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 Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 7:23 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:26 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:28 pm
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 -------------------------------------------
 [Name]
Chauhn Clemmings
[Age]
(Started at 14) 17
[Birthday]
May 7, 1396
[Alliance]
A General Citizen
[Nationality]
Imisus
[Region]
Born and raised on central Imisus coast.
[Family]
Father - Mishkanite Trader ; Mother - Imisese Middle Class
Siblings (in order of oldest to youngest)
Bradley, Lynn, Michi, Minori, Midori, Chauhn, and Clurie.
None remain alive.
[Sex]
Male
[Build]
Thin and riding the cusp of malnourishment, he's got the ghost of a lean build, but is shorter than average for his age. He's quite small.
[Hair]
Dirty blond and obviously not cut and tended to in ages, his hair was usually matted with soot and knots before he was taken in by Al-Yizhaq as his personal page. Now his hair is cropped and well-tended, and during work, is often pulled up into a stubby tail. With the dirt and soot out of his hair, it's clear to see the gold of his Mishkanite heritage.
[Eyes]
He has stark green eyes, like the color of new leaves, a strange hue that reappears in the Clemmings' line thanks to the Mishkanite ancestry.
[Skin]
He has worker's skin, tough and tinged with sun, the dusty mud color of the Imisese.
[Height]
5'2"
[Weight]
95
[Likes]
Food (any), working hard, dry places, clean clothes, hoop and stick, a good reputation, family, belonging
[Dislikes]
Unfairness, insults, peas, mashed potatoes, charity, loneliness
[Fears]
Being trapped in a situation where he can't do anything for himself, getting an injury that might disable him from doing work, getting sick, and being alone without family.
[Personality]
Chauhn is a hardworking lad who is not afraid to sift through the dirt to get things done for his sake and survival. After gathering the burden of an unfortunate world, he's toughened up, wizened up, and thinks nothing of his past. In fact, it's almost odd, because he keeps a pleasant demeanor about him and wants nothing more than a meal for the night and a place to stay. He'll often be the first one to volunteer for dangerous work and raise his hand with a smile. Horror and disgust don't sway Chauhn now. Anything is worth getting by.
Though he works out of necessity, Chauhn is also driven by another more internal need, the need for family. Up until the demise of his household, it was all he had, all he counted on, and the result of being discharged from a home where he had the stable framework of many siblings to support him left him in a deplorable state with a terrible gaping wound unseen to the common eye. Chauhn is desperate for family, absolutely, and almost completely obsessed with the need for it. It is this fundamental need that drives him to protect and nurture his Plague with such an unyielding and almost frightening ferocity.
One might say that he, if prompted with the right circumstances, may snap one day if he truly and honestly realizes that he's the last Clemmings alive, alone to bear on his family name.
[Hobbies]
Skipping stones, hoop and stick, juggling, the poor child's type of games.
[Occupation]
Chimney Sweep ; Student to the Council ; Page ; Augur
[Odd Facts]
In his loneliness, Chauhn's developed a habit of talking to himself.
[Magic]
First discovered by Adal when he and Chauhn were on the run from a boatload of Culists, the Clemmings' boy holds a startlingly strong ability to use forest and earth based magic. Though, thanks to a colossal sized aperture, Chauhn has little control over his ability. He still has a lot to learn about his new found magical talent.
[Aperture]
Chauhn's aperture is located directly over his throat, forever coupled with his voice. The stronger his scream, the stronger the magic, but with much use, like any voice, Chauhn's magic dies when he loses his ability to speak and the best that he can do after that is throw up tree roots and clumps of earth.
The Clemmings Family History The home of the Clemmings was nestled in the working class neighborhood, pressed between other houses of similar shape and stature. A comfy home, but not a home for many, which was just what the Clemmings were. They were a big family, even after the death of their parents at the clutches of the Bubonic Plague. Six children in all, including an elder brother, a string of three sisters, followed by the two younger boys, Chauhn and little Clurie. Without the founders of their family, the family pulled together, each doing their part. The older siblings worked what jobs they could find around town, doing anything for pay, even the hardest of work. Even Chauhn did his part, going door to door in the richer end of town, sweeping chimneys for the well off. When they put their hearts and hands together, the Clemmings family were as well off as any other family, and they enjoyed each other's company and slept in the same room. They were a tight family, one, Chauhn believed, that could never be torn apart. Unfortunately, it was their means of survival that became the means of their eventual demise.
Picture by Ka-ray-zee! |
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:31 pm
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 --------------------------------------
 [Name]
Clurie Clemmings
[Type]
Ashes
[Stage]
III. Anhelo Quietus
[Sex]
Male
[Magic]
[Control: Poor] - Ember Cheeks (Fire Magic): When Clurie gets excited or scared, he has a natural ability to make his cheeks glow and grow hot like ember.
[Control: Poor] - Ember Hands (Fire Magic): By rubbing his hands together, or rubbing them on his cheeks, Clurie can make his hands glow with the heat of ember and with enough concentration he can wield fire magic. He can use this ability to defend himself, to start fires, or to absorb heat from other sources. With his growth, he can also heal himself with fire and flame if any part of him is punched into ashes.
[Control: Poor] - Ash Cloud (Fire Magic): Another defense mechanism that Clurie has is the ability to cough up clouds of ash to hide in or use as an distraction for escape.
[Control: Poor] - Ashes to Ashes (Teleportation): In order to sift himself through small places or tight cracks, or merely to defend himself from something or even travel on the breeze, Clurie can change his composition to burning ash and pull himself back together again.
[Control: Poor] - Ash Manipulation (Formulation and Combustion): Clurie has the ability to form objects made of ash.
[Likes]
Clurie has an understandable hunger for ash and warmth, things that he relies on for his health, but, out of the realm of necessity, Clurie enjoys the smell of burning things and often seeks out incense, smoking, and candles. He likes to gather flammable things like paper and wood, fabric, and knick knacks of no importance, to burn them in the hearth and feast on their ashes. He's hungry for knowledge, and any means of defense are good topics to garner Clurie's attention with. He also likes to be as far away from Chauhn as possible.
[Dislikes]
Because of his element, Clurie has a natural aversion to water, cold, violent wind and rain, a lot of the bad weather phenomena. He can deal with heat, but he doesn't like intense heat. He likes warmth, though he no longer seeks warmth from other bodies. Because of Chauhn's past abuse, Clurie dislikes being touched and will often react with a hiss and a snarl and will avoid touch in any and every capacity possible. In addition, Clurie no longer likes storytelling and fireplaces or hearths because they remind him of Chauhn, whom, out of everything, he dislikes the most.
[Fears]
Chauhn.
[Personality]
REWRITE
[Hobbies]
REWRITE
[Occupation]
Assistant to his Grimm's endeavors
[Odd Facts]
REWRITE
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:34 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:37 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:39 pm
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------------------------------------
[b][The Demise of the Clemmings: A History of Clurie's Ashes][/b] It all started with the eldest sibling. He had been working at the mills for a few weeks, but being in such a unkempt environment, practically rolling around in filth, shoulder to shoulder with fellow employees and sharing air in which they coughed, hacked, and sneezed, becoming infected with the black death was only a matter of time. He returned home one evening and, come morning, he was too ill to work. The Black Death was spreading fast through his body. The Clemmings family, being tightly wound, refused to leave him. They kept their brother's infection hushed, so that their house might be spared the dreadful marking, the notice of infection. They pulled together, instead of abandoning him and the house. The two youngest sisters tended to him along with the youngest son while the eldest sister did her best to provide. Chauhn was left to running errands with his other brother Michi. Which quite rightly explains the slow demise of the Clemmings family. It was first the two sisters who fell ill after the death of the eldest brother, and then Michi, the next brother, leaving Chauhn, his eldest sister, Lynn, and his younger brother, Clurie, to cart the three bodies to the ditches outside the town in the middle of the night for burning. Unfortunately, such a morbid parade brought the attention of paranoid observers and neighbors. Once the remnants of the Clemmings family returned to their small home, they placed a quarantine upon their house, the red mark of infection. They boarded up the windows and doors, effectively trapping the Clemmings family within the infected home with their youngest brother, who, upon turning his neck, exposed the tell tale patches of swelling buboes. Time was stretching thin. Fortunately, it didn't take long for the youngest brother to pass. He was exiled to the corner of the room, where he eventually collapsed underneath the tearful surveillance of Chauhn and his sister who remained against the far side of the room, whispering bedtime stories and rhymes for him to listen to as he passed. Only when the smallest brother stopped gasping for air, lying in his own puss and blood, did Chauhn and Lynn dare to move closer. They used a chair and pushed the corpse into the fireplace, and set a flame to his flesh. The stink smelled the house, burning their eyes, and they struggled to breathe through bunched up scarves tightly wound around their necks. When the fire finally simmered into glowing ashes, they allowed themselves to breathe again, free of their scarves, but when Lynn removed her scarf, it was to their terror, that she had dark blotches swelling on the nape of her neck. There was only one thing to do: Chauhn had to escape before he, too, became infected. They tried the doors, the windows, but it was all boarded up, firmly destroying their hope for escape. The only way out was through the chimney, and Chauhn was small enough to fit through, as well as familiar with chimneys from previous work as a sweep. As he readied for his escape, Chauhn was given a little leather pouch from his sister, who told him "Bare with you the ashes of your brother. So you'll have a little bit of family with you all the time. The Clemmings family stays together, no matter what". So he did. As he clamored into the chimney, he took up a handful of ash, and enclosed it in the pouch. With a sad glance to his dying sister, he started up the chimney, pressing his back to the wall, and his legs to the other, shimmying inch at a time upwards towards the light, inhaling the ash of his burnt little brother. Little did Chauhn know as he skated across rooftops in the long hours of the night, covered in human soot and dust, that: the ash he collected was tainted. |
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:43 pm
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------------------------------------
| Sloane | Savior and hero to Chauhn and Clurie, he's the closest thing to "big brother" that they have. They are close friends, until, one day, Sloane reveals his monstrous self and scares Chauhn away.
| Lord Yizhaq | A kind and gentle-mannered man who has taken the Clemmings brothers under his wing to be his assistants, his Pages. Chauhn's loyalties run deep to his Lord.
| Georgie | Probably the only friend his age Chauhn has ever had, he enjoys his company and calmness.
| Jin-Ho | An Imisese scribe that Chauhn finds easy to talk to, he's a kind teacher and friendly face.
| Adal | While Chauhn has never had a good experience with this lad, he still holds a solemn sense of respect and awe. He doesn't appreciate his brutality in callous honesty, however, and isn't afraid to confront this golden eyed Plague when he sees fit.
. . . | Introduced to | . . .
[ First impression ]
[ Current ]
Mr. Georgie Malt -&- Mr. Adal
"A boy like me. E's very kind, very calm." -*- "Proud fellow, 'e sees too much o' me...Ah don't feel comfortable around 'im."
"'E's a scared boy just like me. Ah hope ah don't look a fool to 'im, wit' what I'd done 'n' all." -*- "He may be strong, he may be quick, but he's cruel and he doesn't understand anythin' about Clurie 'n' me. Ahm thankful 'n' ah admire 'im...But ah don't like 'im much either."
Mr. Sloane -&- Ms. Estratus
"Strong 'n' noble, 'e saved me 'e did! Ahm not scared o' 'im the least bit." -*- "Quiet, like a stone, tha' woman is. Ah fear doin' somethin' wrong around 'er."
"Ahm afraid o' 'im...So afraid...E's not a knight. E's a monster." -*- "Ah 'aven't seen her...Ah hope she's okay."
Ms. Claudia -&- Ms. Wickes
(not yet met) -*- "Funny lady...Ah feel like ah wan' t'help 'er, but ahm afraid t'do it."
Ms. Ophelia -&- Mr. Lucas
(not yet met) -*- "Man o' the cloth, 'e's nice enough, though 'e looks 'urt. 'E's 'urtin' 'n' ah can see it."
Ms. Blaithe -&- Mr. Kyon
"As tiny as a thumb's nail! So sweet." -*- "Imisese man, like me. Ah fin' 'im very kind."
Noel -&- Ms. Crane
"Curious fellow. 'E's very close to 'is mother. Perhaps too much so." -*- "Kind woman, selfless woman. Though ah feel she's 'idin' somethin'."
Hayat -&- Lord Yizhaq
"She 'asn't changed much since she was a falcon" -&- "Generous and well meaning, this man 'as done so much fer me. 'N' ah keep 'is secret 'n exchange."
. . . | Not yet met | . . .
Mr. Peder -&- Ms. Audrey Hatch
Ms. Sydney -&- Mr. Rockwell
Ms. Cassandra -&- Beatrix
candy cane -&- Mr. Staun
fish -&- ?
dead rabbit -&- ?
absinthe -&- ?
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:52 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 10:58 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 11:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 11:03 pm
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 11:10 pm
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------------------------------------Clurie's Stage II. Phasmas Info Quote: [Name] Clurie Clemmings [Type] Ashes [Stage] II. Excito Phasmas [Sex] Male [Magic] [Control: Poor] - Ember Cheeks: When Clurie gets excited or scared, he has a natural ability to make his cheeks glow and grow hot like ember. [Control: Poor] - Ember Hands: By rubbing his hands together, or rubbing them on his cheeks, Clurie can make his hands glow with the heat of ember. He can use this ability to defend himself, to start fires, or to absorb heat from other sources. [Control: Poor] - Ash Cloud: Another defense mechanism that Clurie has is the ability to cough up clouds of ash to hide in or use as an distraction for escape. [Control: Poor] - Ashes to Ashes: In order to sift himself through small places or tight cracks, or merely to defend himself from something or even travel on the breeze, Clurie can change his composition to burning ash and pull himself back together again. [Likes] Ash, warmth, things that burn, namely wood, paper, anything, really, as well as metals that get hot like iron. Fire places and hearths are places of comfort. He also enjoys little beds where he can lay in and he loves to see Chauhn happy and proud, he likes to please him. He also has a strange affinity for the color white and light grey, as well as for playing in dirt. [Dislikes] Water, cold, loud wind, and rain, a lot of the bad weather phenomena. [Fears] Displeasing or disappointing Chauhn.Chauhn. [Personality] Clurie has the personality of a youth, energetic and endlessly curious. In searches to satisfy his curious urges and questions, he acts in unpredictable manners, often doing things on a whim, like burning things when he knows not to, or wandering off towards particularly interesting areas. In short, he's helplessly scatterbrained and absentminded, not to mention that he's forgetful about the most obvious of things. He suffers forgetfulness, which is brought on by Chauhn's pressure to remember his time as being human. Having a mind as easily scattered as his, Clurie finds himself extremely attached to his Grimm for more needs than one. While he depends on Chauhn to keep him safe from himself and to keep others safe from him, Clurie also depends on him to remind him and tell him what he needs to do, and even who he needs to be. Clurie allows himself to be manipulated by Chauhn, and he tries his best to be who Chauhn needs him to be, even if he is the original Clurie Clemmings no longer, for fear of upsetting the dark side of Chauhn's love. [Hobbies] Burning things and taking things apart, Clurie enjoys nothing more than watching the embers eat away and destroy things for fun and for warmth. He also enjoys playing 'imagination', as well as fireside stories. [Occupation] Assistant to his Grimm's endeavors [Odd Facts] Clurie is, so far, one of the only Phasmas to have all his limbs, which is strange considering that Phasmas generally have a lack of certain limbs or have extraneous ones. Who knows if he's to remain 'normal' in his stages to come? Prompt Reply
Aspects of personality: Chauhn is hardworking and eager, and he hopes to pass on these traits to the Plague. He wants to treat him as a brother, as the brother he used to have, in fact. His efforts might be in vain, however, because his Plague, however hardworking he may wish to be, is hindered by a general frailness as well as a general lack of interest in working. His plague would much rather experiment and wonder than spend long hours following orders and working. He's rather lazy and flighty, unsure of himself and his duty. Cleanliness is not an issue for the Plague, but Chuahn is always trying to clean him up or keep him halfway decent. A gluttony possesses the Plague, so much so that one would say he's addicted to sparking flares and fires up wherever and whenever he can, in hopes that he can gather sackfuls and pouches of ash to carry around with him.
PROMPT
Prompt #: FLATSALE PROMPT II-2. ASHES (Plague)
"More. More and more. There can never be enough ash around you, never enough crowding, just more, more, more! ...So what happens when you've been told you have too much?"
Entry:
In the damp alleyways of Imisus, amidst the harrowing cries of merchants, the rattle of tongues and clank of exchanging goods, the wail of gulls, the creak of wooden carts and rustling flaps of cloth and tarp, a little street urchin sneezed.
"Clurie, mus' you keep so much ash wit' you?" Chauhn inquired wearily, rubbing his nose across the length of his sleeve. The action only dirtied his face with smears of dirt and brown. His clothes were already worn and sullied, and the addition of dirt and ash only strengthened his poor boy appearance. "Ah mean, ah understand, but at the same time ah don't. We are tryin' to find work, Clurie, not scare it away."
"Then you find work," Clurie replied. He looked at his Keeper, the small ragtag urchin sitting on a crate beside him. It was a little hard to see his features in the dim glow of the crowded alleyway, but Clurie didn't need much light to see that Chauhn was disappointed with him. He cradled his many bags of ash around him with a protective squeeze. Those bags that weren't already hugged in his arms were tied in clumps to his legs and thighs, hanging from his belt and even around his neck, and a large satchel was strapped to his back.
"It's gettin' a smidge bit ridiculous, Clurie," Chauhn said, leaning back and looking around the alleyway.
"I need it," Clurie huffed defensively, increasing his grip around his satchel.
"For what possibly?" Chauhn asked. he kept a weary eye on the light of the passage way, tensing as a figure blocked the entrance, "It's too much, Clurie. Too much."
Clurie hesitated before he responded, and before he replied he was cut off by his Keeper. At the sight of a person entering the passage, Chauhn reached over to Clurie and casually pushed his head down, so that the brim of his hat might obscure his unusual eyes. The man wobbled by, his lopsided swagger whisking up the stale air of the alley with the flap of his coat along with the raunchy smell of whiskey and urine. Chauhn and Clurie both scrunched their noses at the foetid smell, listening to the squelch of the man's boots as he passed by. They hunched themselves down so that they might not be noticed, Chauhn's hand still on Clurie's.
I need it to be whole again. Clurie wanted to say.
It was around the time that Chauhn, being so close to Clurie, inhaled some of the drifts of ash that hung around him and coughed. From that point, Clurie couldn't remember much. It was all so much of a blur.
What Clurie did remember was the feeling of his collected ash, of all the bags and pouches he had, tied to him, holding in his frame, it felt like. He held the weight of it in his arms and lap, hugging it close to him. It was comfortable, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. There were places missing, exposed to the air. If Clurie had it his way, he would have a bag big enough for him to fit in, filled to the brim with ash, and he would cocoon himself in it, eat ash, breath it deep and exhale it out again. He would never be rid of its smell and he would be just fine with that! That's what he wanted. That's all Clurie wanted at all: to fill in places he felt were empty.
There was a hand on his face then, forcibly pushing his cheeks upward, and from what Clurie could see through the sticky fingers that smudged their grime upon his skin, was an ugly gleam in the drunk man's cold gaze. He was looking upon him, demeaning him, judging and hating him, glaring into his eyes with recognition and slow to evolve hatred. Tightening. Squeezing. His fingers were digging in. Clurie made a brief sound of pain. The next moment, the man was jerked back from him, his face released from the grip and he could hear Chauhn's voice crying out, "RUN! RUN!" Clurie could see his Keeper's hands pulling back the man's ears and twisting. He could see his lips moving, telling him again "RUN!"
A blink, and Clurie found himself on his feet, running. He couldn't remember when he commanded his body to run. It must've been just a reaction, something out of his control. Whatever it was, he was running. It wasn't much a run, though. It was a stumble, a lumbering swagger, a slow clumsy trot. It wasn't running. But how could Clurie run with his body so laden with ash? He had bundles, sacks, purses, satchels of ash! The weight he found comfortable a mere few moments ago was suddenly uncomfortable and slowing him down. If he wished to escape the brutish man's drunken rage, he would have to dump what he could right then and there.
But how could he? It was his ash! It was all his! HIS! It belonged to him and him only! He worked so hard to collect it, and if he were to drop it now, there would be empty spaces all around him, empty cold vulnerable patches. He couldn't piece himself back together.
Frustration boiled up in puffs and balloons of steam within his chest as he struggled along, resolute in running with his burden. He had made his decision: Clurie wouldn't abandon what was his. He NEEDED it!
But when large hands wrapped around his satchel, yanking him backwards and into a wall, Clurie realized that he didn't have that choice. His cheek bounced into the wall and his legs momentarily gave out as he was slammed again and again into the bricks. Loose ash belched into the air and dizziness flew up in a swirl around his head. He could barely see what was going on. Clurie could hear Chauhn not too far away, probably banging his fists into the side of the man's head, screaming, over and over again "RUN! RUN, Clurie. RUN!"
Was it worth it, all his ash? Was it really worth this?
...No. No, it wasn't.
With a struggle, a roll of his shoulders, and a buck of his back, Clurie slowly wedged himself free of his backpacks. He dropped his satchel to his feet and kicked it away, his messenger bag he yanked off from around his neck, and the bags he had tied to his legs were tore off with fumbling fingers. All his precious ash blew up into the air, filling the alleyway with dark clouds, clogging up the light with sickly swirls of black. A coldness swept in all around Clurie's body, and he felt suddenly very nude, but at the same time: very free. Yanking himself free of the drunken man's grip and pushing off of the wall, Clurie fell into the alley, rolling himself away from the man. He scrambled towards the opposite wall and clawed his way onto his feet, breathing hard through the ash.
Clurie glanced backwards to pick out Chauhn amid the plumes of black, "Chauhn! Chauhn, let's go!" he cried. then finally he found his Keeper. He was wrestling himself free, dodging a fist and kicking his legs into the ground as fast he could. They clasped each other by the shoulders and fled through the clouds of pitch, running as fast as they could away from the swaggering man and away from the clouded alley.
* * * * * *
The duo only stopped running when they reached the far piers, having no place else to run. Exhaustion stiffened up their limbs, but necessity for rest moved them onwards in search of safety. They clambered behind some old packing crates and hid underneath rotted net and line, tucking close to each other. They were covered in ash, neither one blacker than the other.
Clurie, although weary beyond belief, somehow still had the energy to cross his arms over his chest and give an angry pout. Only a few purses and pouches of his precious ash remained on his belts now, hardly a shadow of his former collection. He felt so nude, so uncomfortable and naked, missing parts and broken. Clurie didn't like it at all.
"I hate you," Clurie muttered.
Chauhn glanced to him barely able to move his head from their cramped position. "Now, why you say tha'?" he asked curiously.
"I'm empty now. I'll never be whole," the Plague pouted, curling up tighter, "It's all your fault, makin' me drop all my ash!"
With a lilt of his brows, the street urchin felt the tickle of a smile pull at his cheeks, "Ah never said anythin' abou' droppin' your ash, Clurie. Ah said ta 'run'. You gave up your ash yourself."
Clurie was quiet for a bit, struggling to forge some kind of rebuttal that made him the victim. Nothing came to mind, but a lame: "...I still hate you."
"Wha'ever," Chuahn said with smile, pulling his hat low over his eyes. He shifted a bit, coughed small puffs of ash from his lungs, and then slipped into an easy silence.
Clurie listened as his Keeper's breaths fell into rhythm, mulling fitfully over what Chuahn had said. Perhaps...No. No, he couldn't be right. Clurie loved his ash, he LOVED it. It was all the missing parts of him, all of it! It made him feel safe. It made him feel secure. He needed it like Chuahn needed air, like Chuahn needed him. It was a burning shame that he had to leave his ash behind!
...But...Clurie did have to admit that it was a lot easier to move around now. |
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 11:12 pm
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