Glace Silencieuse
NOTE: It is important to note that, outside of a few Garlean contacts and anyone who might have been close to the Colossus development project, it is NOT known to the masses that Glace has Imperial ties. If you wish to use this morsel of information ICly, please find me in game and send me a /tell, or drop me a line on the RPC forums.
This page is a work in progress.
"I will steal the light from your eyes..." ~ Glace Silencieuse
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Note: As this character and its page are fleshed out more, more detail will be added. More or less just building the basics for now. There was once a child born to a Duskwight clan, somewhere within the cavernous depths around and beneath the Twelveswood, and when he arrived it was with a stillness which echoed the winter deep hush blanketing the lands above. Not once did the newborn boy cry, not a single sound even as a hand sharply struck his backside to force him to draw breath. Although alive, his mother's weakness was already settled well into his small body, and there was doubt as to whether or not he would survive but a few bells, a few suns, or succumb at once to the same thing which had just claimed she who had given birth to him. These were the first odds the boy, dubbed Glace, defied. A persistently depressed immune system meant he was sick more often than not, and these illnesses usually settled in his chest, making it difficult to breath and leaving him with a racking cough which took its toll on his voice even as he grew. This became something other Duskwight children teased him about, and this drove him further into silence and eventual self-imposed isolation as he grew. The Silent One was always off to the side, shunned by his peers when he was well enough to get up and move about, and left feeling like a burden to his remaining family when he wasn't. As nomads, they never would have been able to afford the treatments he needed, and so it seemed they never bothered to try. By the time Glace entered his ninth winter, his life had known very few changes. He occupied his time by playing with any cave creatures which happened near where he rested, his favorite being a bat which he often found clinging to the wall nearest his bed. But even this was taken from him by his sire who saw the creature for a mere pest, and something which might potentially exacerbate the boy's frailty. The creature was done in by a heavy tome thrown from across the cramped cavern space. It's a fine way to wake up, having a thick tome and a dead bat land on you in the middle of the night. It was about this time that the aether pocket the nomads had settled around had grown unstable, although few if anyone knows why. The clan had already been preparing to move on in search of another settlement when a distortion in the aether enabled the appearance of numerous Voidsent, and resulted in continuous clashes and slaughter. The clan even tried to use their own tomb within the caverns to seal the Voidsent away and buy themselves some time to escape, but the toll was already a heavy one. The injured and dead lay scattered and torn throughout the tunnels, and those that were able to escape were left with some difficult choices. They took little or nothing with them aside from the bare necessities for survival, and this included casting off anything which would slow them down. Thus was Glace also left behind by his sire, but not before the nomads reached the nearest outpost, where Black Brush now stands. Here, he was found by Conjurers who could do no more to help him than the clan which had just abandoned him. They could only sustain him and thus prolong his suffering. Having nowhere else to go, the Silent One continued to tick away his days and wonder when he would join his mother in Thal's realm, indulging a train of thought that no one his age should ever have to consider. Time passed slowly, but at least this time he had caretakers who were genuinely interested in seeing him well, regardless of how little they could actually do for him. He even borrowed some of their books on Conjury just to have something to pass the time more quickly, even if he never delved into its practices. His continued isolation meant that he would remain largely oblivious to the goings on of the outside world, though he did catch snippets and rumors from time to time as he eavesdropped on the mages and adventurers coming and going from Stillglade Fane. He was into his seventeenth winter by the time the Calamity loomed on the horizon, and word of Garlean encroachment at the borders became the talk of Gridania. Every day the fear and worry grew, and he would eventually see the wounded and dead being brought into the Fane, some to be buried and the rest to be healed if they could be. The sight of all this, somehow, hardly bothered him, but after the Voidsent attacked his clan, the sights and smells of death were nothing new. There was almost a sort of... nostalgia attached to the experience. At one point, the Fane was evacuated as a precaution. Not only were there Imperial soldiers marching through the Shroud, but they were accompanied by a handful of their death machines, and they drew ever closer to the city. Several lesser experienced Conjurers even thought it would be a good idea at the time to try and take some of their weakest patients out of the city and deeper into the wood. This ended up being a fatal mistake for many of them. With so many roads blocked or under surveillance, there were few routes of escape where individuals and clusters of people would go unnoticed. Upon inspection of the bodies of the Conjurers and their wards, Glace was found to still be alive. Glace drifted in and out of awareness, sometimes finding himself flat on his back on a cold slab with his arms restrained, and at other times racked head to toe with agony as if all seven Hells had infiltrated his body at the same time. There were people around who were unfamiliar, staring at him and watching, discussing things which he could barely even begin to comprehend. They spoke of injections, augmentations... Ceruleum, something he had only ever heard of perhaps twice in his young life. What did all of that have to do with him? Why did one of those people have a needle full of weirdly glowing blue substance? Why was his every nerve burning? As if his own constant illness wasn't enough, these strange people in white coats sought to inflict more pain upon him. How much time passed like this, Glace never bothered to try and guess. Days or weeks... perhaps months of finding himself in and out of this state and, eventually, there came the realization that his breathing had eased. His endless, racking cough had subsided and had even vanished. He had been so focused on what his captors were doing to him that he hadn't noticed until late one night as he lay awake, restless, and hungry on a bunk of an otherwise sparse room. It almost reminded him of the cavern in some distantly comforting way. Perhaps it was even a holding cell of some sort. A mask had also been placed over his face, he realized, and he noted that he wasn't alone in the room as he looked around. There were others slumped over, propped in corners, sprawled on the wonderfully cold floor... others like him. Others who had just been taken on a grand tour of the Hells and survived to walk out the other side. At first, the youth wasn't sure what to think. Aside from his sudden improved health, other changes had been made which took some time to not only discover, but to accept. His arms were bandaged wrist to elbow, both throbbing with intense pain as he flexed his limbs and fingers and felt something move beneath the surface of his skin. Something unnatural which shouldn't be there. He made the mistake of removing his mask and unwrapping one of his arms to more closely inspect what had been done, and as his hand curled closed something tore through the already healed flesh and struck him in the face. A blade bit hot and sharp into his brow and he soon felt his own blood crawl down his face and across his lips, and the hunger he had been feeling somehow pined for more of it. Thus did he receive his first scar, his taste for blood, and the realization that all of this recent agony served a single purpose: It had made him stronger, more of a whole than he had ever been at any time in his young life, and whatever other atrocities had been committed in his augmentation didn't matter. All of this pain was his weakness burning away, and he owed someone for such a glorious rebirth. And so Glace committed himself to the whims of those he viewed as his saviors - body, mind, and soul - and where one grew stronger, another developed flaws, and the third atrophied almost entirely. Someone finally wanted and needed him and had taken great care to cure him of his illness as no one else could, and in return, anything he could do to please his masters became his joy. The constant drilling, combat training, and adjustments to nutrient and chemical regimens sculpted him physically, packing on bulk and muscle he had never had before. The pain brought on by the implanted blades in his arms subsided to a point where they truly felt like a part of him, and extending and retracting these weapons felt no more unusual than the movements of his own muscles. And then, sooner or later came his introduction to Mother, and then the Calamity... (to be continued) Everyone has three faces. The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family. The third face, you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are. Frost may at first come across as reserved, possibly even abrasive, to those he's unfamiliar with. Physically, he expresses very little on the surface. As someone who is well aware of his own position and capabilities, he would much rather keep close personal ties to such a number that he can count them on one hand. Two, at most. When business matters arise, he tries to be somewhat more cordial yet still efficient in coming to an agreement on his contracts, execution, and delivery of whatever needs to be handled. "Rank only entitles one to obedience. Respect is earned. You can't stand there and insult your company members and expect them to respect you in return." In more private settings, those he takes into his confidence - and vice versa - meet a man who is quite a bit more personable than what might first be assumed. He has more than once tended the wounds of some of his comrades with all the care of an experienced field medic, or given advice on one situation or another (with the exception of anyone's love life, something he'll readily scoff at). Those closest to him might even find affectionate company, rare though it is. "...But you don't need a lecture from a drone." Inwardly, Frost is a man who utterly lacks the confidence he might display on the surface. On the battlefield or delving into his favored art of taxidermy are where he shines the most, but as grateful as he is to Garlemald for enabling him to live a full life, he's well aware that this means doing so at a distance from all but his fellow Colossus Project subjects. Althea's death because of his augmentations only cemented in his mind that bringing anyone too close means harming them, or worse. Years worth of living at the orders of his superiors also means he has no sense of personal initiative or willingness to direct others in any sort of leadership position.
"I am here."
"Still not sure what the Hells' is wrong with you, woman..."
"Thank you, I mean that. Let's get this over with so we can all go home."
"If Mother is unhappy, then no one is happy..."
"A few teeth? That's all? Just let the whole damn beast rot, what a waste. Well, if you don't want the extra gil that could come from dressing and selling the thing, that's fine with me. More in my pocket."
"Stay on your guard. And damnit, make sure she is safe... for both of us."
"Keep an eye on Lightning Spear. If you can't help him, then come home. We need you more than he does."
"Dear, sweet sister. I will let no harm come to you, not from within the ranks, nor without."
"Probably should have killed him then and there and made a meal out of his entrails, but I want to play with him some more."
"Hug me and I will stab you."
"Am I being too nice?"
"I think we know who gets to carve the Starlight roast this winter." Common Rumors
Moderate Rumors
Rare Rumors
PC Rumors
IC Quotes
Trivia
Note: None of these are in chronological order as to when they occurred. At this time, they are only in order of when they were written.
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