Dr. Elijah P. Marks
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 33
Appearance: Dr. Marks just crests six feet tall, and is a solidly built man with the a series of slight wrinkles that belies the siren call of time beyond his years. His eyes are a light brown, almost amber in appearance, though they are dark beneath, belying a constant lack of sleep. His hair is messy and tied back most frequently so as not to get in the way of his work, and he has a trimmed beard of a similar blonde.
He bears the stature and holds himself with marks of a military man, though a game-leg is answer enough for why he no longer pursues such a career path.
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Equipment: Most frequently seen wearing a heavy overcoat loaded with pockets where he keeps any number of medical instruments. Beneath that, he dresses sparsely in a white shirt and black trousers/
He wears a pair of well-worn travel boots, and carries on his person most frequently a medical bag of supplies and a simple cane of mahogany, with a metal ball on top filled with led making it into a formidable weapon if the situation called for it.
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Skills and Abilities: Dr. Marks' primary skill and ability lie in his talent as a physician. Having initially served in the military as a field doctor, when he left due to his injury he practiced his talents on a journey of self discovery.
While his old war wound makes it difficult to go toe-to-toe with most, he does have the old trick up his sleeve, and the physical strength and endurance to put up at least some resistance when pressed though he would prefer to avoid harming another.
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Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:46:21 GMT -5
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Post by Dr. Elijah P. Marks on Sept 13, 2021 1:17:36 GMT -5
A sturdy structure placed amid a sea of tents, the infirmary's completion was a hallmark of progress in Port Argentium. No longer were the doctors and nurses forced to muddle through drafty, muddy tent that had been the only measure of healthcare that could be cobbled together after arriving to shore. Instead they were securely in a low, two story building complete with a set of actual beds for patients that should provide some shade of comfort. Upstairs was a smaller office, stripped of many material comforts that the surgeon Dr. Vulpin had enjoyed in the old tent. Instead it was a modest affair. The newest Chief Physician of the Infirmary had little from his old home to bring back with him, and instead stocked the place with as many medical and personal books as he could manage to purchase with the meager pay he was keeping for himself. Along with his office, were a series of private rooms for high profile or sensitive individuals, though he doubted someone as important as Naoki or Grandma would find themselves laid up in one of his beds, he thought it safer to reserve the rooms. A few rooms, however, were for on-site staff.
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New Isra
Committed
Roleplay posts: 71
Biography: This account represents the NPCs and locations associated with New Isra!
Allegiances: Isra
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:30:20 GMT -5
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Post by New Isra on Nov 2, 2021 16:55:14 GMT -5
A team of three pageboys enters, carrying a makeshift stretcher containing Baron Von Bluthand, who is plenty bloody. They seek out Dr. Elijah P. Marks or whoever is on duty, and state that this man was found on the beach, and that Lady Naoki requested he be brought here for treatment. They'd stick around for a bit to put the fellow wherever he's wanted, and perhaps to assist with whatever basic tasks might be asked of them, but will ultimately excuse themselves once they see that the fellow is in good hands.
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Baron Von Bluthand
New
Lamenting the Deaths of Millions
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Uncountable
Appearance: A late 30's-early 40's German looking man with a sharp mustache that seemingly never needs maintenance. Wears a rather ornamental uniform, with various medals and emblems upon it. He wears his sleeves rolled up, and over it all he wears a white, bloodstained butcher's apron over it all.
Almost always followed by a procession of gorecrows.
Equipment:
"The Butcher's Friend", a Large machete like blade with a *nasty* hook on the end for ripping. Pricklehaube.
Skills and Abilities:
Prodigious skill in fighting and unnaturally high pain tolerance. His hands slowly drip blood, but to no detriment to himself.
Biography:
Incredibly old, near immortal (by which I mean, he has such unnaturally high pain tolerance and skill it's almost impossible to kill him outright in a fight) soldier, always followed by a pack of gorecrows. He Doesn't even remember his previous life before being inducted into the local army and experimented on.
His hands have been stained red and magically drip from eons of fighting, passing from one lord to another, never free due to binding magic, always used to cement their rule. He's been judge, jury, and most often executioner. Now, with all his potential lords dead and the mist weakening the magic he has a chance for freedom.
No Gods, no Masters.
Allegiances: None but himself
Registered: Oct 22, 2021 7:12:05 GMT -5
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Post by Baron Von Bluthand on Nov 2, 2021 17:13:43 GMT -5
A team of three pageboys enters, carrying a makeshift stretcher containing Baron Von Bluthand , who is plenty bloody. They seek out Dr. Elijah P. Marks or whoever is on duty, and state that this man was found on the beach, and that Lady Naoki requested he be brought here for treatment. They'd stick around for a bit to put the fellow wherever he's wanted, and perhaps to assist with whatever basic tasks might be asked of them, but will ultimately excuse themselves once they see that the fellow is in good hands. On the trip back Bluthand had regained consciousness, however he severely lacked the energy to move. Both tired and a bit addled, he lay on the stretcher for whatever may come.
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Dr. Elijah P. Marks
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 33
Appearance: Dr. Marks just crests six feet tall, and is a solidly built man with the a series of slight wrinkles that belies the siren call of time beyond his years. His eyes are a light brown, almost amber in appearance, though they are dark beneath, belying a constant lack of sleep. His hair is messy and tied back most frequently so as not to get in the way of his work, and he has a trimmed beard of a similar blonde.
He bears the stature and holds himself with marks of a military man, though a game-leg is answer enough for why he no longer pursues such a career path.
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Equipment: Most frequently seen wearing a heavy overcoat loaded with pockets where he keeps any number of medical instruments. Beneath that, he dresses sparsely in a white shirt and black trousers/
He wears a pair of well-worn travel boots, and carries on his person most frequently a medical bag of supplies and a simple cane of mahogany, with a metal ball on top filled with led making it into a formidable weapon if the situation called for it.
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Skills and Abilities: Dr. Marks' primary skill and ability lie in his talent as a physician. Having initially served in the military as a field doctor, when he left due to his injury he practiced his talents on a journey of self discovery.
While his old war wound makes it difficult to go toe-to-toe with most, he does have the old trick up his sleeve, and the physical strength and endurance to put up at least some resistance when pressed though he would prefer to avoid harming another.
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Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:46:21 GMT -5
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Post by Dr. Elijah P. Marks on Nov 3, 2021 8:18:06 GMT -5
Setting up the infirmary had been quicker and easier than Dr. Marks could have possibly anticipated. It seemed that Naoki (Or whomever actually read those letters he sent to positions higher than his own) was happy to see this place stocked with what he needed, and he was in the fortunate position of not having asked for anything too outlandish. So as Naoki's pageboys filtered in, he was quick to descend the staircase, spotting the massive man they lugged along with them. Directing them to deposit their patient into a come comfortable bed he took a seat next to the man, directing them to bring him a basin of water and cloth. As soon as he had the materials he began the futile effort of cleaning the blood from the man's hands, trying to find a nonexistent wound.
"Are you awake?" he asked, seeing the man's eyes at least partially open. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" Catching sight of the young men milling about, uncertain of their next task the doctor waved them away allowing them to retreat. The individual before him away quite the sight. It reminded him of his own days in his nation's army to see such a uniform, but he tried to stifle the personal questions for the moment. At least he seemed human. Marks knew what to do for humans.
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Baron Von Bluthand
New
Lamenting the Deaths of Millions
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Uncountable
Appearance: A late 30's-early 40's German looking man with a sharp mustache that seemingly never needs maintenance. Wears a rather ornamental uniform, with various medals and emblems upon it. He wears his sleeves rolled up, and over it all he wears a white, bloodstained butcher's apron over it all.
Almost always followed by a procession of gorecrows.
Equipment:
"The Butcher's Friend", a Large machete like blade with a *nasty* hook on the end for ripping. Pricklehaube.
Skills and Abilities:
Prodigious skill in fighting and unnaturally high pain tolerance. His hands slowly drip blood, but to no detriment to himself.
Biography:
Incredibly old, near immortal (by which I mean, he has such unnaturally high pain tolerance and skill it's almost impossible to kill him outright in a fight) soldier, always followed by a pack of gorecrows. He Doesn't even remember his previous life before being inducted into the local army and experimented on.
His hands have been stained red and magically drip from eons of fighting, passing from one lord to another, never free due to binding magic, always used to cement their rule. He's been judge, jury, and most often executioner. Now, with all his potential lords dead and the mist weakening the magic he has a chance for freedom.
No Gods, no Masters.
Allegiances: None but himself
Registered: Oct 22, 2021 7:12:05 GMT -5
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Post by Baron Von Bluthand on Nov 3, 2021 8:33:54 GMT -5
Setting up the infirmary had been quicker and easier than Dr. Marks could have possibly anticipated. It seemed that Naoki (Or whomever actually read those letters he sent to positions higher than his own) was happy to see this place stocked with what he needed, and he was in the fortunate position of not having asked for anything too outlandish. So as Naoki's pageboys filtered in, he was quick to descend the staircase, spotting the massive man they lugged along with them. Directing them to deposit their patient into a come comfortable bed he took a seat next to the man, directing them to bring him a basin of water and cloth. As soon as he had the materials he began the futile effort of cleaning the blood from the man's hands, trying to find a nonexistent wound. "Are you awake?" he asked, seeing the man's eyes at least partially open. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" Catching sight of the young men milling about, uncertain of their next task the doctor waved them away allowing them to retreat. The individual before him away quite the sight. It reminded him of his own days in his nation's army to see such a uniform, but he tried to stifle the personal questions for the moment. At least he seemed human. Marks knew what to do for humans. The man grunted a bit for responding. "All over, like I was thrown out of a building. Nowhere in particular." As he kept attempting to clean the hands there seemed to be no wound that he can find, no cuts or other injuries that would facilitate said bloodloss.
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Andromeda
Established
Spectre of the Celestial Sacrifice Star
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 15-20
Appearance: 5'8"
Her face is covered by a metal mask, Hair is long in the back braided and bound tight with a ribbon.
Equipment: Armor made from metal that is dark as night and shines like the moon. The armor comes with a set of chain weapons.
Skills and Abilities: Trained with the Sheng Biao Rope Dart and the Chain Whip.
Black Fang Nebula
Biography: The Spectre known only as Andromeda has little memory of her life besides the moments leading to her death and has endured torment in hell for a few years before her resurrection under an evil star.
Allegiances: The Ethereal King, The Phoenix
Registered: Sept 11, 2021 17:10:00 GMT -5
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Post by Andromeda on Nov 9, 2021 20:27:59 GMT -5
Andromeda Bloodwraith finds the Infirmary building, carrying Sicaroth Hereschal on her back. She had gotten strange looks from some people on the way but she hadn't been stopped by any guards. Andromeda pushes the door open with her foot and looks for a spot to put the injured boy down. "I'm looking for a doctor to help this boy." She quickly finds an empty bed and kneels down to set Sicaroth down on it. After that she stands by the side of the bed and waits for the doctor. While she waited she looked down at her chains to make sure they weren't doing any action she didn't want, so far they seemed to be doing what she willed, only that one time did they attack someone because she wasn't strong enough to move in the forest. For now the chains were still, but she didn't want to get careless.
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Dr. Elijah P. Marks
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 33
Appearance: Dr. Marks just crests six feet tall, and is a solidly built man with the a series of slight wrinkles that belies the siren call of time beyond his years. His eyes are a light brown, almost amber in appearance, though they are dark beneath, belying a constant lack of sleep. His hair is messy and tied back most frequently so as not to get in the way of his work, and he has a trimmed beard of a similar blonde.
He bears the stature and holds himself with marks of a military man, though a game-leg is answer enough for why he no longer pursues such a career path.
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Equipment: Most frequently seen wearing a heavy overcoat loaded with pockets where he keeps any number of medical instruments. Beneath that, he dresses sparsely in a white shirt and black trousers/
He wears a pair of well-worn travel boots, and carries on his person most frequently a medical bag of supplies and a simple cane of mahogany, with a metal ball on top filled with led making it into a formidable weapon if the situation called for it.
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Skills and Abilities: Dr. Marks' primary skill and ability lie in his talent as a physician. Having initially served in the military as a field doctor, when he left due to his injury he practiced his talents on a journey of self discovery.
While his old war wound makes it difficult to go toe-to-toe with most, he does have the old trick up his sleeve, and the physical strength and endurance to put up at least some resistance when pressed though he would prefer to avoid harming another.
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Registered: Apr 12, 2021 16:46:21 GMT -5
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Post by Dr. Elijah P. Marks on Nov 11, 2021 9:15:43 GMT -5
For a moment the doctor considered how poor an idea it had been to send those clean-limbed young men away because without a source of blood on one's hands there very quickly came the only other logical consideration. Even so, where he wiped he simply saw more blood appearing. There didn't seem to be a source as far as he could tell, and from the description of the man's injuries there hardly seemed to be a thought for blood-stained hands. After a few more moments with the basin Marks concluded there had to be a magical component to such a bizarre condition.
"Can you tell me what happened to your hands? What were you doing before you came here?" he asked, trying to diagnose that which he could manage. It wasn't until the door flew open and he was introduced to an equally baffling newcomer that his attention was pulled away from his patient. For a moment, just a sweet moment he managed to remember the days of before this flood. Of treating sick children, helping the elderly with joint pain, treating a hunter's infected cut. Those were sweet memories by comparison as he stood by the bed of a cursed, constantly bleeding man while pinned to the spot of a towering specter in a metal mask, clad in armor carrying the remnants of a wounded demonic being. Life had been so simple back then.
But things didn't really change. A cursed man shore-tossed needed his help as much as a farmer with a toothache. And a demon child was still a child. Probably. Maybe. Lifting to his feet with the aid of his cane he pat the shoulder of the Baron.
"Excuse me for a moment" he offered before heading rapidly towards the new creatures. Ghosts and demons were almost just stories where he was from. Reaching out he indicated he would be taking Sicaroth from Andromeda, laying the boy in a cot as he kneeled to inspect his more urgent inpatient.
"Where did you find him? What's the situation?" he asked Andromeda. The sight of the wounds triggered an urgency from the doctor and his quick bursts of questions may as well have been directed to anyone let alone a strange spectral being. Settling the boy on his stomach he quickly fetched a vial of poppy, carefully bringing it to the demon's lips. "Can you hear me? It's going to be alright. Can you drink this?"
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Post by Sicaroth Hereschal on Nov 11, 2021 9:25:40 GMT -5
"Excuse me for a moment" he offered before heading rapidly towards the new creatures. Ghosts and demons were almost just stories where he was from. Reaching out he indicated he would be taking Sicaroth from Andromeda, laying the boy in a cot as he kneeled to inspect his more urgent inpatient. "Where did you find him? What's the situation?" he asked Andromeda. The sight of the wounds triggered an urgency from the doctor and his quick bursts of questions may as well have been directed to anyone let alone a strange spectral being. Settling the boy on his stomach he quickly fetched a vial of poppy, carefully bringing it to the demon's lips. "Can you hear me? It's going to be alright. Can you drink this?"
The Young boy groaned but managed to drink the liquid and the pain would slowly begin to leave his body. Under the effects of the drug, he would slowly begin to fall asleep on the table, his breathing slowing to a resting state.
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Baron Von Bluthand
New
Lamenting the Deaths of Millions
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Uncountable
Appearance: A late 30's-early 40's German looking man with a sharp mustache that seemingly never needs maintenance. Wears a rather ornamental uniform, with various medals and emblems upon it. He wears his sleeves rolled up, and over it all he wears a white, bloodstained butcher's apron over it all.
Almost always followed by a procession of gorecrows.
Equipment:
"The Butcher's Friend", a Large machete like blade with a *nasty* hook on the end for ripping. Pricklehaube.
Skills and Abilities:
Prodigious skill in fighting and unnaturally high pain tolerance. His hands slowly drip blood, but to no detriment to himself.
Biography:
Incredibly old, near immortal (by which I mean, he has such unnaturally high pain tolerance and skill it's almost impossible to kill him outright in a fight) soldier, always followed by a pack of gorecrows. He Doesn't even remember his previous life before being inducted into the local army and experimented on.
His hands have been stained red and magically drip from eons of fighting, passing from one lord to another, never free due to binding magic, always used to cement their rule. He's been judge, jury, and most often executioner. Now, with all his potential lords dead and the mist weakening the magic he has a chance for freedom.
No Gods, no Masters.
Allegiances: None but himself
Registered: Oct 22, 2021 7:12:05 GMT -5
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Post by Baron Von Bluthand on Nov 11, 2021 9:29:13 GMT -5
For a moment the doctor considered how poor an idea it had been to send those clean-limbed young men away because without a source of blood on one's hands there very quickly came the only other logical consideration. Even so, where he wiped he simply saw more blood appearing. There didn't seem to be a source as far as he could tell, and from the description of the man's injuries there hardly seemed to be a thought for blood-stained hands. After a few more moments with the basin Marks concluded there had to be a magical component to such a bizarre condition. "Can you tell me what happened to your hands? What were you doing before you came here?" he asked, trying to diagnose that which he could manage. It wasn't until the door flew open and he was introduced to an equally baffling newcomer that his attention was pulled away from his patient. For a moment, just a sweet moment he managed to remember the days of before this flood. Of treating sick children, helping the elderly with joint pain, treating a hunter's infected cut. Those were sweet memories by comparison as he stood by the bed of a cursed, constantly bleeding man while pinned to the spot of a towering specter in a metal mask, clad in armor carrying the remnants of a wounded demonic being. Life had been so simple back then. But things didn't really change. A cursed man shore-tossed needed his help as much as a farmer with a toothache. And a demon child was still a child. Probably. Maybe. Lifting to his feet with the aid of his cane he pat the shoulder of the Baron. "Excuse me for a moment" he offered before heading rapidly towards the new creatures. Ghosts and demons were almost just stories where he was from. Reaching out he indicated he would be taking Sicaroth from Andromeda, laying the boy in a cot as he kneeled to inspect his more urgent inpatient. The baron answered with a odd tone to his voice. "I was a butcher, a butcher of men, quite a while ago. The stains never left me." When the doctor stated he needed to tend to another patient, the man gave a rough nod. "I'll be fine doctor I'm just a little roughed up."
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Andromeda
Established
Spectre of the Celestial Sacrifice Star
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 15-20
Appearance: 5'8"
Her face is covered by a metal mask, Hair is long in the back braided and bound tight with a ribbon.
Equipment: Armor made from metal that is dark as night and shines like the moon. The armor comes with a set of chain weapons.
Skills and Abilities: Trained with the Sheng Biao Rope Dart and the Chain Whip.
Black Fang Nebula
Biography: The Spectre known only as Andromeda has little memory of her life besides the moments leading to her death and has endured torment in hell for a few years before her resurrection under an evil star.
Allegiances: The Ethereal King, The Phoenix
Registered: Sept 11, 2021 17:10:00 GMT -5
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Post by Andromeda on Nov 14, 2021 23:16:27 GMT -5
"Excuse me for a moment" he offered before heading rapidly towards the new creatures. Ghosts and demons were almost just stories where he was from. Reaching out he indicated he would be taking Sicaroth from Andromeda, laying the boy in a cot as he kneeled to inspect his more urgent inpatient. "Where did you find him? What's the situation?" he asked Andromeda. The sight of the wounds triggered an urgency from the doctor and his quick bursts of questions may as well have been directed to anyone let alone a strange spectral being. Settling the boy on his stomach he quickly fetched a vial of poppy, carefully bringing it to the demon's lips. "Can you hear me? It's going to be alright. Can you drink this?" "I was by the river, when I saw a wrecked boat, I don't know what happened with it but I saw him holding onto the side. I thought he was dead at first, but he moved so I rescued him and carried him here." Andromeda decided she may as well take her mask off when talking to the doctor and revealed that under the armor was a young lady, possibly in her late teens? "Thank you, by the way. Is he going to be okay, Doctor?" She looks down at the mask and inspects it, tracing her fingers around the details of it. The face of the mask was mostly expressionless, but had red lines coming from the eyes like tears of blood. She starts to think of her situation again and starts to feel a little tired, she needed to rest a little, "I'm going to take a seat."
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Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Nov 15, 2021 8:20:24 GMT -5
The infirmary had very quickly become Anastasia's home, or at least her home away from home, the one given to her by the powers that be on the island. Though she certainly had a home, she spent most of her time at the infirmary, doing what she was born to do; treat the sick and cure the injured. Marks is a fantastic physician, she had no doubts about it and unlike her father she actually respected the man, but she was by far the superior surgeon. She had become the settlement's 'sawbones' who many had begun to know as Patches due to the patches of stitched together mismatched colours that made up her skin.
She sat beside a sleeping patient who lay across a recovery bed in a cordoned off section of the infirmary, a grin stretched across her face as she regarded him before scribbling down a handful of notes in a journal she kept strapped to her waist while in the infirmary. It was just one of the many odd things about the woman, from her creation, to her brightly coloured clothing, to the porcelain mask that covered the top part of her face, but it all made her who she is. Doctor Anastasia Vulpin.
After a few moments, the patchwork woman stood and gently patted the man's head before slipping from the recovery section. "Doctor Marks," she called out, looking down at her journal as she walked. "Mr. Benson is in recovery, reattaching his hand was a complete success. A victory. An accomplishment? Hm. No. Not that." She closed her book and looked up. "He'll make a full recov… ery…" the grin faltered for a moment as she looked at the gathering of strange creatures. Her green and blue eyes scanned them in turn, from the metal woman to the demon child to the very bloodied man. "Fascinating…" she mumbled under her breath.
As the good doctor made his way to the child, Anastasia sprang into action. Cuts and lacerations were certainly her shtick, with her enhanced perception and purposefully designed steady hands, she could seal a wound faster and cleaner than anyone around. She opened a small satchel on her side and took out a needle and a spool of fine thread that reeked of alcohol, no doubt to sterilize it, and stepped merrily along and over to the bloodied man, hearing only the tail end of what he had said. "A little roughed up is perhaps an understatement. Not quite the full picture. Perhaps even a fib. While Doctor Marks is occupied, allow me. I am Doctor Anastasia Vulpin." With gloved hands, she took the cloth Marks had been using and began to wipe away the blood… then again… and again…
After a few more times. She paused and looked at the cloth, then dabbed at him again. "Fascinating…" she commented quietly. "This defies logic. Reality. Biological fact." She looked at the Baron's face, her grin growing even wider. "There is no wound, is there? Is this magic? A curse?" She put the needle and thread down and picked up her book again, already writing notes. "Perhaps you are more in need of a bath than medical assistance. The sea is that way." Without looking up, she pointed the end of her pencil to the main door behind her.
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Baron Von Bluthand
New
Lamenting the Deaths of Millions
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Uncountable
Appearance: A late 30's-early 40's German looking man with a sharp mustache that seemingly never needs maintenance. Wears a rather ornamental uniform, with various medals and emblems upon it. He wears his sleeves rolled up, and over it all he wears a white, bloodstained butcher's apron over it all.
Almost always followed by a procession of gorecrows.
Equipment:
"The Butcher's Friend", a Large machete like blade with a *nasty* hook on the end for ripping. Pricklehaube.
Skills and Abilities:
Prodigious skill in fighting and unnaturally high pain tolerance. His hands slowly drip blood, but to no detriment to himself.
Biography:
Incredibly old, near immortal (by which I mean, he has such unnaturally high pain tolerance and skill it's almost impossible to kill him outright in a fight) soldier, always followed by a pack of gorecrows. He Doesn't even remember his previous life before being inducted into the local army and experimented on.
His hands have been stained red and magically drip from eons of fighting, passing from one lord to another, never free due to binding magic, always used to cement their rule. He's been judge, jury, and most often executioner. Now, with all his potential lords dead and the mist weakening the magic he has a chance for freedom.
No Gods, no Masters.
Allegiances: None but himself
Registered: Oct 22, 2021 7:12:05 GMT -5
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Post by Baron Von Bluthand on Nov 15, 2021 15:04:44 GMT -5
After a few more times. She paused and looked at the cloth, then dabbed at him again. "Fascinating…" she commented quietly. "This defies logic. Reality. Biological fact." She looked at the Baron's face, her grin growing even wider. "There is no wound, is there? Is this magic? A curse?" She put the needle and thread down and picked up her book again, already writing notes. "Perhaps you are more in need of a bath than medical assistance. The sea is that way." Without looking up, she pointed the end of her pencil to the main door behind her. "Hah, no wound my dear," the Baron stated, his old eyes not really noticing her patchwork nature, especially while unable to get a good look from his current. "just consequence for old evil. I could not explain it if I wanted to. As for the sea, I just came out of it not a few moments ago."
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Anastasia Vulpin
Committed
Roleplay posts: 60
Appearance: Anastasia is a curious case. Not much is known of who she used to be, or even how much of her body is the original owner’s, or even human, as she had been remade and rebuilt by one Doctor Vulpin after finding her shattered remains. Thankfully the good doctor had the sense to replace and rebuild her former, broken body with parts from other women, instead of mixing and matching with whatever or whoever was convenient.
The doctor, however, did not take much stock in the tones of each part, which left Anastasia with a variable palette of skin tones. Each replacement part, bordered by a myriad of stitches, sports the colour of their original owner, from the palest to the darkest skinned individual, to a handful of more colourful tones, such as blue and green from the doctor’s non-human stock.
Though patchwork, the doctor seemed to have a good eye, as Anastasia could be considered good looking, if one could look past all the stitches and patches of mismatched skin. Though hidden behind a mask most of the time, she sports defined features, from carefully chosen cheekbones, a smaller nose, and a well shaped jaw line. Her mouth is split down the middle, and often pulled into a big, long grin, showing off a set of pearly whites. Thankfully, Vulpin had the sense to make these parts match, except for one of Anastasia’s canines, that looks far longer than her others.
As the finishing touch on her face, her eyes are ironically full of life, even if one is blue and the other green, at least one belonging to someone else before it was gifted to Anastasia.
She has a limber, athletic build, one built for the ease of efficient movement, and it allows the patchwork woman to climb, crawl, and otherwise move with grace, not unlike a circus acrobat.
Her body is also home to a great number of secrets. On the outside, she seems fairly straight forward, she looks like any other human just with different coloured skin across her body. The doctor needed more than just a regular old human though, which has lended itself to several changes in her body’s build. Her fingers, for instance, seem normal when in gloves, but each of her fingers is able to split in two, effectively giving her ten digits on either hand.
As for her clothing, she wears whatever she can get her hands on or whatever Vulpin gives her. Her favourite outfit however, is one of many colours, not unlike herself. The outfit must have belonged to a circus at one point, as the top left her arms and shoulders exposed, and only really covered her chest and the sides of her neck. The material over one side of her chest is a rich purple, and the other side a deep gold, all complete with green stitching all the way around.
Her bottoms starts half way up her abdomen, the almost-corset like midsection is made up of a multi colored diamond shaped checkerboard that ends just past her rear, trimmed with little golden fronds. The legs are made up of several long strips of purple and gold material that bloom at the middle, and connect back together half way up her shin, and finally she wears a matching pair of boots.
Finally, her mask was gifted to her by Doctor Vulpin, though unlike his it ends half way down her face, and consists of a pair of feminine eye-holes and a long beak at her nose. Perhaps its his way of showing off his handiwork.
Equipment: Anastasia was remade for the purpose of assisting Doctor Vulpin in whatever it is he needed done, mostly around his surgery. She is usually equipped with tools given to her by the Doctor, such as knives, a bone saw, dental pliers, whatever she needs at the time.
She does, however, own a fairly ornate knife, one that she hides among the baggy strips that make up her trousers. This wasn’t given to her by the Doctor, however, instead its one she found while walking the beaches. The way the blade shone in the sunlight made it seem so pretty, so the patchwork woman decided to keep it.
Skills and Abilities: Anastasia has many skills gifted to her by her father, Doctor Vulpin. Most notably she is a skilled surgeon, not only because of Vulpin’s teachings, but also her fascination of what makes a body tick, as well as how to preserve parts of that body once it has stopped ticking.
Her rebuild and construction has left her limber and agile, a conscious choice by the Doctor, which has given her exceptional ease of movement and flexibility. As a result, her movements are quite graceful and with purpose, not unlike that of a circus gymnast.
Her additions at the hand of the Doctor each serve their own purpose as well, such as her extra fingers for greater dexterity while using tools.
Since her body is also made up of spare parts, those parts are highly replaceable, leaving her with an exceptional endurance. Those parts that do break can either be fixed or replaced. Some might think that with her constructed nature that she can’t necessarily feel pain, especially considering she doesn’t have much of an adverse reaction to such things, but that’s not the case. She can most certainly feel, but instead of being adverse to pain, she is fascinated by it, much like every other sensation she feels across her borrowed skin and muscle.
Allegiances: Doctor Vulpin
Registered: May 21, 2021 21:19:25 GMT -5
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Post by Anastasia Vulpin on Nov 17, 2021 6:43:26 GMT -5
Anastasia scribbled in her book as she listens to the man. Not magic, and from what he said it must be a curse, but she really didn't have enough to work with from his words. "How vague," she says, writing down some final words. "Nondescript." She looked up a the man, her piercing blue and green gaze meeting his own. "Un-" she slaps her journal closed. "-helpful."
She stands, her book loosely held in a gloved hand as she touched her chin with the other. "If you are indeed evil, as you self described, have no wounds, and are bleeding for reasons I both can't accept nor understand - can you turn it off? Stop the flow? Cut it out?" She asks. "Then there is no reason for you to be here other than you are tired." She stepped back for a moment, letting the light she had been blocking enter through the window. "You are getting blood everywhere without a wound, and this is not a bunk-house. Might I suggest finding one to rest in? Perhaps a tent? The shade of a nice tree?" She gestured to the other patients around the infirmary. "These beds are for the ill and… actually bleeding. From wounds. Not… whatever this is," she says, gesturing over his hands with her own. Though she seems to be dismissing him, she never once lost her grin.
"Alternatively," she continues. "You can tell me why you are here so I may heal, operate, fix you. Or tell me how to turn off your blood thing. Condition. Outward stream. It truly is causing a mess."
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Baron Von Bluthand
New
Lamenting the Deaths of Millions
Roleplay posts: 7
Age: Uncountable
Appearance: A late 30's-early 40's German looking man with a sharp mustache that seemingly never needs maintenance. Wears a rather ornamental uniform, with various medals and emblems upon it. He wears his sleeves rolled up, and over it all he wears a white, bloodstained butcher's apron over it all.
Almost always followed by a procession of gorecrows.
Equipment:
"The Butcher's Friend", a Large machete like blade with a *nasty* hook on the end for ripping. Pricklehaube.
Skills and Abilities:
Prodigious skill in fighting and unnaturally high pain tolerance. His hands slowly drip blood, but to no detriment to himself.
Biography:
Incredibly old, near immortal (by which I mean, he has such unnaturally high pain tolerance and skill it's almost impossible to kill him outright in a fight) soldier, always followed by a pack of gorecrows. He Doesn't even remember his previous life before being inducted into the local army and experimented on.
His hands have been stained red and magically drip from eons of fighting, passing from one lord to another, never free due to binding magic, always used to cement their rule. He's been judge, jury, and most often executioner. Now, with all his potential lords dead and the mist weakening the magic he has a chance for freedom.
No Gods, no Masters.
Allegiances: None but himself
Registered: Oct 22, 2021 7:12:05 GMT -5
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Post by Baron Von Bluthand on Nov 17, 2021 7:51:47 GMT -5
Anastasia scribbled in her book as she listens to the man. Not magic, and from what he said it must be a curse, but she really didn't have enough to work with from his words. "How vague," she says, writing down some final words. "Nondescript." She looked up a the man, her piercing blue and green gaze meeting his own. "Un-" she slaps her journal closed. "-helpful." She stands, her book loosely held in a gloved hand as she touched her chin with the other. "If you are indeed evil, as you self described, have no wounds, and are bleeding for reasons I both can't accept nor understand - can you turn it off? Stop the flow? Cut it out?" She asks. "Then there is no reason for you to be here other than you are tired." She stepped back for a moment, letting the light she had been blocking enter through the window. "You are getting blood everywhere without a wound, and this is not a bunk-house. Might I suggest finding one to rest in? Perhaps a tent? The shade of a nice tree?" She gestured to the other patients around the infirmary. "These beds are for the ill and… actually bleeding. From wounds. Not… whatever this is," she says, gesturing over his hands with her own. Though she seems to be dismissing him, she never once lost her grin. "Alternatively," she continues. "You can tell me why you are here so I may heal, operate, fix you. Or tell me how to turn off your blood thing. Condition. Outward stream. It truly is causing a mess." "It cannot be removed, or turned off, only contained. Namely I typically have it wrapped in bandages so it doesn't drip everywhere and dirty the room. It is a curse for past sins, if I could remove it I would." He explained, finally able to sit up and get a better look at Anastasia. It was a bit easier to see his eyes now, and if she noticed them, she wouls see the eyes of a man who has seen much, given much and received very little. They weren't unkind, but they had a distinctive eeriness to them, like the calm after a hurricane. "As for why I am here, I was brought here after I washed up on the beach, only recently coming to consciousness, if you must know. However, since we are asking questions, I must ask" He scrutinized her closely, looking up and down her patchwork body. "You do seem to be made of a variety of different components. Am I not far off?"
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Andromeda
Established
Spectre of the Celestial Sacrifice Star
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 15-20
Appearance: 5'8"
Her face is covered by a metal mask, Hair is long in the back braided and bound tight with a ribbon.
Equipment: Armor made from metal that is dark as night and shines like the moon. The armor comes with a set of chain weapons.
Skills and Abilities: Trained with the Sheng Biao Rope Dart and the Chain Whip.
Black Fang Nebula
Biography: The Spectre known only as Andromeda has little memory of her life besides the moments leading to her death and has endured torment in hell for a few years before her resurrection under an evil star.
Allegiances: The Ethereal King, The Phoenix
Registered: Sept 11, 2021 17:10:00 GMT -5
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Post by Andromeda on Nov 18, 2021 17:49:00 GMT -5
While she is resting, one of Andromeda's chains start to come to life, it wanted to move toward Baron Von Bluthand and Anastasia Vulpin. It wanted blood. Before it could get too far though, the girl realizes and pulls it back. The chain resisted her pull and began to damage her hand, but she was strong enough to reel it back in.
Damnit! This armor is being troublesome again, It wants to attack that man, I can't let it!
The chain goes limp again soon after Andromeda's hand started bleeding, she them wraps it back around her arm. Maybe she should leave, but she wanted to be sure the demon boy was going to be fine.
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