Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Posted: **Sun Feb 20, 2022 6:49 pm**

D E G A R E
S O C O R R O

Name:
Degare Coeur Socorro

Race:
Sil’norai
Gender:
Male
Age:
102

Height:
6’8’’
Weight:
170

Birthdate:
17th of Rime, 4519
Birthplace:
Boghadar, Verant, The Southern Marches, Daravin

Raw Magic:
Bane, Ferrier
Blood Magic, Vandikar
Mentalism, Mentalist
Remnant, Remnomancer

Profession:
Doll Maker

Housing:
Socorro Estate

Titles:
Veir (Head of House Socorro)

Factions:
Daravin, Entente, House Socorro

Languages:
Common, Raillen
Conversational:
Silvain, Gentevarese

Religion:
Unknown

Sexuality:
Unknown
Partners:
Averre Reyes-Socorro †
Arkash

Enemies: -

Appearance

He possesses short, tousled curly silver hair with an almost pearlescent sheen in direct light, eyes of bright, reddened amber, and a devious smile that adorns plush lips. His pale skin is lined with the early signs of aging alongside the visually distinct marks of leaden veins and pale, silvery tattoos on the sides of his face and neck, only visible when the light shines just so. High, prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw in addition to his long, pointed ears give him a distinctive, aristocratic appearance.

His stature is tall and imposing among his people, though he is quite thin, almost deathly so. His thinness is somewhat hidden under layers of clothing, particularly fond of capes that accent his naturally broad shoulders. Typically, he dresses in black, accent colors he’s fond of include gold along with deep purples and reds. When not inside, he is often seen wearing a hood that hides his face, both to move around unrecognized as well as keep the sun from his sensitive eyes.

Note on leaden veins: as for their visibility, on Degare they can only be seen on places where the flesh is thinnest. Examples being his hands, wrists, feet, ankles and other joints. There are also traces visible on his neck and jaw. Upon becoming a Corvo, these faded greatly.

Corvo Addendum: His eyes are brighter, there's more vibrancy to his skin, some of his features are sharper, some more smooth, the proportions of his musculature rests more flatteringly on his crane-like frame, and any blemish he’d had is gone. Additionally, there are modifications to his Sil’Noraian features– the luminous tattoos have more color and shine to them, almost otherworldly in their beauty now, his ears are sharper, longer, more elegant and his leaden veins have faded quite a bit, though aren't quite gone.

Personality

Likes: Magic, Beauty, Music, Art, Pain, Drama, Theatrics
Dislikes: Crowds, Pressure, Hot Weather, Harsh Sunlight, High Pitched Sounds
Attributes: Curious, Intelligent, Passionate, Loyal, Callous, Cruel, Distant, Obsessive, Hedonistic

To those who do not know him, the man appears as cold, intelligent, aloof and mysterious. A complete stranger would assume he is Entente, though this is likely because of how much of himself is often covered. Face revealed, one is likely to think of him as imposing, intimidating, or macabre in his expressions. In settings amongst fellow Entente, his body language and movements come across as dramatic and theatrical, telling stories as much with his hands and face as his words. He deliberately chooses to come across as distinctly distant, keeping well over an arm’s length between him and others. He will come across as flirtatious in some instances, though his tastes are widely considered unknown since his flirtations are often disingenuous.

If one were to find themselves stepping over his initial boundaries, he is passionate, curious, and his flare for the dramatic is much, much louder. It would be revealed that he is naturally a pleasure seeker, one who lives simply for being alive and experiencing the highs and lows all of existence has to offer. Not a goal oriented person, he is around for the journey– often getting upset if people insist upon mentioning its end. When genuinely excited about something, he will go after it like a hound catching the scent of its prey. What piques his particular interests, however, is hard to pin down.

Going deeper, his closer bonds experience his unwavering, steel-clad loyalty. This is rare, since he is loath to allow himself to connect to others as he believes that relationships are a weakness easily exploited. Possessing few firm bonds, to those who have earned this privilege he is rather affectionate and saccharine with his expressions and general demeanor. He will typically act as if a gracious host towards those he genuinely appreciates, tending to their needs in a doting fashion with the goal of keeping them appeased in whatever manner they see fit.

Finally, if one were to become romantically acquainted with him, his passion ignites in flames that burn hot like a thousand suns. He will exhibit similar behaviors to how he would treat a close friend but emboldened tenfold, his affections become akin to fanaticism in this regard. Loyal to a fault, defensive to a fault, nearly obsessive in nature. A natural caretaker, this can unfortunately overflow into some more controlling traits. In all his life, only one has truly discovered this side of him. Despite myriad sexual relationships over the years, he struggles to trust those who express interest in romancing him still. He will also express extreme bitterness to any mention of the Arlaed.

History

Origins to Age 30

► Show Spoiler

Though in recent years the chaos caused by the Bleeding had begun to subside and a fairly widespread blanket of apparent peace had started to settle over the land, the elven territories of Sil-Elaine sat under the unsteady rule of the Court of Dusk. For many, life was impoverished, life was suffering, life was simply pain– a life not worth living. For his birth mother, such was her lot in this sad excuse for an existence. And yet…she wanted more for her son, so she gathered what small amount of wealth and supplies she could and made her best effort to stray far from Sil-Elaine, ending up in Daravin– more specifically, Verant, in Boghadar. Was this much better? No, but it certainly was different. A fairly withered soul by this time, she was starved near death, been struggling to sustain eating for two, being pregnant and all.

In her travels, she was swept away in the torrents of life that often overtake those who are powerless. She ended up a slave, though pregnant and sickly, she wasn’t considered very desirable given the risk of her expiration in even giving birth in this state. It also appeared that the slavers themselves weren’t too keen on doing much to try and revive her health, concerned as they were with the potential of wasting resources. Thus, she was given a cheap price and offered to the various shades and colors of buyers within Daravin.

By pure happenstance, she lay huddled in her holding chamber, very obviously pregnant, as a couple cloaked in black robes, shimmering purples and blues chanced by her when looking for cheap labor. It was early Wither at this point, cold beginning to creep in and biting at all three figures, plus the many others locked in that particular holding chamber. The couple in question that deigned to arrive on this day were none other than Sebastián and Sophia Socorro, second son to House Socorro and his wife. The disheveled woman and her unfortunate unborn child were only noticed by the two for one very specific reason: Sophia had become infertile before she was ever able to conceive. The two were desperate for a baby, and though Sebastián could easily find another wife, he loved her too much to leave her for this reason. Some of the other ways to acquire a baby that were more…fashionable, so to speak, did not really appeal to the couple, either. It was evident from the appearance of the woman that she was Sil’norai, elves with deep magical roots. Though members of the Entente rarely opted for adoption, much less under circumstances like this, the two cast gazes at each other in silent agreement. Even though words were unspoken, their plan was born on this day. The two of them purchased this woman and kept her under the guise of keeping her as a house maid.

Other members of the house and its staff were quite curious as to exactly why the pair had acquired their new silvery elven slave, given that they didn’t need any additional housekeepers at all. Plus, this woman was quite pregnant and malnourished, what labor could she really provide for anyone? At the same time, the couple offered no explanation. Given their standing within their own house and the roles that they played, many were none too pleased with this development, but nonetheless powerless to do anything about it. The ones who could evidently didn’t care and were content to let the two do as they pleased in this regard. The pair fed their new acquisition quite well along with giving her additional care and support, though the intent of this was not for her own sake– they wanted the baby to be born as healthy as it could. She was stabilizing well, and the pregnancy was going smooth, all things considered.

Days marched ever onwards and it was now mid-Rime. The woman had appeared to be on the verge of giving birth for quite a few days by now, and the couple appeared to be watching her with bated breath. It was the 17th, very early in the morning, when the time finally came. Her birth was appearing to be uneventful…at first. Sophia approached the doctor in charge of her care, whispering poison into their ear, and then leaving the room. Nobody knows what words were exchanged other than those two, but when the time came, the baby survived and the mother did not. People started asking questions when the couple immediately laid claim to the baby, it being extremely clear that it was not a result of their own copulation. Once again, those with the power to do anything about their choices turned a blind eye. They wanted a baby, and now they had one, who cares where it came from? That was their thought process, much as it grated on the nerves of some others. After all, the standard stipulations of offspring were yet still required– mark them young, make them strong, or cut loose the fraying strands from your family’s tapestry.

Sophia and Sebastián adored their newfound son. His beautiful, pearlescent skin and soft, silvery hair. The cute features, those dreamy little tattoos lacing all over his skin, particularly beautiful filigree adorning his face. They doted on him at every opportunity, and though they had high hopes and magnificent dreams for the boy’s future, they nonetheless feared for the day where they would mark him, terrified of the possibility that he could perish. The two of them viewed this son as a gift from the Gods, and they felt that if he did die, it would’ve been their fault. They did what best they could do to prepare him, feeling immense pressure given the illegitimate circumstances by which they came across him, as well. They could tell many hoped for his failure, hoped he would die so that this oddity would cease to exist and they didn’t have to think about it anymore. However, much to their chagrin, the child lived through the process of receiving the mentalist’s mark, at the young age of only three. It is hard to imagine what it would be like to go through each of the five Reverie’s tests as a child that young, what their mind would form, what they would see in that coalescing mess of colors, memories and dreams…despite this, at the end, the young boy opened his eyes, confused and disoriented, but mind and body intact and new mark permanently etched upon his palm.

The boy’s triumph managed to shift the opinions of some who disapproved of his membership in the family, as they were wont to disrespect this development. Many were still on the fence of this illegitimate son, but given how much magic was respected, they had to hold their tongues over the years. His magical talent was undeniable, and in the subsequent few years he spent most of his time learning to cast alongside musical arts and the various social and political skills one needs to exist as an Entente. Even in such early stages of his youth he was painfully aware that his existence would always be, to some degree, cutthroat in that regard. Despite the nature of the Entente and how it usually bred competition, the young boy never really wanted to partake beyond being an observer. He was quite nosy and enjoyed meddling in the affairs of others, but only to such a degree that he would be considered a bystander. This young Sil’norai simply enjoyed playing music and learning to cast, while being entertained by the petty dramas and conflicts of those around him.

As he grew, he did often find himself wondering about the nature of his origins, with myriad questions on the subject. His parents told him absolutely nothing, despite him knowing he wasn’t naturally theirs, and what he did find out wasn’t actually through them. In hushed whispers, he heard the stories about the woman who gave birth to him, but naught more. He only really started to think about these things around the age of twelve or thirteen, having been blinded– maybe distracted, more– by the whirlwind that was his life up to that point. That, and his parents were overall very loving of him, doing their best in whatever ways they could think of to both nourish his growth…but also just keep him happy. Though the creeping curiosity was growing louder, a boy of this age had little power to really wander and go out looking for such answers, so the questions remained as such, gnawing every so often at the back of his mind.

In his teens he found his interactions with his peers to often be strange, given the fact that his appearance amongst his human family shifted drastically as he grew…ever taller. Even the taller humans would only reach mid six feet, his growth continued up until roughly six-foot-eight, near the end of his teens. Though aware there were races of which were taller than he, he spent most of his time amongst people he towered over. Lithe in figure and with soft but distinct, beautiful features, he was rather popular with those his age as he floated through his teens. Despite this, he rarely gave anyone the time of day, finding his interests in others to be…somewhat lacking at this point. He excelled in most of his studies, finding himself more interested in the academic, magical and musical than the social from ages ten to about twenty.

At about age fourteen, the boy heard more than just whispers of another form of magic that interested him, that of Bane. The concept utterly fascinated the young, fledgeling mentalist, thinking about all the possibilities it had on its own merits. However, for the moment, he wasn’t very well acquainted with any known Ferriers. That, and being a child, he didn’t quite feel it was his place to badger anyone at the moment for their time. Plus…taking on another mark would put his life at risk, and he had only just begun to live it. Nonetheless, his interest in that field of magic would be maintained well into the future, up until he’d end up making the decision to act upon it.

When he became an adult, he found himself ever more curious about the affairs of others. In these upcoming years, he was rather more willing to socialize to quite a bit higher degree compared to his more bookworm-like attitude in his teens and early childhood. Many sought his attention and his affections, for myriad reasons– he found sifting through them somewhat overwhelming, vexing, even, but used their interest as a way to glean ever more information about others. Some came to him genuinely wanting to try and forge a relationship, some just wanted sex, some were trying to manipulate him to trip over members of his family, some just wanted friendship, and others wanted to hurt him personally. Whatever the reason, however, given the nature of his social class, they were ever and always interesting, therefore he often entertained most of those that approached him, but kept his guard ever vigilant when it came to those he would allow close to him.

One reason of note that people found to flock towards him was his race. Sil’norai weren’t directly rare, though their numbers had been extremely thinned some years ago in the epic tragedy that was the bleeding. However, in company of mostly humans, they looked on at the prospect of his long life with awe, curiosity, and perhaps most poignantly, jealousy and desire. Many would covet those extra years, so many would come to him, trying to play the strings of his heart just so in an attempt to undergo the Arlaed with him. It never worked. Once he found out that this was often someone’s intention when trying to court him, he reacted with trepidation, extreme caution and the complete lack of ability to fully trust anyone who so much as mentioned the concept of romancing him.

Through his twenties, he found himself much preferring to remain socially distant from others, growing colder to strangers. The people he was closest to always remained his parents even during this time, mostly entertaining relationships with others as a form of self amusement, but not wanting to become too attached. This was a given because of the bloodbath not very well hidden underneath the surface of the Candor. He was quite happy to allow himself whatever pleasures came along, but always careful, ever cautious. This attitude was shaped after years and years of watching fellow Entente engage in both subtle and unsubtle wars with one another, watching blood as it flowed in deep, crimson rivers from house to house.

Ages 30 to 100

► Show Spoiler

30-40
For Degare, his thirties were about as interesting as his twenties. His house was always busy, with frequent parties and banquets where the notable musicians in the family would play for guests’ entertainment. As for himself, he’d only play sometimes– he much preferred to wander the halls to overhear conversations and gather information for personal use. Even indoors among other Entente, he often kept himself entirely covered. Hooded and wearing scarves to further obscure his features, he wasn’t particularly interested in making solid connections of his own at this point in life. The mage was content to ride the waves of life on his own for now, but towards the end of this decade, his interest in becoming initiated with Bane magic was slowly rekindled. For this, he would need somebody to mark him, so being a recluse was no longer a proper option.

40-50 From Ashes I , II , III Deep Red I, II, III, Blood of the Heretic, Blood of the Faithful
In the early part of this decade, he lived life as he had for the past twenty years: doing pretty much whatever he wanted. The main difference is that now his ears were perked to listen more acutely to conversations involving the words ‘Ferrier,’ ‘Bane,’ and ‘Malek.’ Days and months flitted by as he continued to mind everyone’s business except his own. That is, until he found a few specific individuals about whom he had deep interest in learning more. He asked questions, pulled some strings, arranged a few favors and called upon some of his own to meet with each individual. Of the lot, one man in particular caught his eye more so than the rest.

The two easily built a rapport with one another, conversation flowing swiftly and freely like a gushing stream every time they met. Eager to connect with one another as they were, Degare always tried to keep people at a bit of a distance…but even he found himself struggling to do so in this man’s presence. As time passed and their relationship developed, he found himself almost equally fascinated in the man as he did of Bane, the original purpose of getting to know one another. After one particularly long night of wine and magic, the two had found themselves tripping over the lines of the platonic and deep into a far more intimate abyss, much to the internal chagrin of the Sil’norai. He felt powerless against these waves of emotion, and much as he tried to resist, he failed– but there was still that omnipresent distrust floating in the back of his mind towards his newfound lover’s intentions.

Then…Averre, his companion, made him an offer: to bestow upon him the Ferrier’s mark. Who was the mentalist to decline this, that which was his original goal, especially when it was an offer made by somebody he held so dear? His partner was utterly confident he would succeed, which served to bolster the man’s confidence, and in the end, he did. He wore the mark with pride, having asked for it to be placed at the very top of his sternum, right below his throat.

50-60
During this part of his life, he spent most of his time at his lover’s side, throwing himself wholly into their relationship as much as he did the new school of magic he had gotten out of it. He had learned to manipulate miasma fairly quickly and without much trouble, finding beauty and grace in the act of manipulating it. It was something slow, creeping, omnipresent and he loved these aspects of it. He dedicated most of this decade to establishing and advancing his skills in this field of magic, finding himself utterly lost in his fascination with it.

60-70 Root of Sin: Sow, Flowers of Evil: Reap
For a Sil’norai of this age, there were very little, if any, signs of aging. For his lover, however– his youth continued to fade. Though slightly younger than Degare, he looked infinitely senior to him. The two of them rarely had any arguments worse than small disagreements, but as time flowed forth, the pressure to do something about its passing was growing. There was a word on the tip of both of their tongues, a word that drew the ire of one and the hope of the other. The Arlaed. Many around him questioned his lack of commitment in this regard to a man he’d held dear for almost two decades at this point, but given his bitterness at the ritual he struggled to actually want to go through with it with, well, anyone, for any reason.

He spent most of this decade trying to live his life as usual, enjoying what he enjoyed and coexisting with the Candor such as one can. The gnawing feeling that he was making a mistake by not going through with the Arlaed on his lover would never go away, but the thought of actually binding himself to somebody like that had always made him sick. He was so used to the only reason people asked after it was for their own personal gain, so worried that he’d be bound to somebody that didn’t truly care about him. The most unfortunate thing about this situation is that Averre was sincere in every word he’d ever said, every action ever performed to Degare for the entirety of the time they’d known one another.

70-80 Journey's End
Entering this decade, the mage was much the same as he was entering his sixties as for his physical age. He was doing his best to care for his aging lover, but his genetics were cruel, it would seem. Despite ample use of necromancy, medicine, and other forms of restorative magics, the man seemed to be continuously falling apart, each new or restored piece faltering again after a few short years. His time was very obviously slipping through the hourglass with the grains running dangerously low. Days slipped by, as did months, then some few years, the mages always having been a little oblivious to the speed at which time was passing.

At the age of seventy-eight, his lover being seventy-five, he felt his world end as there was no longer an Arlaed for him to push off. The time had come and the man had perished, succumbing to illness brought on by his age. Degare’s regret was immediate and overwhelming.

80-90 In Reverie, You Persist
This decade was spent in a far more intense rendition of his previous isolation than ever before. Degare did not quite understand the impact losing Averre would have on him prior to it actually happening, and when it finally came to pass, he found himself fully drowned in a violent, tumultuous sea of bitterness, apathy, regret, and mourning. This was how this entire decade was spent; he was barely able to focus on anything– barely able to be mentally present for anything. His interest in everything seemed to dry up, and he spent most of his time just sitting alone, in his study, either asleep and dreaming or reading. It was a hole other mentalists often fell into, dreams became addictions or haphazard coping mechanisms. A lot of his other hobbies and interests were forsaken during this period of time.

90-100
The agonizing, dreamy haze of the last decade was beginning to weigh ever more heavily upon him as he entered his ninetieth year. Including his lover, pretty much anyone he’d cared about through his life were dead or dying in their old age. Loneliness was not a concept he was necessarily a stranger to, but this was rather crushing by comparison to what he’d become accustomed to from years past. In an attempt to lift the weight bearing down upon his psyche, he forces himself to get back into the things he used to love, alongside a newer hobby. He also began to be active again in the lives of others, trying to reach out to members of his family and those adjacent in some small ways to rekindle some semblance of a social life.

Something akin to sympathy had stirred within him for the unfortunate children of the Corvané, especially as the only daughter aged. She gained the mentalist’s mark at the same age as he, though her parents' affections for her were…much less than what he had received from his own. In some respects, he as a step-uncle became more of a parental figure to the young girl than her own mother, the two often crossing paths at the parties hosted by his house, of which he had begun to use his magic to entertain. Many found his displays utterly bizarre and macabre, but at the same time, delightful in their gruesome nature. The young lady in particular found such shows fascinating, and given the blood relation shared between her and his deceased parents, made an effort to speak with her distant step-uncle.

Of a more personal nature, he had begun to occupy his time with the creation of dolls, puppets to be more precise. Inspired in part by the nature of the shows he would put on during the parties that he had somehow been handed the mantle of host, they were intricate and beautiful. After all, there wasn't an infinite supply of prisoners sentenced to death for him to use as toys, and of the ones that were local, he would save them for those events. So for his personal time, he found himself falling in love with the craft of his puppets.

Recent History

► Show Spoiler

Marks of Control

Bane

The Black Seed
_

Appearing as an opaque, inward-curving triskelion emanating dark vines twisting across the skin, the Black Seed germinates steadily as one progresses with Bane. His is placed at the top of his sternum, directly below his throat.
Granted to him by Ferrier Averre, his lover at the time, as a gift.

Blood

Vandikar's Mark
_

Appears like a circle with barbs along its edges, and sharp arrow-head like shapes emerging from it. His is placed directly below the bane mark on his sternum, but this one is drawn on the bone itself.
Granted to him by Arkash because he wanted to try initiating someone.

Mentalism

Mark of the Mentalist
_

To many, his mark likely resembles a phantom lit by ghostly flames, or nothing like that-- it is in the eyes of the beholder, after all. His adorns the palm of his dominant hand.
Granted to him by his mother and father as a rite of passage in his youth.

Remnant

Mark of the Remnomancer
_

For Degare, his mark manifested as two pyramidal neurons on the back of his neck, at the base of his scalp. The soma of the neurons rest directly below his hairline while the dendrites extend upwards onto his the back of his head and creep down just a little onto his neck.
Granted to him by Salen Auclair.

Posted: **Sun Feb 20, 2022 9:06 pm**

SKILLS

KNOWLEDGE

Posted: **Sun Feb 20, 2022 10:43 pm**

MUTATIONS
&
MORE

Mutations

Bane

Motif: Maledictus Corpus
_

Bane

Initially, Degare found himself enraptured with Ashes and Pathos-- fascinated with their myriad potential effects on the body. He's spent most of his time as a Ferrier learning ways to carefully weave the two to slow function, to enervate the body. As he learned and developed, his skills mirrored this desire. Favoring extended suffering, his casts are not to cause catastrophic or fatal damage, no; they are to make the victim suffer, to lament in their pain for the last excruciating moments of their lives. Degare is not a traditional combatant, rather a pampered noble...his spells are for his own pleasure, not necessity.

Suffocating Cinders: (affecting Bane skill: ‘Spectrify’) Apprentice
Though with lesser range and area of effect, the Ferrier can exhale a much denser cloud of ashes. The result is that anyone living caught in the area will struggle to breathe through the ashes clogging their airways and lungs. Those who inhale large quantities of ash will begin to hallucinate the memories and voices of the recently departed. This has no effect on other Ferriers.
The Ferrier with this mutation will always have ashes in their respiratory system. The ashes will constantly form and pollute the longs, requiring the mage to exhale or cough them out periodically.

Coruscating Ashes: (affecting Bane skill: ‘Ashes’) Journeyman
Ashes exhaled by the caster vividly reflect light. In bright light it can be almost disorienting or blinding. In dim light, the ashes are beautiful, almost pearlescent in their glimmer. They often fade with leaving an otherworldly shimmer in their wake.
This is purely aesthetic and has no purpose other than a visual modifier.

Exosso: (affecting Bane skill: ‘Rot’) Expert
Unlike standard Rot, this Bane exclusively affects bone tissue. Seeping in slowly through the skin, quickened if slung into an open wound, it will cause the collagen in a victim’s bones to rapidly degenerate or deplete, resulting in much softer, fragile bones. If a victim is careful, the collagen will be restored over time, especially if one finds a way to supplement their collagen intake.
Developing this skill will cause the caster’s own bones to weaken, if only by about 20% at first. This effect is worsened with increased exposure from how frequently the ability is used, but will regenerate back to that initial 20% loss over time.

Doll's Limbs: (affecting Bane skill: ‘Pathos’) Master
The caster can freely detach his head and limbs at will at shoulder, elbow, wrist, hip, knee, and ankle joints. He can then do whatever he wants with his body parts.
Ligaments, tendons and other connective tissues at these joints of the caster are naturally weaker, allowing for them to pop right off with sufficient use of force.

Mentalism

Motif: Danse Macabre
_

Mentalism

Ever and always inquisitive and prying, Degare uses his mentalism for both the purposes of manipulating others as well as learning more about those around him. For what purpose, pray tell? His own entertainment-- his is a life led by his curiosity, thirst for knowledge and personal enrichment. The lives of others are nothing to him other than shows for his own amusement-- facets of fascination. Mentalism allows him to delve a few layers deeper than one normally would as well as granting him yet more methods to keep others at arm's length, manipulate them, or break them.

Dernière Danse: (affecting Mentalist skill: ‘Minstrel’) Apprentice
Fills a target’s mind with euphoria, bliss, joy, or another combination(s) of positive emotions that would compel one’s body to move– typically to dance. This effect is heightened especially in the presence of music. The intensity of these emotions will twist for a unique effect: a partial override of negative physical stimuli, meaning the target will continue even if they are injured, starving, or otherwise impaired. Total override can be achieved with multiple tethers.
Upon developing this mutation, the mage's own hunger pangs and thirst are felt less. Degare will likely not remember to eat or drink with any regularity, frequently finding himself weak from hunger or dehydration. Additionally, one will find that some of the wires regarding pleasure and pain are henceforth crossed. These effects are exaggerated upon frequent use of the ability.

Consummate Cognition: (affecting Mentalist skill: ‘Neurocrux’) Journeyman
Provides more advanced cognitive function for Degare, typically biased towards his ability to perceive and understand the emotions of others. His problem solving skills and abilities related to mental processing will also be enhanced. This also further complicates his Mindscape and consequently, it will be much more difficult to navigate regardless of method or skill in doing so.
The glow of his Neurocrux will be brighter and more radiant behind his eyes, thus more visible. If somebody got close enough to get a good look, it might resemble something akin to neon-lit pathways or constellations in vibrant, shifting purples, pinks and reds. His own emotional highs and lows will be significantly more overwhelming. This is a double edged sword, especially for somebody as troubled as Degare.

Paranoia Agent: (affecting Mentalist skill: ‘Scarecrow’) Expert
In addition to fear, Scarecrow can now be used to induce paranoia in the minds of the afflicted.
Degare’s perception of his own paranoia is amplified.

Bête Noire: (affecting Mentalist skill: ‘Scarecrow’) Master
The intensity of Scarecrow is increased significantly. As a result, the emotion evoked will cause permanent damage to the hippocampus of those afflicted by it every time this skill is used. This can make it so that the afflicted will have permanent issues regulating fear and will end up anxious the majority of their time spent conscious. Continued use, or use of multiple tethers at once, can cause further damage to the brains of the afflicted– inducing long term effects such as PTSD, clinical depression, fatigue, cardiovascular damage, gastrointestinal problems, decreased fertility, accelerated aging and even premature death.
As a sadistic archon of terror, Degare’s empathy is significantly reduced. His ability to relate or care about others’ plights will also drop. Frequent use of this skill will spike his own anxieties, cause emotional instability, and potentially even cardiovascular issues.

Blood

Motif: Crimson Tide
_

Blood

Growing up in a city surrounded by beautiful rivers and luminous falls, Degare has always been enamored with the flow of water. It can be as gentle as a dewdrop or as destructive and tumultuous as the tidal waves resulting from underwater quakes. This affection for water was twisted and warped into a fondness and then further into a lust for blood– rivers of it, oceans of it. Such a fascination has impacted his life in myriad ways over the years and as a consequence, it is what drives the unique traits of his Blood Magic.

Incarnadine Eye: (affecting Blood skill: ‘Sway’) Apprentice
Doubles the range of Sway as a result of permanent, crystalized Blight in his eyes and on his veins being used as a conduit; this has become as much a part of his anatomy as anything else.
Degare will gain bright, carmine red limbal rings around his irises. Additionally, the color of his Sil’Noraian leaden veins will be shifted from black to an unnaturally deep, purplish crimson. Both of these odd traits combined could out him as a Vandikar if he’s not careful in how he conducts himself.

Blood Font: (affecting Blood skill: ‘Degare’s Blood’) Journeyman
Allows for rapid regeneration of his blood to facilitate continuous casting and to reduce strain from blood loss as a whole. Overall, he’ll regenerate his blood to full capacity in a couple of hours.
When his body is regenerating blood, especially larger losses, his heart rate increases to over 120 BPM and a marked increase in internal body temperature is also present. Increased sweating, skin will be flushed, etc. while this is happening.

Ruby Drift: (affecting Blood skill: ‘Hemorrhage’) Expert
In the simplest of terms, Hemorrhage will be able to be manipulated remotely by the Blood Mage as if being affected by Sway. Degare can craft it in the palms of his hands, it will draw from blood all around him and he can levitate the orb of life essence, omnidirectionally move it, and project it forth with significant force in whatever direction he pleases in order to reposition this skill to create effective artillery bombs that will burst to unleash a forceful torrent of the sanguine essence within. The range at which he can manipulate it is determined by the range of his Sway.
This skill requires a not insignificant amount of Blight created by his own blood, most likely will be pulled from small self inflicted cuts on his palms. Additionally, overuse of this ability can run the risk of blood vessels collapsing entirely and having no static pressure to flow again.

Sanguinous Waters: (affecting Blood skill: ‘Blood Torrent’) Master
Extends the width to roughly 6ft and allows Degare to perform much sharper turns when redirecting the torrent’s flow.
His blood is thinner, brighter and more vibrant in color, as well as flowing more freely. As a result, it doesn’t coagulate properly, if at all. His wounds must be closed by means other than natural or he will bleed continuously until he falls.

Blight: Corvo
Corvo are sometimes called 'Nightcrawlers', as their name roughly translates to such in the old Icherranian tongue they were first named in. Though they originate in the hills of Caena, the advent of the Dunash across Icheron and the domination of the Unbreathing Horde has forced them entirely astray of their original homes, clinging to old Covens and roots burrowed deep within Atharen's soil.

The Corvo, who all belong to a faction known as the Brotherhood of Scaeva, are a collective of men and women chosen by Brazim, securing information, culling threats and serving the whims and will of whichever merchant, Lord or King offers them coin. Though the Corvo offer Brazim information through their duties, it is largely believed that they are more a product of his vanity than practicality, a simple desire to leave his imprint upon the world.

Like most Blights, Corvo are rare in the world, perhaps the rarest save for the Wohlricht. If they were common, it would be impossible to know. They are secretive, and most of their changes are subtle enough to be imperceptible to those other than the most vigilant of eyes, or experts in the field of Blights. Some may speculate that a particularly handsome man in their village, known for bedding loosely, may be a Nightcrawler; the same may be said of a courtesan of legendary beauty and grace, a woman privy to the ears of great Lords and Ladies. These speculations are scant proven, and the trademark of any proper Nightcrawler - in the face of great speculation - is to disappear.

Mageblight
For now, 02.

Quirks

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Posted: **Sun Feb 20, 2022 11:12 pm**

INVENTORY

Items
Up to 6 Sets of Clothing befitting your Class (Noble)

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basic1

Layered satin robes with a hood. It will often be worn alongside a cape that drapes forward over his shoulders about halfway down his chest, splitting in the middle. Down the back, the cape extends to about his ankles. Appears an inky black, though in direct light, the fine fabric will appear to shift between cool reds, shadowy purples and deep blues.

basic2

*clipped text from a thread, will edit for formatting purposes later

he wears waist high matte satin black pants with three rows of two shiny silver buttons each. For his shirt, he wears one of fine white silk with loose, billowing sleeves that are cuffed at the wrist. Around his neck, he wears a cravat of the same type of fabric. For shoes, he wears black boots that reach up to his ankles of the finest quality leather.

coldweather

formal

His face will be covered with a dark hood and scarf. This outfit is dark as night, thus allowing him to blend closely with the shadows of any dimly lit or dark space. He wears knee high black leather formal boots adorned with several superfluous buckles expertly crafted of silver. Pants are of a cotton-based satin, having a rather matte texture when compared to other types of satin; they float somewhat loosely around the knee but are quite a bit more fitted to his figure near the waist. As for his coat, it is composed of velvet and has half sleeves that open up at the elbows-- though they continue downward with long, flowing swathes of fabric that reflect deep blue in direct light. The front of it stops just halfway down his thighs with a cape trailing behind down to his calves, split in the center. It is fitted at the waist and possesses three pairs of shiny black buttons down his breast. A thick, ornate velvety finished belt sits just above his hips with a silver buckle. Underneath it, he wears a simple black silk button down shirt, though with everything else, one will only see the sleeves of which that stop at his wrists. Most of his outfit is black, though the long sleeves fade into a deep, plum purple as does the cape of his coat. The bottom part of the front of the coat fades into a deep, dark bluish purple patterned with roses.

lavish

*clipped text from a thread, will edit for formatting purposes later

he wore an outfit composed mostly of matte-finished highest quality silks. It shifted in color from abyssal blues to deep, royal purples, darkening at points toblack. On his torso, he wore a tunic that stopped a few inches above his knees. It was cut on both sides starting at just above the hip, resulting in the two pieces falling centered on the front and back and leaving his legs visible on the sides. It fit loosely and was bound by a crimson red chord resting just above his hips. It had a cowled neckline that was just barely low enough to show the very top of his collarbones. As for the sleeves, they were long, opening at the wrist to reveal the hand but extending further, flowing downward like flower petals. Both wrists have chords similar to the belt tied around them. The inner fabric of the sleeves was the same shade of crimson as the belt. His pants and shoes are distinctly closer to black than the rest of the outfit. Made of rather similar fabric to the tunic, his pants cling to his form, extending high enough onto his waist so that the split sides of his tunic reveal no skin. The boots themselves are smooth, soft leather– rather simple in design, they cut off a few inches above the knee. The only standout thing about his boots was that the top of the boot flared back and up a few inches, mirroring the flower petal shape of the sleeves, as well as the bright red color on the inside. On his hands he wears thin black gloves with silver-clawed jewelry over the fingers. These are ornamental; they are unlikely to cut anything. Atop all of that, he wears a cape composed of rather long, black feathers extending from ornate silver pauldrons with a pearlescent sheen. Extra, shorter feathers also embellished the pauldrons. The feathers bounce back light in shimmering greens, blues and purples, bound together with a silver chain. The half mask he wears is composed of the same pearlescent silver as the rest of the metal on his outfit, extending forward at the nose like a bird’s beak. The mask is textured with ornate silver filigree and leaves the lower portion of his face visible; he also has similarly textured cuffs over his rather prominent elven ears. Overall, the outfit is very avian in nature. When one combined this attire with the warping effect of a Corvo’s shroud, the man would appear shadowy, almost ephemeral

1. Daravinic Entente (SP)
Signet Ring of Socorro
1 Backpack which contains:

1 Waterskin

1 Set of Toiletries

10 days of rations

1 Set of Eating Utensils (i.e. tin plate, cup, fork, spoon, knife)

Flint & Steel

2. General Items
1 Peacock Tarantula Marionette - Thread

3. Fauna
1 Thing - Thread

Business
Socorro String Co.: The family's longstanding business selling stringed musical instruments.

Housing
Socorro Estate: his chambers are an old tower, consisting of a large, multi-floored study, bathroom, and bedchamber.

Off Topic

*image is a "final/idealized" version-- at the moment, the primary estate is smaller and the building on the left is unbuilt.

Ledger

Income	Expenditure	Cause	Total
+1000	--	Starting Package	1000 df
	--	--	1000 df

Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Degare Coeur Socorro

Degare Coeur Socorro

Bane

Blood

Mentalism

Remnant

Skills

Mutations

Bane

Mentalism

Blood

Inventory

basic1

basic2

coldweather

formal

lavish