Qwuillin's Characters

Meh, I'm going to change some stuff for this, most likely, he's a little old.


Wrosk

Species: Elf
Age: ?
Sex: Male
Height: 15ft
Skin Colour: Greyish-brown
Hair Colour: Greenish
Eye Colour:  Leaf green
Other: Huge ears
Predation: Safe
Food Category: Below 1ft Prefers: fruits


 Wrosk is a man supposedly in his mid-twenties in the terms of looks, an incredibly tall, dark, almost feminine figure with equally long limbs and face. His ears and eyes are even larger, making a small nose and mouth look non-existent. His hair colour varies different shades of green, each extensive lock being leaf-shaped. He body posture is irregular and a little stooped, coupled with his camouflaged colours makes him near-invisible in the forest. He wears a ragged pair of shorts and oddly, a baseball cap.


Wrosk's body is very flexible, acrobatic even, and he is able to make shapes that would otherwise pull or tear ordinary muscles. His eyesight is like an owls; better at looking over long distances than close up, as well as being able to pick out and negate illusions, and his hearing is immaculate. He is agile and graceful, especially in the treetops, even if he moves deliberately slow. Many who walk across his range tend to see distorted and unsettling, yet oddly beautiful drawings drawn onto all sorts of surfaces, all done by himself, using a variety of tools, though he generally uses a paintbrush that even when clean, paints. He usually draws what he has seen, across his life. He is incredibly proficient in illusion magic, especially cloaking himself and others in camouflage, but can also make certain people see certain things and often uses this to communicate in 'snapshots'. He isn't a man of combat though, with little experience in the field.


Wrosk is incredibly quiet and withdrawn. His speech is often riddled with pauses and often said in a thoughtful, hushed manner, if he ever does utter a word. His movements are exaggerated and elegant, with body language easy to read. He is utterly peaceful and hates, sometimes even fears any sort of fight, especially when he is on the receiving end. In times of fear, he makes himself dissapear, to hide from the threat.He has nothing wrong with other races, though he finds harpies deeply unsettling, and (apart from art) takes no interest in typical elves' beliefs. If he gets bored, he'll often draws on things, including on people.  He shows enormous pride in his works. He is a deceptively good listener and has a practical wisdom that few see. He develops stress in urban areas, since he feels out of place within them. If something terrible happens he just gets on with life, he used to life not being fair, though bad experiences never leave his mind.


Wrosk was born in an highly concealed village amongst his kind and other elves. Already at an early age he was different in his way of thinking, much like his father, compared to the typical elf, showing more interaction with beings outside the village than many deemed necessary. Still he was taught the illusion magic in the midst of other things by his loving parents. Though looked down upon by other elves, he lived in general happiness until his parents left with him to find a more 'suitable' home, since unknown (still to this day) to him, his parents had grown tired of the verbal abuse given to him behind his back. Soon after leaving, both parents were eaten by a harpy, something that still haunts Wrosk today. Any confidence he had was obliterated, until he was found by a woman, who took a liking to him, less so for the elf. He only followed her because she offered to find him a new home. While they travelled together, she taught him how to draw. As he developed, he eventually came up with the style he uses. Eventually they parted ways with a cemented friendship as Negav came into view, the woman giving him the baseball cap he wears and the paintbrush he cherishes. After a limited time in the city, he left as he could not cope being trapped within the walls. To the day he roams across the forests of Felarya sometimes returning to Negav, though not for very long, to meet up with the woman.



If anyone gives there time to critique this, thank you.

Wiln
Species: Angel
Age: Around 8000 years old
Sex: Male
Height: 7'2''ft
Wingspan: 15ft
Skin Colour: Tan
Hair Colour: Fire engine red
Eye Colour: Vibrant orange
Wing Colour: White
Other: Heavily scarred, hair darkens at tips

Wiln is a slender man with wide chest, concealed under a ripped robe. He stands with a slight stoop, as if something were weighing him down. His hair circulates around his head in an anti-clockwise fashion (if you were looking at him,) each lock ending in dark red. His top eyelids droop over his slitted pupils surrounded by orange, giving him a bored look. His halo flickers like a malnourished lightbulb. He has some muscle, though none of it compares to his flight muscles on his back and that rap around his front. All of his skin is darkened by arcing scars of various degrees. His wings are decorated by ravaged feathers.

Wiln is a very experienced and powerful spellcaster of fire magic, able to explode his and others fire spells. Even the largest individuals would feel burns made by his fire, which makes a sound similar to a boiling kettle while Wiln is charging up. His eyesight is acute and in the air, he is like a bullet. He is also a fast, agile fighter; but he has nothing to offer in defence, having little resistance against physical and magical offence in respects of an angel, so has to solely rely on speed. Wiln has no ability to sense other's emotion and cannot radiate an aura, nor does he know any healing magic or can hide his wings and halo with magic.

Wiln has lost nearly all of his own personality or as he puts it, "destroyed". The only parts that even faintly exists is his phobia of anything cold (cryophobia,) and natural instinct. Instead, he copies others' personalities, by imitating posture, tone and wording. He cannot mimic a persons' voice exactly and can only copy as how he perceives someone; if he briefly saw someone who was angry, though was actually a nice person, he would still use their personality to show his anger. He only uses a personality or does anything when needed to, usually staying withdrawn in the labyrinth of his mind and absolutely emotionless on the outside.

While he may not have a personality, he still has, albeit damaged, mind, still thinking. He is smart, but limitations can be seen. He doesn't recognise the limitations of his body, (or sometimes the laws of physics,) and while this can indeed be helpful in some cases, it most often is a danger to himself. He also is quite oblivious and slow to the world around at times. When he is within his mind, he is trying to obtain any information that still remains hidden. Also doing two things at once, such as flying and using magic, is a strain. Most often in that case, he'll stop flying, but continue using magic. Parts of his mind could be lost forever, because those parts have truly been destroyed and then 'rebuilt', leaving a blank space.

((History- WIP))

-Took part in Tenebris War

-Scars accumulated because of a reckless nature

-Kicked out of Heaven because of his mental health (after scenario that led to his current condition)

-Found by Gan, a few days after he arrived to Gan's planet of residence

-Transported to Felarya with the local area

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Like it says above, I've gotta work on his history, because it's all over the place at the moment- that's a normal thing for me though.

Thanks for any comments

Qwuillin wrote:

Meh, I'm going to change some stuff for this, most likely, he's a little old.

Well I must say there is a bunch of things I like about this bio and a few I have some issues with, but mostly I like it. I like the originality of it. It's well written and tells a good story with a well balanced character. Always a good thing, I like how you tell of the characters ups and downs. XD I love the fact he draws on people when he's bored and his hair! Leafe shaped hair of multiple shades of green? Awesome! I think his height is a little odd, but that's okay it matches his weird persona. Very good character Qui!

I think I replied to you Jedi, somewhere.



Telae
Species: Pantaur
Age: 30 years old
Sex: Female
Height: 5'5" ft
Fur Colour: Olive-grey
Skin Colour: White
Hair Colour: Olive green
Eye Colour: Dark Brown
Other: -
Predation: Opportunistic
Food Category: 2in to 3ft Prefers: fish

Telae is a relatively short woman, with a long, stocky cat body and short legs. Black markings litter her fur, hair and human back. The tail is quite short. Her toes are slightly webbed. She has long, dark green hair, small cat ears poking through.

Telae has a good grasp on hunting below water. She isn't exactly equipped for an aquatic lifestyle though- this is a behavioural trait. Fishing is something she enjoys, and practise has made her as perfect at this as possible. Her coat is slightly water-proof. She is also quite adept at climbing, although not especially agile.

Telae doesn't care. She only believes what she wants to believe, and is sensitive to change in her very orderly lifestyle. She flees from her own curiosity and is sure life can never get any better. This makes her easily shocked by new experiences, especially if it's to her liking. She has a "severe dislike" of being disturbed, leading a solitary lifestyle. She does have a liking to various, shiny-looking objects. Finding a jewel (or a tiny) once in a while instead of hunting food is what she considers her thrill.

Felaryan born, Telae has lived by the Jewel river her entire life. The reason for her semi-aquatic lifestyle is that her mother was fully aquatic hunter, her father fully terrestrial. She was seperated from them by a mere, shiny coin. By the time she'd finished looking at it, her family was long gone.

What she considered a horrible act of stupidity immediately lead to her habit of ignoring anything curious. As she wandered the riverside, she found shelter, a small wooden shak, which she has rarely left the vicinity of since.

Being young at the time, Telae was a fairly inexperienced hunter and spellcaster, but had gained a drive not to slip up again. Over some time, she found and sharpened her technique of hunting to perfection.

Most recently, she's had a one night stand with another Pantaur. That experience was unforgettable, of course, and left her pregnant. She gained three more mouths to feed, but the duty of a single mother has left her with one cub and a desire not to lose her...

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Thanks for any comments

Clirand
Species: Burrowing naga
Age: 17 years old
Sex: Male
Height: 6'3"ft
Length: Nearly 50ft
Skin Colour: Pale
Scale Colour: Black
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Black
Other: Bandages, left forearm/ hand missing

Clirand is a rather ugly naga, younger than he looks. He has a huge head and mouth, tiny eyes and nose. His hair is a matte black, overgrowth and unkempt, falling past his shoulders and down his scale-infested back. His tongue is likely larger than his grinning maw, his eyebrows very expressionate. He has a wide frame and is heavily build with compact muscle. His skin and scales are thick and have a rubbery feel to it. His only, right hand is much bigger than most, wrapped in bandages going up to his elbow. The severed left arm stops below the elbow, told by three scales protuding from a lot of bandages. The human and snake meeting point is also wrapped in bandages, as well as a small part of the black cylindrical mass below. His scales are diamond-shaped. The actual tail is blunt, tapering sharply to its point.

As far as senses go, Clirand has some of the best, but mostly the worst. His sight is practically non-existant, he suprisingly has little taste. His hearing and smell are both definetly below-average. However, touch and vibrations are extremely sensitive, and this is how he gets much of his information. He is cold-blooded, only being able to control his temperature slightly through his tongue and black scales. In terms of defense and offense, he is very strong, agile for his size and length. He's capable of lifting all his body off the ground with his one arm. Clirand's skin is extremely resistant to physical damage, that things tend to bounce off his rubbery hide.

Clirand is a vampire, though not undead. He does live off blood, but feeds rarely due to a habit of fasting and a slow metabolism. As a vampire his strength has increased to its peak, while also allowing him to breath a foul-smelling steam capable of knocking someone out (if he aims right). Light is only an 'itch' to him and is happy to sit in it to warm himself up.

Internally, Clirand is quite a paradox. His body holds a great number and variety of objects, with magical rips that seem to be as unstable as Felarya itself. The magical tears are due to his critically low resistance to magic- his body fights against even the healing soil, sometimes making him very ill and overall weakening him considerably. It has also split him up to extent, as his conscience would tell you- it exists in a personified form so to speak, as a spirit loosely reattached to each other.

Clirand comes across as a very happy naga, justified by a huge grin that rarely disappears. He carries a humble voice and despite his communication being below par he's smart and reasonable. He's got many hobbies, like nuclear golf, sculpting, spinning, eating stuff that's hazardous to your health, throwing other stuff off cliffs... He'd probably enjoy any pasttime within his relaxed reasoning and almost instinctive bursts of emotion. He likes (to eat) clothing, as well as rhythm, adventure and touching things. He also likes digging, but hates Felarya's soil, along with complete darkness and people who bash him being a monster especially, though he won't admit any of it. Indeed, he refrains from telling everyone he's a vampire, with good reason.Clirand is scared of large groups, such as a small village, probably due to an originally solitary life, as well as magic. His head doesn't seem to be fully there at times. He cannot be ignored as a caring, affectionate person, possessing a strong, unrelenting will, but that does break occasionally. He is highly tolerant of annoyances, but angers as fast as anyone else and lets it built up too much- making him uncharacteristically a defeatist, far more distant and just not himself- his general frustration with Felarya causes this frequently.

Born in complete darkness, alone, or not, Clirand's early life comes to no understanding to himself, one of the many memories he's had removed. He does know he was either born without half his left arm, or it was an injury and that he was likely a vampire this early on in life.

His first 'proper' memory is coming into contact to Hoxley as a test subject, at around 3 years old in a society gathered in a cave system. The two having no ability to communicate with each other (as Hoxley primarily uses his photophores) meant a very chaotic, dangerous relationship formed, both sides trying to outdo the other with brains, all the while Hoxley also juggling two kids. Hoxley always made sure to keep a primitive, vampiric naga well fed.

One day Clirand managed to escape Hoxley's residence, migrating far into an incredibly formidible area, that shaped and opened his fighting spirit fully, as he fought to survive among terrible subterranian monstrousities. He rarely talks of these scarred five years. It only lasted that long because an external force pushed him back to Hoxley, now wrought with five children.

After this, he became more accepting of the merman- maybe because he was safe and considerate. Clirand learned simple speech as noises from one of the youngest of the siblings, further developed by Hoxley who managed to get simple understanding for both parties. During this time he was also accepted as not being some sort of demon and more as a person for his personality, a lesson he holds onto.

While not friends, naga and merman were loyal to each other and Hoxley trusted Clirand enough to take him to Felarya. It became complicated though- merely going through a magical portal damaged the naga's body, and all the merman could offer were bandages to stop more damage in weakened areas. As his condition worsened though, opposite to the healing effect thought to happen, it was clear that he needed to leave or risk his life, and leave they did after a week.

It was in Felarya though that Clirand was first able to clearly communicate in his simple language, intriguing Hoxley and helping strengthen their bond further, even if he did nearly die and suffer irreversible damage. He even followed every time the merman returned and even if Felarya was Hell itself, it continuely built upon their friendship to the point that the naga would lay down his life for the merman.

At present time, Clirand has become family to the merfolk. All have been forced to leave their cavern, due to a previous adventure ending up with himself swallowing a precious object he shouldn't of. Felarya is their only option and he can only endure the pain that will come.

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Qwuillin
Species: Conscience
Age: 17 years old
Sex: Male
Height: 2ft
Length: 12ft
Skin Colour: Pale
Scale Colour: Black
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Lemon
Other: Bandages, left forearm/ hand missing

Qwuillin could be loosely defined as part of a spirit of moral origins ripped away from Clirand by magic and because of the instability of that magic, materialised as a personification of his conscience. Quite similar in looks, the only parts of him that are not the same as Clirand's is his contrastingly huge yellow eyes, his face having normal proportions, a mass of spiky scales on his head and built leaner and smaller. He's loosely 'attached' to the other naga, hence he is not able to travel far away from Clirand. But why would he want to?

Qwuillin's job as a conscience is to decide what is right or wrong to Clirand, as well as providing support, a guide and cheering the naga to do what he wants. Oddly, his speech is random gibberish to everyone but Clirand. He however believes that internal narrations are far more cooler (at least he'll tell his readers that any way). His sight is much, much better than the being he's latched onto and acts as the eyes of the two.

Qwuillin strikes as an overt, hyperactive being, always moving, bouncing, smiling. He shares a similar personality to Clirand, following the happy, tolerant and nonchalant air he shows. The two are so alike that he sometimes gets framed for mirroring his material self- both tend to move in synch together, following the earth and air's rhythm respectively. Compared to Clirand, he is more serious and stern sounding, due to the fact he has to be persuasive in his decisions. He happens to like cats, narration and thinks he's adorable/ cute, which can be justified. He fears that if he crumbles, from pressure, fear, etc... than so will his friend and is determined to remain strong through Clirand's struggles for him.

Since he has no way to communicate to others, apart from Clirand, Qwuillin often narrates what happens in the naga's life, and considers himself to be a good storyteller who doesn't shy away from interjections of his views and reminding everyone how adorable he really is. He is pretty much your guide to Clirand.

Qwuillin came into his own conscience during one of many consistant travels through a portal to where ever Clirand came from, to Felarya. He was pratically pulled away from the naga's mind and ended up forming as a spirit. He was pulled far away from his home in Clirand's head, but was 'pulled' towards the naga every time he arrived back at Felarya- he himself isn't sure what Clirand has been doing without him, as they have only just met each other again and if he really is a part of him because of this. But to him, what will happen will happen, and he'll guide Clirand through it; he'll do his job.

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The two guys I consider my 'main' characters. Qwuillin isn't me, just what I called him for lack of a better name.

Thanks for any comments