Character Sheets

[Tiko]

This thread will serve as a place to post character sheets for both player characters and NPCs throughout the setting. We have no set guidelines for character sheets and people are as welcome to put as much or as little (within reason) as they would like. You may use whatever formatting and/or outlines that you wish. You may put all of your characters into a single post, or make separate posts for each of your characters.

For new players looking to join, please PM your character to me directly for review before adding it to this thread. Thank you!

 

[Dashmiel]

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Name: Ragenard Guiscard
(Pronounced: /rɑʒənaʁ/, Rah-zhuh-nahr)

Species: Corrupted Issunar Werewolf (Fae Cursed High-Virulence RNA Strain)
Issunar Krsnk (Dormant)

Age: 84

Nationality: Lutetian (Born), Iverian (Marriage Naturalization)


Physical Characteristics:

Human Form:
Height: 7'1" (216 cm)
Weight: 383 lbs (174 kg)

Werewolf Form (Current Mutation)

Height: 10'3" (314 cm)
Weight: 1,195 lbs

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The Man

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Standing at seven feet tall, gaunt of face, and broad shouldered, Ragenard is a physically imposing man. His well muscled physique—borne of a hard lifestyle and enhanced by the beasts within—is thoroughly crisscrossed by the scars of a hard upbringing and a misspent youth. Each one a precious reminder of the dues he needs to pay to exist, and reminders of the fact that no new scars have been able to form in decades are a sure fire way to become an attempt at forming new scars by Ragenard.

While at first glance a brute, it wouldn't take long for an observer to notice the cunning intelligence behind his hazel eyed gaze. A spark of wit and problem solving that is worse than utterly wasted in this criminal life; it is useful and more effective than base low cunning. The realization that to be in Ragenard's gaze is to be seen, can be gleamed right from his observation of the observer. The worn-in laugh lines on his face however, would indicate that despite a near constant scowling visage and sour demeanor, at some point in his life the man knew how to laugh.

The Beast

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Standing slightly north of ten feet tall when on it's hind legs and weighing in at nearly 1,200 lbs, the current mutation of Ragenard's inner wolf can be aptly described as a "black-furred monstrosity". Of an unnatural morphology, bipedal, grotesquely muscled with claws the size of a man's hands and teeth the size of the same's fingers; one could almost be forgiven from giving in to the instinct to take flight when faced with such a monster in a dark alley. At least up until the point where the realization sinks in that the large beast giving chase is not of the lumbering persuasion.

Raging at the memories of a more agile past; by intensely abusing it's prodigious strength, stamina, and superlative regeneration ability, Ragenard's wolf form is capable of feats of speed and athleticism that simply stagger the imagination of those witnessing such from the hulking monster—although some would contend that it is more the blase approach of pushing bone and sinew to it's breaking point repeatedly that do the staggering.

Of particular note is the sheer scale of the beast's power of regeneration, a force so far removed from the norm of it's kind as to label him a monster unto itself. A direct consequence of "the event" upon his physiology decades ago, when his already prodigious natural ability to heal was taxed beyond it's breaking point and circumstances crashed into his body to change it forever.

Ragenard's regenerative abilities can be more accurately measured not against others of his kind, but held in comparison to some of the more ancient examples of his most detested enemies, vampires. One of which found it's accursed blood forever mingled with the man's own innate engine of predatory evolution and further mixed in with a good dose of Fae hexing to form the steadily changing monster he is now, and whose rage may have no horizon.

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Loud, forceful, quick to anger; all of these things can be said to describe Ragenard's demeanor, but it would be an injustice to limit the man to just that. Beneath the quick-fire facade born and nurtured by his harsh upbringing as a child in the environment of Lutetia's criminal underbelly lies a deeply layered psyche that often finds itself at odds with the world around him.

Not one to know how to show affection without feeling the vulnerability of the act, Ragenard usually keeps friends and family at bay. However, those who know him best know that it is not his gruff words that define his level of caring, but his actions, which are always quick to turn—if brusquely—towards the aid of those he holds close.

Stoic or wrathful may be his most common states of being in public, but privately Ragenard is prone to long bouts of self-deprecation and self-imposed anguish as he battles with the demons of his checkered past, questions the path of his present, and grips with the reality that his future may never answer the question of whether or not he is a man or a monster.

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Ragenard's most prized possession is the enchanted blade given unto his safekeeping by his adoptive "fairy" godmother, The Morrigan, Phantom Queen of the Iverian pantheon of gods. After a series of convoluted events involving Ragenard's rescue attempt of his druid wife from the clutches of a corrupted Fae lord turned vampiric menace—which culminated with Ragenard failing to save his wife but rescuing The Morrigan instead—she bequeathed to him the sword, Fragarach, The Answerer. Previously belonging to Manannán mac Lir whose corruption first began the whole affair, Fragarach is a powerful magical artifact that over the long centuries is finally close to finding itself in worthy hands. Mostly anyhow; Ragenard is not known for his patience at book learning it's finer intricacies and history.

Deceptively light on adornment, Fragarach is a guard-less leaf shaped sword, crafted of what appears to be bronze. The edge of the blade appears blunted, and it's hilt is made out of carved wood from the forests of Tir Na Nog.

Fragarach's abilities include: the power to cut through any mundane object, the ability to summon and control the winds, and the power of compulsion to one held at it's point. It also holds the ability to cut rifts across realms, but this usually requires that the wielder know exactly what they're doing, which Ragenard can only marginally manage with the utmost concentration.












His second most prized possession is the baldric he uses to carry his armament around in. Using all of his cut from his first teen-aged excursion into heavy gun trafficking, he had a very anachronistic looking black leather baldric tailored to his fit at the fanciest Lutetian tailor his money could afford. Being from the poor part of town, this tailor was not very good, and the thing would keep dropping his guns and cigarettes whenever he had to go on the run from the LCPD. So he pooled his money from the next few big felonies and whatever wasn't drunk or smoked he used to pay a good witch to enchant the thing.

Baldric's abilities: It always fits, even through the monstrous growth his body has undergone since he was 16. Anything he attunes to it—but not the baldric itself—can be tracked back to it's rightful place it as long as it's within the same realm as the baldric; If within 30 feet and his line of sight, it'll do the cool request Ragenard made to the witch of swooshing through the air , if not, Ragenard will feel an inkling of the direction the item is in. It can also be made to appear invisible itself (Ragenard could not afford for it to make him invisible too) along with anything it holds.

In addition to these magical goodies, Ragenard's something of an amateur gunsmith, which is perhaps the one skill his Father would probably find some pride in him for. His current favorite piece to use is a revolving hand-cannon made to shoot a variety of 8 ga. shotgun shells. The gun boasts an impractical recoil that would probably render it useless if the user wasn't actually an over-sized were-monster.

 

[Tiko]

Name: James Guiscard
Alias: Baron
Age: 86
Species: Werewolf
Family: Ragenard Guiscard (brother), Gage Guiscard (son)
Pack Role: Sergeant at Arms

James was the fourth generation of Guiscard to serve as Pack Leader of the Bloodstone pack. He took up the name 'Baron' two years into his new position and held the pack for eight years.

Unlike many old-school Lutetian packs, Baron was known for taking in 'mutts' - werewolves who contracted lycanthropy via bites - which served to swell his numbers to a respectable size. Given that this practice is typically more common in smaller and younger packs looking to scrape a semblance of security through numbers, it has given the Bloodstones something of a ragtag reputation in recent years, but it hasn't shaken their hold over the streets of Lupaix.

Baron strove to maintain a balance of morality and freedom in the running of the Bloodstone pack, and though he - and those of his pack - are far from upstanding, law-abiding citizens, the Bloodstone pack has been largely devoid of involvement in organized crime for the past eight years. This is a far shift from its history of gun and drug trafficking that it maintained during the leadership of Baron's father. However, this shift away from its former ventures left the pack vulnerable to a conflict it was no longer prepared for, as some feuds and old enemies are never truly left behind.


Baron boasts the rare ability of instant regeneration, capable of mending most wounds as quickly as they're dealt. This impressive healing ability has proven to extend to his body's natural ability to repair itself even from the effects of aging. At 82 years of age, Baron still looks to be in the prime of his life.

In stark contrast to his body's ability to repair itself, Baron also suffers from a severe genetic flaw. Though a closely guarded secret for many years, Baron, as his father before him, suffers from an exceptionally rare but severe allergy to silver that is capable of disrupting his body's natural healing capabilities.

With the recent discovery of Baron's life-threatening condition by a rival pack and slow recovery after a near-fatal ambush at the hands of the Scions of Aodhan, his brother Ragenard is left to take on the mantle of Pack Leader.

 

[Faithy]

Daughter of Jacques Chevrier [Deceased]
Bloodstone Pack
Citizen of the Lutetian City State of Issunar​

Name: Aimée Chevrier
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Species: Werewolf
Appearance:
Her hair is a silky smooth dark shade of black that hangs down loosely in layers her rear end. The sides of her hair feather down around her dimple induced cheeks, while her bangs cover her forehead and extend beyond her eyes. The light dusting of freckles beneath her eyes as well as across her nose, gives her a more youthful appearance, which she often uses to her advantage. Her eyes are two pools of Prussian blue medium shaped ovals that when stared at long enough, give off the sensation of drowning in a deep lake. Her eyelashes extenuate her eyes, giving her a wide innocent look that is used to draw in the unsuspecting as a defense. Despite the four-inch scar along the left side of her ribs, her tanned skin is the perfect shade that most teenagers want. It is neither too dark nor is it too white. A new and very much unwanted addition to her otherwise flawless face are now healed claw scars thanks to the Scion bitch Sasha. A reminder of her naviety and rash behavior. As always, still not used to the scars given to her, Aimée made sure that her black hair covered the right side of her face so that only one blue eye was peeking out.

More ought than naught, Aimée wears nothing other than ribbed wife beater tanks or spaghetti strapped short tanks. Along with the tanks, she either wears shorts, regular low rise, hip hugger jeans or hip hugger cargo pants, depending on her mood. The jacket she most often wears is metallic blue, which has tons of inner pockets to hide different items including weapons, if necessary. She wears black or red skintight boots that have a rugged non-slip 2+-wedge platform outsole. The boots lace up the front and stop mid-shin. She also wears what's in the picture.
Accessories: Aimée wears a purple and black butterfly choker around her neck that matches the tattoo on her ankle, a silver bracelet with a small watch, and has a pair of square wire framed sunglasses with red lenses. She also has what's shown in the picture.

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Name: Alysa Jayse
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Species: Werewolf
Pack: The Scions of Aodhan

Physical Description: Beautiful emerald eyes peer intently out between elongated lashes, which begin black but as they extend out, lighten to a reddish shade. Strands of faintly wavy crimson locks flutter against the sides of her pale face, the rest spreading out across her shoulders in order to rest against her lower back. Even if one were to look closely, not a single imperfection could be seen anywhere on her flesh, save the sporadically placed freckles across her nose. Of course, that didn’t mean she was without scars, because that wasn’t true, but her face had none, though her arms had a few from fights with strangers in the street. Her lips are full, pouty and beautifully sculpted. At first impression, the very young looking female would appear too dainty to be a fighter. Every curve and strategically placed body part is there for a reason and she uses her looks as a deceiver. Beneath the feminine flesh reins a beast that’s waiting patiently to be unleashed, literally. Though she doesn’t have bulky muscles, every inch of her is toned.

On normal occasions she often wears a black shirt. The front closes with a silver zipper that runs from the very bottom to the top. Beneath the shirt is a pair of shorts that goes down a little past the shirt. She alternates the shorts with a pair of jeans, which flaunt her luscious curves. Finishing out the outfit is a pair of black thigh high boots with five inch chunky heels that show off just how long and toned her legs truly are. When she’s wearing her jeans, she also wears a body fitting armor that although looks thin, it is very durable and can withstand a lot.

She has a butterfly tattoo on the right side of her waist. The butterfly colors consist of reddish-pink, blue, light blue, black, purple and light purple.

Personality: Due to her childhood, Alysa can be quite aloof towards strangers, especially those that portray an abusive trait. That isn't to say that she's a frightened individual because there are times when she is quite sarcastic and upon occasion has spoken without thinking, both traits getting her into trouble more than once. She's carefree when with Caitia, the two best buds despite their different upbringing and status quo.

History:

Since the moment Alysa was born, her father Markus constantly told her that she was a massive mistake. He oozed with distain towards her and she lost count of the number of times he attempted to assassinate her. Juliana, her mother was the only caring immediate family member she had. If she was a mistake, Juliana never mentioned it. In fact, whenever Markus spoke against Alysa, her mother faced his wrath and rebutted him. Of course, this made the controlling man rather pissed off and ultimately led to Juliana’s downfall. The jerk hired a hit man to kill the two females in his life, but the idiot wasn’t a professional. Instead of hitting either one, he nailed one of the servants in the head. The poor man was found floating in a nearby lake, his body missing important pieces. The next assassin that was hired was an expert marksman and though he missed Alysa, her mother wasn’t as lucky.

A year after her mother was killed, when Alysa was five, her father was also attacked in the home and slaughtered while she was away at a friend’s house. Every night around eight O’clock he settled himself down in the den, drank many glasses of his own special formula while his hired prostitutes would pleasure him on his command. Around midnight, he would be passed out drunk and the girls would be long gone, each locating a servant to cure their horny bodies. Someone else had been paying attention to his routine and after he was alone, they crept into the house. To keep him from moving, the stranger tied his wrists and ankles to the bedposts, using his own belts in addition to giving him something to suppress the ability to shift. Once confident that he was secure, the attacker gagged his mouth with a pillow case. Knowing that it would be more satisfactory for him if he was awake, he slapped him until Markus struggled to open his eyes. A number of emotions slid across his eyes, easily read by the assassin. This of course pleased the sadist immensely. When he realized he was tied down and gagged, the verbally abusive male used all of his strength to try and break free. He quickly found out that he couldn’t and though he didn’t quit immediately, it was obvious in his facial expression that he knew he was doomed.

Picking up a dagger from the nightstand, the unknown male traced it down Markus’ neck. His discomfort made a sinister grin appear upon his face and without warning; he cut open his shirt, exposing his muscled chest. The edge of the weapon pressed against him, the tip beginning just below his throat. Before he could even scream, the male had forced the blade through his skin and flesh, forcing the thing as deep as he could while cutting down to his navel. Blood and guts spewed from the wound, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. The killer was soon making deep gashes on his arms, legs, and sides, ignoring his muffled screaming. The more he cut, the more Markus shouted and begged for him to stop. The sheets, floor, and of course the masked male’s clothing was covered in crimson goodness. Yanking so that his guts were spewed outside of his body, the assassin moved back to his chest. Re-positioning the knife above his heart, the sadist made a crude circle and cut out the flesh to get down to his ribcage before breaking the bones in his way. Reaching down, he yanked it out, holding it in his hand for a brief second. Sneering at his dying form, the death dealer slammed the heart down to the ground, smashing it with a chair.

Once satisfied the beast wasn’t going to return to life, the assassin left the way he came, leaving a grisly crime scene.

Due to the amount of hatred Markus received, no one checked on him in the morning and it was Alysa that found his corpse. After calling the police, she packed a bag and ran away, scared that she would be thrown into an orphanage or slaughtered due to what she was. Not to mention being afraid that the killer would come back for her. She felt no sadness for the loss of her father, only fear that the same thing would happen to her. It was around that time that she was found by the Scions and instead of killed, was taken into their pack to be raised with them. Some she ran with the pack, she managed to fuck up everything she had been ordered to do. Accidentally killing her best friend while trying to turn her, Alysa really started to spiral. Her last act of defiance came when she disobeyed Jason by leaving her post to go gallivanting with a hunk of a man named Sebastion who had ties to the pack in some manner than the redhead didn't really pay attention to. She wound up having a one night stand prior to Jason locating her again...

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Name: Jimmy Ó’Suaird
Age: 23
Sex: Male

Appearance: Though Jimmy was a blonde from the moment he was yanked from his mother’s womb, the shade lasted only a few years. As he grew older, the ebony color of his hair seemed to match the mysterious persona that surrounded him at all time. Golden eyes shone even in the darkest of nights, though most of the time his eyes were hidden beneath unruly bangs that never could be tamed. Parts of his locks rested against the back of his neck, about his shoulders. Standing at 6 feet exactly, he weighs in about 165 pounds, the majority of that muscle mass.

History: Jimmy was born to Nicole and James Ó’Suaird on May 19th during one of the worst storms known to man. His mother died during childbirth and his father decided the best option would be to let his relatives raise him. He was treated less than by them and was kept in the attic while his cousins had the best life. Left to his own devices, he didn't even bother going to his father, because the hoity-toity male was far too busy with keeping up appearances. So, Jimmy turned to less savory activities to keep him busy. It didn't take him long to get good at what he did, but things were about to take a turn for the strange. While jamming out in a fairly busy park with a few fellow delinquents, Jimmy spotted his father acting weird. As he moved towards him and questioned if he was okay...

“Father, are you sick? What’s going on? Why are you here?” To the point and maybe a little blunt, but Jimmy didn’t want to let this carry on forever. The sooner he was yelled at; the sooner he could return to hhis friends

“I am not sure, Jim. I just wanted to come see you, felt it was important.” James paused and glanced at his arm before showing his son the bite. “A huge dog bit me a while back, but now I am wondering if it was something else.

“…A werewolf?” Jimmy whispered, frowning at the sight of the bite, his expression deepening when his father just nodded.

“Have you gone to the doctor?” Jim almost reached out to touch him, but something kept him from following through with the motion.

“Of course not! What a stupid question.” There it was, the snarky tone that Jim had been told about. James looked at his son with immense distain before he looked over at the other delinquents, the group just watching them with faint interest.

"You should, father. This isn't just a cold!" Jimmy tried again and beat his head against his head as the older Ó’Suaird stormed off. It was fucking pointless! Walking back to the others, he shrugged off their questions. Fuck his father.

Having waited almost two weeks before going to see his father, Jimmy let himself into the house and searched for James. He soon found the male in the backyard, the male staring at nothing in particular. Hesitating, he looked toward a nearby park before looking back to his father.

"...father...?"

Seeming to vaguely hear his son, James shook his head, grimacing before leaning forward, throwing up all over the place. Jimmy stepped back, alarm on his face. His golden eyes widened when his father stumbled backwards from the vomit, sweat pouring down his face. What happened next was a flurry of events and it occurred in a matter of seconds. One moment his father was dressed and standing up completely normal save for the excess sweat and the next, he was ripping off his clothing. The sound of bones popping in and out of place while the man before him changed into something entirely different echoed in Jimmy’s ears. Clenching his eyes closed, no longer wanting to witness the monstrosity act happening before him, the male felt his stomach clenching up. Thank goodness he didn’t eat that morning. Snapping his eyes back open at the sound of a growl, Jimmy stared at the furry creature in disbelief.

“Father…?” He started to say more just as the man lunged at him, the two going down hard against the ground. Grunting as the air was knocked out of him, Jimmy barely managed to bring his arm up in time to protect his face from claws raking down, the sharp things cutting easily through his exposed flesh, especially since he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He prepared himself for another attack and rightfully so, because seconds later, the beast bit down on his still outstretched arm. As he was hissing in pain, he noticed James was bounding away from him. Leaping to his feet, the young male rushed after his father, ignoring his arm for the moment.

Clearing the fence that separated his home from the park, James lunged at an unsuspecting female, maw digging into her stomach while his front and back claws sank into her soft body. Sensing someone nearing him, he snapped his head up, bringing out entrails with him before leaping at a man attempting to grab a hold of him. The arm that had been reaching out towards him was snapped down upon and the werewolf shook his head violently from side to side in order to rip the appendage off. He spat it out and swiped across the gentleman’s groin, knocking him down. Latching onto the male’s throat, he bit down hard, shredding it in order to jerk out the jugular. Blood coated his fur as he surged towards a group of children, intending on ripping them all into pieces...

He had been shot in cold blood by a passerby and Jimmy managed to escape during the chaos. He had no one to turn to and somehow managed to get through the change without developing Lunentia unlike his father. But, now he was even more alone and lashed out at the injustice of life by causing more shenanigans.

 

[Knosis]

Chloe Sandara

Physical Description:
Sex: F
Werewolf
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 130
Hair: Auburn/Red.
Eyes: Emerald Green
Skin: Fair
Other: She a scar on her neck in the shape of claw marks.

Chloe was once a good investigator, until the accident. She's now moved to start her life over in a new city.



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Sheelagh 'Skye' Laighléis
Age: She won't say.
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Sky blue
Skin tone: Fair
Notable Markings: She has several tattoos
Species: Iverian Werewolf
Languages: Common, Iverian, Luteian
Occupation: Punk Rocker
Silver Allergy: No
Regeneration: Yes

Skye is always doing one of three things: Singing, drinking, or sleeping. She lives life easy, and is always the optimistic about things. She has the patience of a saint, but once her fuse has gone off, she will rip you a new one. She usually tries for peace over war, but if pushed she is a decent melee fighter. Extremely close to her cousins Desmond and Brendan and sometimes overly protective of the two of them.




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Name: Broch Asvaldr
Age: Deceased...?
Race/Infliction : Human/Were-Badger
Height: 6’ 3”
Weight: 330 lbs

Were-Badger Infliction - Were-Badgers are generally huge when transformed into the ‘were’ state (6-7 foot average, though some have been larger or smaller in general. Size does not matter. Badger don’t give a fuck.), and several hundreds of pounds. (Mass muscles and thick layers of skin, average probably around 1k, variant on weight and shape of were-badger.) Most commonly recognized by their weasel-like appearance, grey/black/brown/white fur, and commonly the white stripe down their backs. Were-badgers are very poison/toxin/steroid resistant(Cause badger don’t give a fuck.) They have extremely thick hide. Some attacks will just bounce off the hide. A common trait is fairly decent regeneration, however most must sleep it out in order to regenerate. The average lifespan is 400-500 years, though some say the only way a were-badger can die is if you can kill one. Are known to have short tempers if provoked. Were-badger’s typically mate instead of biting new were-badgers. Bites from were-badgers have an increased mortality rate, most do not survive the transformation. Territorial, were-badgers typically only associate with small family groups(3-4, mate and children).

Broch Asvaldr’s Were-Badger Traits:

Poison/Toxin/Steroid Resistant
Vampire Bite Reaction Tolerance(Has built up an immunity)
Regeneration(Must sleep it out.)
Size: 8’ 9”
Weight: 1219lbs
Bi-Pedaled

History: Broch was originally a bounty hunter from the Northlands. When he was fresh to the group of bounty hunters, Broch was recognized as a natural fighter and a gifted tracker. His group took up a job to bring in a wanted vampire that was last seen in Iveria. There, local vampires convinced the group that they could help. Unfortunately, a trap was laid for them instead. Near dead, Broch was able to escape. He swore for then on that he would hunt the vampire race to extinction. Having joined the Bloodstone pack in order to help with the vampires, Broch was felled in battle.



Sebastion Beaumont

Age: 53
Race/Infliction: Human/werewolf
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 200lbs
Silver Allergy: Major
Regeneration: Yes
Pack: Had some associations with Scions but was not part.


Son of the pureblood family Beaumont, he was born into a wealthy life and, being first born, he would have had everything promised to him. But his existence was anything but extravagant. Instead, he was born with the family curse. Though his father hated him for the monster he was, keeping the family appearances won out as Sebastion seemed to have quite a way with people. He was used as a pawn, abused and hated most of his life.

 

[Jas]

Margot Aedui
Age: 19
Species: Iverian Werewolf
Talents: Self-taught Magus
Languages: Common, Iverian
Occupation: None
Silver Allergy: Yes
Regeneration: Yes
Pack: None

Physical Description​

In her human form, Margot is a young woman, 19, and her bronze skin is covered with bite and claw scars. Her cute face is remarkably unmarred, save a single scar from just under her left eye down her cheek to her chin, which looks deliberate. Above the scar, a pair of large, emerald eyes seem to take in everything around her with a sense of wonder. Her shock of auburn hair is streaked with bright red, and she usually keeps it barely contained in a bushy ponytail. Overall she is fairly scrawny, especially for a werewolf, but rather tall, coming in around 6'1" and about 180 pounds.

In her bipedal wolf form, she does not grow in height, though she does pack on some extra muscle. Her fur bears the same auburn-and-red coloration of her hair. People familiar with werewolves would notice there appears to be a level of measured intelligence behind those green eyes that most bipedal forms would struggle to exhibit even in their human forms.

Magic​

Margot does not have a formal education in magic, and as such she does not know a plethora of spells. The book that she learned her magic from was a primer that first-year magic students would have gotten, and it focused on the basics:

• Object Manipulation: Margot can cause an object to move through the air, teleport from one place to another, go invisible, and other such things. The bigger the object, the more draining it is.
• Transmutation: With transmutation, Margot can change the properties of an object, adding or taking away traits at will. For instance, she might make a feather as heavy as lead or embrittle the steel in a gun's chamber such that it explodes when fired. Again the bigger the object, the more draining it is.
• Evocation: The book talked about channeling all the elemental forces, but Margot found herself to be particularly adept at wielding flame. Lighting a fire in a stove or campfire is essentially free, but creating a gout of flame or detonating an explosion are much more difficult. The bigger the flame, the more draining it is. She is also able to channel the other elements, but the less fire-like the element is, the more draining it is. For instance, channeling lightning is easier than frost.
• Grafting: In her wolf form, Margot has been able to apply transmutation and evocation to her own lupine body, essentially allowing effects such as explosive bites, magically-enhanced speed, or hardened claws. Her body is on the weak side (for a wolf), but can be an effective combatant through self-augmentation. She can tell that it's possible to do this in her human form as well, but she has yet to have a successful attempt.

While transformed, her affinity for magic grows considerably. For the same amount of energy drain, she can muster effects approximately twice as strong in her lupine form as her human form. Further, Margot has learned to combine these principles in some interesting ways, so while she may not know how to cast spells in the traditional sense, she is able to produce some powerful magical effects. She's also always on the lookout for more arcane knowledge, which may expand her skillset.

History​

The Aedui clan was very powerful centuries ago, but unlike many other clans in Iveria, when the wolves were recognized as a sentient race, the Aedui refused to come into the fold. Instead, they chose to stay out in the wilds, hunting and leading a simple life, mostly away from the influences of humans in their cities. Over time, the name was largely forgotten, though if one were to search the annals of some libraries, their name would show up in a historical context, influencing warfare throughout history.

Now, the entire clan has diminished to a single tribe of a dozen or so families. They still embraced the ways of the past and rejected the influence of human culture. Mostly. Well, all but one.

Margot Aedui never quite fit in. Sure, she was a wolf, and she was taught to hone her body and senses for the hunt. However, unlike everyone else in her clan, she was unable to fully shift into a quadrupedal form, instead developing . Her parents, ashamed of this, made her practice every day for hours, sparring with her brothers and sisters, to attempt to force a full transformation, but she was never able. Despite this rather harsh treatment, she loved her family, but she couldn't participate in hunts the way the rest of the tribe were. As such, she spent a lot of time alone, often adopting her human form when she was alone.

Wandering the wilds in her human form, she ended up finding humans travelling across Iveria. And some of them would take pity on her, assuming her to be an impoverished child. They'd give her sweets, tell her stories, and even invited her to come along with their caravans in some cases. One particularly kind merchant who was called Jacques gave her a book when she was 6, and helped her to sound out the words. She read that book many times, and kept it as a treasure.

Jacques seemed to travel in her direction relatively infrequently, but Margot did see him several times, and each time he would gift her a new book. One such book was a textbook, worn and likely discarded from whatever school it was from. Within, there were equations and rituals for casting spells. Margot immediately set about deciphering its secrets.

And secrets they were, because Margot kept the human books squirreled away from her parents' eyes. If they caught her with them, there would probably be a fight and they would certainly be destroyed. And so, she practiced when no one else was watching. There's only so much that can be learned from a book alone, but she was able to master some simple spells, though a learned caster would probably easily identify faults in her form and pronunciation of the verbal components of the spells. She practiced them to master them in her human form, and then tried again in her hybrid form and found she was able to cast them as well, and the ones that were meant to damage things seemed to do so even more than when in human form. Margot didn't understand why, but she found it fascinating nonetheless.

When Margot had learned everything there was to learn from the tome, she decided she needed to find more. For the first time, she walked among her people as a human, doffing her hybridized bipedal wolf form. She wore tatters for clothing, and tied her bushy red hair back into a ponytail. She had a small satchel which contained her books, and she announced that she was going to Lutetia City to learn more about the wolves there. There was truth to that, of course; she had always wondered how they lived. But really she was going to learn more about the world, and about magic.

It was unheard of for a wolf to willingly leave the pack, but many of the elders viewed her as a source of shame anyway. Her parents disowned her, marking her face with a single claw, but they did not stop her. Now a lone wolf, Margot embarked on her journey to Lutetia City, with bright eyes hope for something better.

 

[Script]

Name: Benjamin Jacobs
Nickname: Lark
Age: 24
Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him
Species: Werewolf (Turned)
Orientation: Gay
Race/Nationality: Lutetian
Occupation: Mechanic
Affiliation: Bloodstones

Regeneration: No
Silver Allergy: No

Appearance: Lark is a good looking guy - he has a strong jawline, good cheekbones, and an infectious smile. His dirty-blonde hair is usually styled haphazardly by running his hand through it a few times with some product, and he keeps it on the longer side of short. His eyes are hazel, verging on amber, and betray an intensity that his outwardly jovial demeanor hides. He stands at a middling height of 5' 9", and has the athletic build of a guy that does a lot of running, climbing, and fighting.

Personality: For the most part, Lark is - as his nickname suggests - in it for a good time. He's all smiles, jokes (mostly bad ones) and positivity, and hates little more than getting stuck in a rut of feeling sorry for himself. His way of coping with his problems is generally to say 'fuck it', and then probably get drunk and have a good time. Life hasn't dealt him the best hand, but his perspective is: "you can cry over it, or you can get the fuck on and live your life". Despite what can come across as a feckless attitude, Lark is a supportive friend, and tries to use his positive presence to keep his friends and packmates from getting bogged down in the ways life is cruel to them. He has a hard time not speaking his mind when he wants to, whether it's appropriate or not, and while he generally doesn't give a shit about people insulting him, he has very little patience with anyone giving his friends a hard time, and can fly off the handle pretty quickly depending on how much drink he has in him. This only stems out of a protective nature, and while he plays the part of laid-back and relaxed, he'll go through hell and high water for his loved ones if it comes to it.

Bio: Lark comes from a single-parent household, living with his deadbeat mother in government-owned housing in the Inner City. He's forever grateful for being an only child, since his mother did such a piss-poor job of raising him, it would only have been twice as bad if there was another kid for her to do her best to fuck up the life of. Thankfully for him, throughout his childhood he had the support of a kind family of immigrants who lived next door to him. The mother of the family - Aminah - always made sure he was fed, and that her son Samir (a few years his senior) walked with him to school. It was with their help that he turned out 'alright', in his estimation, instilling in him a sense of optimism and kindness that sticks with him to this day.

When he was in his mid teens, his neighbours were found out by the authorities and deported, leaving him bereaved of his closest family and having to take care of his mom alone, while she only accrued debt and became more and more dependent on substances as time went by. He might still have managed to escape his circumstances on a football scholarship if not for running afoul of a werewolf attack, causing him to turn and immediately get kicked out of school at sixteen. He fell in with a few different groups after that, before landing with the Bloodstones around two years down the line.

Relationships:

• AJ (childhood acquaintance): AJ grew up in the same neighbourhood as Lark, and they occasionally bumped into each other at school or out and about. Lark initially found the mouthy younger boy annoying, but came to realise that his homelife was likely to blame for the way he acted after witnessing an altercation between him and his stepbrother. He made attempts after that to befriend him, but never made much progress before his affliction gave him other things to worry about. After later finding out that AJ had been afflicted as well, he tried to reach out to him again, only to be met with similar antagonism to before.

____________________________________

Name: Adrian Jameson
Nickname: AJ
Age: 21
Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him
Species: Werewolf (Turned)
Orientation: Bi
Race/Nationality: Lutetian/Iverian
Occupation: Drug Dealer
Affiliation: [other pack name here]

Regeneration: No
Silver Allergy: No

Appearance: AJ has a relatively skinny build, and stands at a fairly average 5'8" tall. His features are slightly angular and retain a certain boyishness to them, accentuated by his floppy red-brown hair. His green eyes usually hold a spark of mischief - or sometimes malice - made all the more prominent by what some would describe as a semi-permanent smug grin that mars an otherwise attractive face.

Personality: Seen by some of his packmates as little more than an irritating smug little shit, AJ is a never-ending fountain of bad jokes, snark, and snide comments. Undeniably witty, AJ's problem is that he seldom knows where to draw the line - or more accurately, he doesn't care. Despite his tendency for running his mouth more than is advisable, AJ is cunning - there's a reason he's survived this long despite his tendency for pissing people off. Beneath the layers of snark, smugness and feckless disregard for others, AJ is a frustrated youth who's only ever experienced relationships that are conditional or destructive, and assumes any kindness shown to him comes with a catch. He feels victimised by his lycanthrope affliction and the impact it's had on his life, and lashes out at the world in response. His struggle to form genuine emotional connections leaves him feeling isolated even amongst 'friends', and he leans on his confident, mocking persona as well as substance abuse as a crutch to keep himself afloat.

Bio: AJ was raised by his step-dad, after his mom skipped town when he was six to try and escape the debt she was in with local drug-dealers. When the same dealers came after their family for the missing money, AJ's older step-brothers took out their anger at his mother on him. His early years were, consequently, rife with bullying and beatings. A scrawny kid, AJ learned to fight back the only way he could: with his tongue, mouthing off at his tormentors at every opportunity, since they were going to beat him up anyway. By the time he started high-school, scathing snark was his default response to most people, including the teachers. This attitude earned him some shallow friendships, but also kept people at arm's length, since he oozed insincerity with every word. He became something of a verbal bully, mocking anyone who 'slipped up' relentlessly, and reveling in the laughter he got in return. He learned that putting people down made you feel like you were better them, and if you made people laugh at the same time, it earned you popularity.

He was bitten when he was fifteen, and after just barely surviving his first shift, he was immediately kicked out of the house by his step-dad, who wanted nothing to do with a "filthy mutt". AJ is fairly sure that it was just a convenient excuse to do something he'd wanted to do for a long time. Left at a loose end with nowhere else to go, he ended up falling in with the first pack to take him in -- one of the largest drug-dealing gangs in the city.

While his wit and snark are appreciated by some of his pack, the majority find him insufferably mouthy and irritating, and he himself is quietly uncomfortable with some of the more grim and exploitative business the pack are involved in. Unfortunately for him, his pack's leader is a terrifying man who doesn't tolerate "traitors" or "deserters" - which in his eyes includes anyone who wants to leave, for any reason. Too much of a coward to risk angering him, AJ is effectively stuck with the pack, and just tries to do his best to skate by without getting his hands too dirty.

Relationships:

• Lark (childhood acquaintance): To AJ, Lark was a do-gooder kid from the neighbourhood who stuck his nose in where it didn't belong and made trouble for him in the process. Lark doesn't make any sense to him, and he finds his overtures of friendship both suspicious and confusing, considering he's never given him any reason to give a shit, as far as he's concerned. AJ finds him annoying and thinks he's an idiot, but on some level recognises that he might actually just be a good guy. To him, though, that's all the more reason not to get involved with him -- in his experience, bad things tend to happen to good guys.

 

[illirica]

Solace Apostolic Hospital​

Patient Information​ Name: Ethan Gray Date of Birth (MM-DD-YYYY): 08-08-1992 Height: 5'11" Weight: 182.7lbs Temperature: 99.3 F Blood Pressure (systolic/diastolic, mm Hg): 128/79 SpO2: 91% Blood Type: AB- Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown About Your Recent Visit​ Chief Complaint: Lacerations, multiple: right arm, right leg, right torso (ribcage, abdomen). Minor tearing of abdominal wall. No organ penetration detected. Treatment Given: Medical staples to close lacerations, additional sutures on smaller injuries. Patient received 4 packs (61.6oz) blood transfusion during surgery. Update of Tdap (Adacel®) vaccination given. Ongoing Care: Change wound dressings as needed. Avoid submersion in water until healed. Followup appointment scheduled with Dr. Ivison, 2:30pm 5-18-24

Art by Sunnyclockwork​ Winston Financial - Employee Client From: James Storr Date: May 12, 2024; 8:25am Subject: Re: Medical Leave Request Got your message, Ethan - look, don't worry about coming in until you're ready. Heard what happened on the news. Rick and Andy can take over your security shifts for a while, we'll get it done. Rick's probably happy about the overtime, anyway. So sorry to hear about Ali and Aidan. Let us know if there's anything we can do. -Jim LNN News at 9​ ...further updates on the most recent set of werewolf crimes in the city. Following a violent pack rivalry conflict around 8pm, multiple injuries were reported to human bystanders at Lake Park. At least 7 deaths have been confirmed by police, including two children, one of whom died this morning in the hospital. Additional injuries were also reported. This event is merely one of the most recent in a number of violent crimes perpetuated by the city's werewolf population, and local citizens are asking What are we doing about it? We turn our report over to Greg Hauser, reporting from the capitol building...

Obituaries​ Aidan Gray March 2, 2020 - May 11, 2024 Aidan will be remembered forever as a whirlwind of sunshine and energy. Always happy and eager to go somewhere and see new things, he brought joy to the lives of everyone who knew him. His tragic death will not be forgotten. He has gone with his mother, Alison Gray (31), to the next world, and is survived by his father, Ethan Gray. Alison Gray June 2, 1992 - May 11, 2024 Alison Gray was a devoted wife and mother, as well as being active with her family and church. She was employed as a tax accountant, and enjoyed mathematical puzzles as well as movies and reading. She was a victim of recent were-crime in the city, a bystander in an event which claimed the lives of both her and her son Aidan (4). She will be greatly missed by all who knew her.​

 

[Dreamless Realm]

Name: Kóri Barnrefr
Nickname: Snømunn, Kyó
Pronouns: They/them
Age: 22
Species: Werefox (Born)
Silver alergy: No
Regeneration: Some
Languages: Aanar (First language), Common, Lutetian (A2)

Brief Looks:

Kóri has a slender, strong build. With muscle under a thin layer of fat. They're tall, 6'2 ft/190 cm. It only makes it even more of a surprise when they turn into a pretty small arctic fox in their other form. A fast fuzzball with needle sharp teeth. Their hair, like their fur, changes color. It's white in the winter/colder months and dark brown in the summer/warmer months. It was almost always white in Aanar, it is also white, for now, in Lutetia. It's relatively straight but tends to exist in a perpetually dishevelled state that gives Kóri a bit of a wild look. It also makes them look bigger or ruffled. They have darker skin and slanted eyes, family traits. Their eyes are dark brown, the color of dark oak wood.



When it comes to personal style, Kóri likes a street, militant look leaning on the artistic side. They've got a few piercings, one on their tongue, Two on the bottom lip, nipples, one belly button ring and maybe a couple more that aren't as easy to notice. They've also got one tattoo that goes around their left arm, which a lot of the people in their pack used to get when they reached adulthood, and so they did as well.

Brief personality:
Practical, smart and laid back when they feel safe. This young fox is in love with lazy mornings that start with a faceful of sun. They speak with a heavy accent, and are proud to be who they are. They've never had to hide their so called "Condition" before and it disgusts them immensely. Especially since they pretty much depend on a human, their uncle Thorje, to survive until they get their bearings.

Brief Bio:
Because of an increasingly dangerous conflict in the village in Aanar where they are from, their family sent them to Lutetia with a handful of money and a duffel bag of belongings. Kóri is now staying with a distant, human relative who owns a small, local grocery store in a shady part of the city. They work there to pay for the roof over their head, a shitty room of 4 m2 that barely fits a bed they almost don't fit in themself. It's barely been more than a week and Kóri is itching for more to do, and for more cigarettes than they can afford.

At home, they mostly hung out with family and pack members. They finished highschool and have had several odd jobs since then. Dog walker, babysitter, backyard groomer. Until they started working at a local library. They've got a passion for music, hunting and a couple of social media accounts dedicated to their favourite fashion styles. Especially when it comes to chunky boots and shoes, most of which they've had to leave behind.

They are used to a small town-village life style, where everyone knows everyone. Where people are generally kind. The city is already taking its toll, and Kóri is already growing desperate to find somewhere they belong. Because... the grocery store isn't it. They miss their family and pack a lot, there were a lot of tears when they all had to say goodbye and most of the youngest members were sent away to other countries.

Their arrival to Lutetia, and their uncle's theats that he doesn't want anyone to know he's housing a poor excuse for a mutt have made them afraid to transform outside of their bedroom. Often, they sleep in their fox form on or under the bed.

Relationships:
Their entire pack left in Aanar, friends in other countries.

Uncle Thorje, 53. Human. A distant relative of their mother. Not their literal uncle.

Young mother that has stolen baby formula and nappies a couple of times. She's clearly anxious about it and Kóri has been pretending not to see it so far.

Other:


⏺⏺⏺

Name: Grisham Raven
Nickname: N/A
Pronouns: He/him
Age: 47
Species: Werewolf (Turned)
Silver alergy: No
Regeneration: Yes
Languages: Common, Lutetian.

Brief Looks:
Athletic build, standing at 5'9ft/180cm. Grisham has fully grey hair, which he wears short, and vivid yellow eyes. He mostly dresses in camo and military clothes, he has some age lines on his face. However, he doesn't look a day past 40. He's got muscles he never shows off and several minor scars. Then two big ones under his pectoral muscles from a masculinization mastectomy. He doesn't wear earrings or piercings, and he has an arm full of tattoos, then several more peppered around his body. He's handsome in a rugged way, but he looks perpetually tired in a "Damn kids, get off my lawn" Way.
As a wolf, Grisham is big and grey all over.

Brief personality:
A no-nonsense, grumpy jack of all trades (And master of none) with a (For the second time) growing alcohol addiction that likely hasn't killed him because he's a werewolf. He struggles to form relationships and life hasn't been kind to him. But he hasn't completely lost hope to find a place, and another family to replace the one he ran away from.

Brief bio:
(Grisham is a ftm trans man, and he/him is always used in his backstory even for when he lived as a woman.)
He grew up in a small town, with a religious family, and he got married at 19 to the man of his dreams. They had 2 kids by the time he was 21. In the meantime he was using alcohol and drugs to escape a reality he hated more and more with each passing day. He lost his kids when he was 25 (taken away by his family and social services. His family also manipulated him into getting sterilised so he wouldn't bring anyone else into the world.)

He only got clean when he was 29, through joining the military. A few years later when he was 35 he got his independence back and was also bitten and turned. He was already drifting away from his family but when he was turned he completely cut them off. He left the military after transitioning, got a van and started travelling with a couple of dogs as a "pack" when he was 38. He got by working different jobs depending on the season and finding out about himself in the process. But the dogs died a good few years ago now that he's 47 and despite rarely interacting with more werewolves, he's lonely. He has mostly avoided the less rural parts of Lutetia, but he recently moved closer. He still lives in his van.
Relationships:

Human family left somewhere.
2 kids and an ex-husband who he's still legally married to.
A few friends from the road.
Military ex-colleagues who respected him, most don't know he's a wolf.

Other:

He keeps his ring, still, and wears it in a pendant around his neck.
He considers himself a nomad

List of jobs:

Housewife
Private
Warehouse worker
Package delivery
Mail delivery
Laborer
Prostitute
Taxi-Uber driver
Lumberjack
Hunter
Cleaning staff for businesses
Store clerk
Waiter
Mechanic...

 

[Tiko]

Name: Dominique Bastien
Age: 25
Species: Werewolf
Family: Sophia Richard (daughter), Lyle Bastien (brother)

Bastien grew up on the streets of Lutetia with his younger brother Lyle, and the pair learned early that you either grew up mean or you died young. The pair were headed down a one-way road to a short and brutal life before Baron and the Bloodstone pack offered a new outlook on life.

Unfortunately, while Bastien began the uphill climb to make something more out of his life, his brother turned to organized crime and fell in with the Scions of Aodhan - a rival pack with a long and violent history of conflict with the Bloodstone pack. Lyle's betrayal of the Bloodstone pack marked the end of him and Bastien's relationship as brothers.

Bastien also has a six-year-old daughter, Sophia. Though he and Sophia's mother, Vanessa, have been separated for two years, he remains very much a part of his daughter’s life. There are few things he wouldn't sacrifice for her safety.

While lacking in the instant regenerative capabilities of some of the fiercer pack members, Bastien boasts impressive healing capabilities capable of recovering from even grievous wounds within minutes. This, paired with an innate tenacity for survival, has raised him up through the ranks of the pack despite his rocky history.

 

[Tiko]

Name: Julienne Delatte
Age: 26
Species: Werewolf

Julienne is a long-standing member of the Bloodstone pack, having been born into it. She has a spitfire temper and no tolerance for anything that she perceives as a threat to the pack or her position within it.
She's also served as a legal guardian to her younger brother after the death of their parents - both victims of the bloodier side of pack life.

With scarcely a responsible bone in her body when it came to her brother, the pair barely made ends meet, and more often than not, he was left to his own devices while Julienne shacked up with her newest fling of the month. In time, Julienne only grew to resent his dependence on her, and in return, he grew to resent Julienne's neglect of him in favor of her next lay.

Any chance of reconciliation between the siblings was lost with his death at the hands of the Psions of Aodhan.

Unlike many of the higher-status members of the Bloodstone pack, Julienne maintains a rather unremarkable lineup of supernatural ability. Incapable of healing wounds with the same efficiency as many of the pack, Julienne must rely on wits and speed to avoid injury. And though quick and agile, she equally lacks much of the supernatural strength of her pack mates. But what she lacks in raw power, she makes up for in sheer tenacity. Her viciousness in combat is well-known among her pack mates. By the age of nineteen, she had already made a name for herself in the pack.