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Nix-4-6-36 & Vesuvia; Male; Female Bulkhead
Topic Started: Sep 18 2010, 09:52 PM (515 Views)
Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
Character Number- 5th

Name- Nix-4-6-36 (nameless, usually referred to as 36)

Age- 18 +4

Gender- Male

Sexuality- Unknown

Appearance- He draws morbid fascination from many and strike dread in wavering hearts. There is nothing fierce or directly intimidating about him, but unlike how humans should be- alive, expressive, active- he is but a blank, empty, dead doll. Reddish brown eyes that should be lit with life and intelligence are hollow, dull, and unintentionally intent like a corpse’s. A sharp, porcelain face graced with defined angles and firm square jaws remains a clean slate, incapable of depicting emotions. Dark defined brows are frozen in position, low above his eyes and the lids are held open with minimal effort, resulting in a hooded gaze. Thin lips hardly mar his effeminate tipping features but seem to anchor his masculinity instead. His hair is soot black, cut in a practical but careless snips; the barber’s intentions are clear, as long as it is short enough and does not trouble the lad, it was perfect. Oddly enough, the unkempt tussled mop of hair does not spoil the strict tidiness about him. It gives him a rugged charm not overshadowed by the empty chasm that is his being.

He stands at a height of 6’7; his excellently proportionate frame is plaited firm with painstakingly conditioned musculature. Visible, thick chords of sinew under pale wrap the sides of his neck were honed specifically to withstand neck blows and chokeholds. The rest of his body is no less impressive. Every strip, rope and sinew of muscles are defined by fine grooves; hard, great, coiled strength stored within compact muscles. He carries himself with a straight backed, military ease. The absence of emotion and thought from his demeanour only serves to enhance the danger that radiates off him. Singed into a dark scar on his upper arm is a top view, silhouette of a dragon’s skull, sharp snout pointing vertically down. Beneath it, a series of numbers were similarly etched onto his skin. The skin on his fists have hardened and thickened, reminiscent of a croc’s hide from constant, relentless pounding in hot sand. Veins and nerves were moulded away from the blade of his forearm and shin to desensitize his limbs. A strike from either shin or arm is as good as being beaten with rods of steel and could, with the help of resistance, break bones. His does not shatter easily due to conditioned, higher density (don’t try to head butt, seriously). Everything he is is a created product- a living machine specifically made to be an elite soldier with absolute obedience.

His garments are mainly black. A sleeveless shirt lies under polished leather vest, with a high, even collar that hides his throat. Belts are diagonally lined from beneath his throat down across his torso to his hip keeps the vest firmly strapped to avoid hindering his movements. Issued weapons are stored in pockets underneath and he can easily access them from the slots between the straps. His pants are only slightly baggy, ends tucked into black boots. A leather strap that contains tiny packets of drugs is wound below his elbow. A hidden needle is positioned right on the inside of his arm, capped by a shielding layer of latex sheet. Once injected into his system, it grants him heightened senses and temporary crushing strength three times his own. It is not without side effects, however. He is highly discouraged to use it, but he certainly will as per standard procedure should the situation become dire.

Personality- As good as blank. He obeys the Father and anyone who holds his leash. A literal leash. Due to his faultless obedience to his master, he no longer has to wear the steel collar. But it still serves the purpose of recognizing ownership. Once a command is issued from the leash-holder, he will not stop until it is fulfilled without a hint of hesitance, unless the leash-holder decides otherwise. He does not speak unless commanded and interacts with nothing around him unless his person is compromised. In essence, he does nothing unless commanded unless it is to preserve his life.

Forced to become a mindless soldier, it doesn’t mean his thoughts does not exist, however. But his brain has been shocked to lock them away as if switching brain activity to elsewhere from his cerebral cortex. He can feel pain, but is so adept at distancing it that he does not appear affected at all. He’d keep going till his heart stops beating and the last drop of blood drained from his body. What frail shred of humanity left in him has little chance to grow. The Father believes that he is one of the flawless successes ever trained. It’d take a god to release him from his shackles. Wouldn’t it?

Upon bonding with Vesuvia, he was unconsciously set on a path of self discovery. Due to his lack of identity, he has never had other personalities challenging the hidden, undiscovered part of him. Now with the presences of Vesuvia and the Taint Lord in his mind, he is aware of his own thoughts and is much more sensitive to the intrusions. As a result, and due to the already existing mental cage he keeps himself in, he is extremely adept with barring foreign influences. A spoken command from his master would have instant obedience, while some creeping mental and spiritual manipulations would meet hard resistance. However, he allows Vesuvia to have her way with him on most occasions, with effort on her part, simply because he recognises her as someone with much higher authority compared to the Taint Lord. Why, he doesn't know, save for reacting towards the bond.

Birds have a strangely special place in his phantom heart. As a child caged in darkness and given no freedom, the avians perching at his window cell represents a reflection of his wish. Unlike dragons, who can also fly, birds were fragile, small and insignificant. Just as how he sees his life.

The empty canvas of his personality is still waiting for a painter.

Rank- soldier gift to the Taint Lord

History- A man, Ansel Le’thordin, only ever known as the Father began more than two decades ago on a mission of engineering the perfect slaves. He murders families for their children, captures men and women carefully chosen for their physique and breeds them underground to create the ultimate, physically beautiful humans. Aside from educating them with the expected domestic duties, they were trained in the art of pleasuring the flesh as well. When the Taints uncovered him, however, he was ridiculed for holding so many uselessly weak humans. A Taint rider saw potential in the man, and threatened him to provide them with warriors every Hatching. Ansel did agree with unnerving glee and barely contained excitement. He began collecting gladiators, pitting them against each other for entertainment, money and later harvesting the best of the best for the studs of his breeding collection. Girls were bought from desperately poor families and some unfortunate noble-born were kidnapped. Breeding was always forced and it didn’t take long for his captives to understand that disobedience and struggles would only lead to more undesirable consequences. The Father was a hunted criminal many years ago when he embarked on this new quest, but the man was more elusive than a Kirin and was never captured. When the first batch of his offspring were born and grown, he laid low, withdrawing from the world above now that he had enough humans. The babes were only ever given to their mothers for feeding and cleaning. As soon as the women were done, they were taken swiftly away to prevent bonds of mother and child from forming. He raised the children not with love but a detached, mechanical purpose, especially the boys. The girls however, were treated better if only for the aim of tying them to him heart, body and soul. They were taught not how to raise children, but how he wanted them raised. The first of his desired ‘brood mares’ were thus created. They would pass on his teachings to the next generation of offspring and save him the trouble of hand raising each and every one on his own. Once he had isolated the genes he wanted, the army creation began.

Nix-4-6-36 stands for Nix- annihilation purposes, 4- the fourth generation, 6- the unit he belongs to, 36- the number used to identify him within his unit. He was a child for a very short moment of his entire life. It was quickly destroyed when Ansel tossed him in a dungeon with a few others at the age of three. They were given a piece of bread barely enough for one and a dagger, then left alone for weeks. When the Father opened the cell door, only a few children survived; all of which, were tucked away from each other in the farthest corner possible. 36 was the child with a bloodied dagger in his hand. His eyes appeared perpetually wide, missing fear, empty but certainly alert; almost feral. He was an instant favourite. The surviving boys were trained, till the age of 6 with life-threatening methods- a blade at the throat and should they fail to accomplish their task, they would be killed. 36 survived them all, not quite sane, yet far from insane. Unknowingly he adjusted and protected himself with an invisible shell that would soon thicken and turn him into what he is. He had a friend once, but that was gone too when the Father flung them yet another test. Boys closest to each other were paired up, abandoned in a contained jungle and told to kill the other. Should they disobey, both would be killed. Still naïve then, 36 thought he could hide away with his friend, but his frightened friend betrayed him and tried to kill him to survive. Left with no other choice, 36 killed him. There never was a second friend after that. Like the others who survived, all of them became isolated within themselves. More harrowing tests they were put through hollowed out their humanity and converted their will to become the Father’s.

The moment they turned 16, they were made to breed with the girls, now docile and accepting. The Father monitored them carefully, knowing that intimacy could well lead to a rekindling of their selves. He punished those who showed the slightest hint. One couldn’t call it fortune when 36 showed no such tendency. He acted as he was told, regardless of his own physical needs, heedless of anyone else but the Father and his leash-holder. Now with his training and field tests complete, his leash-holder would hand him to his next masters- the Taints.

Pet(s)- Nada


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Toxique
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Seiss
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Gyrfalcon- geddit right bud, or you is food.
The Dragon

By Toxique
Hatching
Growing impatient of the dilly dally around them, Erebus growled from somewhere over head, the sound rolling across all of the assembled like a crash of thunder. Many shifted in fright for the double attack on the senses, the huge terror above and the lord below that was both terrifying and awe inspiring all at once. How could one so small rule with such fervor and power? No one quite knew, accept for Nidhogg himself, and that quickly was a dismissed thought, as those that thought of his power, often thought to take it from him. A small fact that he would never let allow.

Absently, as his lord busied himself, Erebus's claws parted once again to allow a dainty crystal drop before Kenina before his attentions drew elsewhere. Two small pricks in his huge skin, the life force within being the only thing he could feel of them, as they were so small in his grip. Though it was no matter, he was doing his duty, and his lord was pleased with that, though not so much pleased with everything else going on around him.

Nidhogg saw the fear that radiated from Stei's eyes, a cruel smirk lashing upwards on his face as his control took effect. Humans were tricky creatures, his power didn't work on them unless a crystal had them as well, thus was why he found it so prudent to give the creature one. A stubborn follower was a good thing to have, teach them right and they would blindly follow to their death, a pawn without the care for himself, just the sheer stubborn need for loyalty onto him. That was what he wanted, so he waited, his dark eyes following as the human gulped, then slowly bent.

"Yesssss," what could have been better described as a hiss escaped the tainted lord as the crystal was taken into the humans meaty palm, and he was able to capture him from the inside out. "See, was that so hard?" He mocked, flicking his tail tip before a jerk to his left caught his attention, two new soldiers oozed from their shells and left him grinning even more. Being of particular favorite breeds of his, he contented himself to watch at human level as the toxic and influenza's found their partners, the look on his Sheathe's face priceless as the bulkhead egg revealed its destroyed occupant. Oh well.

But something drew his attention, a bowing man to his side, distracting him from the rocking of the other bulkhead egg, as if it were angry at the injustice done upon it's sibling. Now lazily he focused on the leashholder, regarding him with a slow blink of his bulbous eyes as his lips dipped to cover his teeth in consideration. "I hope they were better than the last slew you gave me." Curt words were the only thing given to the man as one horn tilted, taking the ring from his hands and locking it onto one of the tines that jut out. The transition complete, Nidhogg twisted his gaze to 36, sneered, and then started to worm his way back to Erebus, the Karma twisting his head down to allow him his rightful throne.

Though something paused him, his inky black purple body stopping as he passed the twitching bulkhead egg. The shell was expanding rapidly, blows being thrown against the outside from the force within, curious, the lord paused to watch. One bulkhead had already failed him, and he would not be adverse to killing this one to if it didn't meet his standards either. But the egg didn't seem to care, just slammed upon itself, bits of shell starting to fling out, hot to the touch and sizzling on the ground as the hatchling increased the temperature within. Quite a stunning feat for one so small, actually.

And the heat seemed to be doing the trick, the shell heating up more and more and becoming brittle from the inside out. Cracks rippled the surface until holes appeared, and from them a white hot form suddenly rammed herself free with a shrieking wail. That prison was holding her back! Nothing would hold her back!

Though as the bulkhead hatchling came away, surprisingly white and metallic in the light, her multiple eyes focused on the lord staring back at her. Not even yet a minute into the world, she knew what this creature was, felt his power, and stopped all her motions to stare back at him. Though it seemed she passed whatever test Nidhogg had planned for her, as the lord sneered again with his wicked grin, and made his leisurely way back onto Erebus's head, where he was instantly taken up out of sight.

Indignant, the white mirror finish bulkhead snorted her displeasure and twisted all of her legs away to march some feet away where she composed herself with a bit of grooming. Faces flashing against her scales as she cleaned them, another fact soon became apparent, where eyes should have been on her neck were patches of translucent skin, glowing red orange and contrasting against her white hide. From within these patches came the view of the lazy motions of the diamond magma as it rolled within her body. It only took her a moment to realize she was being watched before she flapped her wings, clumsy, but yet far better than the bumbling idiots that her egg mates were.

But now that she was clean came another task. The fact that the bright crystal on the center of her chest deserved its partner. And with at least twelve eyes to look, it was only a matter of time before she was slinking away, surprisingly thin legs carrying her in an altogether fox like manner as she strode. Approaching the leashholder she regarded the man with contempt. "You're hardly worth anything." She snorted at him as her tail lashed, cracking him in the legs and sure to leave a nasty burn welt in her wake as she approached the figure behind him. 36.

"You, on the other hand." Voice now like a purr, she oozed around him like a river of lava, cooling her exterior enough to rub against his legs, twining in and out as she eyed the two other female hatchlings with contempt. They were competition to her. "Look, they think they're actually worth something! But we know that they're worthless worms," she huffed, suddenly grinning and parting her jaws. "But you and I? Your Visuvia? Well. We'll just let that play out, won't we, my sweet?" She purred as she looked up to 36 with a wicked expression, tail flicking like a cat.

[align=center]Bulkhead Egg
Posted Image
Vesuvia
Female
(Metal Ingrot x Bulkhead Hellmouth)
Malevolent, Sarcastic, Charming
'36', 18, male (Seiss)
[/align]

Crystal-

Name- Vesuvia

Age- 4

Gender- Female

Element- Bulkhead

By Semp!
By Tox!
Posted Image

Appearance-White and with scales painted over with a sheen of silvery, she is an unusual one for a Bulkhead as well as Taint. The metallic sheen she seemed to have inherited from her mother created a creature scaled in mirror pieces, so clear and pristine that the larger pieces of her scales could probably be used as a functional mirrors. Her reflective hide can be effectively used as camouflage in dense environments as well. Between fine partitions, the glow of viscous diamond and magma underneath set the scales a flashing, shining glow, illuminating her entire form in an everlasting halo that could mock the purity of angels. She is far from being the largest of her kind, sitting comfortably just within the limits. Instead of bulk, she possesses a dainty fox like shape. Her lean legs and flowing, slender curves of her body are assets she readily flaunts before males and females alike.

There are a total of twenty one eyes, with blood red for irises on her entire body. Eleven are distributed on her face and a pair is set upon the spooning curve of her high antlers. They work in pairs, save for the single one on her forehead. Another pair sits on her second shoulders, one more on either side of her rump and a single one between. Her tail, narrow and sweeping to a wide spade like trident holds a line of three remaining eyes. All her eyes have three layers of eye lids. The first one being transparent and hard, the second, a soft and thin membrane and the final, is a translucent white. The protection ensures that they are not vulnerable points opponents can exploit. With so many eyes to provide her with a three dimensional three hundred and sixty degrees of visual scope, one would find it near impossible to catch her off guard. She could, perhaps have more eyes if it weren't for the sacks of molten diamond, magma mixture lining the length of her powerfully muscled neck. The translucent patches of hardened skin carried viscous fluid of constantly swirling, bright orange and red that added dabs of colour on her pure hide. Her split maws contort to an unnerving picture whenever she expresses emotions on her face.

Her six limbs, while slim and leanly muscled have quite apparent differences. The first fore pairs of arms have paws shaped more like hands, though with shorter fingers and thicker spade like claws. She can use them like hands if she wishes. The second pair is similar, only slightly thicker at the lower arms and possessing longer nails. Her hind is powerfully muscled, stiff toes capped with cruel, sharp, hooking shovels. Her wings are wide, with blurred mirror surface for sturdy webbing, wherein brilliant veins of red and sun's blood pulse.

Personality- Like most under the influence of Taint, Vesuvia possesses aggressive, destructive tendencies. They are mostly a driving, impulsive force not unlike the urge of instinct leading her to crave and feed upon another's demise. It evolved to sate what she truly thirsts and lacks- to feel emotions with clarity. Due to 36's strong ability to shield their link, her persistent prodding only allowed her blurred glimpses of his emotions. So focused in her task to seek better connection with him, she became reliant on his emotional climate- which was far from readily available. She finds satisfaction in causing others pain, if only to absorb their sufferings like a vampire would blood. She loathes those who cower and shed fearful tears. Screams and cries grate on her nerves, and easily stokes her anger. Anger, however, does not cloud her judgement. Instead, it spurs her appetite to make her victims suffer more; a fuel to her shrewd, twisting mind to work twice as fast; a sharpening stone for her bloody vision.

Joy and happiness were things she never had the true fortune to encounter, just like- and because- of her hollow rider. Not a trace of those lingered on the edges of his shielded feelings. Naked, they were but faint, shy, dying flickers within the black sea of his mind. She despises those who could have what she couldn't and is often spiteful towards them. Her sarcasm emerges here, to scorn them for their foolish, giddy laughters. Or when she is in a generally foul mood, she is certainly not pleasant to converse with. Unless it is someone she sees to have certain value, she couldn't care less who she offended.

Her weakness- 36- which she diligently conceals and ignores, is a puzzle she is always constantly trying to decipher. To kill or not to kill? She couldn't decide and often, deliberation lead to a long staring competition between human and beast. Then she would soon consider it a waste of her time and move on. She is only ever gentle to tiny 36, treating him like a treasured marionette doll, proof that she isn't a mere Taint drone with no heart or mind of her own. She is capable of being pleasant, but when that happens, it's a sure signal for the person/dragon in question to be wary of her 'good' intentions. An excellent actress, she can easily play explore and play upon another's personality to charm them to blindness.
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