of Dalamud that decimated the Burning Wall has completely infested his body with the contamination of soiled aether.
CURRENT STATUS: A brother loved, a brother trusted. Together they journeyed from Thanalan into the welcoming terrain of La Noscea, where perhaps it might do both Chip and Skycat good. Claiming an old hermit's shack surrounded by a natural hot spring, the brothers have claimed their domain. A real home, a real family. But a darkness still looms within a boy tainted, and it is only a matter of time before he begins to wither.
INVENTORY: Last updated: 4/20/2016
- Wooden music box - Chip's first Starlight gift, presented to him from Skycat. It had thought to be lost in the same flames that had destroyed his camp, but was eventually returned to the boy. The box is pale and seamless, with the name "Chip" carved upon the lid. The "i" is dotted in the shape of a fish. Music Box Song
PERSONALITY:
Fragments of a once jovial moon linger beneath ebony pools of limitless transgression. Nevermore a youthful child of laughter and joy, he is but a shadow of what he once was. Twisted, molded, and forced into a creature submersed in tainted aether, his childish innocence and naivety have disappeared. Like two sides of a coin, boy and beast coexist within a tormented vessel plagued by many a scar. Oft at war, it is not uncommon for the boy to be dangerously volatile and constantly on edge. Mercilessly used at the expense of his Tribe, he’s become an animal expected to both fear and accept punishment. Anything that dares cross an invisible boundary, created by himself out of the sheer need to survive, will be met with guarded eyes and threatening snarls. Rarely does the boy speak, having found actions to speak much louder than words.
If one is able to get close enough to the beast-child to study the legacy etched upon his blemished flesh, it is easy to see that he is but a remnant of years of torture, abuse, and starvation. Nothing remains of a boy named Chip, and it would seem that specific part of himself is lost forever under a drowning pool of crimson.
Look harder…
See his fear, know his wary gaze. Deep within lies a wounded soul and a bleeding heart. He was fostered without love, forced to be alone, and stripped of everything but his trembling flesh. Strangers are regarded with a wariness bordering on paranoia. Sleep has abandoned him. Smiles are bestial expressions of disturbing approval. But know that if you are able to live through an encounter with the beast-child, Nymeia’s fortune smiled upon you that day. Earning anything greater than familiarity in the boy’s eyes is rare, for he’s become nearly averse to any social contact except those in particular. Family is taken very seriously, and therefore anyone outside of the circle are treated with either fragile tolerance or deep-seated rivalry.
Tread lightly within the beast-child’s domain, and know that he is always watching.
APPEARANCE:
A slate gray jacket adorned with golden buckles neatly embraces a scrawny frame, whilst naked limbs poke out from sleeveless gaps. Reinforced shoulder pads secure bare shoulders, embellished with metal spikes. Rugged brown belts traverse across a slim waist, firm enough to maintain their shape, whilst ebon belts hold together his jacket. Usually only one clasp is fastened, allowing air to drift pleasantly across his concave torso. Strips of mole brown cloth wrap snuggly across his pale flesh to hide most of the hideous scars that cover his upper body.
Leather culottes crafted out of rare Archaeornis leather firmly embrace reedy legs, tanned and softened by a master craftsman to provide both comfort and flexibility to its wearer. Tassels of multicolored hue dangle from the russet leather straps that encircle his thighs, simple additions to what baubles already decorate his sleeveless jacket.
Accustomed to old habits, the boy still does not wear shoes. Whenever he must travel into town, however, simple leather sandals are donned to protect his skin from the seasoned wood and cracked alabaster stone of Limsa Lominsa’s walkways. The bottoms of his feet may be heavily callused, but he’s used to the overall terrain of dirt and grassy meadows, therefore city streets are yet harsh to delicate pads.
His skin has remained pale in color despite living in the desert, for he prefers shade to harsh sunlight. No longer smooth and merely smudged with dirt, his entire body is almost completely covered with varying degrees of scars. (see further detailed description below) His dark-purple mane, having grown long enough to cover his neck, is tangled and matted with dried blood. Eyes once aglow with the silver face of the moon are now soulless orbs of starless nocturne. Having been malnourished for quite some time, he is very thin and his bones jut out painfully against scarred flesh.
NOTABLE FEATURES:
- Claws: Sharpened black nails grow out of his fingertips, but will extend to about three inches in length when he's particularly livid. Thin and deadly, these fairly simple weapons are able to pierce through the tiniest cracks in armor. Often performing a fighting style that involves spinning and darting around, the slashing movements of his claws make no sound.
- Blackened Eyes: His pupils are completely dilated and his sclera turned black, basically resulting in the entirety of his eyes to be soulless pits of obsidian. Although its difficult to tell who or what Azrael is exactly looking at, there are often subtle hints in his body posture and head tilts. Oftentimes, however, one is not even given enough time to decipher something so meaningless before their throat is slit in a fountain of blood.
- Fangs: His teeth have become permanent Keeper-like fangs that will extend well past the confines of his lips whenever he's completely enraged.
- **Scars: His pale skin is a ragged canvas of untold stories. While a good portion of such marks are the thin and ropy lines of knife cuts, he also bares remnants of burns, stab wounds, and whip lashings. There are thick scars across his heels where his Achilles Tendons were severed multiple times in order to prevent escape. Ragged claw marks streak across his back, administered by himself in order to hide a hurtful message carved there by a dagger. Thick calluses encircle his wrists, ankles, and throat--painful reminders of skin once rubbed bloody and raw by metal shackles. Various patches of his skin, especially on his shoulders and upper chest, are raised and rough to the touch. These are burns caused by a certain hunter's napalm thrower.
- Carnivorous: As ruthless a killer as Azrael is, he will also take the time to sample what bits of flesh may have been so delicately preserved upon his claws. He delights in the taste of his enemies, often feasting upon the spoils if he finds a chance to in the midst of his careless bloodthirsty spree. Other times, gnawing off the limbs of his victims is part of the fight itself.
- Tainted Aether: In the past, the subtle impurity of his aether could only be sensed if someone were to try and absorb his aether. However, since Harrow has been unleashed for such a long period of time, the boy's aether has become completely vile and impure. It can be sensed by anyone who is able to detect someone's aetheric properties.
ABILITIES:
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Color Key
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FAMILY & TRIBE
These are mostly backstory-related relationships.
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These are members of his family, unrelated by blood but bound by a sense of attachment.
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NON-FAMILY
Listed here are the non-family characters, both PC and NPC, that Azrael has interacted with.
Last Update... 6/03/2016.
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◢ Common Rumors - Easily overheard. Use these freely!
◢ Uncommon Rumors - A little more difficult to hear. Use sparingly or ask first!
◢ Rare Rumors - Very rarely overheard. Please ask before using!
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◢ Player Character Rumors - Feel free to add rumors of your own!
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1. T O B R E A K A M O O N | ||
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 Once upon a time, a boy dwelled in a camp within Middle La Noscea. Though empty and often lonely was he, he was happy and very much at peace. Such were the days of Chip, who was best known for his motto: A story for a fish. Sometimes visitors did gather, and he delighted them with grilled trout while they told him a tale or two. Those that met the boy saw an exuberant fellow untainted by the sins of the world. Painfully naïve, Chip dwelt in the wilderness with a constant skip to his step and a blissful smile in his eyes. Very few ever glimpsed the darkness hidden deep within a hopeful subconscious, for never did the spark of joy ever abandon the boy and forsake him to the unrelenting shadows.
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2. C A P T I V E M O O N A N D H A R R O W E D B R O T H E R | ||
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3. R E L E A S E O F A B L O O D M O O N | ||
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While being reclaimed after a successful killing one fateful afternoon, the boy unexpectedly retaliated as he was being drug back into the cave. His father had grabbed the chains to try and move him by force, and Tome had tried to subdue him with an ice enchantment that would subsequently freeze him into place. Neither worked, however, for fate at last had decided that their time was up. The beast had developed an unknown resistance to the ice magic, but the frost enchantments that worried the shackles around his limbs and neck had still been in play, so he’d known whom to attack first. The mage cloaked in shadows went down easily, frail as he was, and just as his claws sunk deep into that hood, the Nuhn and his remaining Tias came upon him with daggers and swords alike. Although their blows were well-placed, the pain only enraged the beast further and coursed newfound strength into his battered body. Willed into a frenzy, no one was safe from him as he ultimately destroyed every single member of the Tribe. Women were torn apart, their limbs both tossed aside and gnawed upon, and whimpering children were greeted with a jeering smile before their insides were splattered across the sands.
Every moment was carried out with uncharacteristic delight, until it had only been his father standing in the middle of a gore-stained camp. O’ctan had only barked a virulent laugh before tossing his dagger aside. “I know what you want. Go ahead and eat up, you waste of a son. I hope you’re haunted by this for the rest of your miserable life.” And he had. Without hesitation had the boy lunged upon his father and slammed him into the dirt. Claws had gouged deep across his father’s corpse, ripping open his chest cavity and digging past bone and organs alike until he found what he desired. A disgusted roar had burst from his bloodied lips then, to discover that even his merciless father still had an unspoiled heart. The organ had been squeezed until its contents no longer spewed out gore, before devoured by a bloodthirsty appetite. He feasted upon the decimated corpse of O’ctan until he was satisfied that no other scavenger could find any piece of his body worthwhile. The discarded dagger was plunged into sightless eyes again and again, before finally lodged into the hole where his heart should never have been.
Slow and torturous was the process of recovery afterwards, for after having accepted that the deed was done, he collapsed in the eerie silence of the camp and writhed in the bloodstained ashes of tarnished gold as the blinding fury left him and he became aware of the sheer agony inflicted upon his body. Many of the wounds weren’t fatally deep, but it was enough for him to realize that not all the blood strewn across the sand was from his adversaries. He screamed and snarled and howled into the sky, but he did not know what kind of emotion set the tone of his bestial melody. Anger, hurt, triumph, and loss were all the same to him as the gravity of the events overwhelmed his mind. Eventually, though, he slowly came to realize that he could not stay here, for the neighboring beastkin would soon catch wind of the bodies and come in search of spoils. This time, he really was the scapegoat. He’d really gone and destroyed his entire Tribe. The shackles around his limbs were cleanly pulled off, for his limbs were painfully thin and slick with blood. The collar around his neck remained firmly clamped around his calloused throat, but the long chain was hacked off to provide easier movement.
Hours ticked by as the maddened beast sought to make sense the rampaging thoughts and emotions that clustered in his head. He eventually came up with a different desire entirely, one spurred by the quick backfire of his body as it rejected the meal he’d eaten. No matter the kind of raw flesh he ate, it always came back up. And so, when the boy finally did leave the remnants of his Tribe, a pile of bloody vomit that contained half-digested pieces of his father was also left in his wake.
Eventually he ended up in Southern Thanalan, wading through endless mountains of sand with half-healed wounds and sun-blistered skin. Something out in the desert of Thanalan called to him an the animal inside followed on pure instinct, for there was nothing else he could go by. Without purpose, without reason, the simple desire spurred him onward. He was nameless, homeless, and alone again. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do, but dune after dune of sand did he climb in search of something that he wanted.
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4. M O O N R E D E E M E D A N D P R O M I S E F O R G E D |
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Time passed and the winds changed. Across an endless sea of golden waves, the boy was discovered half-dead in the sand by a coeurl. A coeurl with his eyes. Through a telepathic bond created by the beast-child’s ability to sense an animal’s thoughts and feelings, he discovered that the majestic beastkin was in fact ‘’Skycat.’’ This seemed insignificant, until he made it clear that he had remembered who the boy was and what he had meant to him long ago. Weakened and exhausted, but very much relieved, he let Raziel take him somewhere "safe" and was returned to the gypsy caravan to recuperate. Days drifted by slowly, while a feverish beast-child was dutifully tended by a brother returned. His recovery was slow, steady, and still quite tense for the nameless beast knew he was in a vulnerable state and thus was instinctively on edge.
Now Azrael must discover himself again and adapt to the changes within himself and his life. Basically... he's an animal trying to become human again. |
5. C R I M S O N R E L A P S E |
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His brother returned after a month and there was much rejoicing, but it was all regretfully short-lived. Later that same night upon Raziel’s return, he sought out Azrael who had taken refuge upon Meebo to have a moment with him. The boy had watched the strange and curiously painful spectacle of a family welcoming one of their own back home, and could not think of what to make of it. Part of him turned jealous of what Raziel had had all this time. A real family, a reunion in which Azrael himself could never partake in. Thus, the boy was in no mood for casual chit-chat, and whatever Raziel might have wanted to speak with him about was quite swiftly shot down. A conversation turned dreadfully sour as the beast-child took his anger out upon his own brother.
Blame… for a fault he knew deep inside belonged to neither of them. Spurred by the demon within, jealousy darkened the already putrid soul and spun Azrael out of control. He tore apart his brother with words as sharp as his own claws. Piece by piece--until he turned away in tears.
The realization stole away the beast-child’s anger and left him drowning in despair and regret. Thinking Skycat to now be gone forever, he’s cruelly reminded of his father’s words two years ago. Of one of the many truths he brainwashed him with. Of the belief that he was forever alone, unloved, and unimportant. Nobody.
The Madam appeared before them, holding Raziel back with the whip coiled around his neck. She begged Azrael to step away from him and join her. She was desperate to keep the gypsy family safe, for she had Seen a killer in their midst. She warned Azrael of him, of how Raziel would one day kill them all—even little Nymeia. But the beast-child registered none of it. He saw only the whip, heard only the harrowed cries that existed in his mind, and charged at the one he’d once called Mother. Blinded by anger and betrayal he destroyed the whip and ultimately would have destroyed her
After making it known that he himself had "killed a family" already, Azrael fled with an awful certainty that his brother probably had disowned him and the doors to the gypsy caravan would be forever closed. Plagued by guilt and shame, he was afraid to look upon his brother again for fear of seeing that dreaded look of horror in his eyes. With his spark of hope snuffed out, the beast-child accepted the path of solitude he'd found himself upon again. Without a family and with Skycat no longer. |
6. B O U N D B Y M O R E T H A N P A I N |
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The monster was not truly abandoned, for unbeknownst to him, his brother had gone off in pursuit of him without a moment’s hesitation—only to find the boy on the brink of death. Self-administered wounds gouged his back, sending an endless stream of lifeblood flowing into the sands. Assuming himself to be hopelessly abandoned, the beast-child awaited only death and eventually thought perhaps his brother had come to perform the deed in a desperate act to reclaim his reputation amongst the gypsies.
But Skycat had other plans. He refused to kill him, claiming he could’ve done it himself long ago. This led to a spiral of thoughts and emotions through the boy as he suddenly wondered why he hadn’t killed himself sooner. The answer was soon found, surprisingly simple and clear. He was a coward. Wanting to prove to his father at the very least that he was wrong, the beast-child found hope deep within himself, from a boy not yet lost. Desires of death were soon quelled after that and his awful wounds healed by request. However, when the beast-child braced himself for the pain that would come from the purified aether, his own brother embraced it instead. Stole the agony from the boy and left him only with sensations of peace and comfort. The whole process was unsettling for the boy, watching the torment of his brother before his eyes and knowing it was his own. Somewhere amidst the process, however, the beast-child’s taint temporarily receded, exposing the original argent color of his eyes to the world.
Hope not yet lost, darkness not yet claimed. The little moon eclipsed by the clouds could still be saved. But all was not yet well. A shadow of horrid familiarity seeped unknowingly into their makeshift camp and presented the boy with items of the past. A sampling of grilled trout… and a music box that had not been claimed by the flames that had destroyed his home in La Noscea. Overcome by agonizing memories invoked by the sweetness of the music, the boy clasped quivering hands over his ears and begged for silence. Skycat slowly fulfilled his wish and sought to comfort the little moon, but something, someone else struck first.
The Reaper in all his wicked splendor appeared before them, with shadowed claws inside a brother’s chest to claim his partially crystallized heart. While a boy overcome with horror could only watch, The Reaper crooned to his beloved other half and playfully taunted both Skycat and the boy. The Voidsent knew he had the upper hand and delighted in the opportunity to toy with himself. And then, in the midst of it all, the unthinkable happened. The Reaper looked directly at the boy and told him to leave. Forever.
The boy shattered. Achingly gasped and staggered to his knees, but he did not run. He did not even try to, for he didn’t want to leave. His brother was dying, but the boy didn’t want to believe that leaving was the only way to save him. The Reaper was most amused at his rejection and tossed more hateful words upon him, only to be well-received by a demon.
The monster was unleashed and a short battle ensued to cut off The Reaper’s hand and free his brother from the Voidsent’s clutches. The Reaper then vanished with a chuckle, leaving the sun at the mercy of its harrowed moon. Skycat fought to come to terms with grievous internal wounds afflicted, whilst a maddened beast-child circled him with twisted amusement. Lost to the shadows once more, the demon shrieked at the sight of pure light that radiated from his brother in an effort to reclaim him, and attacked its source with desperation. Only to be outdone… by himself.
The boy suppressed his monster for the first time, empowered by the ultimate love of a brother and a real family. Skycat reunited with him, but light existed not without shadow, and The Reaper returned with Grim intent. He was soon foiled however, by pure aether that radiated from Skycat, and the brothers were left to themselves soon after. Blessedly alone.
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The Tribe of the Mole originated in La Noscea, where many of the beastkin, in which the Tribe was named after, resided. However, a subspecies of the mole migrated into Thanalan, after an unintentional stowaway was found upon a ship sailing to Ul'dah. This species, known as the Hedgemole, was adopted as the Tribe's beastkin. They are known to be aggressive and extremely territorial, which are the key traits of this particular Tribe.
NOTICE: This Tribe is no longer in effect, having been completely destroyed, and all information below is now considering OOC.
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Location: The Tribe resides in the southern part of Drybone, alarmingly close to the encampment of the Amalj'aa. Skirmishes are a common occurrence between them and other wandering Tribes. Due to their viciousness, however, more often than not is the Tribe of the Mole fearfully left alone.
Customs:
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Hierarchy: Note: These names are intended for OOC only. Please ask for further details, or if your player character is unintentionally listed. Nuhn:
Nuhn's Retainer:
Tias:
Breeding Females:
Other Details: Current Status: Extinct
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Characteristics: AGGRESSIVE. BRUTAL. TERRITORIAL. This particular Mole Tribe is bred for only one purpose: war. The Tias that make up most of its members are skilled warriors and are often involved in numerous skirmishes between neighboring Tribes--be it beast or man. Despite their relatively small size, they are quite savage.
Appearance: Since all males are bred for war, they are always seen wearing their armor. It is customary to don a steel-plated galerus over their upper body and some sort of armored leggings. Footwear is optional and it is not uncommon for members of this Tribe to go barefoot. One unique feature of their armor, in accordance with honoring the hedgemole, is spiked metal plates across their shoulders to represent the spine-backs of the beastkin. Females, on the other hand, are rather simple in their appearance. They wear loose-fitting shifts often in earthy colors to better camouflage themselves at a distance from predators trying to pinpoint their location. The young are also clothed in similar attire for the same purpose of protection. |
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Character Themes:
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Other Themes:
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Promises forged under the stars.
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The loyal guardian of Chip's camp!
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The ashes call our name...
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Meeeeboooooo
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Always...
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Our new home.
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Drawn by me.
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Drawn by me.
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Commission by Hithren
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CURRENT SERVER: Balmung
VOICE CLIP: Sample & Sample2 & Sample3 **please note that this is how he used to sound as Chip. His present voice is deeper and less "boyish".
CONTACT INFORMATION: I'm currently unable to RP in-game, but I do frequent Skype often! You can also reach me here: RPC Profile
PERSONAL RP LIMITS:
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PLEASE DO NOT COPY THIS LAYOUT WITHOUT FIRST CONTACTING ME. PLEASE ADD THE CREDIT PROVIDED. THIS IS NOT A FREE TEMPLATE AND PERMISSION IS REQUIRED BEFORE USAGE. |
