Ashari
Let's count the years;; I'm 24.
I'm a;; Gaian. What, you expected a list of the races in my ancestry? Ha, sorry. Like just about everyone else out there, I'm a mix of who the hell knows what.
I can do this;; I'm a really good sword fighter. Normally I prefer to use slim, one-handed blades, but I've been kind of stuck with a huge monstrosity of a b*****d sword for quite a while now. I know a little hand-to-hand combat, mostly where the pressure points are.
I'm also really fast and agile. I mean, I could probably do gymnastics, but probably not well enough to compete or anything.
I look like this;; I'm of average height, about five foot, one inches...I am NOT short dammit. Shut up.
My hair is pink, yes it's natural, no, I'm not some prissy little girly-girl. It's just past my shoulders, and I usually tie it back. My eyes are yellow, and again, yes. The color is natural, and I am not getting into what happens to my eyes with that mask, I'll explain that later.
I'm kind of pale, cuz I fail at tanning. I go straight from pale to neon red, and then it's a few days hell, unless I can convince a healer to "waste" their talents on a sunburn for a couple hundred gold. I'm pretty well endowed as well, and I like wearing clothes that show off my bust.
I'm really fond of pink and black, and especially black leather. And spiked collars. And piercings. My ears have two piercings each, and I usually wear two sets of studs, with amethyst and turquiose. Yeah, they don't really match, whatever. My mom was into crystal stuff, always said turquiose was supposed to bring good health and fortune, and amethyst's my birthstone.
I hate wearing high heels and dresses. Hate, hate, hate them. With a burning passion. I don't wear girly crap. I don't even use makeup, and aside from my earrings, I don't wear jewelry.
Oh, here's a picture.
I totally act like;; Well, if you asked some random guy on the street, they'd probably tell you I'm a rude, foul-mouthed, obnoxious punk, that is if they'd heard of me. And I'm not going to deny that I've got a foul mouth. I don't really watch my language, unless I'm around friends that are offended by harsh language. I'm trying to be polite here, official record and all.
My friends would tell you I'm loud-mouthed, competitive, impatient, hot-headed...um. Hold up, there's more they've said. Uhhhm. That I'm one of those people that doesn't look before they leap, that I deliberately look for fights...yeah. That list probably goes on and on until the end of time. But, they'd also tell you I'm a loyal friend, that though I screw up sometimes, I do have the best of intentions, and that I do have a good sense of humor, though it tends to skew towards low brow humor, whatever THAT means.
What do I think of myself? Well, I'm not going to go saying I think I'm perfect, but that I am happy with the way I am. I know I'm impatient and hot headed, and I can't really help being that way. I know I'm kind of arrogant, and I really shouldn't take offense to little comments, but you know... I am the way I am.
This is where it all started;; Minus all that boring crap about my childhood, of course! You wanna know that crap? I was born, I grew up. End of story. Oh, the family? Let's see, there was me, Mom, and...yeah, that's it. ...You're expecting me to whine about my missing father? What the hell, man, I'm a grown woman that can take care of herself, what do I care about the dude who knocked mom up?
Moving along. I picked up sword fighting as a hobby when I was sixteen. Kind of just for shits and giggles, you know. But Gaia's a violent place, zombies, vampires, and all that other s**t out there, so it kind of stopped being a hobby. You grow up in the sleazy part of Durem, it happens. Guys will try to jump pretty girls, vamps'll jump anything with blood, you know. I got pretty good at it, til I busted my rapier in a fight one day.
Pissed me off big time, I tell you. Ended up pistol whipping the guy, only with the hilt of my sword. Heh.
So you know, you go wandering to try to cool off some, and I headed outside Durem. It's quiet and peaceful out there, most of the time.
Anyways.
I found this sword out there. Huge, two-hand sword, biggest one I've ever seen. Kind of reminded me of a buster sword, only it looked a hell of a lot more elegant. It was just sitting there at the base of an oak tree, and there was no one else around, so I did what anyone else would have done, walked over and picked the damn thing up. And when I did, there was this reflection of a masked guy in the blade, but not a damn soul behind me, or anywhere else.
Being properly creeped out, I put the damn thing down and headed home. I'd go buy a new sword, rather than taking home some blade almost as big as me, and probably cursed.
It didn't work. Woke up the next morning, and the stupid sword was in my room. And that's not the only time it's done that. If I try to leave it somewhere, get rid of it, give it away, anything of that nature, it inevitably turns back up, usually within about fifteen friggin' minutes.
And that's not the only creepy thing. The mask the dude was wearing, that I saw in the blade, it's here too now. Whenever I fight with the sword, that damn mask appears on my face. And, when I speak with that mask on, there's an echo. But it's not my voice. It sounds crazy, but I think it's the guy I saw in the sword. And...it's really creepy, but sometimes you can barely hear that voice, but other times you can barely hear my voice, like it's become an echo of his. AND, as if the damn thing wasn't creepy enough yet, it's been growing bit by bit ever since it first appeared.
See, it started out like, well. The size of those silly zorro masks, just covered my eyes. Then it started growing upwards, covering the entire upper half of my face, and then it grew these freaky wing-lookin' extensions on the side. And after those wings grew, the ********' thing got even creepier. When that mask is on, the whites of my eyes turn black. It just...ugh. Doesn't look right. And the damn thing is still growing. It's like...forming into a face.
It's been about two months since I found the damn thing, and I tell you, I want it GONE. Like, now. And not a single person has been able to tell me how to get rid of it.
Ouroborous
The Sword - The man
The History
Forged by a man seeking a sword more powerful and blessed than the mythic Excalibur, Ouroborous was blessed with every enchantment the man could think of, with the unusual effect of granting the sword with sentience.
Over the years, the man learned to communicate with the sword, giving Ouroborous the knowledge it desperately craved. When at last the man had taught all he knew, the sword deemed it to be not enough, demanding more. The man refused, saying he was the master, and the sword a mere tool.
Finding the man unsuitable, Ouroborous turned their pyschic link into a weapon, slowly devouring the man's very soul. Possessing it's creator's body, the sword set out into the world.
The Abilities
Without a wielder, Ouroborous can do nothing, and so the sword waits, largely unaware of the world around it.
Once some unsuspecting person has touched the sword, whether hilt, blade, or scabbard, Ouroborous begins to awake. A link is forged immediately, allowing the sword to move itself around at will, staying close to the one who awoke it. Gradually, Ouroborous begins possessing it's wielder, the first signs being the appearance of the mask Ouros wears in human form.
This mask was forged after devouring it's creator's soul, blessed with enchantments to protect Ouroborous while in human form. While physical injuries are of no consequence to him, Ouros is extremely vunerable to psychic attack, and thus wears this mask as a shield.
Inevitably, the sword devours its wielder's soul, and inhabits the body for whatever lifespan it has left, often reshaping the body to suit it.
However, a few have escaped this fate by learning to use the connection between themselves and Ouroborous to communicate with the sword. Those strong willed enough to do so, can keep the sword from possessing them entirely, keeping control of themselves while the sword's soul still inhabits them. But those who prove themselves worthy, Ouroborous will permit them, not just to wield him in combat, but aid them however he can.
Relationship with Ashari
Currently the woman is entirely unaware that the sword is sentient. Well aware of the other effects, she has begun seeking out ways of ridding herself of what she perceives as a cursed blade.
Ouroborous believes her to be nothing more than an arrogant fool, no different than the dozens of others its destroyed over the centuries.
If things continue unchanged, Ouroborous will possess and devour her within a few short months.
