Post by Machina on Jan 7, 2008 1:47:16 GMT -5
Name: Kalan Miizuré
Age: 1700
Gender: Female
Race: Demon
Rank: F
Class/Monster: Green Mage
Realm: Beauty Castle
Weapon Skills/Abilites/Magic: Wind Magic
Appearance: Go here
Personality
Kalan is rather quiet most of the time, her responses consisting of nods or shakes of her head; occasionally a soft grunt of dislike or mewl of approval can be heard rumbling in her throat. She only speaks when spoken to, her mannerisms that of a child whom was shown barely, if any, love. She shows her moods with her actions, her body language the only thing she really knows how to control. Her magical skill is weak, being that she speaks her spells softly; still unable to conquer the quelling fear she has of others.
Even in combat.
Biography
Kalan grew up on Earth, tossed from family to family as if she were a nuisance; to some perhaps she was. Not speaking, not eating; barely showing her face during the daytime. Little is known about her true origin, though what is locked in her memory may someday be released. All that is known to her is that she was not borne a human being and she is now where she belongs on the demon realm.
The last woman that took her in was one of religion, one that saw her as she was; a monster. She kept her caged in her room, feeding her only 3 meager meals a day; enough to keep her alive. She felt that Kalan was a plague set upon her by God, one that she felt she did not deserve and she prayed and begged every day to be rid of her. Finally, she was, in her own death.
Interests: Ribbons. Lace. Dolls.
Vassals: None.
Reminisce Shoppe Items: None.
Sample Roleplay:
"Oka-sama.." Kalans voice was a whisper as she stared up at the woman who had taken her in, quivering in fear as the elder female loomed over her. The shadow of her 'mother' engulfed her in darkness as she blinked her violet eyes wildly, taking several steps backwards. "Oka-sa..." The childlike voice tinkled in the air and fell to nothing as she felt the hard coldness of the wall against her back, she had nowhere to run.
"You are the devils child.." The woman muttered under her breath, her eyes aflame with hatred for the one they had felt was brought upon them as a warning from God.
Kalans fingers crushed the doll which she held, her grip so tight the delicate porcelain began to crack. Her pupils were dilated as she lost focus, a dull throb beginning to rumble in her head as she became lost in her fear. It had happened many times before, this dull ache, this fearsome feeling that loomed over the young girl.
"Wind."
Her eyes flashed as the doll shattered in her grasp, the porcelain shards piercing her flesh; her lips unmoving after the spoken word. No sign of pain on her ghostly white face.
"What have you done?"
Lavender hair began to whip in an unexpected wind, the eyes of the child fixated upon her 'mother'.
"Oka-sama..."
The voice was low as the large eyes stared lifelessly up into the shocked brown hues, the pupils dilating as shards of porcelain rained upon her flesh; the conjured wind tearing at her hair and clothes.
The child spoke no more, not as the blood spattered her face. Not as the body fell limp at her feet. Not as the wind settled. Not even a sound, before she fell unconscious as she had so many times before.
Age: 1700
Gender: Female
Race: Demon
Rank: F
Class/Monster: Green Mage
Realm: Beauty Castle
Weapon Skills/Abilites/Magic: Wind Magic
Appearance: Go here
Personality
Kalan is rather quiet most of the time, her responses consisting of nods or shakes of her head; occasionally a soft grunt of dislike or mewl of approval can be heard rumbling in her throat. She only speaks when spoken to, her mannerisms that of a child whom was shown barely, if any, love. She shows her moods with her actions, her body language the only thing she really knows how to control. Her magical skill is weak, being that she speaks her spells softly; still unable to conquer the quelling fear she has of others.
Even in combat.
Biography
Kalan grew up on Earth, tossed from family to family as if she were a nuisance; to some perhaps she was. Not speaking, not eating; barely showing her face during the daytime. Little is known about her true origin, though what is locked in her memory may someday be released. All that is known to her is that she was not borne a human being and she is now where she belongs on the demon realm.
The last woman that took her in was one of religion, one that saw her as she was; a monster. She kept her caged in her room, feeding her only 3 meager meals a day; enough to keep her alive. She felt that Kalan was a plague set upon her by God, one that she felt she did not deserve and she prayed and begged every day to be rid of her. Finally, she was, in her own death.
Interests: Ribbons. Lace. Dolls.
Vassals: None.
Reminisce Shoppe Items: None.
Sample Roleplay:
"Oka-sama.." Kalans voice was a whisper as she stared up at the woman who had taken her in, quivering in fear as the elder female loomed over her. The shadow of her 'mother' engulfed her in darkness as she blinked her violet eyes wildly, taking several steps backwards. "Oka-sa..." The childlike voice tinkled in the air and fell to nothing as she felt the hard coldness of the wall against her back, she had nowhere to run.
"You are the devils child.." The woman muttered under her breath, her eyes aflame with hatred for the one they had felt was brought upon them as a warning from God.
Kalans fingers crushed the doll which she held, her grip so tight the delicate porcelain began to crack. Her pupils were dilated as she lost focus, a dull throb beginning to rumble in her head as she became lost in her fear. It had happened many times before, this dull ache, this fearsome feeling that loomed over the young girl.
"Wind."
Her eyes flashed as the doll shattered in her grasp, the porcelain shards piercing her flesh; her lips unmoving after the spoken word. No sign of pain on her ghostly white face.
"What have you done?"
Lavender hair began to whip in an unexpected wind, the eyes of the child fixated upon her 'mother'.
"Oka-sama..."
The voice was low as the large eyes stared lifelessly up into the shocked brown hues, the pupils dilating as shards of porcelain rained upon her flesh; the conjured wind tearing at her hair and clothes.
The child spoke no more, not as the blood spattered her face. Not as the body fell limp at her feet. Not as the wind settled. Not even a sound, before she fell unconscious as she had so many times before.
