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Age:
Immortal [Year 498 Spring]Gender:
FemalePronouns:
She/Her/HersOrientation:
BisexualBreed:
Arabian X MorganHeight:
15.2 hhHealth:
28Attack:
32Experience:
53Last Visit:
02-16-2024, 07:57 PMJoined:
03-27-2019
species; equine
Oh, how the gods did craft her, their experiment, their weapon for war.
With their chisels and their hammers did they carve her from the finest marble, white as snow. They crafted her with long, powerful legs that could grind stone to dust beneath her feet and curves that could beguile the stubbornest of men and women. She was graced with a swan-like neck, elegant and curving, which atop sat a finely shaped head with a swooping profile. They sculpted bright round eyes; intuitive eyes that missed nothing and could see beyond the most convincing of masks.
But they were not finished there. No, then the gods did wind their hands in her hair and it grew so long and thick that fell to the ground like a waterfall. So long and thick that it needed to be tied up, lest it drag on the ground at her feet. They took their brushes and their paints and upon her body they splashed the color of the earth over her, darker on her face and legs. Then they called down the sun and shined upon her dapples of light, burned into her skin. She became striped by their hands, a shadowy tigress, a deadly predator, and her eyes—those keen eyes—they made them blue as a clear summer lake.
Just before they finished they ran a brush through her hair, making it straight as a pin, and they left it white as the marble she was borne from but gave her mane a thick stripe of umber high upon her neck, and her skin they made it porcelain pale and softly blushing. The parts of her left alabaster are like tears in the canvas of her skin, exposing the white ‘neath. But the gods, they knew what they were doing when they did not make her image all in death and danger.
She was beautiful, but oh was she empty.
breed; arabian x morgan
eyes; clear sapphire
coat; umber and alabaster
scent; air after a storm
wrathful, ruthless, sharp-tongued, assertive, lawless, restless
The gods still had work to do on their creation, for while she may have had an earthly body there was no life in her eyes, no breath in her lungs. And the gods, they knew what they wanted, as surely as they knew all that had been and would be. Their hearts and their minds flooded her, filling every cell. Each gave a piece of themselves, leaving it behind, and then it bloomed into their wants.
The first god's essence was red as blood and it made her heart beat fast and hard. It gave her the bloodthirst of a starving lioness, a thrill for the kill. She felt power and strength in her veins for the first time, turning her hot as a burning flame. And she was hungry, hungry, hungry. This made her a predator, a hunter. A killer.
The next god's essence was like new spring grass, bright and full of life. This had her lungs expanding, yearning for breath like she had always been drowning. How it filled her with vitality and longevity. She was made endless, eternal as life itself, and her legs begged to run and her lips begged to laugh and sing.
From the third god she was filled with an essence that was strange and smokey, a mysterious purple haze that left her enchanted and otherworldly. It gave her the ability to look beyond what was right in front of her, to see the truth underneath. It was magic, pure and addictive, and she found herself holding tight to it.
And last, the final god's essence was black as the darkness of night, and oh it changed and solidified her. It fed her full of confidence, made her hold her head up high and made her mind sharper than a spear. It gave her weapons to wield; fear, anger, death. She was forged as an obsidian blade, unyielding and keen-edged, a force for destruction.
This is how the gods truly made her a weapon for war.
But who is she now? With no outlet for the poison they leached into her, no purpose for the weapon they conceived, she is just a loaded gun in a trigger happy hand waiting to go off. The gods gave her many things but not that something more that would have lived beyond her usefulness to them. She craves companionship but knows not how to secure it, and every day of this free existence is a war inside herself between the monster and the mortal.
They called her Antiope.
They had carved her from stone and breathed both life and death into her. There were others, as well—her sisters—and they had been made to put an end to a war that their world had been waging for nearly half a century. The large kingdoms had, perhaps, been at peace once, but none still alive could remember such a time except for the gods. And the gods, having attempted to broker peace once more, felt they had no other options but to use their magic to intervene. Thus, their champions were brought into the world.
Antiope was not born. She has no childhood to speak of for she was never a foal and no memories that extend to before her creation. One moment she was simply a marble statue and the next, a girl made for obeying and killing.
The gods believed they were doing the right thing as most do, divine or not. By their hands Antiope and her sisters were everlasting, never to be struck down in battle. For, if they died, what use would they be? The gods created these powerful, destructive forces and then released them onto the world, believing they would obey their every word. For awhile, of course, they did. They could know no better than to do the job they were given.
Antiope and her sisters parted too quickly, knowing nothing of the other but their face and their name. Away they went, carving a line straight to each kingdom. Their job: to charm and wile and fight their way to the top, to take a place at the head of the kingdom, and to come together and declare an end to the war. Antiope was sent to the Kingdom of Vraica, a jungle kingdom full of passionate warriors and keen hunters, who were as wild as the flora and fauna within. It is here that she was given the red marks that now adorn her body. They were symbols, signs to all who might see her, that she was one of them. She fell into step with the kingdom easily, as though she was always meant to be there, and oh, if they did not worship her like a queen long before her time.
The warrioress earned her keep by tooth and nail, and she went to battle every time they clashed swords with another kingdom. Perhaps what the gods had not accounted for was just how many more bodies their creations would be the cause of, for they never lost a fight. Not even an unfair one. And Antiope’s prowess could only impress the kingdom she had come to know as her home. The stations of their military fell to her quickly, and she claimed each one with grace and pride. The times between combat crept slowly apart, day by passing day.
Many rejoiced the gradually budding peace, fostering it in their hearts like a new spring bloom. There were less casualties, less funerals, less sadness and tear-filled eyes and grieving hearts. Oh, how her ears loved the sound of laughter, how her soul started to open, too, like a flower to those around her. Here was another mistake the gods had made; or perhaps they had known but ignored it all along?
You give a heart the ability have feeling, a mind the ability to have thought, and even though you only give them the feelings and thoughts you want them to have, these different circumstances bring them to the edge of a pool in the middle of the desert. The shore: that which you have been given, that which has been slotted for you. The water: more. Tell me, then, which had they expected their champions to choose? Antiope waded into that water and allowed it rush over her, cool and new and refreshing.
It happened on the battlefield.
Antiope held her axe, blazing glory, and prepared to swing it down like divine justice when she looked into their eyes and for the first time she understood what she saw. Fear. Her hand stilled, her aim faltered, and she could not make the kill. This is the moment that would appear to be her downfall to the gods. To Antiope, this was the moment that spurred the collapse of everything the gods had ever forged, and she was the catalyst.
The soldier’s steps had been surprisingly silent when they’d rammed the spear through her ribs, and she felt every slow beat of her heart. Thud… thud… thud until, there was no more. Down, down, down Antiope sank in the dark unknown. Even knowing she would not stay there for long she still felt it: the fear. Now that she knew it crawled inside her and poisoned her veins, a thick, suffocating, ichor.
She woke to a shadow over her. He was gold like the sun and black like the night all at once, and his eyes were the color of the jungle she was so used to seeing. She would learn his name was Rezar. So too, in time, she would learn he never wanted to fight. He wanted to create, not destroy. His hands were calloused from holding a weapon but he wished they were calloused from holding tools. In time, his hands would hold hers instead and while Antiope did not understand at first the falling feeling in her chest, she would eventually come to know it as love.
Love would change everything for her, for although the lioness in her bones that sang for blood would never go away, love would temper it. Rezar would be so many firsts for her, would give her the world and so many things she had never experienced before. He would love her to the ends of the earth. He would give her a daughter and they would name her Chara. She was a golden tigress with jewels for eyes, and the joy that she felt upon looking at her child’s face could only solidify the thought she’d had in her mind.
They would leave. Antiope and Rezar would steal away in the night with Chara between them and build a home somewhere that did not have war at its heart. And the bloodthirst in her screamed, and screamed, but the warrioress would look at Rezar’s smile and Chara’s eyes and know it was meant to be. She thought that as long as she had them, she could ignore the beast in her veins that begged to kill.
The gods looked upon Antiope and saw her betrayal and were angered by it. They looked at Rezar and Chara and did not see something beautiful, but something that had taken their creation down a path of defiance. They did not see love, did not see joy. Their avarice was all-consuming, for all that they wanted was Antiope’s obedience. They would not let her be led astray, to fail at the job they had forged her for. Their foolish greed would take everything from her. They would take everything from her, believing she would turn back to them and their plans for her.
And when they reached down from their temple to steal the lives of the ones she loved, Antiope burned. Oh, her anger was a river of flames—of lava—and it burned everything that it touched. It carried her all the way to their temple on the warbeat of a drum, and she was a wraith at their doorstep. If they had made her a weapon it was only for this moment here to come. The thing that they had created would be their end. She, was their reckoning.
Antiope would crush their thrones beneath her hooves and she would paint their temple red, red, red with their blood. The lioness of her soul would tear at their throats and dig its claws into their skin and lay waste to everything they had ever made. Her anger would rain fire and destruction, just as they had always wanted it to.
She fell upon them at dusk, with storms in her skin and revenge in her heart, and by the time the dawn came they were gone.
And Antiope.
Antiope walked away a god-killer, a once weapon of war, a wildcat free of its cage.
Energy is arguably the most abundant source in the world, for it can be found in everything, in even the smallest of measures. The unfurling of a leaf, the rushing of the wind, the hammering of a heart, and the less sources available in one's surroundings, the less energy that can draw on. But it must come from somewhere, as Antiope cannot create energy out of nothing, and she can only draw on as much of this energy as her own endurance and sustainability allows her at each stage before needing to rest and recover. The fiend of her magic uses this chi, collecting it from the world and the living beings within it (including herself) to amplify her physical abilities, or the physical abilities of others. Her improved prowess is in direct correlation to the amount of energy her magic is able to consume, so at low levels when she can only draw energy for a few moments, she is not as powerful as at later stages when she can draw for longer periods of time. This can boost her stamina, her strength, her speed, for varying lengths of time depending on her magical strength.
It is important to remember, however, that transference of energy does not come without ramifications, and Antiope’s magic is a greedy, hungry thing. When taken from herself, her energy is expended almost two-fold, and she might crash unexpectedly after heavy use. When her magic consumes and feeds off the energy in the world around her it might make a tree drop its leaves, or a storm dissipate. It might be a small effect, like a dying of the grass at her feet, but it will be there. Perhaps, worst of all, is when it steals from another living being. Oh, when her magic is at its most selfish it can pull upon the life-force of another savagely, leaving them, perhaps, simply exhausted, perhaps dizzy or faint, or perhaps more. Just maybe, it could steal it all from them if ravenous enough, but we, too, must remember, that her stamina is not endless, nor impossible to interfere with.
Antiope’s magic is a hungry, starving thing. It loves to take, take, take whatever it can at its slightest will. It is a wild cat, feral and hard to control except for with great attention. Her own body is her most readily available reserve and her magic is savage, it will draw on her own aura, pulling from its master to augment back into itself. Thus, even the smallest boosts to her physical abilities will expend nearly twice as much energy after all is said and done, leaving her weaker than how she began unless carefully restrained. And her magic is not as strong as it would like to be, that famished thing, so she can only double back her energy enough to stave of the threat of exhaustion or, perhaps, give her the endurance to sprint as a cheetah might or hit like she's more muscular than she seems—but only for a few moments before she simply has no energy left. This weakened version of her abilities can only last for a few minutes, after all, before it becomes detrimental to her well-being.
How do you tame a beast? You feed it until it is full and lazy and content. Antiope has begun to learn how to satiate the magic in her bones, how to reach outside herself and claim the energy in the world around her to appease it. From the world her magic can channel energy into its master, but too much strain can prevent her from being able to use these auras properly, and no exchange of energy goes without its consequences. But what, I ask, are a few dead flowers or a patch of dried grass for an improved physical condition? Her magic has gained in stamina now, and Antiope can sustain it for a few minutes extra, nearly 10. This means the beast of her magic can consume more energy, and without having to feed off its master she can go a few miles more, just that little bit faster, and hit heavier and harder as if a monster lives in her skin and not a lady. It is still faster, in a pinch, to use her own energy, and with more control she is less likely to overextend it as she might have once. She might try to offer her energy to others, but it will be without much success.
Now, something special has happened. The fierce lion in Antiope’s blood has become more tame, more directed. It hunts for energy more efficiently than ever, drawing on her surroundings without much need for feeding on its masters own reserves except in very special circumstances. And look here, how it reaches out and winds itself around other living beings in her midst, offering itself to them if they are in need. While its touch is cautious and faint, Antiope can direct her magic into other creatures, though its opinion of them seems fickle at best. Her magic still responds most powerfully to herself, and she can draw on the energy in the world around her for a consistent 10 to 15 minutes, as long as she goes uninterrupted, improving still upon her physical prowess. Giving to others is more difficult, and the transference might only last a few short minutes, giving to them the strength of ability she had at lesser stages. At this point, drawing energy from other living beings is almost impossible without their consent, or unless they're already weakened.
Power. Consuming, ferocious power, aching, aching to touch, to control. The beast of magic in Antiope is made of this, and it is more dangerous than ever. For why take from the world, from the sky and the earth, when you can take from other living things? In war, oh, your best asset is to weaken your opponent and like a succubus Antiope’s magic steals with lustful pride, draining them of their energy, leaving them depleted, and using it for herself. And when the energy you take is so much like your own, it is easier and it works better. Her magic's stamina is as great as it could ever be, drawing steadily from a source now for 15 or more minutes, and her physical prowess would be all the more enduring for it making her able to run faster and longer and hit harder. Still, however, it can do good, can give back to the ones it is allegiant to, with but a little persuasion. This transference may now last as long, but the effects will always be less than if she were using them on herself.
The only outwardly visible sign that Antiope uses her magic is this: slowly, with the gathering of her magic, do her eyes turn from sapphire blue to golden yellow—bright, brighter still—glowing like light energy, without any visible pupils.
Fylax was an unexpected surprise, when Antiope found them frozen in stone in that small, long-abandoned sanctuary garden in the mountains. It had been their weak heartbeat that had drawn her to the gryphon, and ultimately why Antiope had saved their life, creating their bond. Fylax had, at one time, been the guardian of that temple, its caregivers and its worshippers. When tragedy struck their only chance of survival was to be magically turned to stone by a few of the followers' combined magical ability. That left Fylax the lone sentinel of the temple, which grew in disrepair as the years passed. Antiope’s magic brought them together, freed Fylax, and from there, their friendship started.
The gryphon treats Antiope like their child, at times. Fylax can be protective, fiercely so, as a remnant of her past life as a guardian. Now, as far as Fylax is concerned, Antiope is the only charge in their life, and the gryphon will do what is necessary to keep the woman safe. Fylax comes off as very poised and tranquil, and almost like a divine being. Their serene attitude contrasts with Antiope’s own. Together they are both the storm, and the eye at the center of it.
In size, Fylax stands as tall as Antiope—about 5 feet at the shoulder—but is much more slender. From their head grows an impressive and regal crest of feathers, and they have a thick, downy soft mane extending from their head to their chest and part way down their spine. Feathers mix and taper off into the ruff of fur, which is the same texture as on their incredibly long tail; longer than their body. Fylax has a sharp and pointed beak, avian talons on their front legs and feline rear legs, and while the majority of the gryphon is pearl white in color, there are hints of dove grey in areas, and the hard bone structures of their beak and talons are soft almost purple-grey. Fylax truly looks like a walking marble statue.
Weapon
The double-headed axe that Antiope carries is not a normal axe. No, her labrys was fashioned by the same gods who created her, the same gods she used it to kill when they betrayed her. Theófos, God Light, is, like its wielder, a synthesis of danger and beauty. The body of the handle is constructed of two intertwined pieces of rosewood, rich and deeply red in color, fused in the places where they touch for extra strength. The head of Theófos is raven black, with faint engravings covering its entire surface and a secondary bit smaller and further in from the cutting edge on both sides. From the eye of the axe extends a double edged saw sword piece, intended for piercing.
When the gods made Theófos, oh did the weapon become even more dangerous with enchantment. At any moment of Antiope's wish the head of the axe can come alight, glowing a bright and searing gold. As though it had been placed in a fire, the metal becomes hot enough to burn at the lightest touch. The intensity of the glow, and subsequently the heat of the metal, is tied to its wielder. With her intentions, it can do little more than feel warm upon the skin or blazing enough to melt and scorch. This is how the God Light got its name, for it burns with a fireless heat that can only be explained by it's divine creation.
With Enchantment Active
Armor
Antiope’s armor is, upon first glance, nothing extraordinary. One might look at it and think, how can this be good enough for someone who was born to kill? But it has secrets, if you look close enough. Everything has secrets when you look close enough. A metal faceplate and metal leg guards secured by leather straps are the foremost protective pieces of her armor. There is also a harness-style piece which allows her to carry her axe hands free, as well as additional sharp metal pieces affixed over her hip and shoulder bones. The last piece of the armor is a long blue scarf, similar in color to her eyes, which can be used to protect her from the sun and other elements, or can be tucked out of the way if necessary.
There is the shield, of course. Hard to miss, as it covers a large portion of her body when being carried. It is mostly wooden, with metal embellishments and a sharpened metal edge that can be useful in battle. But the secret of Antiope’s armor comes after battle. When the minor scuffs and scratches begin to slowly disappear. Similarly to her axe, Antiope’s armor is not without its own divinity bestowed upon it by the gods of her creation; only, the enchantment placed upon these pieces allows them to self-heal from minor damage, lengthening their lifespan.
Antiope adorns herself with few items from her life before, except those that she had on her person when she left. She wears in her hair scarlet ribbons—two in her tail and one in her mane—more as decoration that any true purpose, as they are not strong enough to hold up the entire weight of her hair. From her mane also hangs a smaller ribbon strung with assorted beads in white, red and blue. The final ornamentation of Antiope is about her neck, where she wears a choker of a similar bright red and hanging from it a collection of canines from a small breed wildcat.
Without Shield
Accessories
Staff Log
Saved incentives/prizes: None.
04/03/2019- Character Application Approved. Incentives for 502 winter of Weapon and Enchantment sent to account (night and scholar rank) -- NESTLE
04/03/2019- Immortality Redemption Thread was Approved. Input 5 as age of Immortality. -- NESTLE
04/23/19 Active Magic approved and added to the records; Tier 1: Discipuli item sent to account. -SID
06/03/19 +80 signos for participating in SWP "a pilgrimage made strange," TID3612. -SID
06/27/19 +140 signos for participating in SWP act III, "how reality collapses," TID 3659. -SID
07/30/19 +100 signos for encountering an RE, TID3761. -SID
08/21/19 +200 signos for participating in SWP act V, “a day that lasts forever,” TID 3888. -SID
09/14/19 Rank promoted to Night Court Regent; +5 EXP. -SID
10/05/19 +6 EXP for gaining and questing for interactive agora items (bonded-TID3609, immortality-TID3552, magic-TID3675). -AIMLESS
10/05/19 +3 EXP for Kat's 1 year joining anniversary. -AIMLESS
10/05/19 +2 EXP for participating in an IC event in TID3547 (NC Ice Castle Prompt). -AIMLESS
10/05/19 +3 EXP for participating in a SWP (TIDs3546, 3612, 3659, 3888). -AIMLESS
10/05/19 +9 health, +11 attack, sent Vexillum magic item for reaching 25 EXP milestone. -AIMLESS
10/07/19 +100 signos for winning thread of the season, TID3943, 504 Spring. -INKBONE
12/02/19 +100 signos for winning Yr504 Fall Thread of the season with "Pestilence & Penance" TID4085. -INKBONE
12/20/19 +2EXP from advent calendar, TID4402. -SID
12/21/19 +40 signos for completing TIDs 3991 & 4313 -LAYLA
01/20/20 +20 signos for completing TID4406 -LAYLA
01/20/20 +3EXP for completing TIDs 3547, 3943, 3991, 4313 & 4406 -LAYLA
01/20/20 +2EXP for participating in an IC event (fall festival)- TIDs 4094 & 4085 -LAYLA
02/20/20 Promoted from Regent to Sovereign. -2 EXP for losing regent, +5 EXP for promotion. -SID
03/17/20 +3EXP for Katherine's 2nd year Novus anniversary -LAYLA
04/15/20 +3EXP for completing TIDs 4094, 3961, 4390, 4569 & 4541 -LAYLA
06/13/20 +20 Signos for completing TID 4734 - NESTLE
06/14/20 +5EXP for reaching 100 posts -LAYLA
06/14/20 +10HTH/+10ATK for 50EXP milestone, sent Periti item -LAYLA
07/11/20 +20 signos for completing TID4314 -LAYLA
11/12/20 Rank change from Night Sovereign to Vagabond Battlemage; -2 EXP (IC, done in TID5792). -SID
11/21/20 +3EXP for 1 of 5 (TID4314, 4734, 4686, 4872, 4687) threads complete for EXP. -INKBONE
11/21/20 Signos for completing TID5216, 4925 sent to Katherine. -INKBONE 01/03/21 Moved to inactive from Vagabond Battlemage per member request. -INKBONE
01/22/22 Moved from inactive to Vagabond Battlemage per member request. -INKBONE
01/22/22 +1EXP for gaining purchased Fantasy Bonded. Added to records; Member will be writing own quest. -INKBONE
01/22/22 +1EXP for gaining Enchanted Armor (Both 2020 Advent Calendar prize). Added to records; member will be writing their own quest. -INKBONE
