Lenora and Vladimir

[vladimir]

Name: Lenora

Nickname(optional): Ora, but no one has called her that in years.

Age: Unknown, 15 or 16

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Position: Good, innocent wanderer, former slave

Powers:
Lenora knows no magic other than a few simple healing spells

Weapon:
She has a large sword that was said to be her father’s, but she has never truly learned how to use it. It has a normal metallic blade and a red handle, which is very detailed and is carved to look like a pair of wings crossing each other, also adorned with her family crest in silver. Her only other weapon is what looks like a purple-blue Japanese paper parasol with white lotus flowers. On the top of the parasol is a small spike with a hole at the tip. When the parasol’s tip is stabbed into something or someone, poison that is loaded in the stick of the parasol shaft injects. This poison, while not always lethal, is extremely painful and if not healed has similar effects to the surrounding flesh to that of a brown recluse spider bite, causing the flesh to die and in some cases spread and rot while the victim is still living.

Appearance:

Skin tone: Lenora is pale, but not unnaturally so.

Hair: Lenora’s hair is black and when left down is straight and chin-length. Usually, however, she wears it in pig tails with a few chunks of her bangs hanging out, framing her face.
Build: Lenora is somewhat short standing only five feet tall, and is rather thin and frail looking.

Eyes: Lenora’s eyes are very deep and purple-blue hue
Clothing: Lenora wears a black halter baby-doll dress. It’s a bit short, ending mid-thigh and is tight from the top until below her chest, where it flows out loosely until its end. On her arms are long strips of white fabric wrapping around her hands (fingers and thumbs exposed) and up to her elbow. They are partially to brace her hands when using her sword, and partially to hide scars around her arms from being bound in shackles for an extended amount of time. Her shoes are black wedge sandals with straps that wrap around her ankles and lower shins to secure them. Around her neck is a silver locket in the shape of an oval, and on it is her family crest.

Scars: Due to Lenora’s past, she has a multitude of scars. On her wrists and ankles are thick white scars from wearing chains and shackles that were too small for two long. On her back and the back of her legs are a series of long, thin, white scars from being whipped.

Personality:
Lenora is very shy and bashful; it doesn’t take much to bring a soft pink blush to her cheeks. However, gentle and kind at heart, she is always looking to befriend those who are kind to her. However, Lenora is not all sunshine and rainbows. Her closet is filled with skeletons of a past of enslavement and the mental and physical problems that come with it. At one point Lenora did not even think of herself as a human being worthy of her own freedom, and while she has a better view of herself now she still has a lack of self-worth. While she has never had a true friend, it is likely that if she did, Lenora would be very loyal to them until they made a decision she felt was immoral. However, due to her loving nature, it is likely she would be forgiving.

History/Background:
The world of Black Earth is not like the colorful exciting worlds such as Agrabah or Twilight Town. Its named Black Earth because the dirt is literally black, and all the plants are various shades of grey. It is a very dreary world with very little color, and is constantly ravaged by war. Two main groups (They call themselves “The Children of Isis” and the Children of Nyx”)Black Earth have been in civil war with one another for years, a way that started before Lenora was born and continued until the world’s heart was taken. This war has been brutal beyond comparison, including the rape, murder, and enslavement of innocent people who are trapped in between the two groups. One group of these innocent people was a small village, the village that Lenora’s family lived in. She does not remember on account she was not even two years old at the time, but her family was split up and sold to different enslavements. The only think Lenora would have to think of as her family was a small silver locket, on which is engraved her family’s crest.

Lenora was actually one of the lucky ones. Instead of being sold into slavery at a factory, she was raised to be a higher ranking slave at the palace of The Children of Nyx. Ever since she arrived at a very young age, Lenora was told constantly that she was not even human, and that her enslavement was to protect her from herself. With this mind-washing starting at such a young age, Lenora never even thought of running away. She was not given the proper amount of food and therefore grew to be a very small child (and still is rather small), but she had enough to live off of. Over time she lost the memory of her age and last name, and could only recall glimpses of her previous life. She was told that The Children of Nyx had rescued her from certain death and pain, and that if they had not enslaved her, she would have died a horrible death. On account most of Lenora’s memories were of war time fire and screaming, she believed them.

One of Lenora’s daily chores was to walk into the market place to buy bread, fruit, and other foods that tasted best when fresh. On one of these walks back to the palace around the age of seven or eight, she ran into a frail, scarred man who gasped at the sight of her locket and started crying. He grabbed her face, and as much as she tried to struggle away he held her fast until he explained that he was indeed her father. She did not believe him until he showed her the hilt of his sword, which bore the same crest. As much as she tried to deny it at first, he did share the same pitch black hair, pale skin, and purple-blue eyes that she had. Hastily, they made a plan to meet in the town’s cemetery that night so he could take her away, and they could search for the rest of their family. That night however, she was caught by the guards of the palace and she tried to leave. Lenora was beaten, whipped, and her rank as a higher slave was stripped. Now she was to work in the dungeons of the palace, helping the black smith by using billows to heat the fire. To keep her from protesting or running away, during the day she was chained to the wall next to the fire, and at night she was chained to the floor on which she slept. The years went by, and slowly Lenora began to question everything she knew. What if she was more than just an object? Where was the rest of her family?

One would think that having your world attacked by heartless would be a bad thing, but for Lenora it was anything but. During an attack on the palace she was enslaved in, a collapse in the wall ripped a link several links in her chains, freeing her from the building. Not knowing why, she ran to the cemetery where she had planned to meet her father more than seven years ago. At the grave stone he had described, once again she found her family crest engraved in the stone.

“Dig for the brother and sister of your locket.”

Was scratched haphazardly into the tombstone. Lenora knew she had to dig, but was afraid she would find a body. Without a shovel, she clawed with her hands for hours before finding the sword she had seen in her father’s hands years before. Next to it was a blue-purple parasol. Strapping both to her back with a sheath that came with the sword, she began to flee away from the heartless. However, more and more kept coming, until she found herself sinking into the darkness. If her heart is strong enough, she’ll be waking up in Traverse Town and time now.

Role Playing Sample:
It was an unusually chilly night in Traverse Town, the powerful wind sending a shiver into the bones of any creature who ventured out doors. The neon lights of the Hotel flickered, and the clothing on the lines in the alley behind flapped madly, threatening to pop off their clothes pins and fly away. In the waterway, a dark object floated face down. Upon closer look, it seemed to be a drowned person, Or, at least it did until it thrashed up, coughing and sputtering. Pale arms with broken shackles attached to the wrists clung to the sides of the stone water way, the thin body heaving as it attempted to rid itself of water. Black hair stuck to the girl’s face, and once she had caught her breath she pushed it out of her eyes. Too tired to move, she simply sat with her head resting against the stone edge of the waterway. A few moments later, Lenora pulled herself out of the water and lay on her side, shivering in the cold. A soft groan escaped her lips. Her body ached, her very bones protested, but she knew that if she stayed here she would get hypothermia and possibly die. Gritting her teeth, she stood up and stumbled to the brick wall of the hotel, leaning against it for support.

Where was she? This place was strange . . . there were colors here that did not exist in this vibrant manner in her world. The plants were colorful, green and brown, instead of shades of grey and black. It was this fact that told Lenora that she was not in Black Earth . . . was she dreaming? Looking at her reflection in a glass window, she noticed her left eye was encircled in a large black and blue bruise. Touching it gingerly, she winced at the surprising amount of pain from such a soft touch. No, this wasn’t a dream.

Turning the corner, she came to a set of stairs leading up to the hotel. Walking in, she spoke to the owner through chattering teeth.

“C-c-can I get a room?”

She asked, having read the neon sign above the building. Realizing she didn’t have any money, Lenora sighed, wondering what it was she could do with herself.

“It’s alright, lass. First night’s free for all new comers. It’s pretty obvious you ain’t from this world. Come on now.”

Following him to the red room, she almost sobbed with seeing such a lush room, given to her, none the less for free. She fell on the floor before the hotel manager and thanked him. He backed away and left, telling her not to worry about it. It took a moment for Lenora to realize that she was no longer a slave, and that how she had acted was extremely out of place. Taking off her soaked dress that only weighed her down and made her colder, she sat in her undergarments and awkwardly smacked her shackles with the sword she had received earlier that night. Finally, they fell from her wrists and ankles, and for the first time she saw that they had caused scars. Exhausted, she climbed into the large bed and piled all the blankets on top of herself, and fell asleep sleeplessly and dreamless, the way people only do during slight shock.






Name: Vladimir Alexandrov

Nickname(optional): None

Age: 80 (The equivalent of 20 years old for a human)

Gender: male

Species: Atrum Angelus, a species similar to humans other than . . .

A. They have very large, feathered wings sprouting from their shoulder blades
B. Natural eye, hair, and skin colors include the entire spectrum
C. On average, they live to be 500 years old

Position: Neutral, Traveler

Powers:

Vladimir knows the basic forms of magic (Fire, Blizzard, thunder, cure, Magnet, Reflect, Gravity, Stop, and Aero) and also has the ability to create portals from one area to another, though on account it is newly acquired he is occasionally a little off, and ends up somewhere other than intended.

Weapon:

Vladimir uses two different weapons. The first is a large bow with which he shoots flaming arrows. The second is a set of matching swords, named Nox Noctis Vesica. They are long and light weight with black blades and purple handles

Appearance:

Skin tone: Very pale white that seems to even have a soft tint of blue

Hair: black and slightly wavy, being almost to his chin in length with choppy ends

Build: Vladimir is feet and seven inches tall and while somewhat muscular, is rather lean.

Eyes: Vladimir’s eyes are a very bright green-yellow color, much like a cats in color but with normal, circular pupils.

Clothing: Vladimir is usually clothed in a pair of tight black jeans which are tucked into knee-high leather boots, a tight black and dark grey striped shirt, and over everything a hooded trench coat covered in strap, buckles, and zippers. Both his shirt and his trench coat have slits in the back to allow his wings to come through.

Wings: Vladimir’s wings are huge, their tips almost reaching the floor. The Feathers are pitch black at the top and fade into a vibrant purple-blue at bottom tips.

Personality:

Vladimir is very hard to read, mainly because he speaks very little and his face is usually expressionless. Though he does not trust others easily, once someone has gained his trust and friendship he is extremely loyal and unlikely to leave them unless his is betrayed. If betrayed, his trust can never be regained. His sense of humor is very dry and sarcastic, which can sometimes make him come off as cruel, but this is not the case. While he does not choose either the sides of good or evil, he does not harm innocent people and is likely to help them if they find themselves surrounded by heartless or nobodies.

History/Background:

Vladimir spend the first 75 years of his life (until the age of about 19 if he were human) on his home world of Atrum Utopia, a world filled with other beings like himself. He had a normal life for one in his world, growing up and living with his parents until he reached the age of 65 (Once again, in human years around 17 years old). After moving out and living on his own, he worked as an archer for his world’s defense organization. Years were spent fighting the heartless, but eventually Atrum Utopia was taken over by darkness. Waking up in Agrabah (or Radiant Garden, which ever you prefer) he set it upon himself to try and find another of his kind. After almost five years of searching, he gave up on his 80th birthday (around 20 in human years), deciding that he was the only surviving Atrum Angelus. Since then he has simply been traveling, discovering the worlds that are left.

Role Playing Sample:

It had been months since Vladimir Alexandrov had visited the world he had found himself in five years ago, Agrabah. Lightning cracked the sky and a strong wind blew the sand around, a fierce storm that didn't shed a drop of rain. His hood up to keep the sand out of his eyes and his wings pulled tight to his back in attempt to keep them clean as well, he walked through the empty market place. Bits of broken pots, smashed by being knocked over by the wind, littered the ground, forcing the strange being to watch his step.

Despite the fact that this world had never really been his home, it was the closest he would ever get to having a home again. Home was nowhere, home was destroyed. This place was riddled with memoires, memories of hope that his kind still existed, memoires of bitterness that followed when that hope was found to be untrue, and memories of the numbing, dull throb of realizing that never again would he feel what it was like to have a companion. Sure, humans were close in character, intelligence, and even appearance to Atrum Angeli, but they were far different as well. Their lives were much shorter, they lacked the gift of flight, and their emotions were over all much more intense. It was as if the emotions of an Atrum Angelus has been forced from a lifetime of 500 years into a human life of 100, but Vladimir mused that this was most likely due to their short lives after all. No, Vladimir was getting used to the idea that he would spend the next 420 years or so living out his life rather alone indeed.

The creature made a large leap into the air and seemed to hang motionless for a moment, before snapping his large wings open. A gust of wind from the storm sent him upwards and to the top of one of the buildings. Crouched down with his wings folded behind him, most wouldn't notice him, or wouldn't think of his dark figure as anything more than a shadow. In this manner, Vladimir could observe and think without being noticed or bothered. And so he sat, still as stone, his only misgiving his green-yellow cat colored eyes which reflected light.