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Ghost254

Dangerous Lunatic

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PostPosted: Fri Mar 22, 2019 3:53 pm


[Ghost254 & Miserorum Venunum]
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╫ C O R E ╫


        *NAME ▬ Miserorum Venunum
        *AGE ▬ 17
        *FACTION ▬ Moth tribe
        *ROLE ▬ Student
        *SEX ▬ Male
        *SPECIES ▬ Faunus (Moth)

        *CURRENT TEAM ▬ (Leave blank if you do not have a team yet)
        *PARTNER(S) ▬ (Teammates, if you have any)
        NICKNAME(S) ▬ Moth (ball), Wingless, Misery, Miasma
        OCCUPATION



╫ A F F E C T A T I O N ╫

        HEIGHT ▬ 5'6
        WEIGHT ▬ 155 lb

        HAIR ▬ Dark blue
        CLOTHING ▬ Blue and white yukata with golden accessories. Some samurai chest armor.
        ACCESSORIES ▬ Golden tassel headband, black elbow length gloves, golden bow wristband, gold bow ring.
        EYES ▬ Blues eyes with a gold, semicircle ring, around pupil.
        BUILD ▬ Lean yet muscular
        TATTOOS
        SCARS ▬ Torn wings
        MARKINGS/FAUNUS FEATURES ▬ Moth wings (purple with black outlines and a skull on each). The wings are torn halfway through and unusable for flight. Spinnerets in mouth (uses to make woven silk).


╫ A R C H E T Y P E ╫

        NATURAL ABILITIES
        Primary Talent ▬ High pain Tolerance
        He is very resistant to pain due to his masochistic nature and can ignore it to press on in a fight, even when a persons body would usually shut down from extreme pain.
        Faunus Trait/Bonus Talent ▬ Moth Silk
        While most moths have flight as their main and only ability, Miserorum had that stripped away from him. As a result, his body developed an alternate creation from his moth heritage; silk creation. He can spit up to 20 feet of woven silk from his mouth, due to spinnerets inside of it, for a variety of uses (even full on cocooning himself). The silk is very strong and hard to break (comparable to rope as it will take a lot of strength to break it). However, it has a weakness to anything that can cut it, as it will break quite easily when cut. While he can slowly pull it out for a rope or to make his cocoon, he can also launch it from his mouth to a foe (up to 15 feet away from him) to try and restrain them as it would wrap around them. His silk can be sticky too if he chooses (for purposes of restraint, to create his cocoon, and to attach the cocoon to a surface). He has to wait 5 posts before he can use this ability again.
        Other Talents
        - Physical strength: He has been physically strong since birth; it was one of the reasons he survived to this age.
        - Endurance: Miserorum has suffered many injuries and survived to live another day. As such, his body can withstand much more blows than the average person along with a high stamina.

        LEARNT ABILITIES
        Strongest Skill ▬ Katana mastery
        Misery has learned how to properly wield and use a katana, with an understanding of the techniques in its use.
        Weakest Skill
        - Moth to a flame: He is fascinated by bright lights at night, and has a strong compulsion to follow/ go to it. Unless there is clear danger (which allows him to resist this), it has a hypnotic pull on him.
        - Awareness (daytime): During the day he is not very aware of his surroundings due to his nocturnal nature (fairly easily to sneak up on).
        Other Skills
        - Stealth: Misery has learned to hide himself effectively in many terrains and to move near silently.
        - Climbing: Due to his wings no longer being usable for flight, he has adapted to become exceptionally good at climbing to make up for it.
        - Emotion Suppression: When needed, Miserorum can suppress his negative emotions if he has a source of pain he can focus on. Being a masochist, he can focus his mind on the pain being a positive and mask his negative emotions from grimm.

        LIKES
        ▬ (Hobbies/Talents)
        ▬ (People) Moth faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sours
        ▬ (Objects) Bright lights, Sharp things, Natural made
        ▬ (Animals) Insects

        DISLIKES
        ▬ (People) Butterfly faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sweet
        ▬ (Objects) Anything made by butterfly faunus, high tech
        ▬ (Animals) Avians
        ▬ (Fears) Moths dying out, being a failure, failing his mission

        PERSONALITY TRAITS
        Nature ▬ Misery is a dark person with a dark outlook on life. He places no value in his own life; only in what he accomplishes before he dies. He has no illusions on death; he knows it shall approach him one day and he fears it not. He had a very morbid outlook on life, reflected in his humor and pessimism.
        Vernacular ▬ Grim and dark tone, but american accent
        Positive Traits ▬ Loyal, determined, brave
        Negative Traits ▬ Grim, Pessimistic, Morbid, despises butterflys, fatalistic, self sacrificial

╫ H I S T O R Y ╫

        BACKGROUND
        -Tribal war (Butterfly vs moth, aftermath)
        None still living know the start of the conflict with the butterflies, only that it was fought and those who fought for them. Led by their then leader Timere, the moths had fought a valiant battle against the cruel butterflies for the bountiful land that could not hold both of them. Both sides were roughly even matched, but under the leadership of Timere the moths felt emboldened and that victory was only a matter of time. All their hopes had rested on him; the one who personally led every battle even if he was not always the last to leave. They fought ruthlessly with a one for all mentality; if a few could be sacrificed to save the many then it was done. Wounded were not cared for during a battle as they were expected to fight till they drew their last breaths, and were left behind if necessary. Victory was their goal at all costs; each death was meant to have meaning once they claimed the promised land. Any dissent among the ranks was quickly removed one way or the other, and unlike the butterflies the males primarily fought. The women and children were left in the safety of their bases in order to ensure there would be more troops if needed in the future. And that there would be a generation left standing once they won. No elderly were spared from battle; all others would fight, even children once they were old enough. Though as the war progressed, single women were also brought into the war as well to bolster their ranks. They looked to have a chance of victory, capitalizing on the butterflies all for one nature... even if it only provided them a narrow advantage. However, that all changed in the Battle of the Oak. Amidst the battle and bloodshed, Grimm had found their way into the battle and Timere was lost in the fighting against Grimm and Butterfly. Demoralized and their general slain, the moths had retreated the field to try and regroup. They were not given the time they needed to recover, as there was no successor or moth equal in battle and strategy to Timere. From then on the butterflies won battle after battle...Until eventually the moths were forced to flee from the promised land into the more treacherous wetlands. The stories curse those who had ran when Timere fell, believing that if they had just pushed forward then and held to the man they may have won. Alas, that was not how history came to be and Timere's death signaled the beginning of the end of the war. Yet his war strategies still lived on.

        The moths had to flee deep into the wetlands to escape the butterflies who were as intent to exterminate them as the moths had been for them. There were many losses but Timere's teaching remained forefront in the mind of every moth. They traveled at a brutal rate and sent squads of moths behind to delay the butterflies and mislead them. Those sent almost never returned. Anyone who could not keep up was left behind, and the weakest amongst them would be used to draw Grimm away when they were attacked and outnumbered. It was survival of the fittest, and they were doing their best to keep their tribe alive at all costs with his teachings in mind. Many would-be leaders sprang up during this time, but their reigns were always short; each tried to imitate the courage and intellect of Timere, and each failed in turn for over reaching their bounds. All that kept them from splitting and being preyed upon to the last was their hatred of the butterflies who did this to them and the memory of Timere. Eventually, it proved too dangerous for the butterflies to follow after them and they only had to contend with the wild life, terrain, and the ever abundant Grimm. Still, many were lost to the wetlands... until they finally found a defensible enough place that they made a stand in this deadly land. A place that would become their new home... fought for with blood, sweat and the lives of many a moth.

        -Tribe life (Land, Butterflies, Death)

        Life in the wetlands was not an easy one when they first claimed it, nor was it now. With how flooded the land was and all the dangers that lurked in the water, they had to adapt to make it habitable for them. Though they had the advantage of flight and wings, they could not fly forever. So they would construct a wooden village high enough above the water that even when it flooded they would be safe from the water, something they had suffered too many losses from in the past. They did not make it much higher than that as a few attempts had found them susceptible to being toppled in the water by the stronger Grimm who also inhabited this region. The moths had grown to be nocturnal in this hostile environment as the most dangerous of creatures would stalk the wetland at night. They needed to be to ensure they would be prepared for a nightly attack, of which was not a rare occurrence for them. That is not to say all of them were as such; the population was divided into a diurnal and nocturnal one to take advantage of both times of day while always being prepared. Both shared similar roles, but the dangers would be different. Which one a moth came to be was determined at birth by the eldest of the village; those who had proved too strong, wise, or cunning for the wetlands to claim as another victim.

        Miserorum, then known as Nocturnus Puer (night child), was determined to be a nocturnal. Puer was the name given to every child before they underwent their first raid, and Nocturnus was to signify him being a nocturnal. Those who were to be of the day were called Diurnus Puer. Miserorum was the second born child, though he was the only living one. His elder sibling had died early, a victim to the wetlands, before he was even conceived. His mother was a nocturnal like himself, and his father was a diurnal. He was taught early, as all moths were, of what was expected of him; to live, fight, and die for his tribe. He was taught the rules of battle, that the world was there to test him and should he ever fail he would perish like his sibling before him. And so Miserorum was introduced into the cruel world in the wetlands, learning early how to survive in their land and of their history. Not all moths were meant to survive adulthood as he learned early; many other moth children he knew would perish in time to the wetlands due to its abundant dangers. So he became familiar with the concept of death very early on in life, and like most moths learned not to fear it. Death became an everyday part of life; nothing to be feared as they were all meant to die at some point. All that truly mattered was what they accomplished in their lives and deaths.

        After learning of the lands they inhabited, his next lesson had been Grimm. And the best way was to learn was in experience. One of the first tests they experienced was of learning to hide from Grimm. Both physically and mentally. The Grimm were often drawn to the moths with their grim outlook on life, and thus they had learned how to better protect themselves as well as how to hide from them in other ways. One was in learning to turn their negative emotion in positive, or at least neutral ones, so that the Grimm could not hone in on them. Miserorum struggled with it until one day he found himself wounded and trying to hide from a beowolf... Having been left with no interference or help as was common. He had focused on his wound... twisting it from one of pain to... enjoyment. And managed to hide from the wolf till he could return to safety. He did not know it then but he was a masochist... and by twisting the pain to near pleasure would make his mind void of negative emotions so long as he did so. There were many other tests of evasion and even fighting them...but this was the test that stuck out to him the most.

        Once it was proven he could survive, the next step was learning of the tribes history and their eternal enemy; the butterfly. Of how once they both vied for a land of little danger and abundant resources, a land that was to be theirs. Learning of the nature of the butterflies, how they were hunted down after the war, forced into this land. Like all other moths, he was taught that butterflies were their enemy. And he, like most others who survived to that point, followed and believed it. It was an enemy they could blame for their lives and their current situation; one they could use as motivation and a goal to eventually take back what was supposed to be theirs. Or so that is what the moths believed, and Miserorum as well. While they struggled to survive here and rebuild themselves, their eternal enemy was never forgotten. They were outnumbered but they had one advantage on their end; the butterflies had never traveled deep enough into the wetlands to find them, but the moths knew exactly where the butterflies were. He had learned of the raids his parents and others of the tribe partook in to take resources back from those lands and deal blows, if small, to the butterflies. He was very eager to help in them, to strike back at the enemy, but he was not allowed to till he came of age. His first raid would be his transition into adulthood, and all moth children had to be trained before they could be risked on a raid. They were told to die before they reveal the way home, and they would never be sent until they believed that. He, like all other youths, learned to place little value in their own lives. Like the teachings of Timere the tribe would come first above all.

        -Miserorum Venunum (Ambush, Remi, Wings)
        Every moth has a trial to take before becoming adults. It would not be their last test, for life itself was a never ending one of survival, but it was the most important to a young moth. It was the test that would give them their name. No moth child had their own name until they underwent this trial; being named either day or night child depending what was chosen for them. The test was not simple in the slightest, but then none of their tests had been since they were born. However, this trial in particular was known to claim the life of many aspiring moths. Even the ones who would oversee the test were not immune from the risk of death. While the exact circumstances they may face during the test was unknown, there was one certainty; it invariably pitted them against their eternal enemy. The Butterflies. The trial was a raid into the promised land, the land the butterflies won during the war, with the goal of bringing needed supplies back to the tribe. It was a mission adult moths underwent regularly; thus it was the perfect trial to transition the young moths into adulthood. Despite their acclimation to life in the wetlands, it did not compare in the slightest to what could be taken from the promised land. A day of foraging in the wetlands was equal to an hour in the promised land. It was a vital task for the tribe to sustain itself; without their raids, they would be even fewer in number than they are currently. The raids were necessary to sustain themselves. It also served as the first opportunity a moth had to prove their worth. The first time they would truly be tested in their belief of the tribe being before themselves.

        Miserorum had finally come of age alongside a few other youths; the few other ones who has survived in his age group from the inherent dangers of the wetlands. They were a handful at most, but that was how life in the wetlands went at times. Sometimes there were far more dead than living moths by this stage, and sometimes it was the reverse. Regardless, they had all earned the right to this trial by living this long. All of them were eager to begin, to prove themselves to the tribe. Each of them would head to different parts of the promised land to steal as much as they could. Each one would be escorted by their parents and a tribe member if they were still living; if not it would solely be the tribe member. This was done to ensure their devotion was to the tribe above all else, for if one of the family were to fall the others were meant to leave them behind to fend for themselves. A test for both parents and offspring alike. No thought was to be spared for the other during this mission; bringing back the needed supplies was all that was important. While this was normal business for the adults, the adolescence had special circumstances unique to each. Some were unable to take weapons, other were allowed no food or drink from the night before the trial. In Miserorum's case, he was given no weapons. He would only be able to eat once the trial began; a way to prepare them for when they go to war again with the butterflies. The day that war happened was unknown, but it was a steady goal for the moths. The promised land would be theirs again, and so their life was lived in preparation for this war. Miserorum felt ready. He had survived up till this point in the wetlands, and would have the chance to earn his own name. Even if he died trying to do so, it would still be worth it in his eyes. For those who died during the trial were given the name of Honoratus Mortus (honored dead). And so Miserorum would set on by nightfall... for the added difficulty for the moths was that the test would be in the opposite time of day they lived by. By the time they reached the promised land, it would be day...A time and setting he was very much unfamiliar with.

        It was...strange to see a world so brightly lit. It was... almost blinding, at first. His eyes were unaccustomed to this time of day, and he had only been able to not be blinded since he was awake as the sun slowly rose into existence so that the light only gradually changed. Had it not been for the importance of this trial he may have spent some time to just admire how the world looked. Not just because of how the change of light changed the look of the world... but because in this light Miserorum found himself gazing at the promised land that he had been told of ever since he could remember. And it did not disappoint. However, he had little time to take in the sights due to the mission at hand. And because of another unexpected encounter. Not long after they had infiltrated the promised land they stumbled across a pair of butterfly faunus. The first ones he had ever seen. Immediately his mind was filled with curiosity and hatred; he finally could see the enemy that had caused his tribes forced migration into the wetlands. The curiosity he had felt and was replaced with a desire for vengeance, one that seemed to be shared by his fellow tribe members. They let out a cry and sprang from the bushes, intent to quickly take out the butterflies before they could escape and alert others...However, they found themselves quickly ensnared by vines and flower stems that prevented them from reaching their targets despite their struggles. While in a panic and trying to use their weapons to cut free, some of them more successful than others as Miserorum was very much entangled, He scarcely noticed that a flower was emitting a pollen in their struggles until he felt a tiredness slowly begin to set in on him and seeing the rest of the moths grow weak in their struggles. He was confused as to what was happening, why he was feeling like this, and struggled on nonetheless with more energy than the rest. Soon after, the adults went unconscious entirely leaving Miserorum as the only one to still be conscious though slowly losing that battle. He struggled with all his might even as his body was slowly failing him, glaring at the butterflies ahead as they seemed to be the source. A primary reason for him to still be up just being the thought that if he went down they were dead for sure.

        Then another unexpected event happened, one that Miserorum was unsure was for good or ill. Something that he was certain no insect faunus was expecting; a Grimm appeared.It quickly attacked the butterflies, probably sensing their fear as he thought was likely or perhaps it being that they just made the most noise, and seemed to have the upper hand. However Miserorum's main focus was not on that; it was on escape. As the Grimm was being fought he was attacking at his bonds, feeling his body slowly begin to return to his control and his mind clear a little. The plants themselves were weakening, and the pollen had stopped falling from the flower. As he was near free he could hear the others beginning to reawaken and struggle at their bonds as well. Until finally he was free. He did not go to help the others free, looking back to the butterflies but now seeing no Grimm. One seemed dead or unconscious while the other was holding him; he had to move fast to get them. However he had scarcely walked two steps before they were noticed and he felt the familiar vines wrap around him again. He struggled against it, now more prepared, but was ensnared nonetheless. He resisted with all his might as the other moths soon went back to sleep... Glaring at the butterfly that was still conscious, the likely source of this...as slowly everything went black.

        Miserorum awoke in a daze alongside his parents, noticing immediately that he was bound with vines... Briefly confused as to where his tribe mate was till he saw him a little distance away. And at that point saw they were surrounded by a number of butterflies. They formed a ring around the moths, demanding to know of their purpose, how many of them there were, and where they came from. The only response they got was silence. The butterflies were neither in a patient or merciful mood, as Miserorum could clearly seen the one from earlier was on deaths bed now with the one who ensnared them unconscious. They did not hesitate before they killed the tribe member... Moving to his father who also only answered with silence. And so they killed him swiftly as well. Then they went to his mother... The one he shared one look with before she too remained in silence... and was killed as well. Each death was meant to encourage the moths to speak but it was to no avail...Even when all that was left was one young moth who refused to speak after seeing them die. They were unaware that with each death, the resolve of a moth was hardened. To die for their tribe was the ultimate honor. And he would die happily knowing he would do just that. He had grown numb as his family was killed before him; a mixture of shock, disbelief, and fear all mixed in one. But in that mixture of emotion was resolve; to make sure their deaths were not in vain. If he spoke, their deaths were meaningless. And he would not do that to them. It was what he was taught, what his parents believed... What they died for. However, before the blade could sever him from the realm of the living a voice rang out. The voice of the young butterfly, now that he had a comparison, as she momentarily returned to consciousness. She pleaded for his life as all he could feel was disgust. He wanted to die with his family, not live on. He didn't want the mercy of a butterfly. He wanted a death with meaning. But, despite some initial resistance by the butterflies, they consented to her request as she faded back to unconsciousness. However, they did so on a condition she would be unaware of but one that would haunt him. They restrained him further but undid the binds around his back so that his wings were now free....and began to rip and tear at his wings. The young moth screamed. The process was long and agonizing as he screamed with each new tear in it. He didn't know how long it lasted or the extent of it... only that at some point he blacked out from the pain as they left the broken moth on the ground. They left as he was no longer a threat but a warning; a living example of what they would do to any moths, and that they could afford to let one live.

        He awoke in agony, alone. The bodies of moths all round him. His hatred sparked anew, his pain sensitivity momentarily increasing in his anger... Until a purple mist began to envelop him and around him. His semblance taking form for the first time. He slowly rose amidst the purple mist as plant life began to die around him, withering and decaying. He noticed it but did not care as he felt a sense of apathy come over him. Too much emotional damage that now left him entirely numb. Numb to the pain of his ruined wings. Numb to the pain of losing his family. Numb to being seen not even worth killing. He would take slow steps forward as the purple mist followed in his wake. His mind having mostly shut down save one thing; his mission. They were dead and he was alive... the teachings of his youth that were drilled in took over. All that was left was to die or finish the mission. He did not know which he preferred at this point, and so he went to complete the mission. He could die doing so anyway. As he walked through the forest a path of destruction was left in his wake, and he paid it little mind. He could hear life in the forest around him, and he could hear it dying when too close. All this passed through his mind subconsciously as his mind clung to one thing to make the deaths meaningful; success. He could feel his body being damaged, getting a cough, coughing up blood... but he did his best to ignore it and press on...Until he would fall over as his body failed him. Through his unconsciousness a blue mist enveloped him...preserving the greenery around him and himself. He awoke much later as the sun was setting. No longer quite as numb as before and feeling the pain of what had been done to him again... but not as bad as it had been earlier in that day. Again he rose, those this time no mist followed and he could think. As much as that could benefit him with his mind still being set. Slowly, weakly, he would continue his search through the promised land. Unbidden thoughts of his parents entered his mind but he put them away. Timere taught that once someone wad dead not to dwell on them; even when they were just injured. Bodies were not people even if they resembled them, and his duty was to his tribe first. Or so he told himself as he forced the thoughts of his parents from his mind. And so he continued...happening upon a suppl cache of the butterflies and taking all he could... Avoiding any Grimm that were in the area as he focused on his physical pain, twisting it to replace his negative thoughts with false satisfaction. He was too weak to fight them directly; and to do so would be to have a death without meaning. He would eventually escape the promised land and travel by night back to his tribe...Bleeding, bruised, limping... Alone.

        He was the only young moth to return that day. All the others had perished in their trials, though most of the adults had made it back. Of his year he was the only one to make it... and when he related truthfully what had happened, he almost wished he did not. He could see the shame and looks in the eyes of his tribe; he was found to be so weak by the butterflies they had no fear of him living on and used him as a message to the moths. One that they would kill them again as they had in the past, or so the moth tribe interpreted it. Three warriors had been lost and one who was found much weaker had returned; this was only lessened by the fact that he returned with supplies. Otherwise he may have been found guilty of cowardice and killed; such a thing was not tolerated. But because the moth had survived the trial and succeeded, he was given a name. Miserorum Venunum, the unhappy poison. Most moths would've felt proud to receive their name. Moths would die for it, and had. He had been much the same not long ago. But his naming felt hollow as he was not revered as an adult by the others of the tribe. His wings as bad as they were unable to fly... he was hardly even a moth. Even his naming reflected it; Miserorum was not his own unhappiness, but that of the elders. As many felt he did not deserve it for being granted it by the mercy of a butterfly. And so alone, the newly named moth would return to his home...His now empty home. He had his name... It only cost him his family, wings, and his standing in his own tribe.

        - The outside (Purpose, cloak, beacon)
        Being an adult in his own tribe led to no joy; for while he was still part of it, he was almost seen as an exile. He spent little time with others due to the tribe being small enough that the circumstances of his adulthood were well known to others. Even if he sought others out, it rarely led to more than passing words. Despite being in a tribe full of other moths, he may as well have been alone. Especially with his duties as an adult. He was never sent into the promised land again; they did not trust him, did not think him capable of doing any tasks there after what happened. Instead he was confined to the accursed wetlands he grew up in; the ones that claimed so many moths before and would continue to do so as long as they lived. He was sent on the most dangerous missions there; be it slaying creature, Grimm, or even outsiders. He would be sent to the farthest reaches of their territory to dispose of and deal with any threats. With the hope by his tribe that he would not survive. Knowing that did not deter him though. He never complained, never spoke out about it; he willingly went on such tasks. Because he hoped for his own death as well. It was not that he would just give up and let himself be killed. He wanted his death to have meaning; to be part of the worthy dead who fought and died for their tribe. At least in that death he could see himself being redeemed for what had happened in his trial. At least then he could be accepted again. But he would not die. It was not to say he never came close or that he was invulnerable; death was a constant presence for him and sever injuries common. However, he just kept living for some reason, and kept returning home to the tribe with a hollow victory. Not being granted the death many, including himself, wished for.

        This continued on for a time until a scout came back with vital information. Some butterflies had left the promised land, to some strange place called Beacon. They had learned from captured butterflies that there two butterflies went there to learn to combat the Grimm threat. Something that the moth tribe knew was a growing issue. While they considered the butterflies their primary enemies, the Grimm had been growing stronger as of late. To which Miserorum knew all too well. His poison was the only reason he ever survived encounters with them, loathe as he was to admit it. And the scouts knew of the Grimm in the promised land too; some moths were lost to them or used them to their advantage against the butterflies. It was then a decision was made to send one of their own; not to kill the butterflies, but to make sure they got no edge on the moths. For if the butterflies learned a better way to cull those creatures, then they would have an advantage against the moths. However, no moth had set foot outside of tribe land save the promised land; it was akin to exile and death. Nothing was known of the world outside their endless war. It was assumed life elsewhere was near unsustainable; that it was hollow. So, the natural choice fell to Miserorum. Already an outcast, he was not one that would be missed. And the elders well knew that should he fail, the ancestors would not forgive him. It was his last and only chance... and should he fail, they would merely send another. They also just wanted rid of the living reminder of their mortal enemies’ victory. So, without complaint, resistance, or even a word... Miserorum left his home. The one that cost him everything to serve the tribe one more time. With the hopes of restoring his name and standing...being granted a death with purpose.

        His journey was mostly uneventful, though not to say danger was not present. He had to travel through the promised land just to leave the tribe lands and reach the place called beacon; digging up painful memories and thoughts of what could have been. He did his best to push them to the side and ignore them; this was his chance at redemption, to give to the tribe... to try and redeem himself. It was bitter sweet to him though; to serve his tribe he had to leave it. Leave the familiar lands that were his home for so long. Leave the life he had built up, no matter how bad, behind. Leave all the sacrifices he made for it behind. And he knew not when he was returning. There was no set date, no clear goal; just to learn all he could for however long it may take. His time away could be close to life for all he knew. These thoughts filled his mind; hope and despair, happiness and sadness, relief and sorrow. He had to dodge the odd butterfly patrol, or grimm as he could not afford to fight them at risk of discovery or serious injury. But not everything on his journey could be avoided after all; nothing had ever been simple in his life, and it seemed nothing ever will be.

        Once well out of the promised land, he had heard the sound of battle and out of curiosity drew closer to watch. When he finally reached it though it was mostly over; a grimm stood over a corpse, a box lay not too far away, and the signs of the battle and struggle were evident. Whoever the human was, he was no more. The Grimm was feasting on the corpse; what for he was unsure, but it mattered little. With it busy devouring the corpse he could easily slip by it with no fuss but... the box he saw was slightly ajar, and in it he saw something that almost looked like a moon. His curiosity was peaked... and he was not sure but he felt drawn to it. Taking out his sickles he would sneak up behind the grimm... before leaping onto its back and tearing into it. The Grimm, weakened by its battle with the human already, went down fairly quick. With it dispatched, Miserorum's attention turned to the box. It had a strange symbol and writing on it that Miserorum could not recognize, but he ignored it for now. Reaching into the box, he pulled out the moon... and found it attached to some cloak. Though it was a strange cloak...not entirely made out of cloth but mixed with a strange metalic material. He had no clue what it was or what it was for...but seeing the crescent moon on it he felt drawn to it. Looking to the body on the floor, the Grimm already turning to dust, his expression was blank. The teachings he was taught since a young age came to his mind. Forget the dead, move on, and win. The dead would have no use for this cloak. He had avenged it already; more than it deserved. Clutching the cloak in his hands, he would give the body no more thought. It was not of his tribe, so it did not matter. Putting the cloak on, he was about to leave when he noticed something else in the box. Curiosity peaked, he would take out what seemed to be vials of some dust like substance. It took him a moment to recognize it as dust; something reserved only for the elders or those in the highest position. He could recognize it as a vial of earth, water and wind dust. He was unsure why these were with the cloak, but he would take them anyway. They were capable of very powerful magic, and he may need them. His looting done, he would set out. Over the weeks it took him to find and reach beacon, he had learned much more of the cloak... mostly by accident. Like how certain dust being put in caused different effects for it, and how staying still helped him hide. He did not understand it, but he found it immensely useful and was glad he took it.

╫ I N V E N T O R Y ╫

        PRIMARY WEAPON
        ▬ Cloak of the Moth
        ▬ In regular form, this appears to be a plain dark blue cloak with a crescent moon draped about the wearer with nothing special. However, the cloak has many defensive uses to protect the user and is not made entirely out of cloth; though the inside is lined with it. The cloak is actual a collection of many small metal sheets. The cloak can release a cloud of mist around the user using air and water dust (or fire and water dust to make steam) in order to envelop the wearer in it and make them harder to discern, can be hardened around him in the shape of a cocoon for defensive purposes, or it can be used to blend into the environment as it changes colors to match it.
        Melee Form ▬ (Cocoon) In this form, the cloak is wrapped around the user and hardens considerably as the metal sheets all attach to one another. They do this in what very much appears like a cocoon, and are usually attached in place from where this was activated so the wearer cannot be moved. This form can take a good deal of damage before being broken through, and provides decent elemental resistance. However, while in it the wearer does not have access to the outside and will need to come out eventually for air. He can last 5 posts in this cocoon before he needs air/ the dust runs out.
        Ranged Form ▬ (Shroud) In this usage, the user expends dust in order to create a large amount of mist to be generated in and out of his cloak. It expands in an area of 5 feet around him, so those at a distance have a hard time discerning him in the mist which would make it harder for them to hit him accurately. Those closer have a bit of an easier time, though his exact shape is still obscured.
        Other Form(s) ▬ (Camouflage) In this form, the outer layers of the cloak change color to match that of the surrounding environment, much like a moths natural camouflage it can have for its specific environment. When un-moving and draped in the cloak, he blends in with the environment. However, this does not prevent sound, scent or touch from giving him away.
        Ammo Type ▬ Dust cartridges
        ▬ Drawbacks:
        - The Shroud function can only be powered by a combination of either wind/water dust, fire/water dust, or steam dust. So sometimes usage requires 2 vials of dust. The mist only lasts for 5 rounds before more dust needs to be used.
        - The Cocoon form requires one vial of earth dust to strengthen it enough to be so defensively strong. Even when not actively in cocoon form, it does make the cloak itself that much more resistant to damage and lasts for 5 posts.

        OTHER WEAPONS

        ▬ Sickle x2 (18 inch blade)
        Kunai
        Katana (24 inches)
        ITEMS
        ▬ Waterskin
        ▬ Scroll



╫ S E M B L A N C E ╫

        *NAME ▬ Night Shade
        *AURA COLOR ▬ Violet
        *DESCRIPTION
        ▬ This semblance involves the creation of a poison that grows deadlier and more detrimental as the levels go up. However, it is a double edged sword to use this semblance as he is not entirely immune to his own semblance. The poison takes the form of a gas that he expels through his mouth and it is a violet color. A benefit of this semblance is that he is immune to toxins that are naturally produced by living organisms, just not entirely that of the semblance itself. In order to be affected by the poison gas, it has to be breathed in. The symptomatic effects are cumulative for 1-3, but 4-7 replace one another.
        The poison
        1) Trouble breathing and shortness of breath
        2) Burning sensation from the inside
        3) Coughing up blood
        4) Muscle spasms
        5) Hallucinations
        6) Asphyxiation (unconsciousness)
        7) Death
        *LEVEL 0 ▬ (Creeping)
        - At this level, his poison is only able to advance to up to coughing up blood and no further. It takes 3 posts before they have trouble breathing, 5 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, and at 7 posts they begin to cough up blood as it does damage to them internally.
        - The poison gas falls to the ground in a condensed layer that completely hides the ground. It is 3 feet tall. It also has a purple haze that rises up 10 feet off the ground and only lightly obscures vision.
        *LEVEL 1▬ (Crippling cloud) At this level, his poison can go up to muscle spasms. It takes 2 posts before they have trouble breathing, 4 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 6 posts they begin to cough up blood, and at 8 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs).
        *LEVEL 2▬ (Mirage) At this level, his poison can go up to hallucinations when breathed in. The hallucinations usually take the form of imaginary Miserorums appearing in their vision that make it hard to tell which is the real one. They cannot deal actual damage to the person, but to them it would feel real. It also make determining friend or foe difficult, as they would appear and sound like him as well.
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs) and at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate.
        *LEVEL 3 ▬ (Miasma) At this level, the poison will run its full course in a persons body (up to death).
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs), at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate, and at 10 posts they will asphyxiate into unconsciousness. From that point they have 5 posts to be cured by someone or perish.
        *DRAWBACKS
        - Robots are not affected by this poison.
        - Miserorum suffers from his poison but in a different form than others and because the poison is produced inside him there is no way for him to avoid being affected. Whereas it ultimately asphyxiates others and then possibly lead to death, it internally damages him the longer he uses it and causes necrosis as listed below:
        - Misery's poison
        1) Bloody cough
        - Level 0: Appears after 2 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 3 posts
        2) Lesions on skin
        - Level 0: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 5 posts
        3) Wounds appearing on him (the poison gas begins to seep out of these wounds from this point on)
        - Level 0: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 8 posts
        4) Necrosis
        - Level 0: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 7 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 10 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 13 posts
        5) Death
        - Level 0: Happens at 8 posts
        - Level 1: Happens at 11 posts
        - Level 2: Happens at 14 posts
        - Level 3: Happens at 17 posts
        - For every post that he uses the semblance, he has to have 2 posts of non use to heal from the poison. His "recharge heal" takes the form of a blue gas he emits from his mouth that acts as an antidote cloud. It is the only way for him to heal himself from the effects of his poison, and he heals in the reverse order of the symptoms he experiences. He can only be healed by this when he is cocooned (either by his cloak, semblance, or some outside source that does a similar effect).
        - If they hold their breath or have a gas mark on, they are immune to the effects of his poison for the period that it is on (if the mask comes off or they take a breath in the gas they would then start to feel the effects).
        - If there is no wind, then the poison stays in the area for as long as it is listed in each level. If there is strong wind, then it can only spread half as much before beginning to dissipate.
        - For the poison to reach max distance, he has to continually produce it (ex: if it has a max distance of 20 feet and spreads 5 feet per post, he has to spend 4 of his posts constantly producing it to reach that max distance).
        - Once it reaches max distance it will remain there as long as he is actively using his semblance. If he stops using it, it will dissipate at the same rate it expanded but in the reverse direction (so the outer edges will fade away first and the last to dissipate is the ones closest to him).
        - Because the poison takes the form of a purple gas it is very noticeable, but it also obscures Miserorum since it expands in all directions.
        - The poison does not immediately spread out to its max radius; it expands X number of feet per post (as detailed in each level of the post).
        - If he is knocked unconscious, his poison effect on the target will end. He can also willingly end it if he desires.
        - A healing semblance that specifically can target toxins can heal the effect entirely (it takes half the time to heal them (ex: if they had been exposed for 8 posts, the healing takes 4 posts to be fully healed and this is rounded up in the case of numbers that don't divide into whole numbers), but otherwise just delays the effects and temporarily gets rid of symptoms (in terms of delaying for symptoms and delay of effects: 1 post at level 0 from the person with the healing persons semblance, 2 posts at level 1, 4 posts at level 2, 6 posts at level 3).
        - If a person is exposed to his poison is brought out/ away from the gas for 3 posts, the poison does not progress to the next stage. It will naturally heal, but it takes as long as they suffered the effects of the poison to be rid of it (they lose symptoms one by one in the reverse order they gained them).
        - It is an indiscriminate poison. Ally and enemies alike will be affected by it.
        *Level 0
        - Can use the poison for a max of 5 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance).
        - The condensed poison gas (which will be called ground smog) spreads out on the ground in a radius of 10 feet in all directions with a purple haze that is 5 feet tall. The ground smog and haze spread at a rate of 5 feet per post to their max distance.
        *Level 1
        - Can use the poison for a max of 8 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 20 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 10 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 5 feet per post.
        *Level 2
        - Can use the poison for a max of 11 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 30 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 15 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.
        *Level 3
        - Can use the poison for a max of 14 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 50 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 25 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.

narxfang

xLulie

Deadly_Tiger

Alysian Virago

1234boo75

Apathetic Writer
PostPosted: Thu Jun 06, 2019 4:59 am


Ghost254
[Ghost254 & Miserorum Venunum]
User Image
╫ C O R E ╫


        *NAME ▬ Miserorum Venunum
        *AGE ▬ 16
        *FACTION ▬ Moth tribe
        *ROLE ▬ Student
        *SEX ▬ Male
        *SPECIES ▬ Faunus (Moth)

        *CURRENT TEAM ▬ (Leave blank if you do not have a team yet)
        *PARTNER(S) ▬ (Teammates, if you have any)
        NICKNAME(S) ▬ Moth (ball), Wingless, Misery, Miasma
        OCCUPATION



╫ A F F E C T A T I O N ╫

        HEIGHT ▬ 5'6
        WEIGHT ▬ 155 lb

        HAIR ▬ Black
        CLOTHING ▬Dark and thick clothing for the most part, skin very much covered.
        ACCESSORIES ▬ Face veil with a white X on the mouth
        EYES ▬ Left eye lilac, Right eye light sky blue
        BUILD ▬ Lean yet muscular
        TATTOOS
        SCARS ▬ Torn wings
        MARKINGS/FAUNUS FEATURES ▬ Moth wings (purple with black outlines and a skull on each). The wings are torn halfway through and unusable for flight. Moth "dust" (tiny scales that when touched/ rubbed off look like dust).


╫ A R C H E T Y P E ╫

        NATURAL ABILITIES
        Primary Talent ▬ High pain Tolerance
        He is very resistant to pain due to his masochistic nature and can ignore it to press on in a fight, even when a persons body would usually shut down from extreme pain.
        Faunus Trait/Bonus Talent ▬ Moth Silk
        While most moths have flight as their main and only ability, Miserorum had that stripped away from him. As a result, his body developed an alternate creation from his moth heritage; silk creation. He can spit up 20 feet of silk from his mouth for a variety of uses (even full on cocooning himself). The silk is very strong and hard to break, and is necessary for him to heal from his semblance. While he can slowly pull it out for a rope, he can also launch it from his mouth to a foe to try and restrain them. He has to wait 5 posts before he can use this ability again.
        Other Talents
        - Physical strength: He has been physically strong since birth; it was one of the reasons he survived to this age.
        - Endurance: Miserorum has suffered many injuries and survived to live another day. As such, his body can withstand much more blows than the average person along with a high stamina.

        LEARNT ABILITIES
        Strongest Skill ▬ Grappling
        Due to his own self sacrificial nature and his semblance, he has learned how to fight in a way that focuses on restraining his foes.
        Weakest Skill
        - Moth to a flame: He is fascinated by bright lights at night, and has a strong compulsion to follow/ go to it. Unless there is clear danger (which allows him to resist this), it has a hypnotic pull on him.
        - Awareness (daytime): During the day he is not very aware of his surroundings due to his nocturnal nature (fairly easily to sneak up on).
        Other Skills
        - Stealth: Misery has learned to hide himself effectively in many terrains and to move near silently.
        - Climbing: Due to his wings no longer being usable for flight, he has adapted to become exceptionally good at climbing to make up for it.
        - Emotion Suppression: When needed, Miserorum can suppress his negative emotions if he has a source of pain he can focus on. Being a masochist, he can focus his mind on the pain being a positive and mask his negative emotions from grimm.

        LIKES
        ▬ (Hobbies/Talents)
        ▬ (People) Moth faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sours
        ▬ (Objects) Bright lights, Sharp things, Natural made
        ▬ (Animals) Insects

        DISLIKES
        ▬ (People) Butterfly faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sweet
        ▬ (Objects) Anything made by butterfly faunus, high tech
        ▬ (Animals) Avians
        ▬ (Fears) Moths dying out, being a failure, failing his mission

        PERSONALITY TRAITS
        Nature ▬ Misery is a dark person with a dark outlook on life. He places no value in his own life; only in what he accomplishes before he dies. He has no illusions on death; he knows it shall approach him one day and he fears it not. He had a very morbid outlook on life, reflected in his humor and pessimism.
        Vernacular ▬ Grim and dark tone, but american accent
        Positive Traits ▬ Loyal, determined, brave
        Negative Traits ▬ Grim, Pessimistic, Morbid, despises butterflys, fatalistic, self sacrificial

╫ H I S T O R Y ╫

        BACKGROUND
        -Tribal war (Butterfly vs moth, aftermath)
        None still living know the start of the conflict with the butterflies, only that it was fought and those who fought for them. Led by their then leader Timere, the moths had fought a valiant battle against the cruel butterflies for the bountiful land that could not hold both of them. Both sides were roughly even matched, but under the leadership of Timere the moths felt emboldened and that victory was only a matter of time. All their hopes had rested on him; the one who personally led every battle even if he was not always the last to leave. They fought ruthlessly with a one for all mentality; if a few could be sacrificed to save the many then it was done. Wounded were not cared for during a battle as they were expected to fight till they drew their last breaths, and were left behind if necessary. Victory was their goal at all costs; each death was meant to have meaning once they claimed the promised land. Any dissent among the ranks was quickly removed one way or the other, and unlike the butterflies the males primarily fought. The women and children were left in the safety of their bases in order to ensure there would be more troops if needed in the future. And that there would be a generation left standing once they won. No elderly were spared from battle; all others would fight, even children once they were old enough. Though as the war progressed, single women were also brought into the war as well to bolster their ranks. They looked to have a chance of victory, capitalizing on the butterflies all for one nature... even if it only provided them a narrow advantage. However, that all changed in the Battle of the Oak. Amidst the battle and bloodshed, Grimm had found their way into the battle and Timere was lost in the fighting against Grimm and Butterfly. Demoralized and their general slain, the moths had retreated the field to try and regroup. They were not given the time they needed to recover, as there was no successor or moth equal in battle and strategy to Timere. From then on the butterflies won battle after battle...Until eventually the moths were forced to flee from the promised land into the more treacherous wetlands. The stories curse those who had ran when Timere fell, believing that if they had just pushed forward then and held to the man they may have won. Alas, that was not how history came to be and Timere's death signaled the beginning of the end of the war. Yet his war strategies still lived on.

        The moths had to flee deep into the wetlands to escape the butterflies who were as intent to exterminate them as the moths had been for them. There were many losses but Timere's teaching remained forefront in the mind of every moth. They traveled at a brutal rate and sent squads of moths behind to delay the butterflies and mislead them. Those sent almost never returned. Anyone who could not keep up was left behind, and the weakest amongst them would be used to draw Grimm away when they were attacked and outnumbered. It was survival of the fittest, and they were doing their best to keep their tribe alive at all costs with his teachings in mind. Many would-be leaders sprang up during this time, but their reigns were always short; each tried to imitate the courage and intellect of Timere, and each failed in turn for over reaching their bounds. All that kept them from splitting and being preyed upon to the last was their hatred of the butterflies who did this to them and the memory of Timere. Eventually, it proved too dangerous for the butterflies to follow after them and they only had to contend with the wild life, terrain, and the ever abundant Grimm. Still, many were lost to the wetlands... until they finally found a defensible enough place that they made a stand in this deadly land. A place that would become their new home... fought for with blood, sweat and the lives of many a moth.

        -Tribe life (Land, Butterflies, Death)

        Life in the wetlands was not an easy one when they first claimed it, nor was it now. With how flooded the land was and all the dangers that lurked in the water, they had to adapt to make it habitable for them. Though they had the advantage of flight and wings, they could not fly forever. So they would construct a wooden village high enough above the water that even when it flooded they would be safe from the water, something they had suffered too many losses from in the past. They did not make it much higher than that as a few attempts had found them susceptible to being toppled in the water by the stronger Grimm who also inhabited this region. The moths had grown to be nocturnal in this hostile environment as the most dangerous of creatures would stalk the wetland at night. They needed to be to ensure they would be prepared for a nightly attack, of which was not a rare occurrence for them. That is not to say all of them were as such; the population was divided into a diurnal and nocturnal one to take advantage of both times of day while always being prepared. Both shared similar roles, but the dangers would be different. Which one a moth came to be was determined at birth by the eldest of the village; those who had proved too strong, wise, or cunning for the wetlands to claim as another victim.

        Miserorum, then known as Nocturnus Puer (night child), was determined to be a nocturnal. Puer was the name given to every child before they underwent their first raid, and Nocturnus was to signify him being a nocturnal. Those who were to be of the day were called Diurnus Puer. Miserorum was the second born child, though he was the only living one. His elder sibling had died early, a victim to the wetlands, before he was even conceived. His mother was a nocturnal like himself, and his father was a diurnal. He was taught early, as all moths were, of what was expected of him; to live, fight, and die for his tribe. He was taught the rules of battle, that the world was there to test him and should he ever fail he would perish like his sibling before him. And so Miserorum was introduced into the cruel world in the wetlands, learning early how to survive in their land and of their history. Not all moths were meant to survive adulthood as he learned early; many other moth children he knew would perish in time to the wetlands due to its abundant dangers. So he became familiar with the concept of death very early on in life, and like most moths learned not to fear it. Death became an everyday part of life; nothing to be feared as they were all meant to die at some point. All that truly mattered was what they accomplished in their lives and deaths.

        After learning of the lands they inhabited, his next lesson had been Grimm. And the best way was to learn was in experience. One of the first tests they experienced was of learning to hide from Grimm. Both physically and mentally. The Grimm were often drawn to the moths with their grim outlook on life, and thus they had learned how to better protect themselves as well as how to hide from them in other ways. One was in learning to turn their negative emotion in positive, or at least neutral ones, so that the Grimm could not hone in on them. Miserorum struggled with it until one day he found himself wounded and trying to hide from a beowolf... Having been left with no interference or help as was common. He had focused on his wound... twisting it from one of pain to... enjoyment. And managed to hide from the wolf till he could return to safety. He did not know it then but he was a masochist... and by twisting the pain to near pleasure would make his mind void of negative emotions so long as he did so. There were many other tests of evasion and even fighting them...but this was the test that stuck out to him the most.

        Once it was proven he could survive, the next step was learning of the tribes history and their eternal enemy; the butterfly. Of how once they both vied for a land of little danger and abundant resources, a land that was to be theirs. Learning of the nature of the butterflies, how they were hunted down after the war, forced into this land. Like all other moths, he was taught that butterflies were their enemy. And he, like most others who survived to that point, followed and believed it. It was an enemy they could blame for their lives and their current situation; one they could use as motivation and a goal to eventually take back what was supposed to be theirs. Or so that is what the moths believed, and Miserorum as well. While they struggled to survive here and rebuild themselves, their eternal enemy was never forgotten. They were outnumbered but they had one advantage on their end; the butterflies had never traveled deep enough into the wetlands to find them, but the moths knew exactly where the butterflies were. He had learned of the raids his parents and others of the tribe partook in to take resources back from those lands and deal blows, if small, to the butterflies. He was very eager to help in them, to strike back at the enemy, but he was not allowed to till he came of age. His first raid would be his transition into adulthood, and all moth children had to be trained before they could be risked on a raid. They were told to die before they reveal the way home, and they would never be sent until they believed that. He, like all other youths, learned to place little value in their own lives. Like the teachings of Timere the tribe would come first above all.

        -Miserorum Venunum (Ambush, Remi, Wings)
        Every moth has a trial to take before becoming adults. It would not be their last test, for life itself was a never ending one of survival, but it was the most important to a young moth. It was the test that would give them their name. No moth child had their own name until they underwent this trial; being named either day or night child depending what was chosen for them. The test was not simple in the slightest, but then none of their tests had been since they were born. However, this trial in particular was known to claim the life of many aspiring moths. Even the ones who would oversee the test were not immune from the risk of death. While the exact circumstances they may face during the test was unknown, there was one certainty; it invariably pitted them against their eternal enemy. The Butterflies. The trial was a raid into the promised land, the land the butterflies won during the war, with the goal of bringing needed supplies back to the tribe. It was a mission adult moths underwent regularly; thus it was the perfect trial to transition the young moths into adulthood. Despite their acclimation to life in the wetlands, it did not compare in the slightest to what could be taken from the promised land. A day of foraging in the wetlands was equal to an hour in the promised land. It was a vital task for the tribe to sustain itself; without their raids, they would be even fewer in number than they are currently. The raids were necessary to sustain themselves. It also served as the first opportunity a moth had to prove their worth. The first time they would truly be tested in their belief of the tribe being before themselves.

        Miserorum had finally come of age alongside a few other youths; the few other ones who has survived in his age group from the inherent dangers of the wetlands. They were a handful at most, but that was how life in the wetlands went at times. Sometimes there were far more dead than living moths by this stage, and sometimes it was the reverse. Regardless, they had all earned the right to this trial by living this long. All of them were eager to begin, to prove themselves to the tribe. Each of them would head to different parts of the promised land to steal as much as they could. Each one would be escorted by their parents and a tribe member if they were still living; if not it would solely be the tribe member. This was done to ensure their devotion was to the tribe above all else, for if one of the family were to fall the others were meant to leave them behind to fend for themselves. A test for both parents and offspring alike. No thought was to be spared for the other during this mission; bringing back the needed supplies was all that was important. While this was normal business for the adults, the adolescence had special circumstances unique to each. Some were unable to take weapons, other were allowed no food or drink from the night before the trial. In Miserorum's case, he was given no weapons. He would only be able to eat once the trial began; a way to prepare them for when they go to war again with the butterflies. The day that war happened was unknown, but it was a steady goal for the moths. The promised land would be theirs again, and so their life was lived in preparation for this war. Miserorum felt ready. He had survived up till this point in the wetlands, and would have the chance to earn his own name. Even if he died trying to do so, it would still be worth it in his eyes. For those who died during the trial were given the name of Honoratus Mortus (honored dead). And so Miserorum would set on by nightfall... for the added difficulty for the moths was that the test would be in the opposite time of day they lived by. By the time they reached the promised land, it would be day...A time and setting he was very much unfamiliar with.

        It was...strange to see a world so brightly lit. It was... almost blinding, at first. His eyes were unaccustomed to this time of day, and he had only been able to not be blinded since he was awake as the sun slowly rose into existence so that the light only gradually changed. Had it not been for the importance of this trial he may have spent some time to just admire how the world looked. Not just because of how the change of light changed the look of the world... but because in this light Miserorum found himself gazing at the promised land that he had been told of ever since he could remember. And it did not disappoint. However, he had little time to take in the sights due to the mission at hand. And because of another unexpected encounter. Not long after they had infiltrated the promised land they stumbled across a pair of butterfly faunus. The first ones he had ever seen. Immediately his mind was filled with curiosity and hatred; he finally could see the enemy that had caused his tribes forced migration into the wetlands. The curiosity he had felt and was replaced with a desire for vengeance, one that seemed to be shared by his fellow tribe members. They let out a cry and sprang from the bushes, intent to quickly take out the butterflies before they could escape and alert others...However, they found themselves quickly ensnared by vines and flower stems that prevented them from reaching their targets despite their struggles. While in a panic and trying to use their weapons to cut free, some of them more successful than others as Miserorum was very much entangled, He scarcely noticed that a flower was emitting a pollen in their struggles until he felt a tiredness slowly begin to set in on him and seeing the rest of the moths grow weak in their struggles. He was confused as to what was happening, why he was feeling like this, and struggled on nonetheless with more energy than the rest. Soon after, the adults went unconscious entirely leaving Miserorum as the only one to still be conscious though slowly losing that battle. He struggled with all his might even as his body was slowly failing him, glaring at the butterflies ahead as they seemed to be the source. A primary reason for him to still be up just being the thought that if he went down they were dead for sure.

        Then another unexpected event happened, one that Miserorum was unsure was for good or ill. Something that he was certain no insect faunus was expecting; a Grimm appeared.It quickly attacked the butterflies, probably sensing their fear as he thought was likely or perhaps it being that they just made the most noise, and seemed to have the upper hand. However Miserorum's main focus was not on that; it was on escape. As the Grimm was being fought he was attacking at his bonds, feeling his body slowly begin to return to his control and his mind clear a little. The plants themselves were weakening, and the pollen had stopped falling from the flower. As he was near free he could hear the others beginning to reawaken and struggle at their bonds as well. Until finally he was free. He did not go to help the others free, looking back to the butterflies but now seeing no Grimm. One seemed dead or unconscious while the other was holding him; he had to move fast to get them. However he had scarcely walked two steps before they were noticed and he felt the familiar vines wrap around him again. He struggled against it, now more prepared, but was ensnared nonetheless. He resisted with all his might as the other moths soon went back to sleep... Glaring at the butterfly that was still conscious, the likely source of this...as slowly everything went black.

        Miserorum awoke in a daze alongside his parents, noticing immediately that he was bound with vines... Briefly confused as to where his tribe mate was till he saw him a little distance away. And at that point saw they were surrounded by a number of butterflies. They formed a ring around the moths, demanding to know of their purpose, how many of them there were, and where they came from. The only response they got was silence. The butterflies were neither in a patient or merciful mood, as Miserorum could clearly seen the one from earlier was on deaths bed now with the one who ensnared them unconscious. They did not hesitate before they killed the tribe member... Moving to his father who also only answered with silence. And so they killed him swiftly as well. Then they went to his mother... The one he shared one look with before she too remained in silence... and was killed as well. Each death was meant to encourage the moths to speak but it was to no avail...Even when all that was left was one young moth who refused to speak after seeing them die. They were unaware that with each death, the resolve of a moth was hardened. To die for their tribe was the ultimate honor. And he would die happily knowing he would do just that. He had grown numb as his family was killed before him; a mixture of shock, disbelief, and fear all mixed in one. But in that mixture of emotion was resolve; to make sure their deaths were not in vain. If he spoke, their deaths were meaningless. And he would not do that to them. It was what he was taught, what his parents believed... What they died for. However, before the blade could sever him from the realm of the living a voice rang out. The voice of the young butterfly, now that he had a comparison, as she momentarily returned to consciousness. She pleaded for his life as all he could feel was disgust. He wanted to die with his family, not live on. He didn't want the mercy of a butterfly. He wanted a death with meaning. But, despite some initial resistance by the butterflies, they consented to her request as she faded back to unconsciousness. However, they did so on a condition she would be unaware of but one that would haunt him. They restrained him further but undid the binds around his back so that his wings were now free....and began to rip and tear at his wings. The young moth screamed. The process was long and agonizing as he screamed with each new tear in it. He didn't know how long it lasted or the extent of it... only that at some point he blacked out from the pain as they left the broken moth on the ground. They left as he was no longer a threat but a warning; a living example of what they would do to any moths, and that they could afford to let one live.

        He awoke in agony, alone. The bodies of moths all round him. His hatred sparked anew, his pain sensitivity momentarily increasing in his anger... Until a purple mist began to envelop him and around him. His semblance taking form for the first time. He slowly rose amidst the purple mist as plant life began to die around him, withering and decaying. He noticed it but did not care as he felt a sense of apathy come over him. Too much emotional damage that now left him entirely numb. Numb to the pain of his ruined wings. Numb to the pain of losing his family. Numb to being seen not even worth killing. He would take slow steps forward as the purple mist followed in his wake. His mind having mostly shut down save one thing; his mission. They were dead and he was alive... the teachings of his youth that were drilled in took over. All that was left was to die or finish the mission. He did not know which he preferred at this point, and so he went to complete the mission. He could die doing so anyway. As he walked through the forest a path of destruction was left in his wake, and he paid it little mind. He could hear life in the forest around him, and he could hear it dying when too close. All this passed through his mind subconsciously as his mind clung to one thing to make the deaths meaningful; success. He could feel his body being damaged, getting a cough, coughing up blood... but he did his best to ignore it and press on...Until he would fall over as his body failed him. Through his unconsciousness a blue mist enveloped him...preserving the greenery around him and himself. He awoke much later as the sun was setting. No longer quite as numb as before and feeling the pain of what had been done to him again... but not as bad as it had been earlier in that day. Again he rose, those this time no mist followed and he could think. As much as that could benefit him with his mind still being set. Slowly, weakly, he would continue his search through the promised land. Unbidden thoughts of his parents entered his mind but he put them away. Timere taught that once someone wad dead not to dwell on them; even when they were just injured. Bodies were not people even if they resembled them, and his duty was to his tribe first. Or so he told himself as he forced the thoughts of his parents from his mind. And so he continued...happening upon a suppl cache of the butterflies and taking all he could... Avoiding any Grimm that were in the area as he focused on his physical pain, twisting it to replace his negative thoughts with false satisfaction. He was too weak to fight them directly; and to do so would be to have a death without meaning. He would eventually escape the promised land and travel by night back to his tribe...Bleeding, bruised, limping... Alone.

        He was the only young moth to return that day. All the others had perished in their trials, though most of the adults had made it back. Of his year he was the only one to make it... and when he related truthfully what had happened, he almost wished he did not. He could see the shame and looks in the eyes of his tribe; he was found to be so weak by the butterflies they had no fear of him living on and used him as a message to the moths. One that they would kill them again as they had in the past, or so the moth tribe interpreted it. Three warriors had been lost and one who was found much weaker had returned; this was only lessened by the fact that he returned with supplies. Otherwise he may have been found guilty of cowardice and killed; such a thing was not tolerated. But because the moth had survived the trial and succeeded, he was given a name. Miserorum Venunum, the unhappy poison. Most moths would've felt proud to receive their name. Moths would die for it, and had. He had been much the same not long ago. But his naming felt hollow as he was not revered as an adult by the others of the tribe. His wings as bad as they were unable to fly... he was hardly even a moth. Even his naming reflected it; Miserorum was not his own unhappiness, but that of the elders. As many felt he did not deserve it for being granted it by the mercy of a butterfly. And so alone, the newly named moth would return to his home...His now empty home. He had his name... It only cost him his family, wings, and his standing in his own tribe.

        - The outside (Purpose, cloak, beacon)
        Being an adult in his own tribe led to no joy; for while he was still part of it, he was almost seen as an exile. He spent little time with others due to the tribe being small enough that the circumstances of his adulthood were well known to others. Even if he sought others out, it rarely led to more than passing words. Despite being in a tribe full of other moths, he may as well have been alone. Especially with his duties as an adult. He was never sent into the promised land again; they did not trust him, did not think him capable of doing any tasks there after what happened. Instead he was confined to the accursed wetlands he grew up in; the ones that claimed so many moths before and would continue to do so as long as they lived. He was sent on the most dangerous missions there; be it slaying creature, Grimm, or even outsiders. He would be sent to the farthest reaches of their territory to dispose of and deal with any threats. With the hope by his tribe that he would not survive. Knowing that did not deter him though. He never complained, never spoke out about it; he willingly went on such tasks. Because he hoped for his own death as well. It was not that he would just give up and let himself be killed. He wanted his death to have meaning; to be part of the worthy dead who fought and died for their tribe. At least in that death he could see himself being redeemed for what had happened in his trial. At least then he could be accepted again. But he would not die. It was not to say he never came close or that he was invulnerable; death was a constant presence for him and sever injuries common. However, he just kept living for some reason, and kept returning home to the tribe with a hollow victory. Not being granted the death many, including himself, wished for.

        This continued on for a time until a scout came back with vital information. Some butterflies had left the promised land, to some strange place called Beacon. They had learned from captured butterflies that there two butterflies went there to learn to combat the Grimm threat. Something that the moth tribe knew was a growing issue. While they considered the butterflies their primary enemies, the Grimm had been growing stronger as of late. To which Miserorum knew all too well. His poison was the only reason he ever survived encounters with them, loathe as he was to admit it. And the scouts knew of the Grimm in the promised land too; some moths were lost to them or used them to their advantage against the butterflies. It was then a decision was made to send one of their own; not to kill the butterflies, but to make sure they got no edge on the moths. For if the butterflies learned a better way to cull those creatures, then they would have an advantage against the moths. However, no moth had set foot outside of tribe land save the promised land; it was akin to exile and death. Nothing was known of the world outside their endless war. It was assumed life elsewhere was near unsustainable; that it was hollow. So, the natural choice fell to Miserorum. Already an outcast, he was not one that would be missed. And the elders well knew that should he fail, the ancestors would not forgive him. It was his last and only chance... and should he fail, they would merely send another. They also just wanted rid of the living reminder of their mortal enemies’ victory. So, without complaint, resistance, or even a word... Miserorum left his home. The one that cost him everything to serve the tribe one more time. With the hopes of restoring his name and standing...being granted a death with purpose.

        His journey was mostly uneventful, though not to say danger was not present. He had to travel through the promised land just to leave the tribe lands and reach the place called beacon; digging up painful memories and thoughts of what could have been. He did his best to push them to the side and ignore them; this was his chance at redemption, to give to the tribe... to try and redeem himself. It was bitter sweet to him though; to serve his tribe he had to leave it. Leave the familiar lands that were his home for so long. Leave the life he had built up, no matter how bad, behind. Leave all the sacrifices he made for it behind. And he knew not when he was returning. There was no set date, no clear goal; just to learn all he could for however long it may take. His time away could be close to life for all he knew. These thoughts filled his mind; hope and despair, happiness and sadness, relief and sorrow. He had to dodge the odd butterfly patrol, or grimm as he could not afford to fight them at risk of discovery or serious injury. But not everything on his journey could be avoided after all; nothing had ever been simple in his life, and it seemed nothing ever will be.

        Once well out of the promised land, he had heard the sound of battle and out of curiosity drew closer to watch. When he finally reached it though it was mostly over; a grimm stood over a corpse, a box lay not too far away, and the signs of the battle and struggle were evident. Whoever the human was, he was no more. The Grimm was feasting on the corpse; what for he was unsure, but it mattered little. With it busy devouring the corpse he could easily slip by it with no fuss but... the box he saw was slightly ajar, and in it he saw something that almost looked like a moon. His curiosity was peaked... and he was not sure but he felt drawn to it. Taking out his sickles he would sneak up behind the grimm... before leaping onto its back and tearing into it. The Grimm, weakened by its battle with the human already, went down fairly quick. With it dispatched, Miserorum's attention turned to the box. It had a strange symbol and writing on it that Miserorum could not recognize, but he ignored it for now. Reaching into the box, he pulled out the moon... and found it attached to some cloak. Though it was a strange cloak...not entirely made out of cloth but mixed with a strange metalic material. He had no clue what it was or what it was for...but seeing the crescent moon on it he felt drawn to it. Looking to the body on the floor, the Grimm already turning to dust, his expression was blank. The teachings he was taught since a young age came to his mind. Forget the dead, move on, and win. The dead would have no use for this cloak. He had avenged it already; more than it deserved. Clutching the cloak in his hands, he would give the body no more thought. It was not of his tribe, so it did not matter. Putting the cloak on, he was about to leave when he noticed something else in the box. Curiosity peaked, he would take out what seemed to be vials of some dust like substance. It took him a moment to recognize it as dust; something reserved only for the elders or those in the highest position. He could recognize it as a vial of earth, water and wind dust. He was unsure why these were with the cloak, but he would take them anyway. They were capable of very powerful magic, and he may need them. His looting done, he would set out. Over the weeks it took him to find and reach beacon, he had learned much more of the cloak... mostly by accident. Like how certain dust being put in caused different effects for it, and how staying still helped him hide. He did not understand it, but he found it immensely useful and was glad he took it.

╫ I N V E N T O R Y ╫

        PRIMARY WEAPON
        ▬ Cloak of the Moth
        ▬ In regular form, this appears to be a plain dark brown cloak with a crescent moon draped about the wearer with nothing special. However, the cloak has many defensive uses to protect the user and is not made entirely out of cloth; though the inside is lined with it. The cloak is actual a collection of many small metal sheets. The cloak can release a cloud of mist around the user using air and water dust (or fire and water dust to make steam) in order to envelop the wearer in it and make them harder to discern, can be hardened around him in the shape of a cocoon for defensive purposes, or it can be used to blend into the environment as it changes colors to match it.
        Melee Form ▬ (Cocoon) In this form, the cloak is wrapped around the user and hardens considerably as the metal sheets all attach to one another. They do this in what very much appears like a cocoon, and are usually attached in place from where this was activated so the wearer cannot be moved. This form can take a good deal of damage before being broken through, and provides decent elemental resistance. However, while in it the wearer does not have access to the outside and will need to come out eventually for air. He can last 5 posts in this cocoon before he needs air.
        Ranged Form ▬ (Shroud) In this usage, the user expends dust in order to create a large amount of mist to be generated in and out of his cloak. It expands in an area of 5 feet around him, so those at a distance have a hard time discerning him in the mist which would make it harder for them to hit him accurately. Those closer have a bit of an easier time, though his exact shape is still obscured.
        Other Form(s) ▬ (Camouflage) In this form, the outer layers of the cloak change color to match that of the surrounding environment, much like a moths natural camouflage it can have for its specific environment. When un-moving and draped in the cloak, he blends in with the environment. However, this does not prevent sound, scent or touch from giving him away.
        Ammo Type ▬ Dust cartridges
        ▬ Drawbacks:
        - The Shroud function can only be powered by a combination of either wind/water dust or fire/water dust. So each use requires 2 vials of dust. The mist only lasts for 4 rounds before more dust needs to be used.
        - The Cocoon form requires one vial of earth dust to strengthen it enough to be so defensively strong. Even when not actively in cocoon form, it does make the cloak itself that much more resistant to damage and lasts for 5 posts.

        OTHER WEAPONS
        ▬ Kusarigama
        ▬ Sickle x2
        ▬ Kunai
        ITEMS
        ▬ Waterskin




╫ S E M B L A N C E ╫

        *NAME ▬ Night Shade
        *AURA COLOR ▬ Violet
        *DESCRIPTION
        ▬ This semblance involves the creation of a poison that grows deadlier and more detrimental as the levels go up. However, it is a double edged sword to use this semblance as he is not entirely immune to his own semblance. The poison takes the form of a gas that he expels through his mouth and it is a violet color. A benefit of this semblance is that he is immune to toxins that are naturally produced by living organisms, just not entirely that of the semblance itself. In order to be affected by the poison gas, it has to be breathed in. The symptomatic effects are cumulative for 1-3, but 4-7 replace one another.
        The poison
        1) Trouble breathing and shortness of breath
        2) Burning sensation from the inside
        3) Coughing up blood
        4) Muscle spasms
        5) Hallucinations
        6) Asphyxiation (unconsciousness)
        7) Death
        *LEVEL 0 ▬ (Creeping)
        - At this level, his poison is only able to advance to up to coughing up blood and no further. It takes 3 posts before they have trouble breathing, 5 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, and at 7 posts they begin to cough up blood as it does damage to them internally.
        - The poison gas falls to the ground in a condensed layer that completely hides the ground. It is 3 feet tall. It also has a purple haze that rises up 10 feet off the ground and only lightly obscures vision.
        *LEVEL 1▬ (Crippling cloud) At this level, his poison can go up to muscle spasms. It takes 2 posts before they have trouble breathing, 4 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 6 posts they begin to cough up blood, and at 8 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs).
        *LEVEL 2▬ (Mirage) At this level, his poison can go up to hallucinations when breathed in. The hallucinations usually take the form of imaginary Miserorums appearing in their vision that make it hard to tell which is the real one. They cannot deal actual damage to the person, but to them it would feel real. It also make determining friend or foe difficult, as they would appear and sound like him as well.
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs) and at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate.
        *LEVEL 3 ▬ (Miasma) At this level, the poison will run its full course in a persons body (up to death).
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs), at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate, and at 10 posts they will asphyxiate into unconsciousness. From that point they have 5 posts to be cured by someone or perish.
        *DRAWBACKS
        - Robots are not affected by this poison.
        - Miserorum suffers from his poison but in a different form than others and because the poison is produced inside him there is no way for him to avoid being affected. Whereas it ultimately asphyxiates others and then possibly lead to death, it internally damages him the longer he uses it and causes necrosis as listed below:
        - Misery's poison
        1) Bloody cough
        - Level 0: Appears after 2 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 3 posts
        2) Lesions on skin
        - Level 0: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 5 posts
        3) Wounds appearing on him (the poison gas begins to seep out of these wounds from this point on)
        - Level 0: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 8 posts
        4) Necrosis
        - Level 0: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 7 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 10 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 13 posts
        5) Death
        - Level 0: Happens at 8 posts
        - Level 1: Happens at 11 posts
        - Level 2: Happens at 14 posts
        - Level 3: Happens at 17 posts
        - For every post that he uses the semblance, he has to have 2 posts of non use to heal from the poison. His "recharge heal" takes the form of a blue gas he emits from his mouth that acts as an antidote cloud. It is the only way for him to heal himself from the effects of his poison, and he heals in the reverse order of the symptoms he experiences. He can only be healed by this when he is cocooned (either by his cloak, semblance, or some outside source that does a similar effect).
        - If they hold their breath or have a gas mark on, they are immune to the effects of his poison for the period that it is on (if the mask comes off or they take a breath in the gas they would then start to feel the effects).
        - If there is no wind, then the poison stays in the area for as long as it is listed in each level. If there is strong wind, then it can only spread half as much before beginning to dissipate.
        - For the poison to reach max distance, he has to continually produce it (ex: if it has a max distance of 20 feet and spreads 5 feet per post, he has to spend 4 of his posts constantly producing it to reach that max distance).
        - Once it reaches max distance it will remain there as long as he is actively using his semblance. If he stops using it, it will dissipate at the same rate it expanded but in the reverse direction (so the outer edges will fade away first and the last to dissipate is the ones closest to him).
        - Because the poison takes the form of a purple gas it is very noticeable, but it also obscures Miserorum since it expands in all directions.
        - The poison does not immediately spread out to its max radius; it expands X number of feet per post (as detailed in each level of the post).
        - If he is knocked unconscious, his poison effect on the target will end. He can also willingly end it if he desires.
        - A healing semblance that specifically can target toxins can heal the effect entirely (it takes half the time to heal them (ex: if they had been exposed for 8 posts, the healing takes 4 posts to be fully healed and this is rounded up in the case of numbers that don't divide into whole numbers), but otherwise just delays the effects and temporarily gets rid of symptoms (in terms of delaying for symptoms and delay of effects: 1 post at level 0 from the person with the healing persons semblance, 2 posts at level 1, 4 posts at level 2, 6 posts at level 3).
        - If a person is exposed to his poison is brought out/ away from the gas for 3 posts, the poison does not progress to the next stage. It will naturally heal, but it takes as long as they suffered the effects of the poison to be rid of it (they lose symptoms one by one in the reverse order they gained them).
        - It is an indiscriminate poison. Ally and enemies alike will be affected by it.
        *Level 0
        - Can use the poison for a max of 5 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance).
        - The condensed poison gas (which will be called ground smog) spreads out on the ground in a radius of 10 feet in all directions with a purple haze that is 10 feet tall. The ground smog and haze spread at a rate of 5 feet per post to their max distance.
        *Level 1
        - Can use the poison for a max of 8 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 20 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 15 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 5 feet per post.
        *Level 2
        - Can use the poison for a max of 11 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 30 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 20 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.
        *Level 3
        - Can use the poison for a max of 14 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 50 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 30 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.



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❖❖❖Assessment❖❖❖
Hello, my name is Youroka Kage, and I'll be judging your profile today!

    ❖ Ok, with the mouth silk, can you compare it to a normal everyday string like structure? (for example fishing wire, ect). How far can he spit it if he's using it as a projectile?
    ❖ For the cloak, what happens if the cloak is broken through, does the earth dust just crumble, or do you need to bring the cloak to the shop for repairs?
    ❖ So for the dust, there is actually crystals of dust called steam dust. For a full list...go here
    ❖ Ok, I think the purple haze of 10 feet is too much, I would be better with it being about 3-5 feet tall.
    ❖ The only thing I seem to be missing is how to heal people effected by the Semblance.


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Youroka Kage

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Ghost254

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PostPosted: Thu Jun 06, 2019 7:42 am


Youroka Kage

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❖❖❖Assessment❖❖❖
Hello, my name is Youroka Kage, and I'll be judging your profile today!

    ❖ Ok, with the mouth silk, can you compare it to a normal everyday string like structure? (for example fishing wire, ect). How far can he spit it if he's using it as a projectile?
    ❖ For the cloak, what happens if the cloak is broken through, does the earth dust just crumble, or do you need to bring the cloak to the shop for repairs?
    ❖ So for the dust, there is actually crystals of dust called steam dust. For a full list...go here
    ❖ Ok, I think the purple haze of 10 feet is too much, I would be better with it being about 3-5 feet tall.
    ❖ The only thing I seem to be missing is how to heal people effected by the Semblance.


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    Quote:

1. Edited moth silk strength in and how far it could be spit.
2. It would need to be repaired (which he wouldn't know how to do himself).
3. Added in steam dust as an option to use (left others as an worse method to do so as it would cost 2 instead of 1).
4. Changed scaling of purple haze to 5/10/15/25 in scaling.
5. It is listed how one can naturally heal from the effects:
- If he is knocked unconscious, his poison effect on the target will end. He can also willingly end it if he desires.
- If a person is exposed to his poison is brought out/ away from the gas for 3 posts, the poison does not progress to the next stage. It will naturally heal, but it takes as long as they suffered the effects of the poison to be rid of it (they lose symptoms one by one in the reverse order they gained them).
6. Also for now put spinnerets in mouth in faunus feature, in case he can have it to make woven silk (will edit out if he cannot have the faunus ability).
PostPosted: Fri Jun 07, 2019 8:08 am


Ghost254
[Ghost254 & Miserorum Venunum]
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╫ C O R E ╫


        *NAME ▬ Miserorum Venunum
        *AGE ▬ 16
        *FACTION ▬ Moth tribe
        *ROLE ▬ Student
        *SEX ▬ Male
        *SPECIES ▬ Faunus (Moth)

        *CURRENT TEAM ▬ (Leave blank if you do not have a team yet)
        *PARTNER(S) ▬ (Teammates, if you have any)
        NICKNAME(S) ▬ Moth (ball), Wingless, Misery, Miasma
        OCCUPATION



╫ A F F E C T A T I O N ╫

        HEIGHT ▬ 5'6
        WEIGHT ▬ 155 lb

        HAIR ▬ Black
        CLOTHING ▬Dark and thick clothing for the most part, skin very much covered.
        ACCESSORIES ▬ Face veil with a white X on the mouth
        EYES ▬ Left eye lilac, Right eye light sky blue
        BUILD ▬ Lean yet muscular
        TATTOOS
        SCARS ▬ Torn wings
        MARKINGS/FAUNUS FEATURES ▬ Moth wings (purple with black outlines and a skull on each). The wings are torn halfway through and unusable for flight. Spinnerets in mouth (uses to make woven silk).


╫ A R C H E T Y P E ╫

        NATURAL ABILITIES
        Primary Talent ▬ High pain Tolerance
        He is very resistant to pain due to his masochistic nature and can ignore it to press on in a fight, even when a persons body would usually shut down from extreme pain.
        Faunus Trait/Bonus Talent ▬ Moth Silk
        While most moths have flight as their main and only ability, Miserorum had that stripped away from him. As a result, his body developed an alternate creation from his moth heritage; silk creation. He can spit up to 20 feet of woven silk from his mouth, due to spinnerets inside of it, for a variety of uses (even full on cocooning himself). The silk is very strong and hard to break (comparable to rope as it will take a lot of strength to break it). However, it has a weakness to anything that can cut it, as it will break quite easily when cut. While he can slowly pull it out for a rope or to make his cocoon, he can also launch it from his mouth to a foe (up to 15 feet away from him) to try and restrain them as it would wrap around them. His silk can be sticky too if he chooses (for purposes of restraint, to create his cocoon, and to attach the cocoon to a surface). He has to wait 5 posts before he can use this ability again.
        Other Talents
        - Physical strength: He has been physically strong since birth; it was one of the reasons he survived to this age.
        - Endurance: Miserorum has suffered many injuries and survived to live another day. As such, his body can withstand much more blows than the average person along with a high stamina.

        LEARNT ABILITIES
        Strongest Skill ▬ Grappling
        Due to his own self sacrificial nature and his semblance, he has learned how to fight in a way that focuses on restraining his foes.
        Weakest Skill
        - Moth to a flame: He is fascinated by bright lights at night, and has a strong compulsion to follow/ go to it. Unless there is clear danger (which allows him to resist this), it has a hypnotic pull on him.
        - Awareness (daytime): During the day he is not very aware of his surroundings due to his nocturnal nature (fairly easily to sneak up on).
        Other Skills
        - Stealth: Misery has learned to hide himself effectively in many terrains and to move near silently.
        - Climbing: Due to his wings no longer being usable for flight, he has adapted to become exceptionally good at climbing to make up for it.
        - Emotion Suppression: When needed, Miserorum can suppress his negative emotions if he has a source of pain he can focus on. Being a masochist, he can focus his mind on the pain being a positive and mask his negative emotions from grimm.

        LIKES
        ▬ (Hobbies/Talents)
        ▬ (People) Moth faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sours
        ▬ (Objects) Bright lights, Sharp things, Natural made
        ▬ (Animals) Insects

        DISLIKES
        ▬ (People) Butterfly faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sweet
        ▬ (Objects) Anything made by butterfly faunus, high tech
        ▬ (Animals) Avians
        ▬ (Fears) Moths dying out, being a failure, failing his mission

        PERSONALITY TRAITS
        Nature ▬ Misery is a dark person with a dark outlook on life. He places no value in his own life; only in what he accomplishes before he dies. He has no illusions on death; he knows it shall approach him one day and he fears it not. He had a very morbid outlook on life, reflected in his humor and pessimism.
        Vernacular ▬ Grim and dark tone, but american accent
        Positive Traits ▬ Loyal, determined, brave
        Negative Traits ▬ Grim, Pessimistic, Morbid, despises butterflys, fatalistic, self sacrificial

╫ H I S T O R Y ╫

        BACKGROUND
        -Tribal war (Butterfly vs moth, aftermath)
        None still living know the start of the conflict with the butterflies, only that it was fought and those who fought for them. Led by their then leader Timere, the moths had fought a valiant battle against the cruel butterflies for the bountiful land that could not hold both of them. Both sides were roughly even matched, but under the leadership of Timere the moths felt emboldened and that victory was only a matter of time. All their hopes had rested on him; the one who personally led every battle even if he was not always the last to leave. They fought ruthlessly with a one for all mentality; if a few could be sacrificed to save the many then it was done. Wounded were not cared for during a battle as they were expected to fight till they drew their last breaths, and were left behind if necessary. Victory was their goal at all costs; each death was meant to have meaning once they claimed the promised land. Any dissent among the ranks was quickly removed one way or the other, and unlike the butterflies the males primarily fought. The women and children were left in the safety of their bases in order to ensure there would be more troops if needed in the future. And that there would be a generation left standing once they won. No elderly were spared from battle; all others would fight, even children once they were old enough. Though as the war progressed, single women were also brought into the war as well to bolster their ranks. They looked to have a chance of victory, capitalizing on the butterflies all for one nature... even if it only provided them a narrow advantage. However, that all changed in the Battle of the Oak. Amidst the battle and bloodshed, Grimm had found their way into the battle and Timere was lost in the fighting against Grimm and Butterfly. Demoralized and their general slain, the moths had retreated the field to try and regroup. They were not given the time they needed to recover, as there was no successor or moth equal in battle and strategy to Timere. From then on the butterflies won battle after battle...Until eventually the moths were forced to flee from the promised land into the more treacherous wetlands. The stories curse those who had ran when Timere fell, believing that if they had just pushed forward then and held to the man they may have won. Alas, that was not how history came to be and Timere's death signaled the beginning of the end of the war. Yet his war strategies still lived on.

        The moths had to flee deep into the wetlands to escape the butterflies who were as intent to exterminate them as the moths had been for them. There were many losses but Timere's teaching remained forefront in the mind of every moth. They traveled at a brutal rate and sent squads of moths behind to delay the butterflies and mislead them. Those sent almost never returned. Anyone who could not keep up was left behind, and the weakest amongst them would be used to draw Grimm away when they were attacked and outnumbered. It was survival of the fittest, and they were doing their best to keep their tribe alive at all costs with his teachings in mind. Many would-be leaders sprang up during this time, but their reigns were always short; each tried to imitate the courage and intellect of Timere, and each failed in turn for over reaching their bounds. All that kept them from splitting and being preyed upon to the last was their hatred of the butterflies who did this to them and the memory of Timere. Eventually, it proved too dangerous for the butterflies to follow after them and they only had to contend with the wild life, terrain, and the ever abundant Grimm. Still, many were lost to the wetlands... until they finally found a defensible enough place that they made a stand in this deadly land. A place that would become their new home... fought for with blood, sweat and the lives of many a moth.

        -Tribe life (Land, Butterflies, Death)

        Life in the wetlands was not an easy one when they first claimed it, nor was it now. With how flooded the land was and all the dangers that lurked in the water, they had to adapt to make it habitable for them. Though they had the advantage of flight and wings, they could not fly forever. So they would construct a wooden village high enough above the water that even when it flooded they would be safe from the water, something they had suffered too many losses from in the past. They did not make it much higher than that as a few attempts had found them susceptible to being toppled in the water by the stronger Grimm who also inhabited this region. The moths had grown to be nocturnal in this hostile environment as the most dangerous of creatures would stalk the wetland at night. They needed to be to ensure they would be prepared for a nightly attack, of which was not a rare occurrence for them. That is not to say all of them were as such; the population was divided into a diurnal and nocturnal one to take advantage of both times of day while always being prepared. Both shared similar roles, but the dangers would be different. Which one a moth came to be was determined at birth by the eldest of the village; those who had proved too strong, wise, or cunning for the wetlands to claim as another victim.

        Miserorum, then known as Nocturnus Puer (night child), was determined to be a nocturnal. Puer was the name given to every child before they underwent their first raid, and Nocturnus was to signify him being a nocturnal. Those who were to be of the day were called Diurnus Puer. Miserorum was the second born child, though he was the only living one. His elder sibling had died early, a victim to the wetlands, before he was even conceived. His mother was a nocturnal like himself, and his father was a diurnal. He was taught early, as all moths were, of what was expected of him; to live, fight, and die for his tribe. He was taught the rules of battle, that the world was there to test him and should he ever fail he would perish like his sibling before him. And so Miserorum was introduced into the cruel world in the wetlands, learning early how to survive in their land and of their history. Not all moths were meant to survive adulthood as he learned early; many other moth children he knew would perish in time to the wetlands due to its abundant dangers. So he became familiar with the concept of death very early on in life, and like most moths learned not to fear it. Death became an everyday part of life; nothing to be feared as they were all meant to die at some point. All that truly mattered was what they accomplished in their lives and deaths.

        After learning of the lands they inhabited, his next lesson had been Grimm. And the best way was to learn was in experience. One of the first tests they experienced was of learning to hide from Grimm. Both physically and mentally. The Grimm were often drawn to the moths with their grim outlook on life, and thus they had learned how to better protect themselves as well as how to hide from them in other ways. One was in learning to turn their negative emotion in positive, or at least neutral ones, so that the Grimm could not hone in on them. Miserorum struggled with it until one day he found himself wounded and trying to hide from a beowolf... Having been left with no interference or help as was common. He had focused on his wound... twisting it from one of pain to... enjoyment. And managed to hide from the wolf till he could return to safety. He did not know it then but he was a masochist... and by twisting the pain to near pleasure would make his mind void of negative emotions so long as he did so. There were many other tests of evasion and even fighting them...but this was the test that stuck out to him the most.

        Once it was proven he could survive, the next step was learning of the tribes history and their eternal enemy; the butterfly. Of how once they both vied for a land of little danger and abundant resources, a land that was to be theirs. Learning of the nature of the butterflies, how they were hunted down after the war, forced into this land. Like all other moths, he was taught that butterflies were their enemy. And he, like most others who survived to that point, followed and believed it. It was an enemy they could blame for their lives and their current situation; one they could use as motivation and a goal to eventually take back what was supposed to be theirs. Or so that is what the moths believed, and Miserorum as well. While they struggled to survive here and rebuild themselves, their eternal enemy was never forgotten. They were outnumbered but they had one advantage on their end; the butterflies had never traveled deep enough into the wetlands to find them, but the moths knew exactly where the butterflies were. He had learned of the raids his parents and others of the tribe partook in to take resources back from those lands and deal blows, if small, to the butterflies. He was very eager to help in them, to strike back at the enemy, but he was not allowed to till he came of age. His first raid would be his transition into adulthood, and all moth children had to be trained before they could be risked on a raid. They were told to die before they reveal the way home, and they would never be sent until they believed that. He, like all other youths, learned to place little value in their own lives. Like the teachings of Timere the tribe would come first above all.

        -Miserorum Venunum (Ambush, Remi, Wings)
        Every moth has a trial to take before becoming adults. It would not be their last test, for life itself was a never ending one of survival, but it was the most important to a young moth. It was the test that would give them their name. No moth child had their own name until they underwent this trial; being named either day or night child depending what was chosen for them. The test was not simple in the slightest, but then none of their tests had been since they were born. However, this trial in particular was known to claim the life of many aspiring moths. Even the ones who would oversee the test were not immune from the risk of death. While the exact circumstances they may face during the test was unknown, there was one certainty; it invariably pitted them against their eternal enemy. The Butterflies. The trial was a raid into the promised land, the land the butterflies won during the war, with the goal of bringing needed supplies back to the tribe. It was a mission adult moths underwent regularly; thus it was the perfect trial to transition the young moths into adulthood. Despite their acclimation to life in the wetlands, it did not compare in the slightest to what could be taken from the promised land. A day of foraging in the wetlands was equal to an hour in the promised land. It was a vital task for the tribe to sustain itself; without their raids, they would be even fewer in number than they are currently. The raids were necessary to sustain themselves. It also served as the first opportunity a moth had to prove their worth. The first time they would truly be tested in their belief of the tribe being before themselves.

        Miserorum had finally come of age alongside a few other youths; the few other ones who has survived in his age group from the inherent dangers of the wetlands. They were a handful at most, but that was how life in the wetlands went at times. Sometimes there were far more dead than living moths by this stage, and sometimes it was the reverse. Regardless, they had all earned the right to this trial by living this long. All of them were eager to begin, to prove themselves to the tribe. Each of them would head to different parts of the promised land to steal as much as they could. Each one would be escorted by their parents and a tribe member if they were still living; if not it would solely be the tribe member. This was done to ensure their devotion was to the tribe above all else, for if one of the family were to fall the others were meant to leave them behind to fend for themselves. A test for both parents and offspring alike. No thought was to be spared for the other during this mission; bringing back the needed supplies was all that was important. While this was normal business for the adults, the adolescence had special circumstances unique to each. Some were unable to take weapons, other were allowed no food or drink from the night before the trial. In Miserorum's case, he was given no weapons. He would only be able to eat once the trial began; a way to prepare them for when they go to war again with the butterflies. The day that war happened was unknown, but it was a steady goal for the moths. The promised land would be theirs again, and so their life was lived in preparation for this war. Miserorum felt ready. He had survived up till this point in the wetlands, and would have the chance to earn his own name. Even if he died trying to do so, it would still be worth it in his eyes. For those who died during the trial were given the name of Honoratus Mortus (honored dead). And so Miserorum would set on by nightfall... for the added difficulty for the moths was that the test would be in the opposite time of day they lived by. By the time they reached the promised land, it would be day...A time and setting he was very much unfamiliar with.

        It was...strange to see a world so brightly lit. It was... almost blinding, at first. His eyes were unaccustomed to this time of day, and he had only been able to not be blinded since he was awake as the sun slowly rose into existence so that the light only gradually changed. Had it not been for the importance of this trial he may have spent some time to just admire how the world looked. Not just because of how the change of light changed the look of the world... but because in this light Miserorum found himself gazing at the promised land that he had been told of ever since he could remember. And it did not disappoint. However, he had little time to take in the sights due to the mission at hand. And because of another unexpected encounter. Not long after they had infiltrated the promised land they stumbled across a pair of butterfly faunus. The first ones he had ever seen. Immediately his mind was filled with curiosity and hatred; he finally could see the enemy that had caused his tribes forced migration into the wetlands. The curiosity he had felt and was replaced with a desire for vengeance, one that seemed to be shared by his fellow tribe members. They let out a cry and sprang from the bushes, intent to quickly take out the butterflies before they could escape and alert others...However, they found themselves quickly ensnared by vines and flower stems that prevented them from reaching their targets despite their struggles. While in a panic and trying to use their weapons to cut free, some of them more successful than others as Miserorum was very much entangled, He scarcely noticed that a flower was emitting a pollen in their struggles until he felt a tiredness slowly begin to set in on him and seeing the rest of the moths grow weak in their struggles. He was confused as to what was happening, why he was feeling like this, and struggled on nonetheless with more energy than the rest. Soon after, the adults went unconscious entirely leaving Miserorum as the only one to still be conscious though slowly losing that battle. He struggled with all his might even as his body was slowly failing him, glaring at the butterflies ahead as they seemed to be the source. A primary reason for him to still be up just being the thought that if he went down they were dead for sure.

        Then another unexpected event happened, one that Miserorum was unsure was for good or ill. Something that he was certain no insect faunus was expecting; a Grimm appeared.It quickly attacked the butterflies, probably sensing their fear as he thought was likely or perhaps it being that they just made the most noise, and seemed to have the upper hand. However Miserorum's main focus was not on that; it was on escape. As the Grimm was being fought he was attacking at his bonds, feeling his body slowly begin to return to his control and his mind clear a little. The plants themselves were weakening, and the pollen had stopped falling from the flower. As he was near free he could hear the others beginning to reawaken and struggle at their bonds as well. Until finally he was free. He did not go to help the others free, looking back to the butterflies but now seeing no Grimm. One seemed dead or unconscious while the other was holding him; he had to move fast to get them. However he had scarcely walked two steps before they were noticed and he felt the familiar vines wrap around him again. He struggled against it, now more prepared, but was ensnared nonetheless. He resisted with all his might as the other moths soon went back to sleep... Glaring at the butterfly that was still conscious, the likely source of this...as slowly everything went black.

        Miserorum awoke in a daze alongside his parents, noticing immediately that he was bound with vines... Briefly confused as to where his tribe mate was till he saw him a little distance away. And at that point saw they were surrounded by a number of butterflies. They formed a ring around the moths, demanding to know of their purpose, how many of them there were, and where they came from. The only response they got was silence. The butterflies were neither in a patient or merciful mood, as Miserorum could clearly seen the one from earlier was on deaths bed now with the one who ensnared them unconscious. They did not hesitate before they killed the tribe member... Moving to his father who also only answered with silence. And so they killed him swiftly as well. Then they went to his mother... The one he shared one look with before she too remained in silence... and was killed as well. Each death was meant to encourage the moths to speak but it was to no avail...Even when all that was left was one young moth who refused to speak after seeing them die. They were unaware that with each death, the resolve of a moth was hardened. To die for their tribe was the ultimate honor. And he would die happily knowing he would do just that. He had grown numb as his family was killed before him; a mixture of shock, disbelief, and fear all mixed in one. But in that mixture of emotion was resolve; to make sure their deaths were not in vain. If he spoke, their deaths were meaningless. And he would not do that to them. It was what he was taught, what his parents believed... What they died for. However, before the blade could sever him from the realm of the living a voice rang out. The voice of the young butterfly, now that he had a comparison, as she momentarily returned to consciousness. She pleaded for his life as all he could feel was disgust. He wanted to die with his family, not live on. He didn't want the mercy of a butterfly. He wanted a death with meaning. But, despite some initial resistance by the butterflies, they consented to her request as she faded back to unconsciousness. However, they did so on a condition she would be unaware of but one that would haunt him. They restrained him further but undid the binds around his back so that his wings were now free....and began to rip and tear at his wings. The young moth screamed. The process was long and agonizing as he screamed with each new tear in it. He didn't know how long it lasted or the extent of it... only that at some point he blacked out from the pain as they left the broken moth on the ground. They left as he was no longer a threat but a warning; a living example of what they would do to any moths, and that they could afford to let one live.

        He awoke in agony, alone. The bodies of moths all round him. His hatred sparked anew, his pain sensitivity momentarily increasing in his anger... Until a purple mist began to envelop him and around him. His semblance taking form for the first time. He slowly rose amidst the purple mist as plant life began to die around him, withering and decaying. He noticed it but did not care as he felt a sense of apathy come over him. Too much emotional damage that now left him entirely numb. Numb to the pain of his ruined wings. Numb to the pain of losing his family. Numb to being seen not even worth killing. He would take slow steps forward as the purple mist followed in his wake. His mind having mostly shut down save one thing; his mission. They were dead and he was alive... the teachings of his youth that were drilled in took over. All that was left was to die or finish the mission. He did not know which he preferred at this point, and so he went to complete the mission. He could die doing so anyway. As he walked through the forest a path of destruction was left in his wake, and he paid it little mind. He could hear life in the forest around him, and he could hear it dying when too close. All this passed through his mind subconsciously as his mind clung to one thing to make the deaths meaningful; success. He could feel his body being damaged, getting a cough, coughing up blood... but he did his best to ignore it and press on...Until he would fall over as his body failed him. Through his unconsciousness a blue mist enveloped him...preserving the greenery around him and himself. He awoke much later as the sun was setting. No longer quite as numb as before and feeling the pain of what had been done to him again... but not as bad as it had been earlier in that day. Again he rose, those this time no mist followed and he could think. As much as that could benefit him with his mind still being set. Slowly, weakly, he would continue his search through the promised land. Unbidden thoughts of his parents entered his mind but he put them away. Timere taught that once someone wad dead not to dwell on them; even when they were just injured. Bodies were not people even if they resembled them, and his duty was to his tribe first. Or so he told himself as he forced the thoughts of his parents from his mind. And so he continued...happening upon a suppl cache of the butterflies and taking all he could... Avoiding any Grimm that were in the area as he focused on his physical pain, twisting it to replace his negative thoughts with false satisfaction. He was too weak to fight them directly; and to do so would be to have a death without meaning. He would eventually escape the promised land and travel by night back to his tribe...Bleeding, bruised, limping... Alone.

        He was the only young moth to return that day. All the others had perished in their trials, though most of the adults had made it back. Of his year he was the only one to make it... and when he related truthfully what had happened, he almost wished he did not. He could see the shame and looks in the eyes of his tribe; he was found to be so weak by the butterflies they had no fear of him living on and used him as a message to the moths. One that they would kill them again as they had in the past, or so the moth tribe interpreted it. Three warriors had been lost and one who was found much weaker had returned; this was only lessened by the fact that he returned with supplies. Otherwise he may have been found guilty of cowardice and killed; such a thing was not tolerated. But because the moth had survived the trial and succeeded, he was given a name. Miserorum Venunum, the unhappy poison. Most moths would've felt proud to receive their name. Moths would die for it, and had. He had been much the same not long ago. But his naming felt hollow as he was not revered as an adult by the others of the tribe. His wings as bad as they were unable to fly... he was hardly even a moth. Even his naming reflected it; Miserorum was not his own unhappiness, but that of the elders. As many felt he did not deserve it for being granted it by the mercy of a butterfly. And so alone, the newly named moth would return to his home...His now empty home. He had his name... It only cost him his family, wings, and his standing in his own tribe.

        - The outside (Purpose, cloak, beacon)
        Being an adult in his own tribe led to no joy; for while he was still part of it, he was almost seen as an exile. He spent little time with others due to the tribe being small enough that the circumstances of his adulthood were well known to others. Even if he sought others out, it rarely led to more than passing words. Despite being in a tribe full of other moths, he may as well have been alone. Especially with his duties as an adult. He was never sent into the promised land again; they did not trust him, did not think him capable of doing any tasks there after what happened. Instead he was confined to the accursed wetlands he grew up in; the ones that claimed so many moths before and would continue to do so as long as they lived. He was sent on the most dangerous missions there; be it slaying creature, Grimm, or even outsiders. He would be sent to the farthest reaches of their territory to dispose of and deal with any threats. With the hope by his tribe that he would not survive. Knowing that did not deter him though. He never complained, never spoke out about it; he willingly went on such tasks. Because he hoped for his own death as well. It was not that he would just give up and let himself be killed. He wanted his death to have meaning; to be part of the worthy dead who fought and died for their tribe. At least in that death he could see himself being redeemed for what had happened in his trial. At least then he could be accepted again. But he would not die. It was not to say he never came close or that he was invulnerable; death was a constant presence for him and sever injuries common. However, he just kept living for some reason, and kept returning home to the tribe with a hollow victory. Not being granted the death many, including himself, wished for.

        This continued on for a time until a scout came back with vital information. Some butterflies had left the promised land, to some strange place called Beacon. They had learned from captured butterflies that there two butterflies went there to learn to combat the Grimm threat. Something that the moth tribe knew was a growing issue. While they considered the butterflies their primary enemies, the Grimm had been growing stronger as of late. To which Miserorum knew all too well. His poison was the only reason he ever survived encounters with them, loathe as he was to admit it. And the scouts knew of the Grimm in the promised land too; some moths were lost to them or used them to their advantage against the butterflies. It was then a decision was made to send one of their own; not to kill the butterflies, but to make sure they got no edge on the moths. For if the butterflies learned a better way to cull those creatures, then they would have an advantage against the moths. However, no moth had set foot outside of tribe land save the promised land; it was akin to exile and death. Nothing was known of the world outside their endless war. It was assumed life elsewhere was near unsustainable; that it was hollow. So, the natural choice fell to Miserorum. Already an outcast, he was not one that would be missed. And the elders well knew that should he fail, the ancestors would not forgive him. It was his last and only chance... and should he fail, they would merely send another. They also just wanted rid of the living reminder of their mortal enemies’ victory. So, without complaint, resistance, or even a word... Miserorum left his home. The one that cost him everything to serve the tribe one more time. With the hopes of restoring his name and standing...being granted a death with purpose.

        His journey was mostly uneventful, though not to say danger was not present. He had to travel through the promised land just to leave the tribe lands and reach the place called beacon; digging up painful memories and thoughts of what could have been. He did his best to push them to the side and ignore them; this was his chance at redemption, to give to the tribe... to try and redeem himself. It was bitter sweet to him though; to serve his tribe he had to leave it. Leave the familiar lands that were his home for so long. Leave the life he had built up, no matter how bad, behind. Leave all the sacrifices he made for it behind. And he knew not when he was returning. There was no set date, no clear goal; just to learn all he could for however long it may take. His time away could be close to life for all he knew. These thoughts filled his mind; hope and despair, happiness and sadness, relief and sorrow. He had to dodge the odd butterfly patrol, or grimm as he could not afford to fight them at risk of discovery or serious injury. But not everything on his journey could be avoided after all; nothing had ever been simple in his life, and it seemed nothing ever will be.

        Once well out of the promised land, he had heard the sound of battle and out of curiosity drew closer to watch. When he finally reached it though it was mostly over; a grimm stood over a corpse, a box lay not too far away, and the signs of the battle and struggle were evident. Whoever the human was, he was no more. The Grimm was feasting on the corpse; what for he was unsure, but it mattered little. With it busy devouring the corpse he could easily slip by it with no fuss but... the box he saw was slightly ajar, and in it he saw something that almost looked like a moon. His curiosity was peaked... and he was not sure but he felt drawn to it. Taking out his sickles he would sneak up behind the grimm... before leaping onto its back and tearing into it. The Grimm, weakened by its battle with the human already, went down fairly quick. With it dispatched, Miserorum's attention turned to the box. It had a strange symbol and writing on it that Miserorum could not recognize, but he ignored it for now. Reaching into the box, he pulled out the moon... and found it attached to some cloak. Though it was a strange cloak...not entirely made out of cloth but mixed with a strange metalic material. He had no clue what it was or what it was for...but seeing the crescent moon on it he felt drawn to it. Looking to the body on the floor, the Grimm already turning to dust, his expression was blank. The teachings he was taught since a young age came to his mind. Forget the dead, move on, and win. The dead would have no use for this cloak. He had avenged it already; more than it deserved. Clutching the cloak in his hands, he would give the body no more thought. It was not of his tribe, so it did not matter. Putting the cloak on, he was about to leave when he noticed something else in the box. Curiosity peaked, he would take out what seemed to be vials of some dust like substance. It took him a moment to recognize it as dust; something reserved only for the elders or those in the highest position. He could recognize it as a vial of earth, water and wind dust. He was unsure why these were with the cloak, but he would take them anyway. They were capable of very powerful magic, and he may need them. His looting done, he would set out. Over the weeks it took him to find and reach beacon, he had learned much more of the cloak... mostly by accident. Like how certain dust being put in caused different effects for it, and how staying still helped him hide. He did not understand it, but he found it immensely useful and was glad he took it.

╫ I N V E N T O R Y ╫

        PRIMARY WEAPON
        ▬ Cloak of the Moth
        ▬ In regular form, this appears to be a plain dark brown cloak with a crescent moon draped about the wearer with nothing special. However, the cloak has many defensive uses to protect the user and is not made entirely out of cloth; though the inside is lined with it. The cloak is actual a collection of many small metal sheets. The cloak can release a cloud of mist around the user using air and water dust (or fire and water dust to make steam) in order to envelop the wearer in it and make them harder to discern, can be hardened around him in the shape of a cocoon for defensive purposes, or it can be used to blend into the environment as it changes colors to match it.
        Melee Form ▬ (Cocoon) In this form, the cloak is wrapped around the user and hardens considerably as the metal sheets all attach to one another. They do this in what very much appears like a cocoon, and are usually attached in place from where this was activated so the wearer cannot be moved. This form can take a good deal of damage before being broken through, and provides decent elemental resistance. However, while in it the wearer does not have access to the outside and will need to come out eventually for air. He can last 5 posts in this cocoon before he needs air.
        Ranged Form ▬ (Shroud) In this usage, the user expends dust in order to create a large amount of mist to be generated in and out of his cloak. It expands in an area of 5 feet around him, so those at a distance have a hard time discerning him in the mist which would make it harder for them to hit him accurately. Those closer have a bit of an easier time, though his exact shape is still obscured.
        Other Form(s) ▬ (Camouflage) In this form, the outer layers of the cloak change color to match that of the surrounding environment, much like a moths natural camouflage it can have for its specific environment. When un-moving and draped in the cloak, he blends in with the environment. However, this does not prevent sound, scent or touch from giving him away.
        Ammo Type ▬ Dust cartridges
        ▬ Drawbacks:
        - The Shroud function can only be powered by a combination of either wind/water dust, fire/water dust, or steam dust. So sometimes usage requires 2 vials of dust. The mist only lasts for 4 rounds before more dust needs to be used.
        - The Cocoon form requires one vial of earth dust to strengthen it enough to be so defensively strong. Even when not actively in cocoon form, it does make the cloak itself that much more resistant to damage and lasts for 5 posts.

        OTHER WEAPONS
        ▬ Kusarigama
        ▬ Sickle x2
        ▬ Kunai
        ITEMS
        ▬ Waterskin




╫ S E M B L A N C E ╫

        *NAME ▬ Night Shade
        *AURA COLOR ▬ Violet
        *DESCRIPTION
        ▬ This semblance involves the creation of a poison that grows deadlier and more detrimental as the levels go up. However, it is a double edged sword to use this semblance as he is not entirely immune to his own semblance. The poison takes the form of a gas that he expels through his mouth and it is a violet color. A benefit of this semblance is that he is immune to toxins that are naturally produced by living organisms, just not entirely that of the semblance itself. In order to be affected by the poison gas, it has to be breathed in. The symptomatic effects are cumulative for 1-3, but 4-7 replace one another.
        The poison
        1) Trouble breathing and shortness of breath
        2) Burning sensation from the inside
        3) Coughing up blood
        4) Muscle spasms
        5) Hallucinations
        6) Asphyxiation (unconsciousness)
        7) Death
        *LEVEL 0 ▬ (Creeping)
        - At this level, his poison is only able to advance to up to coughing up blood and no further. It takes 3 posts before they have trouble breathing, 5 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, and at 7 posts they begin to cough up blood as it does damage to them internally.
        - The poison gas falls to the ground in a condensed layer that completely hides the ground. It is 3 feet tall. It also has a purple haze that rises up 10 feet off the ground and only lightly obscures vision.
        *LEVEL 1▬ (Crippling cloud) At this level, his poison can go up to muscle spasms. It takes 2 posts before they have trouble breathing, 4 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 6 posts they begin to cough up blood, and at 8 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs).
        *LEVEL 2▬ (Mirage) At this level, his poison can go up to hallucinations when breathed in. The hallucinations usually take the form of imaginary Miserorums appearing in their vision that make it hard to tell which is the real one. They cannot deal actual damage to the person, but to them it would feel real. It also make determining friend or foe difficult, as they would appear and sound like him as well.
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs) and at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate.
        *LEVEL 3 ▬ (Miasma) At this level, the poison will run its full course in a persons body (up to death).
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs), at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate, and at 10 posts they will asphyxiate into unconsciousness. From that point they have 5 posts to be cured by someone or perish.

        *DRAWBACKS
        - Robots are not affected by this poison.
        - Miserorum suffers from his poison but in a different form than others and because the poison is produced inside him there is no way for him to avoid being affected. Whereas it ultimately asphyxiates others and then possibly lead to death, it internally damages him the longer he uses it and causes necrosis as listed below:
        - Misery's poison
        1) Bloody cough
        - Level 0: Appears after 2 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 3 posts
        2) Lesions on skin
        - Level 0: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 5 posts
        3) Wounds appearing on him (the poison gas begins to seep out of these wounds from this point on)
        - Level 0: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 8 posts
        4) Necrosis
        - Level 0: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 7 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 10 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 13 posts
        5) Death
        - Level 0: Happens at 8 posts
        - Level 1: Happens at 11 posts
        - Level 2: Happens at 14 posts
        - Level 3: Happens at 17 posts
        - For every post that he uses the semblance, he has to have 2 posts of non use to heal from the poison. His "recharge heal" takes the form of a blue gas he emits from his mouth that acts as an antidote cloud. It is the only way for him to heal himself from the effects of his poison, and he heals in the reverse order of the symptoms he experiences. He can only be healed by this when he is cocooned (either by his cloak, semblance, or some outside source that does a similar effect).
        - If they hold their breath or have a gas mark on, they are immune to the effects of his poison for the period that it is on (if the mask comes off or they take a breath in the gas they would then start to feel the effects).
        - If there is no wind, then the poison stays in the area for as long as it is listed in each level. If there is strong wind, then it can only spread half as much before beginning to dissipate.
        - For the poison to reach max distance, he has to continually produce it (ex: if it has a max distance of 20 feet and spreads 5 feet per post, he has to spend 4 of his posts constantly producing it to reach that max distance).
        - Once it reaches max distance it will remain there as long as he is actively using his semblance. If he stops using it, it will dissipate at the same rate it expanded but in the reverse direction (so the outer edges will fade away first and the last to dissipate is the ones closest to him).
        - Because the poison takes the form of a purple gas it is very noticeable, but it also obscures Miserorum since it expands in all directions.
        - The poison does not immediately spread out to its max radius; it expands X number of feet per post (as detailed in each level of the post).
        - If he is knocked unconscious, his poison effect on the target will end. He can also willingly end it if he desires.
        - A healing semblance that specifically can target toxins can heal the effect entirely (it takes half the time to heal them (ex: if they had been exposed for 8 posts, the healing takes 4 posts to be fully healed and this is rounded up in the case of numbers that don't divide into whole numbers), but otherwise just delays the effects and temporarily gets rid of symptoms (in terms of delaying for symptoms and delay of effects: 1 post at level 0 from the person with the healing persons semblance, 2 posts at level 1, 4 posts at level 2, 6 posts at level 3).
        - If a person is exposed to his poison is brought out/ away from the gas for 3 posts, the poison does not progress to the next stage. It will naturally heal, but it takes as long as they suffered the effects of the poison to be rid of it (they lose symptoms one by one in the reverse order they gained them).
        - It is an indiscriminate poison. Ally and enemies alike will be affected by it.
        *Level 0
        - Can use the poison for a max of 5 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance).
        - The condensed poison gas (which will be called ground smog) spreads out on the ground in a radius of 10 feet in all directions with a purple haze that is 5 feet tall. The ground smog and haze spread at a rate of 5 feet per post to their max distance.
        *Level 1
        - Can use the poison for a max of 8 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 20 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 10 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 5 feet per post.
        *Level 2
        - Can use the poison for a max of 11 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 30 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 15 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.
        *Level 3
        - Can use the poison for a max of 14 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 50 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 25 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.






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Youroka Kage

Devoted Guildswoman

16,240 Points
  • Battle: Knight 100
  • Marathon 300
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Youroka Kage

Devoted Guildswoman

16,240 Points
  • Battle: Knight 100
  • Marathon 300
  • Cool Cat 500
PostPosted: Tue Jul 30, 2019 8:37 am


Ghost254
[Ghost254 & Miserorum Venunum]
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╫ C O R E ╫


        *NAME ▬ Miserorum Venunum
        *AGE ▬ 16
        *FACTION ▬ Moth tribe
        *ROLE ▬ Student
        *SEX ▬ Male
        *SPECIES ▬ Faunus (Moth)

        *CURRENT TEAM ▬ (Leave blank if you do not have a team yet)
        *PARTNER(S) ▬ (Teammates, if you have any)
        NICKNAME(S) ▬ Moth (ball), Wingless, Misery, Miasma
        OCCUPATION



╫ A F F E C T A T I O N ╫

        HEIGHT ▬ 5'6
        WEIGHT ▬ 155 lb

        HAIR ▬ Dark blue
        CLOTHING ▬ Blue and white yukata with golden accessories. Some samurai chest armor.
        ACCESSORIES ▬ Golden tassel headband, black elbow length gloves, golden bow wristband, gold bow ring.
        EYES ▬ Blues eyes with a gold, semicircle ring, around pupil.
        BUILD ▬ Lean yet muscular
        TATTOOS
        SCARS ▬ Torn wings
        MARKINGS/FAUNUS FEATURES ▬ Moth wings (purple with black outlines and a skull on each). The wings are torn halfway through and unusable for flight. Spinnerets in mouth (uses to make woven silk).


╫ A R C H E T Y P E ╫

        NATURAL ABILITIES
        Primary Talent ▬ High pain Tolerance
        He is very resistant to pain due to his masochistic nature and can ignore it to press on in a fight, even when a persons body would usually shut down from extreme pain.
        Faunus Trait/Bonus Talent ▬ Moth Silk
        While most moths have flight as their main and only ability, Miserorum had that stripped away from him. As a result, his body developed an alternate creation from his moth heritage; silk creation. He can spit up to 20 feet of woven silk from his mouth, due to spinnerets inside of it, for a variety of uses (even full on cocooning himself). The silk is very strong and hard to break (comparable to rope as it will take a lot of strength to break it). However, it has a weakness to anything that can cut it, as it will break quite easily when cut. While he can slowly pull it out for a rope or to make his cocoon, he can also launch it from his mouth to a foe (up to 15 feet away from him) to try and restrain them as it would wrap around them. His silk can be sticky too if he chooses (for purposes of restraint, to create his cocoon, and to attach the cocoon to a surface). He has to wait 5 posts before he can use this ability again.
        Other Talents
        - Physical strength: He has been physically strong since birth; it was one of the reasons he survived to this age.
        - Endurance: Miserorum has suffered many injuries and survived to live another day. As such, his body can withstand much more blows than the average person along with a high stamina.

        LEARNT ABILITIES
        Strongest Skill ▬ Katana mastery
        Misery has learned how to properly wield and use a katana, with an understanding of the techniques in its use.
        Weakest Skill
        - Moth to a flame: He is fascinated by bright lights at night, and has a strong compulsion to follow/ go to it. Unless there is clear danger (which allows him to resist this), it has a hypnotic pull on him.
        - Awareness (daytime): During the day he is not very aware of his surroundings due to his nocturnal nature (fairly easily to sneak up on).
        Other Skills
        - Stealth: Misery has learned to hide himself effectively in many terrains and to move near silently.
        - Climbing: Due to his wings no longer being usable for flight, he has adapted to become exceptionally good at climbing to make up for it.
        - Emotion Suppression: When needed, Miserorum can suppress his negative emotions if he has a source of pain he can focus on. Being a masochist, he can focus his mind on the pain being a positive and mask his negative emotions from grimm.

        LIKES
        ▬ (Hobbies/Talents)
        ▬ (People) Moth faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sours
        ▬ (Objects) Bright lights, Sharp things, Natural made
        ▬ (Animals) Insects

        DISLIKES
        ▬ (People) Butterfly faunus
        ▬ (Foods) Sweet
        ▬ (Objects) Anything made by butterfly faunus, high tech
        ▬ (Animals) Avians
        ▬ (Fears) Moths dying out, being a failure, failing his mission

        PERSONALITY TRAITS
        Nature ▬ Misery is a dark person with a dark outlook on life. He places no value in his own life; only in what he accomplishes before he dies. He has no illusions on death; he knows it shall approach him one day and he fears it not. He had a very morbid outlook on life, reflected in his humor and pessimism.
        Vernacular ▬ Grim and dark tone, but american accent
        Positive Traits ▬ Loyal, determined, brave
        Negative Traits ▬ Grim, Pessimistic, Morbid, despises butterflys, fatalistic, self sacrificial

╫ H I S T O R Y ╫

        BACKGROUND
        -Tribal war (Butterfly vs moth, aftermath)
        None still living know the start of the conflict with the butterflies, only that it was fought and those who fought for them. Led by their then leader Timere, the moths had fought a valiant battle against the cruel butterflies for the bountiful land that could not hold both of them. Both sides were roughly even matched, but under the leadership of Timere the moths felt emboldened and that victory was only a matter of time. All their hopes had rested on him; the one who personally led every battle even if he was not always the last to leave. They fought ruthlessly with a one for all mentality; if a few could be sacrificed to save the many then it was done. Wounded were not cared for during a battle as they were expected to fight till they drew their last breaths, and were left behind if necessary. Victory was their goal at all costs; each death was meant to have meaning once they claimed the promised land. Any dissent among the ranks was quickly removed one way or the other, and unlike the butterflies the males primarily fought. The women and children were left in the safety of their bases in order to ensure there would be more troops if needed in the future. And that there would be a generation left standing once they won. No elderly were spared from battle; all others would fight, even children once they were old enough. Though as the war progressed, single women were also brought into the war as well to bolster their ranks. They looked to have a chance of victory, capitalizing on the butterflies all for one nature... even if it only provided them a narrow advantage. However, that all changed in the Battle of the Oak. Amidst the battle and bloodshed, Grimm had found their way into the battle and Timere was lost in the fighting against Grimm and Butterfly. Demoralized and their general slain, the moths had retreated the field to try and regroup. They were not given the time they needed to recover, as there was no successor or moth equal in battle and strategy to Timere. From then on the butterflies won battle after battle...Until eventually the moths were forced to flee from the promised land into the more treacherous wetlands. The stories curse those who had ran when Timere fell, believing that if they had just pushed forward then and held to the man they may have won. Alas, that was not how history came to be and Timere's death signaled the beginning of the end of the war. Yet his war strategies still lived on.

        The moths had to flee deep into the wetlands to escape the butterflies who were as intent to exterminate them as the moths had been for them. There were many losses but Timere's teaching remained forefront in the mind of every moth. They traveled at a brutal rate and sent squads of moths behind to delay the butterflies and mislead them. Those sent almost never returned. Anyone who could not keep up was left behind, and the weakest amongst them would be used to draw Grimm away when they were attacked and outnumbered. It was survival of the fittest, and they were doing their best to keep their tribe alive at all costs with his teachings in mind. Many would-be leaders sprang up during this time, but their reigns were always short; each tried to imitate the courage and intellect of Timere, and each failed in turn for over reaching their bounds. All that kept them from splitting and being preyed upon to the last was their hatred of the butterflies who did this to them and the memory of Timere. Eventually, it proved too dangerous for the butterflies to follow after them and they only had to contend with the wild life, terrain, and the ever abundant Grimm. Still, many were lost to the wetlands... until they finally found a defensible enough place that they made a stand in this deadly land. A place that would become their new home... fought for with blood, sweat and the lives of many a moth.

        -Tribe life (Land, Butterflies, Death)

        Life in the wetlands was not an easy one when they first claimed it, nor was it now. With how flooded the land was and all the dangers that lurked in the water, they had to adapt to make it habitable for them. Though they had the advantage of flight and wings, they could not fly forever. So they would construct a wooden village high enough above the water that even when it flooded they would be safe from the water, something they had suffered too many losses from in the past. They did not make it much higher than that as a few attempts had found them susceptible to being toppled in the water by the stronger Grimm who also inhabited this region. The moths had grown to be nocturnal in this hostile environment as the most dangerous of creatures would stalk the wetland at night. They needed to be to ensure they would be prepared for a nightly attack, of which was not a rare occurrence for them. That is not to say all of them were as such; the population was divided into a diurnal and nocturnal one to take advantage of both times of day while always being prepared. Both shared similar roles, but the dangers would be different. Which one a moth came to be was determined at birth by the eldest of the village; those who had proved too strong, wise, or cunning for the wetlands to claim as another victim.

        Miserorum, then known as Nocturnus Puer (night child), was determined to be a nocturnal. Puer was the name given to every child before they underwent their first raid, and Nocturnus was to signify him being a nocturnal. Those who were to be of the day were called Diurnus Puer. Miserorum was the second born child, though he was the only living one. His elder sibling had died early, a victim to the wetlands, before he was even conceived. His mother was a nocturnal like himself, and his father was a diurnal. He was taught early, as all moths were, of what was expected of him; to live, fight, and die for his tribe. He was taught the rules of battle, that the world was there to test him and should he ever fail he would perish like his sibling before him. And so Miserorum was introduced into the cruel world in the wetlands, learning early how to survive in their land and of their history. Not all moths were meant to survive adulthood as he learned early; many other moth children he knew would perish in time to the wetlands due to its abundant dangers. So he became familiar with the concept of death very early on in life, and like most moths learned not to fear it. Death became an everyday part of life; nothing to be feared as they were all meant to die at some point. All that truly mattered was what they accomplished in their lives and deaths.

        After learning of the lands they inhabited, his next lesson had been Grimm. And the best way was to learn was in experience. One of the first tests they experienced was of learning to hide from Grimm. Both physically and mentally. The Grimm were often drawn to the moths with their grim outlook on life, and thus they had learned how to better protect themselves as well as how to hide from them in other ways. One was in learning to turn their negative emotion in positive, or at least neutral ones, so that the Grimm could not hone in on them. Miserorum struggled with it until one day he found himself wounded and trying to hide from a beowolf... Having been left with no interference or help as was common. He had focused on his wound... twisting it from one of pain to... enjoyment. And managed to hide from the wolf till he could return to safety. He did not know it then but he was a masochist... and by twisting the pain to near pleasure would make his mind void of negative emotions so long as he did so. There were many other tests of evasion and even fighting them...but this was the test that stuck out to him the most.

        Once it was proven he could survive, the next step was learning of the tribes history and their eternal enemy; the butterfly. Of how once they both vied for a land of little danger and abundant resources, a land that was to be theirs. Learning of the nature of the butterflies, how they were hunted down after the war, forced into this land. Like all other moths, he was taught that butterflies were their enemy. And he, like most others who survived to that point, followed and believed it. It was an enemy they could blame for their lives and their current situation; one they could use as motivation and a goal to eventually take back what was supposed to be theirs. Or so that is what the moths believed, and Miserorum as well. While they struggled to survive here and rebuild themselves, their eternal enemy was never forgotten. They were outnumbered but they had one advantage on their end; the butterflies had never traveled deep enough into the wetlands to find them, but the moths knew exactly where the butterflies were. He had learned of the raids his parents and others of the tribe partook in to take resources back from those lands and deal blows, if small, to the butterflies. He was very eager to help in them, to strike back at the enemy, but he was not allowed to till he came of age. His first raid would be his transition into adulthood, and all moth children had to be trained before they could be risked on a raid. They were told to die before they reveal the way home, and they would never be sent until they believed that. He, like all other youths, learned to place little value in their own lives. Like the teachings of Timere the tribe would come first above all.

        -Miserorum Venunum (Ambush, Remi, Wings)
        Every moth has a trial to take before becoming adults. It would not be their last test, for life itself was a never ending one of survival, but it was the most important to a young moth. It was the test that would give them their name. No moth child had their own name until they underwent this trial; being named either day or night child depending what was chosen for them. The test was not simple in the slightest, but then none of their tests had been since they were born. However, this trial in particular was known to claim the life of many aspiring moths. Even the ones who would oversee the test were not immune from the risk of death. While the exact circumstances they may face during the test was unknown, there was one certainty; it invariably pitted them against their eternal enemy. The Butterflies. The trial was a raid into the promised land, the land the butterflies won during the war, with the goal of bringing needed supplies back to the tribe. It was a mission adult moths underwent regularly; thus it was the perfect trial to transition the young moths into adulthood. Despite their acclimation to life in the wetlands, it did not compare in the slightest to what could be taken from the promised land. A day of foraging in the wetlands was equal to an hour in the promised land. It was a vital task for the tribe to sustain itself; without their raids, they would be even fewer in number than they are currently. The raids were necessary to sustain themselves. It also served as the first opportunity a moth had to prove their worth. The first time they would truly be tested in their belief of the tribe being before themselves.

        Miserorum had finally come of age alongside a few other youths; the few other ones who has survived in his age group from the inherent dangers of the wetlands. They were a handful at most, but that was how life in the wetlands went at times. Sometimes there were far more dead than living moths by this stage, and sometimes it was the reverse. Regardless, they had all earned the right to this trial by living this long. All of them were eager to begin, to prove themselves to the tribe. Each of them would head to different parts of the promised land to steal as much as they could. Each one would be escorted by their parents and a tribe member if they were still living; if not it would solely be the tribe member. This was done to ensure their devotion was to the tribe above all else, for if one of the family were to fall the others were meant to leave them behind to fend for themselves. A test for both parents and offspring alike. No thought was to be spared for the other during this mission; bringing back the needed supplies was all that was important. While this was normal business for the adults, the adolescence had special circumstances unique to each. Some were unable to take weapons, other were allowed no food or drink from the night before the trial. In Miserorum's case, he was given no weapons. He would only be able to eat once the trial began; a way to prepare them for when they go to war again with the butterflies. The day that war happened was unknown, but it was a steady goal for the moths. The promised land would be theirs again, and so their life was lived in preparation for this war. Miserorum felt ready. He had survived up till this point in the wetlands, and would have the chance to earn his own name. Even if he died trying to do so, it would still be worth it in his eyes. For those who died during the trial were given the name of Honoratus Mortus (honored dead). And so Miserorum would set on by nightfall... for the added difficulty for the moths was that the test would be in the opposite time of day they lived by. By the time they reached the promised land, it would be day...A time and setting he was very much unfamiliar with.

        It was...strange to see a world so brightly lit. It was... almost blinding, at first. His eyes were unaccustomed to this time of day, and he had only been able to not be blinded since he was awake as the sun slowly rose into existence so that the light only gradually changed. Had it not been for the importance of this trial he may have spent some time to just admire how the world looked. Not just because of how the change of light changed the look of the world... but because in this light Miserorum found himself gazing at the promised land that he had been told of ever since he could remember. And it did not disappoint. However, he had little time to take in the sights due to the mission at hand. And because of another unexpected encounter. Not long after they had infiltrated the promised land they stumbled across a pair of butterfly faunus. The first ones he had ever seen. Immediately his mind was filled with curiosity and hatred; he finally could see the enemy that had caused his tribes forced migration into the wetlands. The curiosity he had felt and was replaced with a desire for vengeance, one that seemed to be shared by his fellow tribe members. They let out a cry and sprang from the bushes, intent to quickly take out the butterflies before they could escape and alert others...However, they found themselves quickly ensnared by vines and flower stems that prevented them from reaching their targets despite their struggles. While in a panic and trying to use their weapons to cut free, some of them more successful than others as Miserorum was very much entangled, He scarcely noticed that a flower was emitting a pollen in their struggles until he felt a tiredness slowly begin to set in on him and seeing the rest of the moths grow weak in their struggles. He was confused as to what was happening, why he was feeling like this, and struggled on nonetheless with more energy than the rest. Soon after, the adults went unconscious entirely leaving Miserorum as the only one to still be conscious though slowly losing that battle. He struggled with all his might even as his body was slowly failing him, glaring at the butterflies ahead as they seemed to be the source. A primary reason for him to still be up just being the thought that if he went down they were dead for sure.

        Then another unexpected event happened, one that Miserorum was unsure was for good or ill. Something that he was certain no insect faunus was expecting; a Grimm appeared.It quickly attacked the butterflies, probably sensing their fear as he thought was likely or perhaps it being that they just made the most noise, and seemed to have the upper hand. However Miserorum's main focus was not on that; it was on escape. As the Grimm was being fought he was attacking at his bonds, feeling his body slowly begin to return to his control and his mind clear a little. The plants themselves were weakening, and the pollen had stopped falling from the flower. As he was near free he could hear the others beginning to reawaken and struggle at their bonds as well. Until finally he was free. He did not go to help the others free, looking back to the butterflies but now seeing no Grimm. One seemed dead or unconscious while the other was holding him; he had to move fast to get them. However he had scarcely walked two steps before they were noticed and he felt the familiar vines wrap around him again. He struggled against it, now more prepared, but was ensnared nonetheless. He resisted with all his might as the other moths soon went back to sleep... Glaring at the butterfly that was still conscious, the likely source of this...as slowly everything went black.

        Miserorum awoke in a daze alongside his parents, noticing immediately that he was bound with vines... Briefly confused as to where his tribe mate was till he saw him a little distance away. And at that point saw they were surrounded by a number of butterflies. They formed a ring around the moths, demanding to know of their purpose, how many of them there were, and where they came from. The only response they got was silence. The butterflies were neither in a patient or merciful mood, as Miserorum could clearly seen the one from earlier was on deaths bed now with the one who ensnared them unconscious. They did not hesitate before they killed the tribe member... Moving to his father who also only answered with silence. And so they killed him swiftly as well. Then they went to his mother... The one he shared one look with before she too remained in silence... and was killed as well. Each death was meant to encourage the moths to speak but it was to no avail...Even when all that was left was one young moth who refused to speak after seeing them die. They were unaware that with each death, the resolve of a moth was hardened. To die for their tribe was the ultimate honor. And he would die happily knowing he would do just that. He had grown numb as his family was killed before him; a mixture of shock, disbelief, and fear all mixed in one. But in that mixture of emotion was resolve; to make sure their deaths were not in vain. If he spoke, their deaths were meaningless. And he would not do that to them. It was what he was taught, what his parents believed... What they died for. However, before the blade could sever him from the realm of the living a voice rang out. The voice of the young butterfly, now that he had a comparison, as she momentarily returned to consciousness. She pleaded for his life as all he could feel was disgust. He wanted to die with his family, not live on. He didn't want the mercy of a butterfly. He wanted a death with meaning. But, despite some initial resistance by the butterflies, they consented to her request as she faded back to unconsciousness. However, they did so on a condition she would be unaware of but one that would haunt him. They restrained him further but undid the binds around his back so that his wings were now free....and began to rip and tear at his wings. The young moth screamed. The process was long and agonizing as he screamed with each new tear in it. He didn't know how long it lasted or the extent of it... only that at some point he blacked out from the pain as they left the broken moth on the ground. They left as he was no longer a threat but a warning; a living example of what they would do to any moths, and that they could afford to let one live.

        He awoke in agony, alone. The bodies of moths all round him. His hatred sparked anew, his pain sensitivity momentarily increasing in his anger... Until a purple mist began to envelop him and around him. His semblance taking form for the first time. He slowly rose amidst the purple mist as plant life began to die around him, withering and decaying. He noticed it but did not care as he felt a sense of apathy come over him. Too much emotional damage that now left him entirely numb. Numb to the pain of his ruined wings. Numb to the pain of losing his family. Numb to being seen not even worth killing. He would take slow steps forward as the purple mist followed in his wake. His mind having mostly shut down save one thing; his mission. They were dead and he was alive... the teachings of his youth that were drilled in took over. All that was left was to die or finish the mission. He did not know which he preferred at this point, and so he went to complete the mission. He could die doing so anyway. As he walked through the forest a path of destruction was left in his wake, and he paid it little mind. He could hear life in the forest around him, and he could hear it dying when too close. All this passed through his mind subconsciously as his mind clung to one thing to make the deaths meaningful; success. He could feel his body being damaged, getting a cough, coughing up blood... but he did his best to ignore it and press on...Until he would fall over as his body failed him. Through his unconsciousness a blue mist enveloped him...preserving the greenery around him and himself. He awoke much later as the sun was setting. No longer quite as numb as before and feeling the pain of what had been done to him again... but not as bad as it had been earlier in that day. Again he rose, those this time no mist followed and he could think. As much as that could benefit him with his mind still being set. Slowly, weakly, he would continue his search through the promised land. Unbidden thoughts of his parents entered his mind but he put them away. Timere taught that once someone wad dead not to dwell on them; even when they were just injured. Bodies were not people even if they resembled them, and his duty was to his tribe first. Or so he told himself as he forced the thoughts of his parents from his mind. And so he continued...happening upon a suppl cache of the butterflies and taking all he could... Avoiding any Grimm that were in the area as he focused on his physical pain, twisting it to replace his negative thoughts with false satisfaction. He was too weak to fight them directly; and to do so would be to have a death without meaning. He would eventually escape the promised land and travel by night back to his tribe...Bleeding, bruised, limping... Alone.

        He was the only young moth to return that day. All the others had perished in their trials, though most of the adults had made it back. Of his year he was the only one to make it... and when he related truthfully what had happened, he almost wished he did not. He could see the shame and looks in the eyes of his tribe; he was found to be so weak by the butterflies they had no fear of him living on and used him as a message to the moths. One that they would kill them again as they had in the past, or so the moth tribe interpreted it. Three warriors had been lost and one who was found much weaker had returned; this was only lessened by the fact that he returned with supplies. Otherwise he may have been found guilty of cowardice and killed; such a thing was not tolerated. But because the moth had survived the trial and succeeded, he was given a name. Miserorum Venunum, the unhappy poison. Most moths would've felt proud to receive their name. Moths would die for it, and had. He had been much the same not long ago. But his naming felt hollow as he was not revered as an adult by the others of the tribe. His wings as bad as they were unable to fly... he was hardly even a moth. Even his naming reflected it; Miserorum was not his own unhappiness, but that of the elders. As many felt he did not deserve it for being granted it by the mercy of a butterfly. And so alone, the newly named moth would return to his home...His now empty home. He had his name... It only cost him his family, wings, and his standing in his own tribe.

        - The outside (Purpose, cloak, beacon)
        Being an adult in his own tribe led to no joy; for while he was still part of it, he was almost seen as an exile. He spent little time with others due to the tribe being small enough that the circumstances of his adulthood were well known to others. Even if he sought others out, it rarely led to more than passing words. Despite being in a tribe full of other moths, he may as well have been alone. Especially with his duties as an adult. He was never sent into the promised land again; they did not trust him, did not think him capable of doing any tasks there after what happened. Instead he was confined to the accursed wetlands he grew up in; the ones that claimed so many moths before and would continue to do so as long as they lived. He was sent on the most dangerous missions there; be it slaying creature, Grimm, or even outsiders. He would be sent to the farthest reaches of their territory to dispose of and deal with any threats. With the hope by his tribe that he would not survive. Knowing that did not deter him though. He never complained, never spoke out about it; he willingly went on such tasks. Because he hoped for his own death as well. It was not that he would just give up and let himself be killed. He wanted his death to have meaning; to be part of the worthy dead who fought and died for their tribe. At least in that death he could see himself being redeemed for what had happened in his trial. At least then he could be accepted again. But he would not die. It was not to say he never came close or that he was invulnerable; death was a constant presence for him and sever injuries common. However, he just kept living for some reason, and kept returning home to the tribe with a hollow victory. Not being granted the death many, including himself, wished for.

        This continued on for a time until a scout came back with vital information. Some butterflies had left the promised land, to some strange place called Beacon. They had learned from captured butterflies that there two butterflies went there to learn to combat the Grimm threat. Something that the moth tribe knew was a growing issue. While they considered the butterflies their primary enemies, the Grimm had been growing stronger as of late. To which Miserorum knew all too well. His poison was the only reason he ever survived encounters with them, loathe as he was to admit it. And the scouts knew of the Grimm in the promised land too; some moths were lost to them or used them to their advantage against the butterflies. It was then a decision was made to send one of their own; not to kill the butterflies, but to make sure they got no edge on the moths. For if the butterflies learned a better way to cull those creatures, then they would have an advantage against the moths. However, no moth had set foot outside of tribe land save the promised land; it was akin to exile and death. Nothing was known of the world outside their endless war. It was assumed life elsewhere was near unsustainable; that it was hollow. So, the natural choice fell to Miserorum. Already an outcast, he was not one that would be missed. And the elders well knew that should he fail, the ancestors would not forgive him. It was his last and only chance... and should he fail, they would merely send another. They also just wanted rid of the living reminder of their mortal enemies’ victory. So, without complaint, resistance, or even a word... Miserorum left his home. The one that cost him everything to serve the tribe one more time. With the hopes of restoring his name and standing...being granted a death with purpose.

        His journey was mostly uneventful, though not to say danger was not present. He had to travel through the promised land just to leave the tribe lands and reach the place called beacon; digging up painful memories and thoughts of what could have been. He did his best to push them to the side and ignore them; this was his chance at redemption, to give to the tribe... to try and redeem himself. It was bitter sweet to him though; to serve his tribe he had to leave it. Leave the familiar lands that were his home for so long. Leave the life he had built up, no matter how bad, behind. Leave all the sacrifices he made for it behind. And he knew not when he was returning. There was no set date, no clear goal; just to learn all he could for however long it may take. His time away could be close to life for all he knew. These thoughts filled his mind; hope and despair, happiness and sadness, relief and sorrow. He had to dodge the odd butterfly patrol, or grimm as he could not afford to fight them at risk of discovery or serious injury. But not everything on his journey could be avoided after all; nothing had ever been simple in his life, and it seemed nothing ever will be.

        Once well out of the promised land, he had heard the sound of battle and out of curiosity drew closer to watch. When he finally reached it though it was mostly over; a grimm stood over a corpse, a box lay not too far away, and the signs of the battle and struggle were evident. Whoever the human was, he was no more. The Grimm was feasting on the corpse; what for he was unsure, but it mattered little. With it busy devouring the corpse he could easily slip by it with no fuss but... the box he saw was slightly ajar, and in it he saw something that almost looked like a moon. His curiosity was peaked... and he was not sure but he felt drawn to it. Taking out his sickles he would sneak up behind the grimm... before leaping onto its back and tearing into it. The Grimm, weakened by its battle with the human already, went down fairly quick. With it dispatched, Miserorum's attention turned to the box. It had a strange symbol and writing on it that Miserorum could not recognize, but he ignored it for now. Reaching into the box, he pulled out the moon... and found it attached to some cloak. Though it was a strange cloak...not entirely made out of cloth but mixed with a strange metalic material. He had no clue what it was or what it was for...but seeing the crescent moon on it he felt drawn to it. Looking to the body on the floor, the Grimm already turning to dust, his expression was blank. The teachings he was taught since a young age came to his mind. Forget the dead, move on, and win. The dead would have no use for this cloak. He had avenged it already; more than it deserved. Clutching the cloak in his hands, he would give the body no more thought. It was not of his tribe, so it did not matter. Putting the cloak on, he was about to leave when he noticed something else in the box. Curiosity peaked, he would take out what seemed to be vials of some dust like substance. It took him a moment to recognize it as dust; something reserved only for the elders or those in the highest position. He could recognize it as a vial of earth, water and wind dust. He was unsure why these were with the cloak, but he would take them anyway. They were capable of very powerful magic, and he may need them. His looting done, he would set out. Over the weeks it took him to find and reach beacon, he had learned much more of the cloak... mostly by accident. Like how certain dust being put in caused different effects for it, and how staying still helped him hide. He did not understand it, but he found it immensely useful and was glad he took it.

╫ I N V E N T O R Y ╫

        PRIMARY WEAPON
        ▬ Cloak of the Moth
        ▬ In regular form, this appears to be a plain dark blue cloak with a crescent moon draped about the wearer with nothing special. However, the cloak has many defensive uses to protect the user and is not made entirely out of cloth; though the inside is lined with it. The cloak is actual a collection of many small metal sheets. The cloak can release a cloud of mist around the user using air and water dust (or fire and water dust to make steam) in order to envelop the wearer in it and make them harder to discern, can be hardened around him in the shape of a cocoon for defensive purposes, or it can be used to blend into the environment as it changes colors to match it.
        Melee Form ▬ (Cocoon) In this form, the cloak is wrapped around the user and hardens considerably as the metal sheets all attach to one another. They do this in what very much appears like a cocoon, and are usually attached in place from where this was activated so the wearer cannot be moved. This form can take a good deal of damage before being broken through, and provides decent elemental resistance. However, while in it the wearer does not have access to the outside and will need to come out eventually for air. He can last 5 posts in this cocoon before he needs air.
        Ranged Form ▬ (Shroud) In this usage, the user expends dust in order to create a large amount of mist to be generated in and out of his cloak. It expands in an area of 5 feet around him, so those at a distance have a hard time discerning him in the mist which would make it harder for them to hit him accurately. Those closer have a bit of an easier time, though his exact shape is still obscured.
        Other Form(s) ▬ (Camouflage) In this form, the outer layers of the cloak change color to match that of the surrounding environment, much like a moths natural camouflage it can have for its specific environment. When un-moving and draped in the cloak, he blends in with the environment. However, this does not prevent sound, scent or touch from giving him away.
        Ammo Type ▬ Dust cartridges
        ▬ Drawbacks:
        - The Shroud function can only be powered by a combination of either wind/water dust, fire/water dust, or steam dust. So sometimes usage requires 2 vials of dust. The mist only lasts for 4 rounds before more dust needs to be used.
        - The Cocoon form requires one vial of earth dust to strengthen it enough to be so defensively strong. Even when not actively in cocoon form, it does make the cloak itself that much more resistant to damage and lasts for 5 posts.

        OTHER WEAPONS
        ▬ Kusarigama
        ▬ Sickle x2
        Kunai
        Katana
        ITEMS
        ▬ Waterskin




╫ S E M B L A N C E ╫

        *NAME ▬ Night Shade
        *AURA COLOR ▬ Violet
        *DESCRIPTION
        ▬ This semblance involves the creation of a poison that grows deadlier and more detrimental as the levels go up. However, it is a double edged sword to use this semblance as he is not entirely immune to his own semblance. The poison takes the form of a gas that he expels through his mouth and it is a violet color. A benefit of this semblance is that he is immune to toxins that are naturally produced by living organisms, just not entirely that of the semblance itself. In order to be affected by the poison gas, it has to be breathed in. The symptomatic effects are cumulative for 1-3, but 4-7 replace one another.
        The poison
        1) Trouble breathing and shortness of breath
        2) Burning sensation from the inside
        3) Coughing up blood
        4) Muscle spasms
        5) Hallucinations
        6) Asphyxiation (unconsciousness)
        7) Death
        *LEVEL 0 ▬ (Creeping)
        - At this level, his poison is only able to advance to up to coughing up blood and no further. It takes 3 posts before they have trouble breathing, 5 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, and at 7 posts they begin to cough up blood as it does damage to them internally.
        - The poison gas falls to the ground in a condensed layer that completely hides the ground. It is 3 feet tall. It also has a purple haze that rises up 10 feet off the ground and only lightly obscures vision.
        *LEVEL 1▬ (Crippling cloud) At this level, his poison can go up to muscle spasms. It takes 2 posts before they have trouble breathing, 4 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 6 posts they begin to cough up blood, and at 8 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs).
        *LEVEL 2▬ (Mirage) At this level, his poison can go up to hallucinations when breathed in. The hallucinations usually take the form of imaginary Miserorums appearing in their vision that make it hard to tell which is the real one. They cannot deal actual damage to the person, but to them it would feel real. It also make determining friend or foe difficult, as they would appear and sound like him as well.
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs) and at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate.
        *LEVEL 3 ▬ (Miasma) At this level, the poison will run its full course in a persons body (up to death).
        - It takes 1 posts before they have trouble breathing, 2 posts before they feel the burning sensation on the inside, at 3 posts they begin to cough up blood, at 4 posts they begin to have their muscles randomly spasm (only for limbs like the arms or legs), at 6 posts the begin to hallucinate, and at 10 posts they will asphyxiate into unconsciousness. From that point they have 5 posts to be cured by someone or perish.
        *DRAWBACKS
        - Robots are not affected by this poison.
        - Miserorum suffers from his poison but in a different form than others and because the poison is produced inside him there is no way for him to avoid being affected. Whereas it ultimately asphyxiates others and then possibly lead to death, it internally damages him the longer he uses it and causes necrosis as listed below:
        - Misery's poison
        1) Bloody cough
        - Level 0: Appears after 2 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 3 posts
        2) Lesions on skin
        - Level 0: Appears after 3 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 5 posts
        3) Wounds appearing on him (the poison gas begins to seep out of these wounds from this point on)
        - Level 0: Appears after 4 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 5 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 8 posts
        4) Necrosis
        - Level 0: Appears after 6 posts
        - Level 1: Appears after 7 posts
        - Level 2: Appears after 10 posts
        - Level 3: Appears after 13 posts
        5) Death
        - Level 0: Happens at 8 posts
        - Level 1: Happens at 11 posts
        - Level 2: Happens at 14 posts
        - Level 3: Happens at 17 posts
        - For every post that he uses the semblance, he has to have 2 posts of non use to heal from the poison. His "recharge heal" takes the form of a blue gas he emits from his mouth that acts as an antidote cloud. It is the only way for him to heal himself from the effects of his poison, and he heals in the reverse order of the symptoms he experiences. He can only be healed by this when he is cocooned (either by his cloak, semblance, or some outside source that does a similar effect).
        - If they hold their breath or have a gas mark on, they are immune to the effects of his poison for the period that it is on (if the mask comes off or they take a breath in the gas they would then start to feel the effects).
        - If there is no wind, then the poison stays in the area for as long as it is listed in each level. If there is strong wind, then it can only spread half as much before beginning to dissipate.
        - For the poison to reach max distance, he has to continually produce it (ex: if it has a max distance of 20 feet and spreads 5 feet per post, he has to spend 4 of his posts constantly producing it to reach that max distance).
        - Once it reaches max distance it will remain there as long as he is actively using his semblance. If he stops using it, it will dissipate at the same rate it expanded but in the reverse direction (so the outer edges will fade away first and the last to dissipate is the ones closest to him).
        - Because the poison takes the form of a purple gas it is very noticeable, but it also obscures Miserorum since it expands in all directions.
        - The poison does not immediately spread out to its max radius; it expands X number of feet per post (as detailed in each level of the post).
        - If he is knocked unconscious, his poison effect on the target will end. He can also willingly end it if he desires.
        - A healing semblance that specifically can target toxins can heal the effect entirely (it takes half the time to heal them (ex: if they had been exposed for 8 posts, the healing takes 4 posts to be fully healed and this is rounded up in the case of numbers that don't divide into whole numbers), but otherwise just delays the effects and temporarily gets rid of symptoms (in terms of delaying for symptoms and delay of effects: 1 post at level 0 from the person with the healing persons semblance, 2 posts at level 1, 4 posts at level 2, 6 posts at level 3).
        - If a person is exposed to his poison is brought out/ away from the gas for 3 posts, the poison does not progress to the next stage. It will naturally heal, but it takes as long as they suffered the effects of the poison to be rid of it (they lose symptoms one by one in the reverse order they gained them).
        - It is an indiscriminate poison. Ally and enemies alike will be affected by it.
        *Level 0
        - Can use the poison for a max of 5 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance).
        - The condensed poison gas (which will be called ground smog) spreads out on the ground in a radius of 10 feet in all directions with a purple haze that is 5 feet tall. The ground smog and haze spread at a rate of 5 feet per post to their max distance.
        *Level 1
        - Can use the poison for a max of 8 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 20 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 10 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 5 feet per post.
        *Level 2
        - Can use the poison for a max of 11 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 30 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 15 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.
        *Level 3
        - Can use the poison for a max of 14 posts before forced recharge (unless he pushes himself in which he can use it for 3 additional posts, but immediately on choosing to he loses his aura for any defensive purpose as it is used entirely to fuel his semblance)..
        - The ground smog spreads out in a radius 50 feet away from Misery with the purple haze rising 25 feet tall. Both spread at a rate of 10 feet per post.

narxfang

xLulie

Deadly_Tiger

Youroka Kage

Alysian Virago

1234boo75

Apathetic Writer






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PostPosted: Tue Aug 20, 2019 8:05 pm


╫ Q U E S T P O I N T S ╫


        *Total Quest Points ▬ 0
        *Total Classes ▬ 1
        *CURRENT GRADE ▬ Freshman
        *LOG OF COMPLETIONGrimm class, Survival class



╫ G R I M M ╫


        *Total Killed ▬ None yet
        *Beowolf ▬ None yet
        *Boarbatusk ▬ None yet
        *Ursa ▬ None Yet




╫ P O S T S ╫


        *TOTAL ▬ 74
        *Purge Survival Post BoostPosts 30-59
        *1-10

        1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

        *11-20

        *21-30

        21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

        *31-40

        31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

        *41-50

        41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

        *51-60

        51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

        *61-70

        *71-80

        71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

        *81-90

        81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90

        *91-100

        91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100



Ghost254

Dangerous Lunatic

7,500 Points
  • Forum Dabbler 200
  • Signature Look 250
  • Contributor 150

KnightsRoyal

Desirable Hunter

7,825 Points
  • Gender Swap 100
  • Forum Dabbler 200
  • Ultimate Player 200
PostPosted: Sat Jan 09, 2021 11:41 pm


Ghost254
[Ghost254 & Miserorum Venunum]

There was so much you typed out that me adding in the Approved went over the Gaia Max limit of 50,000 characters man.
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