Character(s) Sailor's Character Archive

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Character(s) Sailor's Character Archive

Sailor

Knight
Welcome to the Sanctum November Challenge Participant
Local time
Today 12:20 PM
Messages
35
Age
26
Location
Mars
Pronouns
they/them
πŸ” πŸ” πŸ”

Welcome to my Character Archive!

This is where I'm going to keep various links to character profiles for easy access. This thing is gonna be a constant work in progress, lol.

Next project: Creating categories of non human and human

Character List
Leviathan
Andrew
Zack
Jay
Wickham
Devlin
Obsidian
 
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πŸ’€ πŸ’€ πŸ’€

LEVIATHAN WELLWATER

Levi


AGE
198 human years
Appears 27


STATS
Strength: Persuasion
Weakness: Strong sunlight
Immune: None
Height: 5' 9"
Weight: +/-200 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Basilisk hybrid


APPEARANCE
Levi prides himself on proper grooming, and will occasionally refuse to leave his house until he's been properly preened. He only stands at 5' 9", but his tall shoes add about two inches to his height. He has fair features save for his large ears, which he often hides. His dark hair usually isn't enough to cover them, so it's paired with a dark hat. Streaks of white adorn the crown of his head near the roots of his hair, but are also covered when he wears the hat. His eyes are a dull brown, and they reflect light well enough to allow better vision in the dark than mortals. Leviathan prefers dark, flowing garments, and is rarely seen without them. Beneath all that, his body is riddled with small scars from previous scuffles.

PERSONALITY
Levi enjoys charming others. He's a smooth talker and a confident public speaker. He's quick to try and lead, but will abandon any project that gets out of hand. He prefers stalking to hunting, and will rarely take direct action against a threat. He's always a scheme away from getting in trouble, but when a plan backfires Levi is the first to sprint away.

MISC LORE
When the final Basilisk was slain nearly 200 years ago, the blood of the violent beast dripped onto the soil and took hold of the dirt. It stained the mud black as it dug it's way deeper, seeping between the gravel and grass roots to settle just below. When spring came and the wildflowers were starting to bloom, the Basilisk blood was tapped into by an unsuspecting weed. Like a parasite it drained the root of it's life, giving the Basilisk blood enough strength to wind it's way up through the stem and into the flowering bud. An unsuspecting child saw an odd colored flower. She picked it, taking the blood along with her, and returned home to show her mother.

The older woman was no more suspicious of the odd bloom. She thought it beautiful, and placed it in a glass of water to keep until her husband returned in the evening. The blood festered inside the weed, every cell pulsing with life, yet allowing no water to enter. The flower began to wilt. It was going to die, and the blood along with it. Thin thorns began to break through the dying stem, the Basilisk blood desperately trying to escape. But it couldn't fall into the water, lest the liquid thin out the blood and render it powerless. There was nowhere to go. The mother noticed how quickly the odd flower was starting to fade. She reached for the plant and lifted it from it's glass, then dropped it in shock as something bit her.

She quickly studied the wound, ignoring the flower as it bounced from the table onto the ground. One large hole, already gently seeping blood, had been carved into her thumb. The Basilisk blood had found a new host to devour from the inside, and it raced through her veins in search of her heart. Over the course of three days the mother grew ill, claiming she was burning alive yet having no fever. She rested in bed, clad in very few clothes to stave off the unbearable heat. The doctor came at the end of the week to see her.

"Of course you feel sick, of course you feel ill! You, my dear, are with child."

Nine months later, the mother goes into labor. The child comes out with snow white hair and wailing like a banshee, waking the animals surrounding the home and sending quite a few into a panic. Leviathan was born nearly 200 years ago, and is the last living creature to carry the blood of a Basilisk.

CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none


 
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ANDREW GREENE
Andrew "the Mouse"



AGE
25 years


STATS
Strength: Intellect
Weakness: Bravery
Immune: None
Height: 4' 5"
Weight: +/-169 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Human


APPEARANCE
His growth was stunted when he was young due to his unfortunate upbringing, and the poor guy never even reached 5 feet. Being condemned to stay short forever does have it's advantages though, especially when you're recruited into the local drug ring on account of your stealth. His skin is pale from the amount of time he spends inside; his hair is blonde and ever messy. It's hard finding clothes that don't fit like kid's clothes, so he wears a size small and ties it around his waist with a rubber band.


PERSONALITY
They call him Andy the Mouse (much to Andrew's annoyance) with good reason. He's a quiet guy that stays out of trouble, doing as he's told in exchange for protection. He's a follower, and holds loyalty above all else. Once you earn his trust Andrew will quite literally follow you to the grave, risking his life for you. His quick wit leads to plenty of jokes, but he's been trained to keep them to himself.


MISC LORE
Born and raised in the mafia, he had a rough start to life. His mother home schooled him for the first half of his life to protect him from potential threats that would target him at school. When he hit 13 he was allowed to enroll in a public school. The first day started well, but it ended in tragedy when he was kidnapped. Held ransom by an enemy of the family, Andy was starved for weeks, kept just barely alive. When they finally recovered him he had to spend another year in the hospital recovering. This alone wasn't enough to discourage him, and he continued to ask his mother if he could go back to school and learn with the other boys. She refused every time.


CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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Zack's character sheet is a WIP

πŸ˜΅β€ πŸ˜΅β€ πŸ˜΅β€

ZACK REED

Zack


AGE
22 human years
35 years on home planet


STATS
Strength: Charisma
Weakness: Intellect
Immune: None
Height: 6' 7"
Weight: +/- 220 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Extraterrestrial


APPEARANCE
Long blonde hair kept in a simple pony tail, greasy clothes that have been worn thrice in a row, and an odor best described as "rancid." Zack chooses to present himself as such when he's in his human form. He's found other humans are so disgusted by his appearance that they leave him to his own devices, which is perfect for an undercover alien. When in his natural state, his blonde hair is actually clean-cut and short to his head. His alien form boasts darker eyes than his human counterpart, and a much cleaner appearance in general. His slouch disappears, replaced by proper posture, and his skin turns quite a few shades lighter.


PERSONALITY
Zack is lacking in the personality department, especially when he's encouraged to interact with humans. He finds them dull and obnoxious, though many of his insults are reflections on how he views himself. He tries to hold himself high among the people of his own species, but when he's in his human form he plays the role a little too well. He laughs at obscene jokes and generally acts like a moron in hopes of fitting in.


MISC LORE
Revising Lore, please return at a later date!


CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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Jay's character sheet is a WIP

🐦 🐦 🐦

Jana Gray

Jay



AGE
20 years


STATS
Strength: Brawn
Weakness: Charisma
Immune: None
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: +/- 230 lbs.
Gender: Female
Species: Harpy Hybrid


APPEARANCE
Jay is nothing special appearance wise; at least not to other Harpies. Her dark blue feathers aren't special, her untrimmed talons are less than desirable, and her unkempt Blue Jay shift is an embarrassment. To any species outside of her own Jay appears aesthetically pleasing, as most Harpies do, but the upper class of her culture shames all who are beneath them. In truth, no matter how often she preened her feathers Jay would never meet their standards, simply because she is a working class bird.



PERSONALITY
Being told she is beneath everyone her entire life has led her to believe untrue and harmful things about herself. She stands tall when she's told, then bows her head when they say to. She does menial labor in order to feed herself and doesn't ask much of anyone. As a result, she comes off a bit cold. It's easy for her to assume the world is against her best interests, and that every day is a fight to stay alive. It can be tough to break through to her real personality. Partially because of how she was raised, and partially because she's scared to find out what lies beneath her own cold exterior.



MISC LORE
Many years ago, a Harpy fell in love with a Human. It was a forbidden pairing for cultural reasons, mainly the fact that the two species often hunted one another as trophies. The man had entered the forest to check his rabbit traps. Instead, he found a gorgeous woman with her ankle caught in the wire snare. She hissed and snapped at him to stay away, but he approached with the promise to free her. It wasn't until he was down on one knee, turned away from her, that she realized he meant no harm. He sawed through the wire with a knife and stepped back. That's when he noticed the feathers on her face, and the bright, unnatural eyes.

Now it was his turn to fear for his life. He'd just freed a Harpy from a trap, and she was staring at him with wide curious eyes. He wasn't sure how long the two of them stood there staring at one another, waiting for something to happen, before he spoke.

Their relationship started there. It bloomed into something more as they continued to talk, visiting one another each time the hunter came to check his traps. It was many months before they spoke of something more, and then many more before the Harpy was with child.

During Jana's upbringing, the rift between the two species grew wider. Her mother ended up taking her away from her father, much to both parent's dismay, for Jana's protection. When it was inevitably discovered that Jay was a half breed, her mother was put on trail and exiled. Jay was kept as part of her punishment, and raised as a servant to the upper class of Harpies. Memories of her mother are faint, and memories of her father were nonexistent. One wrong move and she would be put on trial herself. And because she was a half breed, a fate much worse than exile awaited her should said trial be forced upon her.



CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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Wickham's character sheet is a WIP
‍
☠️ ☠️ ☠️

Wickham Hampton

"Smiley"


AGE
28 human years


STATS
Strength: Charisma, Brawn
Weakness: Intellect
Immune: None
Height: 6' 5"
Weight: +/- 190 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Human


APPEARANCE
Like most men at sea, Wickham's hair is unkempt and tangled. He does his best to tie it back against his head with a string of blue pearls. His facial hair is in a similar state, but is easier to tame and therefore better groomed. He's often dressed in whatever he can find. Being at the lower rung of the pirate ladder means most of his attire is used. Very used...often stained with blood and other bodily fluids to a degree no detergent of his time could wash out. But he does his best to stay clean, using the sea water to his advantage to scrub at the filth caked onto his skin. Docking in town gives him a chance to buy new clothes, and that's where a majority of his gold goes. They get mucked up quickly on the sea, but it's enough for him just to have a nice off-white shirt to keep him warm. When he's not covered in grime, his skin is rather tan. Turns out spending all your time in the sun tossing ropes around can give you a decent glow.




PERSONALITY
He earned the nickname "Smiley" two ways; unlike most pirates he had dental health drilled into him from a young age. "You don't wanna end up like your paps, do ya?" His mom grumbled at him, shoving a spoon in her father's direction. Wickham's grandfather had only one tooth left in a mouth full of rot, and the thought of following in his footsteps chilled him. His set of not-so-pearly whites was a rare sight on the sea. The other way he earned it was by charming his way into free booze the first time he joined the crew. Wickham talked to the barkeep for hours before his men arrived, and by then the man behind the counter was so enamored with him that he gave each man their first drink free. It was no big loss to the shop, as there were only ten crew mates at the time, but it was a tale they always told when recounting each other's triumphs.

He started answering to Smiley after his captain pulled him aside for a word. Wickham was a lad's name, he was told; Wickham stood up in school and recited his numbers, he followed the rules and went home for his glass of milk at the end of the school day. But Smiley was a good name for the sea, not too complicated and easy enough to remember. So Wickham learned to answer to it, if only to please the only real family he ever had.




MISC LORE
Revising Lore, please return at a later date!




CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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πŸ”ͺ πŸ”ͺ πŸ”ͺ


Devlin Marah

"Dev"


AGE
30 years


STATS
Strength: Intellect, Brawn
Weakness: Heart
Immune: None
Height: 6' 7"
Weight: +/- 200 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Human


APPEARANCE
His occupation requires a certain aesthetic to be upheld, lest the people below him think he's going soft. His hair is short to his head and dark, kept trimmed and preened, and he often wears a grim expression. His clothes are dim, simple suits to keep his professional appearance; his favorite suit boasts bright red accent fabric. His eyes are dark, a mix between brown and lighter hazel, and are easily shaded by his brow when he's upset.



PERSONALITY
Over the years Devlin has learned the in's and out's of people. He used to be easily manipulated into thinking everyone was against him, but as he trained under his father that fear slowly left him. He can pick up on subtle clues in their body language that gives away a lie, making it very unwise to cross him. As the head of his local crime ring it's important he disposes of those disloyal to him, and he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. He's notoriously hard to kill, and even harder to get along with. He's learned to close off most of his emotions for fear they will be used against him. Some of the coldest people hide warm personalities beneath the smoke and mirrors, but no one has ever gotten close enough to Devlin to tell if there was anything beyond his cold, uncaring eyes. His entire persona rests on getting the job done and making sure everyone receives their cut. Those who fight his family never get off without repercussions.


MISC LORE
His father lost a bet at a young age to a sleazy pickpocket and couldn't pay. Rather than ask for a week or so to earn it, his father decided it would be easier to stab the guy and make a run for it. He figured no one would look into the death of a well-known thief, but as luck would have it, the lowly thief had a family, and they wanted justice. With the cops days away from discovering who was in the area around the time of the criminal's death, Devlin's father was in a difficult spot. Just when he thought he'd have to abandon his own family and turn himself in, he was approached by a member of the local mafia.

Turns out that guy had been on their shit list for a while, and he'd done them a huge favor by striking him down. They wanted to repay him so as not to owe any favors, and offered protection from the police. A few weeks later, a couple grand hitting different pockets, and the case was ruled a drug deal gone wrong. From there, Devlin's father wanted more. He approached a group of well dressed men in a popular lounge and asked for a spot among their ranks. They laughed at him at first. The only way into the family was to be family, they didn't hire any random men who approached them. But the boss at the time had been looking for ways to bulk up their ranks, and he was well aware of the man's past actions that helped the family. So he waved a hand to silence them.

"Let him have a go. Worst he can do is fuck it up and get himself killed, right?" he chuckled into his drink. "Go on kid, get out of here. We'll come get you when we're ready."

From then on Devlin's father was a grunt at the lowest rank. He managed to claw his way up a rung or two on the social ladder, but it wasn't until his son was old enough to participate that he really got a foothold in the organization. Devlin was good at his job, no matter what the job was, but most importantly he was good with people. He could talk them into anything, manipulate his body language to match theirs, or even make himself appear taller with a tilt of his head. He had a certain power that the mafia needed, and with the help of his father Devlin managed to make a name for the organization again. Many years later he was promoted to the boss' side, and years after that he replaced the man after he died.


CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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Obsidian's character sheet is a WIP

Obsidian Rot
"Subject #2347"



AGE
??? years




STATS
Strength: Brawn
Weakness: Silver, pure Iron
Immune: Venom
Height: 8' 3"
Weight: +/- 400 lbs.
Gender: Male
Species: Wolfish Hellhound




APPEARANCE
Well defined muscles, taut skin, long fur as black as midnight. The perfect features to create the perfect predator, a beast capable of silencing it's prey before it even knows it's hunted. His ears twitch as his emotions change, and his eyes glow an ominous, dull orange. On most nights he chooses to walk on all fours, but when confronted he stands to a full eight feet off the ground, enough to intimidate anyone who dared challenge him. While contained, it has been observed that his fur changes from rich black to spotted gray during the colder months.




PERSONALITY
Subject 2347 has very few observed emotions. It's less than sentient and is focused soley on survival. It hunts, it kills, it eats. Staff is advised against visiting the subject unless absolutely neccesary, all testing should be approved by upper management before the creature's exhibit is entered, and Subject 2347 should be chained up at all times.

(theres a handwritten note scribbled below the "official" typed entry)
2347 isn't bad. He isn't evil. You'd act this way too if you were taken into custody and kept chained up in some dingy basement...




MISC LORE
Obsidian woke from a painful slumber in a strange, unfamiliar world. His tips of his fur were singed, the smell making him turn his nose away. The dirt beneath him was cold. He glanced up as his memory returned to him...smoke and sulfur...he had just escaped hell, and was free to roam the earth. He didn't remember his time among demons, he knew only what was now in front of him. He was starving. Small animals were easy to maim and devour, but he spent too much energy catching them. Larger prey was scarce until he discovered a man with a gun. The man was terrified, the weapon was pointed at the hellhound, but Obsidian didn't understand the object in the hunter's hand could hurt him. He approached carefully, wondering if he could eat this creature, and was promplty shot in the nose. A painful whimper tore from his lungs, and Obsidian scratched at his muzzle as it began to burn with pain. His whine turned sour as he began to growl, then launched himself at the man that hurt him. Humans had been taught they were at the top of the food chain, but that night Obsidian reminded them how easy it was to replace them.

It didn't take long for word of a monstrous wolf hunting people in the trees, and the Facility was sent to investigate. They captured him with silver cuffs and iron chains, rendering his strength useless. Confused and afraid, he snapped at them. They responded by knocking him unconscious and dragging him to the bottom of their secure building.




CONNECTIONS/RELATIONSHIPS
none​
 
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