Lana Rivera (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flickeringreflection) wrote2014-07-29 12:43 pm
flickeringreflection) wrote2014-07-29 12:43 pm
Auslosen App
OOC:
player name: Ceti
player age: 27
player contact:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
heliel
current characters: N/A
ac link: N/A
who invited you: Remibutts
CANON IC INFORMATION:
character name: Fanerel Zesmir/Revilaan Oslerin
canon & medium: OC, Pathfinder tabletop (hand-written world)
species & appearance: Human. Fan is a little tall for a woman, standing 5'7 and with a curvy, slender build. Her choice of dress is reminiscent of a dancer, complete with loose pants and strapless top. With tanned skin covered in bright red tattoos, a black-bladed scimitar always at her side, and dark violet, nearly black hair, she cuts an impressive figure indeed. She carries herself with good posture, and her typical expression varies from haughty discrimination to broad, sarcastic smirks.
age: 24
world info: Fan's world is similar to fantasy Earth. Once an advanced society to rival modern Earth, there was a catastrophe some time before that plunged the world back into primitive society.
Gone are many parts of normal Earth society - when the church took over all of the regions, it began to stamp out even memory of things it found problematic. Sea-faring ships, intelligent items, many things were lost to time - some of these still exist, of course, but most of them would be considered heresy to possess - if one even knows what they are. Guns have just begun to re-emerge, and flintlocks, blunderbusses and muskets are uncommon but attainable. Most lighting/life is still handled via magic.
In the world, the elements have a specific effect or type when spellcasting - fire is the element of most damaging magic, water is healing, earth protective, wind enhancing and healing. Water magic is restricted to use. There's also a final element - shadow - which is necromantic and parasitic in nature.
history: From the beginning of her life, Fanerel Zesmir was 'cursed'. Born intersex, the very body she possessed branded her (and anyone who would deign to offer her help) a heretic to the church, to be hunted and killed without even a trial - according to the church, such a body is "the mark of a demon's presence." Though she has no particular memory of the event, her mother sought to end her life in accordance with the church's mandates. She was stopped by Fan's father, who stole away with her and left her on the doorstep of the man and woman who would raise her for the next twelve years.
They christened her 'Revilaan', a Pazuzuan name that translates to "Heaven's Radiance," and raised her in celebration of her body. Those first handful of years are the only real positive memories she has - they nurtured her curious nature and hunger for knowledge, all while teaching her to be careful because of her body, because people didn't understand it. When she was twelve, a radical group of heretic hunters caught wind of her. Unbeknownst to her, the day her parents sent her out to collect fruits and nuts, they finally made it to her home.
When she arrived back, her parents were already dead, left barely-recognisable corpses. Revilaan changed that day, breaking away from her happiness and turning her toward spiteful self-hatred and forcibly pushing others away. Soon after leaving her home, Revilaan took up the name Fanerel Zesmir, closer in meaning to "a clouded and broken mirror" than her namesake. It's this name that she would take for the rest of her life - and this name she would give to the second pair who adopted her.
These two, she didn't even let find out about her mixed sex. As an independent twelve-year-old, she began to learn the ways of Pazuzuan grappling from them and their friends, while simultaneously learning spellcasting and swordfighting on her own. The deeper she got into spellcasting though, and the more she learned about the shadow magic she was so closely attuned to, the more her fear grew. In this time, her nightmares began - from then on, she would be plagued by a face she recognised, but only in passing, an epitome of the corruptive, engulfing darkness that was Shadow magic. He taunted her, trying to convince her that if she didn't let her darkness consume her she would die - and only that, if she was lucky. Fanerel immersed herself in learning again, and vowed to never become like that man - she vowed that day, even in the depths of the allure of Shadow magic, that she would control it. That it was necromantic, yes, but it could be used for good.
Eventually, when she was about seventeen, she found herself with a crush on a boy. They were good friends, up until he found out - at which time he threatened to tell the church or end her himself. She reacted in panic and instinct - an instinct that was indicative of the hold her darkness had on her - and killed him first. With the blood of someone who scarcely deserved death on her hands, she chose to leave home - she never really said goodbye, only left a note. For now, her thoughts had turned to the church.
The more she heard and saw of the church, over the next several years, the more she hated it. She hated herself for working with them, no matter the cause, and her hatred and envy was all that got her through many nights fighting terrible monsters. Alone in a world full of people, Fan made herself a reputation of being darkly sarcastic and violent, often inciting barfights or just coldly ignoring people who tried to forge relationships with her. No one suspected how deep her feelings ran, because no one bothered to look beyond the surface - and Fan was fine with that.
At twenty-four, she met the group she would travel with for a time, helping people in the name of the church. Many a strange thing happened in their short time together - and she, despite her best efforts, found herself with feelings for one of her obnoxious teammates. She'd never tell him, though. During that time, they solved quite a number of bizarre mysteries, stopped necromancers and other no-good types - and sometime, during that, she was chosen by the black blade she wields now: a talking, intelligent scimitar by the name of "Lord Steven Jonathan." In a blur, their time passed until something changed.
The radical group, the very same one that had killed her first adoptive parents, finally caught up to her. Though strong, they cornered her alone and managed to knock her out. When she came to, she was face to face with her parents. The group informed them of their harboring a heretic, and offered them repentance when it became clear they truly had no idea. To Fan's surprise and horror, her parents refused to repent. The group wasted no time in murdering them - brutally - forcing Fan to watch.
She doesn't remember, to this day, what happened then. There are bits and pieces, of course. A flash of red, a flash of black, the bodies falling. Pain so great that it felt like it might consume her. And then, darkness. Pure, enveloping, silent and black. It was in the aftermath - when her vision returned and she looked over the bodies of half a dozen men and women strewn about in ragged pieces - that she realised she'd lost herself to her own darkness. Her shadow magic, her affinity, was starting to engulf her, and she could feel it eating away at her conscience.
For a time, she wandered the world, her hate for the church only growing worse with each passing day. When she finally found her old allies again, she spoke with them for the last time as an ally. Tired and half-overcome, she offered up everything she was - and offered her life. They refused, and she quietly informed them that if they were to continue working with the church, they would have to kill her eventually. And with that, swallowing the last vestiges of affection she never spoke of, never allowed herself to really feel, she turned away from them and left.
In the short time from then, she met up with many other misfits, outcasts and heretics not because of their actions, but because of their birth. They all cursed the church the way she did, and so she brought them together. Somehow, she ended up their defacto leader, the face of a revolution that was beginning, even though her skills were much more suited to fighting than strategy.
Powers (links for convenience’s sake, else this section would be a mile long):
• 20th level Bladebound archetype Magus
• Over time she's amassed basically every spell available to them
• Can cast them as listed on magus stats, +1 for each spell level up to 4th - 0-level spells are infinite cast.
• Fan can also change the given element of any spell to shadow/necromancy, and thus alter its effects to better suit the new element.
• Here are all her individually chosen arcana, feats, bonus feats, and skills
personality: Fan is a complex individual. At her core, she's never really grown out of being a child, wanting for acceptance and understanding. Because of her mixed sex, what little acceptance she had has always been ripped violently out of her hands, so she layered hatred and envy over that want, then layered cynical sarcasm over that.
Her cynicism can make her somewhat unapproachable - Fan speaks frankly, even if she often speaks in riddles and oddities. She's typically truthful about things not relating to her - a fact that hasn't really won her any favours in making friends. Among the only things people even find tolerable about her, in fact, is her loyalty - if she's given a promise, she WILL keep that promise. If you've earned her trust or admiration, or if you're an orphan or lose family, Fan almost can't help but step in for your benefit. In those moments, her almost sisterly nature surfaces, and she'll do whatever she can to calm or protect the object of her nature.
Outwardly, Fan projects herself as a strong, confident woman with a no-nonsense attitude and a distaste for excess. Her envy and hatred for those with families, with friends they can rely on, stays more or less hidden, though her words hint at her self-hatred in some measure. People also call her reserved fairly often – when she perceives there’s nothing to say, she usually keeps to silence. She refuses to let people close because every time she has, they’ve ended up dead or hateful of her.
Her temper runs hot, though, and she’s not so much as slightly against inciting a fight. It doesn’t even take much – Fan would much rather act in violence than have to deal with talking. Talking, in her experience, unearths too many issues. Talking is what’s gotten her friends and family killed, in the past. Better, then, to settle disputes with steel, and mark ‘friendships’ with food or drink. Drink, too, has the added benefit of making people look less closely at her and the flaws in her armour. If you really make her angry, though, she is ruthless and unforgiving. The world showed little compassion to her, and so she finds it difficult at best to show compassion to the sort of people who would further that harmful idealism that some are more “righteous” or “worthy” than others.
Books are another safe-haven for the magus. In books, she can immerse herself in learning and improving, the way she can with exercise and routine for physical pursuits. No matter how dry and awkward the text, Fan usually has at least a couple on her person, and she’s more than willing to impart wisdom as she can, if someone’s actually interested in what she has to say. Her worldly experience is, after all, something to be envied – if one doesn’t look so far as to figure out just why she has so much experience just surviving.
If you can make it beneath all the walls and blocks Fan’s put up in her life, somehow slipping past every fear and worry and into her circle of true trust, she’s a fairly normal girl. She loves cute things, from animals to charms to oddities. These things remind her of the good that remains in the world, and provide a stable center for her to keep pushing to keep her own darkness at bay.
AUSLOSEN IC INFORMATION:
character name: Lana Rivera
appearance: Tall, standing at 5’7, with a smooth, curvy figure, Lana’s natural poise gives her a bit of a haughty look. She wears cute, girlish clothes and keeps her hair in a softly curled bob.
age: 24
history: Lana was raised in a church-run orphanage. There, she was taught virtues and hard work, and that those who believe will find salvation, no matter their trouble – even someone of mixed sex, like herself, deserved the rewards of belief. For a time, she believed with all her heart that was true. The one woman who spoke frequently with her continued to preach these things, showing her kindness and love and tolerance.
Of course, all things come to an end. A child has the capability of bouncing back from ridicule and poor treatment, but only for so long. By the time she was ten, the violence, lies and name-calling were too much to continue to endure. Patience was a virtue – but it was one she no longer possessed. What she did possess was strength, and in a fit of anger, she beat down every last one of them.
When the church asked why she had done such a thing, she replied simply “lying is a sin, and I was tired of theirs.” The Sisters worried that her lack of remorse was the beginning of something more dangerous, and upon consulting their group, decided Lana should be moved to a more suitable orphanage. One designed for more dangerous individuals.
It was a mistake, of course. Placed in a home where the only nice treatment you got was in the sermons you listened to, Lana’s hatred began to grow. For herself, for the boys and girls she was around. For the Sisters, for her only friend – who hadn’t stood up for her when she was made to leave. Even at this new orphanage, only one person stood up to help her. Others cited a multitude of reasons – as she progressed into her teenage years, Lana became more aloof and cold, isolating most of her potential friends before they’d even spoken more than once.
In helping a “cold demon” like Lana, that person took as much abuse as she herself did. More, even, and in the end, they ended up hospitalised. She visited the hospital frequently at first, and even then was told about the power of belief and salvation. Her faith was fractured, though, and eventually she stopped coming because she couldn’t stand to see her only friend there, clinging to belief as a reason to continue on. That, and her perception was too keen, her words too frank. She saw how much her friend was hurting because of her, and wanted it to stop. So she withdrew.
Their relationship never quite recovered. Once the hospital stay had ended, Lana quietly avoided any contact with that person, and watched from the distance when their life finally started to improve. So, she was the problem. She alone caused harm for others, physically or otherwise. If that was the case… if that never changed, then how did she deserve salvation?
Over the remaining time in the orphanage, she grew to hate herself and her frank nature. There was no making friends, no real smiles. When she saw through others’ lies, she said so – loudly. Or, on some occasions, she tried to go back to her teachings of patience and acceptance, tried to allow them a chance to redeem themselves, or perhaps to redeem her. Each time it didn’t happen, she sank deeper into the idea that she couldn’t be saved.
At eighteen, she finally left the orphanage and started out on her own. Finding a job wasn’t difficult – in a world like theirs, the violent and cruel were a hot commodity and she could offer both without a second thought. Her only kindness was spent on animals, creatures she felt deserved it far more than the humans that tossed her aside like a broken doll.
The reputation came soon thereafter. “Dark devil Lana.” That was who she became. “Dark devil Lana,” a woman who used her unique body as a weapon to seduce as well as to ‘excuse’ her brutality. It was all fine, of course. Being like that made people hesitant to get anywhere near her, and when they did, her frank commentary on their actual intentions usually sent them running. It was all well and good – however hard she clung to the belief that she could one day be saved by faith, could one day come to say she loved herself and someone around her, she wasn’t banking on it anymore.
Certainly, she had a handful of acquaintances. In her line of work, it was a necessity – information gathering wasn’t her forte thanks to her unapproachable nature, for example. Not one of those she’d consider a friend, though, and there was - is - no doubt in her mind that they would stab her in the back if they had a reason or chance.
personality: Largely, Fan’s personality remains the same in Auslosen. Despite the changes, her core idealism – that she’s something unsavoury and irredeemable – maintains, alongside her self-hatred. Her love for cute things still persists, as does her tendency to push people away.
Most notably, she’s actually more willing to allow people close than she normally would be, because there’s a marked difference between people getting hurt and them getting killed for knowing her.
Obviously, her religious nature is different as well – while she hates herself and holds little belief in religion, she doesn’t hold any special hatred toward it. She simply feels that heaven, or any other goodness that comes of it, isn’t hers to have.
job: Mercenary, specializing in jobs against sex offenders/unsavoury types.
fix: Literal trials by fire. It started as a bizarre take on the Corinthians 3:15 passage “If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire” and became, especially as her belief dwindled, a way to repeatedly and obsessively prove her ability to withstand some physical iteration of that proverbial fire. Of course, repeatedly walking on hot coals or sticking one's hand in a flame has a profound physical effect on a person, so Lana eventually had to turn to something a little less self-endangering. What she found, in the end, was spicy food. Mildly spicy does nothing for her, if it wouldn't make the average person flinch, she doesn't care about it.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLES:
third person: Click, click, click. The sound of her small heels on the cold tile rang through the air and hung there like muffled drum beats, in air that was oppressive and thick enough to almost be seen. It was always like this in these dens, though. Drugs, alcohol, sex – that was the typicality here. Her nose wrinkled and Lana’s hand came to rest on the cross hidden beneath her shirt. Another night, another sicko. She’d done this so many times it didn’t even bother her anymore.
Opium, she thought as she passed the thin sheet that separated the gaudy, brightly lit room from the outside, that’s their strongest vice here? How unusual. None of her thoughts showed on her face, though, as she loosened her posture and weaved through the crowd, intentionally bumping someone to apologise to here and there. She even managed to stumble once or twice, very nearly falling over only to be caught by some ‘nice’ guy. None of them were the right one, though, and she politely thanked them and turned her gaze downward before continuing on toward the bar.
Sliding into a seat, she ordered a simple Cosmo, flashing a shy smile when the bartender said something. Easy. So easy. It might have been more difficult if half of the partygoers weren’t out of their minds on the drugs, if there wasn’t a haze of smoke in the air thick enough to choke most people. Someone mentioned she looked new, that this didn’t look like her usual haunt, and Lana gave a nervous giggle.
“It isn’t,” she promised, twirling a bit of dark hair between her shimmery-nailed fingers, “I’m just looking for something kinda new, you know?” Resting her hand on her chin, she gave a smile that made her look even younger than her pretty face. Someone they knew would like her, they said, and they’d go get him. Perfect… well, hopefully. She didn’t want to break character over this, but all the same, she didn’t want to deal with unrelated frisky hands.
The gun and group of knives strapped to her thighs, quick to grab but carefully hidden under her choice of clothes, went completely unnoticed; their familiar weight was a reassurance indeed. She’d finished her drink before the man returned to call her over, into a darker corridor and down less smoke-filled halls toward her destination. That wasn’t to say it was quiet – it certainly wasn’t that, with the sounds of sex and screams that probably weren’t just that echoing here and there. She flinched appropriately, and the man who led her reassured her it was all consensual.
What lies. Screams of pure pain, no matter how one tried to justify them, still sounded clear as day in her ears. There was no pleasure to be had there – and thus, no chance that it was truly consensual.
first person: [First meetings are always a crapshoot, doubly so with new contacts. New clients or targets? That was easier by far. With contacts, you have to worry about silly things like whether or not they’re actually trustworthy. In a place like Auslosen, trust is questionable enough even in well-known associates.
Still, it must be done. Checking her watch, she sighs and enters the small café, greeting her server and brushing her hair back behind one ear. Inside with her, then.]
… Lana Rivera, I have a reservation for two. [Flicking out a card, she hands it off to the host, who nods. “Your party is already here; we’ll lead you to your table.” So he said.] Thank you.
[The host offers a smile and another nod, leading the way to a small table settled in the back. It’s well away from the others, with its own privacy screens. Well, here goes nothing.]
player name: Ceti
player age: 27
player contact:
current characters: N/A
ac link: N/A
who invited you: Remibutts
CANON IC INFORMATION:
character name: Fanerel Zesmir/Revilaan Oslerin
canon & medium: OC, Pathfinder tabletop (hand-written world)
species & appearance: Human. Fan is a little tall for a woman, standing 5'7 and with a curvy, slender build. Her choice of dress is reminiscent of a dancer, complete with loose pants and strapless top. With tanned skin covered in bright red tattoos, a black-bladed scimitar always at her side, and dark violet, nearly black hair, she cuts an impressive figure indeed. She carries herself with good posture, and her typical expression varies from haughty discrimination to broad, sarcastic smirks.
age: 24
world info: Fan's world is similar to fantasy Earth. Once an advanced society to rival modern Earth, there was a catastrophe some time before that plunged the world back into primitive society.
Gone are many parts of normal Earth society - when the church took over all of the regions, it began to stamp out even memory of things it found problematic. Sea-faring ships, intelligent items, many things were lost to time - some of these still exist, of course, but most of them would be considered heresy to possess - if one even knows what they are. Guns have just begun to re-emerge, and flintlocks, blunderbusses and muskets are uncommon but attainable. Most lighting/life is still handled via magic.
In the world, the elements have a specific effect or type when spellcasting - fire is the element of most damaging magic, water is healing, earth protective, wind enhancing and healing. Water magic is restricted to use. There's also a final element - shadow - which is necromantic and parasitic in nature.
history: From the beginning of her life, Fanerel Zesmir was 'cursed'. Born intersex, the very body she possessed branded her (and anyone who would deign to offer her help) a heretic to the church, to be hunted and killed without even a trial - according to the church, such a body is "the mark of a demon's presence." Though she has no particular memory of the event, her mother sought to end her life in accordance with the church's mandates. She was stopped by Fan's father, who stole away with her and left her on the doorstep of the man and woman who would raise her for the next twelve years.
They christened her 'Revilaan', a Pazuzuan name that translates to "Heaven's Radiance," and raised her in celebration of her body. Those first handful of years are the only real positive memories she has - they nurtured her curious nature and hunger for knowledge, all while teaching her to be careful because of her body, because people didn't understand it. When she was twelve, a radical group of heretic hunters caught wind of her. Unbeknownst to her, the day her parents sent her out to collect fruits and nuts, they finally made it to her home.
When she arrived back, her parents were already dead, left barely-recognisable corpses. Revilaan changed that day, breaking away from her happiness and turning her toward spiteful self-hatred and forcibly pushing others away. Soon after leaving her home, Revilaan took up the name Fanerel Zesmir, closer in meaning to "a clouded and broken mirror" than her namesake. It's this name that she would take for the rest of her life - and this name she would give to the second pair who adopted her.
These two, she didn't even let find out about her mixed sex. As an independent twelve-year-old, she began to learn the ways of Pazuzuan grappling from them and their friends, while simultaneously learning spellcasting and swordfighting on her own. The deeper she got into spellcasting though, and the more she learned about the shadow magic she was so closely attuned to, the more her fear grew. In this time, her nightmares began - from then on, she would be plagued by a face she recognised, but only in passing, an epitome of the corruptive, engulfing darkness that was Shadow magic. He taunted her, trying to convince her that if she didn't let her darkness consume her she would die - and only that, if she was lucky. Fanerel immersed herself in learning again, and vowed to never become like that man - she vowed that day, even in the depths of the allure of Shadow magic, that she would control it. That it was necromantic, yes, but it could be used for good.
Eventually, when she was about seventeen, she found herself with a crush on a boy. They were good friends, up until he found out - at which time he threatened to tell the church or end her himself. She reacted in panic and instinct - an instinct that was indicative of the hold her darkness had on her - and killed him first. With the blood of someone who scarcely deserved death on her hands, she chose to leave home - she never really said goodbye, only left a note. For now, her thoughts had turned to the church.
The more she heard and saw of the church, over the next several years, the more she hated it. She hated herself for working with them, no matter the cause, and her hatred and envy was all that got her through many nights fighting terrible monsters. Alone in a world full of people, Fan made herself a reputation of being darkly sarcastic and violent, often inciting barfights or just coldly ignoring people who tried to forge relationships with her. No one suspected how deep her feelings ran, because no one bothered to look beyond the surface - and Fan was fine with that.
At twenty-four, she met the group she would travel with for a time, helping people in the name of the church. Many a strange thing happened in their short time together - and she, despite her best efforts, found herself with feelings for one of her obnoxious teammates. She'd never tell him, though. During that time, they solved quite a number of bizarre mysteries, stopped necromancers and other no-good types - and sometime, during that, she was chosen by the black blade she wields now: a talking, intelligent scimitar by the name of "Lord Steven Jonathan." In a blur, their time passed until something changed.
The radical group, the very same one that had killed her first adoptive parents, finally caught up to her. Though strong, they cornered her alone and managed to knock her out. When she came to, she was face to face with her parents. The group informed them of their harboring a heretic, and offered them repentance when it became clear they truly had no idea. To Fan's surprise and horror, her parents refused to repent. The group wasted no time in murdering them - brutally - forcing Fan to watch.
She doesn't remember, to this day, what happened then. There are bits and pieces, of course. A flash of red, a flash of black, the bodies falling. Pain so great that it felt like it might consume her. And then, darkness. Pure, enveloping, silent and black. It was in the aftermath - when her vision returned and she looked over the bodies of half a dozen men and women strewn about in ragged pieces - that she realised she'd lost herself to her own darkness. Her shadow magic, her affinity, was starting to engulf her, and she could feel it eating away at her conscience.
For a time, she wandered the world, her hate for the church only growing worse with each passing day. When she finally found her old allies again, she spoke with them for the last time as an ally. Tired and half-overcome, she offered up everything she was - and offered her life. They refused, and she quietly informed them that if they were to continue working with the church, they would have to kill her eventually. And with that, swallowing the last vestiges of affection she never spoke of, never allowed herself to really feel, she turned away from them and left.
In the short time from then, she met up with many other misfits, outcasts and heretics not because of their actions, but because of their birth. They all cursed the church the way she did, and so she brought them together. Somehow, she ended up their defacto leader, the face of a revolution that was beginning, even though her skills were much more suited to fighting than strategy.
Powers (links for convenience’s sake, else this section would be a mile long):
• 20th level Bladebound archetype Magus
• Over time she's amassed basically every spell available to them
• Can cast them as listed on magus stats, +1 for each spell level up to 4th - 0-level spells are infinite cast.
• Fan can also change the given element of any spell to shadow/necromancy, and thus alter its effects to better suit the new element.
• Here are all her individually chosen arcana, feats, bonus feats, and skills
personality: Fan is a complex individual. At her core, she's never really grown out of being a child, wanting for acceptance and understanding. Because of her mixed sex, what little acceptance she had has always been ripped violently out of her hands, so she layered hatred and envy over that want, then layered cynical sarcasm over that.
Her cynicism can make her somewhat unapproachable - Fan speaks frankly, even if she often speaks in riddles and oddities. She's typically truthful about things not relating to her - a fact that hasn't really won her any favours in making friends. Among the only things people even find tolerable about her, in fact, is her loyalty - if she's given a promise, she WILL keep that promise. If you've earned her trust or admiration, or if you're an orphan or lose family, Fan almost can't help but step in for your benefit. In those moments, her almost sisterly nature surfaces, and she'll do whatever she can to calm or protect the object of her nature.
Outwardly, Fan projects herself as a strong, confident woman with a no-nonsense attitude and a distaste for excess. Her envy and hatred for those with families, with friends they can rely on, stays more or less hidden, though her words hint at her self-hatred in some measure. People also call her reserved fairly often – when she perceives there’s nothing to say, she usually keeps to silence. She refuses to let people close because every time she has, they’ve ended up dead or hateful of her.
Her temper runs hot, though, and she’s not so much as slightly against inciting a fight. It doesn’t even take much – Fan would much rather act in violence than have to deal with talking. Talking, in her experience, unearths too many issues. Talking is what’s gotten her friends and family killed, in the past. Better, then, to settle disputes with steel, and mark ‘friendships’ with food or drink. Drink, too, has the added benefit of making people look less closely at her and the flaws in her armour. If you really make her angry, though, she is ruthless and unforgiving. The world showed little compassion to her, and so she finds it difficult at best to show compassion to the sort of people who would further that harmful idealism that some are more “righteous” or “worthy” than others.
Books are another safe-haven for the magus. In books, she can immerse herself in learning and improving, the way she can with exercise and routine for physical pursuits. No matter how dry and awkward the text, Fan usually has at least a couple on her person, and she’s more than willing to impart wisdom as she can, if someone’s actually interested in what she has to say. Her worldly experience is, after all, something to be envied – if one doesn’t look so far as to figure out just why she has so much experience just surviving.
If you can make it beneath all the walls and blocks Fan’s put up in her life, somehow slipping past every fear and worry and into her circle of true trust, she’s a fairly normal girl. She loves cute things, from animals to charms to oddities. These things remind her of the good that remains in the world, and provide a stable center for her to keep pushing to keep her own darkness at bay.
AUSLOSEN IC INFORMATION:
character name: Lana Rivera
appearance: Tall, standing at 5’7, with a smooth, curvy figure, Lana’s natural poise gives her a bit of a haughty look. She wears cute, girlish clothes and keeps her hair in a softly curled bob.
age: 24
history: Lana was raised in a church-run orphanage. There, she was taught virtues and hard work, and that those who believe will find salvation, no matter their trouble – even someone of mixed sex, like herself, deserved the rewards of belief. For a time, she believed with all her heart that was true. The one woman who spoke frequently with her continued to preach these things, showing her kindness and love and tolerance.
Of course, all things come to an end. A child has the capability of bouncing back from ridicule and poor treatment, but only for so long. By the time she was ten, the violence, lies and name-calling were too much to continue to endure. Patience was a virtue – but it was one she no longer possessed. What she did possess was strength, and in a fit of anger, she beat down every last one of them.
When the church asked why she had done such a thing, she replied simply “lying is a sin, and I was tired of theirs.” The Sisters worried that her lack of remorse was the beginning of something more dangerous, and upon consulting their group, decided Lana should be moved to a more suitable orphanage. One designed for more dangerous individuals.
It was a mistake, of course. Placed in a home where the only nice treatment you got was in the sermons you listened to, Lana’s hatred began to grow. For herself, for the boys and girls she was around. For the Sisters, for her only friend – who hadn’t stood up for her when she was made to leave. Even at this new orphanage, only one person stood up to help her. Others cited a multitude of reasons – as she progressed into her teenage years, Lana became more aloof and cold, isolating most of her potential friends before they’d even spoken more than once.
In helping a “cold demon” like Lana, that person took as much abuse as she herself did. More, even, and in the end, they ended up hospitalised. She visited the hospital frequently at first, and even then was told about the power of belief and salvation. Her faith was fractured, though, and eventually she stopped coming because she couldn’t stand to see her only friend there, clinging to belief as a reason to continue on. That, and her perception was too keen, her words too frank. She saw how much her friend was hurting because of her, and wanted it to stop. So she withdrew.
Their relationship never quite recovered. Once the hospital stay had ended, Lana quietly avoided any contact with that person, and watched from the distance when their life finally started to improve. So, she was the problem. She alone caused harm for others, physically or otherwise. If that was the case… if that never changed, then how did she deserve salvation?
Over the remaining time in the orphanage, she grew to hate herself and her frank nature. There was no making friends, no real smiles. When she saw through others’ lies, she said so – loudly. Or, on some occasions, she tried to go back to her teachings of patience and acceptance, tried to allow them a chance to redeem themselves, or perhaps to redeem her. Each time it didn’t happen, she sank deeper into the idea that she couldn’t be saved.
At eighteen, she finally left the orphanage and started out on her own. Finding a job wasn’t difficult – in a world like theirs, the violent and cruel were a hot commodity and she could offer both without a second thought. Her only kindness was spent on animals, creatures she felt deserved it far more than the humans that tossed her aside like a broken doll.
The reputation came soon thereafter. “Dark devil Lana.” That was who she became. “Dark devil Lana,” a woman who used her unique body as a weapon to seduce as well as to ‘excuse’ her brutality. It was all fine, of course. Being like that made people hesitant to get anywhere near her, and when they did, her frank commentary on their actual intentions usually sent them running. It was all well and good – however hard she clung to the belief that she could one day be saved by faith, could one day come to say she loved herself and someone around her, she wasn’t banking on it anymore.
Certainly, she had a handful of acquaintances. In her line of work, it was a necessity – information gathering wasn’t her forte thanks to her unapproachable nature, for example. Not one of those she’d consider a friend, though, and there was - is - no doubt in her mind that they would stab her in the back if they had a reason or chance.
personality: Largely, Fan’s personality remains the same in Auslosen. Despite the changes, her core idealism – that she’s something unsavoury and irredeemable – maintains, alongside her self-hatred. Her love for cute things still persists, as does her tendency to push people away.
Most notably, she’s actually more willing to allow people close than she normally would be, because there’s a marked difference between people getting hurt and them getting killed for knowing her.
Obviously, her religious nature is different as well – while she hates herself and holds little belief in religion, she doesn’t hold any special hatred toward it. She simply feels that heaven, or any other goodness that comes of it, isn’t hers to have.
job: Mercenary, specializing in jobs against sex offenders/unsavoury types.
fix: Literal trials by fire. It started as a bizarre take on the Corinthians 3:15 passage “If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire” and became, especially as her belief dwindled, a way to repeatedly and obsessively prove her ability to withstand some physical iteration of that proverbial fire. Of course, repeatedly walking on hot coals or sticking one's hand in a flame has a profound physical effect on a person, so Lana eventually had to turn to something a little less self-endangering. What she found, in the end, was spicy food. Mildly spicy does nothing for her, if it wouldn't make the average person flinch, she doesn't care about it.
ROLEPLAY SAMPLES:
third person: Click, click, click. The sound of her small heels on the cold tile rang through the air and hung there like muffled drum beats, in air that was oppressive and thick enough to almost be seen. It was always like this in these dens, though. Drugs, alcohol, sex – that was the typicality here. Her nose wrinkled and Lana’s hand came to rest on the cross hidden beneath her shirt. Another night, another sicko. She’d done this so many times it didn’t even bother her anymore.
Opium, she thought as she passed the thin sheet that separated the gaudy, brightly lit room from the outside, that’s their strongest vice here? How unusual. None of her thoughts showed on her face, though, as she loosened her posture and weaved through the crowd, intentionally bumping someone to apologise to here and there. She even managed to stumble once or twice, very nearly falling over only to be caught by some ‘nice’ guy. None of them were the right one, though, and she politely thanked them and turned her gaze downward before continuing on toward the bar.
Sliding into a seat, she ordered a simple Cosmo, flashing a shy smile when the bartender said something. Easy. So easy. It might have been more difficult if half of the partygoers weren’t out of their minds on the drugs, if there wasn’t a haze of smoke in the air thick enough to choke most people. Someone mentioned she looked new, that this didn’t look like her usual haunt, and Lana gave a nervous giggle.
“It isn’t,” she promised, twirling a bit of dark hair between her shimmery-nailed fingers, “I’m just looking for something kinda new, you know?” Resting her hand on her chin, she gave a smile that made her look even younger than her pretty face. Someone they knew would like her, they said, and they’d go get him. Perfect… well, hopefully. She didn’t want to break character over this, but all the same, she didn’t want to deal with unrelated frisky hands.
The gun and group of knives strapped to her thighs, quick to grab but carefully hidden under her choice of clothes, went completely unnoticed; their familiar weight was a reassurance indeed. She’d finished her drink before the man returned to call her over, into a darker corridor and down less smoke-filled halls toward her destination. That wasn’t to say it was quiet – it certainly wasn’t that, with the sounds of sex and screams that probably weren’t just that echoing here and there. She flinched appropriately, and the man who led her reassured her it was all consensual.
What lies. Screams of pure pain, no matter how one tried to justify them, still sounded clear as day in her ears. There was no pleasure to be had there – and thus, no chance that it was truly consensual.
first person: [First meetings are always a crapshoot, doubly so with new contacts. New clients or targets? That was easier by far. With contacts, you have to worry about silly things like whether or not they’re actually trustworthy. In a place like Auslosen, trust is questionable enough even in well-known associates.
Still, it must be done. Checking her watch, she sighs and enters the small café, greeting her server and brushing her hair back behind one ear. Inside with her, then.]
… Lana Rivera, I have a reservation for two. [Flicking out a card, she hands it off to the host, who nods. “Your party is already here; we’ll lead you to your table.” So he said.] Thank you.
[The host offers a smile and another nod, leading the way to a small table settled in the back. It’s well away from the others, with its own privacy screens. Well, here goes nothing.]