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Nevrmore

Nevrmore's Rogue Gallery

[Stats and Description]

Name: Descartes ("Day-Cart")

Race: Neothelid

Age: 3

Height: 6 or 7 inches

Weight: 1/2 a pound

Eye Color: reddish

Sex: Male?

Class: N/A

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Description: His visage is reminiscent of a pinkish-purple apple with four long tentacles. Besides the characteristic three deep purple spots on his crown, the rest of the squishy thing's body is lavender. The tentacles drape over a lamprey beak which he can use to drill into victim's brains and take control of their body.

Personality: Angry angry angry. Nearly everything that anyone or anything does is likely to piss Descartes off. The squishy squid has been in the town for three days in three different bodies and already has enemies abound. If killing people didn't keep him occupied, Descartes would probably just kill himself.

Weapons: Nothing but his Psionic attacks and whatever weapons his hosts may be carrying when he takes over their body.

Backstory:
Descartes started out as any other immature Illithid - a tadpole-esque creature swimming merrily in the cerebric fluids excreted by his elder brain. If things would have gone accordingly, in a few years or so, Descartes would have matured enough to be taken from his warm pool and attached to a captured thrall. Then, after a set period of devouring the host brain, he would have warped their physical features into an iconic Illithid form and gone on to live a normal Mind Flayer life. Alas, this was not to be.

On that fateful day, the only warning was the crumbling walls as an army of goblins stormed the Illithid town. The squid-like warriors tried to hold off the beasts as best they could, but they were too unprepared to guard their homes for long. It became quickly apparent that the only means of survival was to flee, which was just what they did. Unfortunately, they were forced to leave the larvae behind, which were unknowingly basking in cerebric fluid, unaware of the horrors they were about to face.

Days passed. Weeks. Months. Bereft of nourishment, the larvae turned into an Illithid Donner party. The strong larvae devoured the weak, only to be devoured by the stronger. In the end, only one Larval Flayer survived. It was Descartes. Descartes escaped from it's home-become-jail and stalked the caves of its abandonned home, looking for food (ie: brains). Having no sense of time or really much sentience at all, it didn't know how long it was until it had finally come across a suitable meal. Immediately after devouring the poor soul's brain did it hit the small fry. Intelligence, sentience, free will all came to it at once, it finally realized who it was. However, this new power, mingled with the memories of the cannibalistic ritual it had undergone, drove it to near-insanity. Angry at itself and the world it lived in, it escaped with the body it had taken control of to the upper world, where it passed from person to person, eating their brains and slowly growing in power.

Common Knowledge:
Nothing. Only beings like the orb that protects the library can tell when he's controlling a body.

Ongoing Storyline:
Has already fought Ivellio, Kyrian, and SASO, and hates all three of them. If it takes the rest of his life he'll find a way to kill them all.

---------------------------------------

[Stats and Description]

Name: Floyd

Race: Human?

Age: mid twenties

Height: 6'0

Weight: 176 lbs

Eye Color: Changes depending on his mood

Sex: Male

Class: Bard with the power to RAWK

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Description: A man with a laid-back demeanor, Floyd is the epitome of "Do nothing, make more." His shoulder-length hair is dyed pink, but people shouldn't mistake that for any clues of his sexual orientation, it's more of a thinly veiled reference to a band. At the top of his hair, he has gelled up a few locks to stick into the air like a mohawk. His clothes scream "Punk", with tattered pants and a dirt shirt over an equally dirty jacket. A Gibson guitar is strung over his back.

Personality: Laid-back and humorous, although if you badmouth whatever he likes, he's known to get into a "Battle of the Bands" with you, which can range from ana ctual battle of musical talent to him beating you over the head with his guitar a whole lot.

Weapons: His guitar, Atom Heart, which seems to hold some sort of magical property.

Backstory:
No one knows. He just fell out of the sky like a shooting star - literally - one day.

Common Knowledge:
None.

Ongoing Storyline:
None.

--------------------------
[Stats and Description]

Name: Zurvan

Race: N/A

Age: N/A

Height: 7'0

Weight: N/A

Eye Color: Glowing white

Sex: Male

Class: N/A

Alignment: True Neutral

Description: The body of Zurvan itself may look scrawny, even emaciated, but this is usually overshadowed the rest of his figure. His pitch black wings, twice his length and width, stretch out from his back and into the air like darkness encroaching upon the day. His entire form is completely hairless - from his bald head down to his feet, and he shows no modesty in his complete nudity, although he at least poses himself in such a way that his malehood dignities are shielded from the eye, if he even has one. His wings lick the ground, but it is unknown if that is how he keeps eternally suspended in the air or if it is some sort of supernatural power.

Personality: His personality is absolutely independent from the world around him. He is not sad, nor happy, nor angry, nor any other emotion under the sun. He simply is. Being at least a little hospitable, he will answer any question within his grasp of knowledge, but given how much more mature his knowledge is than others, almost on a cosmic scale, this is usually not problematic. Some believe him to be some type of god, although he neither confirms or denies this. Any question about himself is answered with a simple "I am.", although he does not mean "Yes", he simply means "I exist, I am myself."

Weapons: None. He has never attacked anyone, and he has never needed to defend himself.

Backstory:
N/A

Common Knowledge:
To this day, Zurvan has never moved himself - not an inch, not a twitch. He has never blinked, he speaks without moving his mouth, his torso never expands or detracts to draw in breath. He does not ever speak unless spoken to first. Due to this, many uninformed peoples think he is some sort of insanely elaborate statue, a decoration made by an anonymous sculpter. Those with better knowledge, however, know of his true identity.

Ongoing Storyline:
None.

-------------------

Name:
Nomos

Race: Inevitable

Age: Unknown

Height: 6'0

Weight: 698 pounds

Eye Color: white when placid, red when "judging"

Sex: Male

Class: N/A

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Description: A strange robotic humanoid cast in lusterless black steel. His face seems twisted and evil, two eyes staring forever forward underneath a deeply furrowed brow. The unmoving mouth seems to almost be stitched shut by large, copper wires weaving around it. Various parts of his insides are exposed, revealing circuitry and the like. He wears a navy blue cloak with the hood up most of the time.

Personality: Cold. He does not care for human interaction, he only cares to judge those whom he is hunting.

Weapons: Fists. He can conduct extraordinarily high charges of electricity, an efficient way to dispatch "criminals."

Backstory: Like other Inevitables, Nomos purports to be from the distant world of Mechanus. Apparently, he was sent to the Town because of the unnaturally high amount of "criminals" in the area. Nomos is not an average Inevitable; instead of representing such things as justice, death, or mortality, he is the ineluctibility of naturality.  As long as the powerless NPCs are the majority of the Town, everyone else - all the winged humans, all the strange creatures, all the fox people, everyone who is out of the ordinary to the point of godhood - is a criminal in the eyes of Nomos, and there is no escaping his brand of justice. As he repeats to his victims, "Nomiko i thanatos": Law or Death.

Ongoing story: There will be a lot of conflict with this boy.
---------------------

Name: Father Lues

Race: Controlled Human

Age: Unknown

Height: 6'0

Weight: 140 pounds

Eye Color: Deep Purple

Sex: Male

Class: Cleric

Alignment: ???

Description: A friendly man who always has a gentle smile on his face. He wears expensive, purple priestly vestments, but the flamboyancy is in deep contradiction to his humble attitude. He keeps his hood up most of the time, which has caused his nearly bleach-blonde hair to shoot off in every direction. From his neck, vines sprout, as if from plants.

Personality: Gentle and warm. He addresses everyone as either "my friend" or "my lady", depending on their gender. He is as hospitable as hospitality can be and equally as patient. However, he has been known to show an uglier side. When something angers him, he can get mean and, if worst comes to worse, violent.

Weapons: He is frail by human standards, but he can uses a vast array of different plant-themed weapons. He seems fond of using barbed winves to inject tranquilizers into would-be attackers.

Backstory: No one knows who Father Lues is or how he came to be. He simply showed up one day and constructed "The Church of the Seed:" A very peculier church which, instead of worshipping gods, they worship their inner spirits. They believe that the soul is like a tree - When you are strong, it is full of vitality and in bloom. When you are feeling guilt or depression, the tree wilts and is weak. The Chruch, however, always believes that it can be repaired. There is a vague reference that hangs on the lips of church members known as "The World Tree", but as of yet, no one is quite sure what they mean by it.

Ongoing story: Lues initiated his final plan dubbed "Zero Hour" to raise Yggdrasil - The mythical World Tree that cycled the souls of the living and dead - into the material plane so that he could take control of it and cleanse the world. Several people, including Mneme, John, and Aharon, opposed him. After a fierce battle it was revealed that a plant-creature had long ago taken root in the pastor's body and subsumed his soul, supplanting its own and controlling him. The Stranger, the physical manifestation of the World Tree's soul, came to put a stop to the beast, relieving it of its control on Lues's soul and allowing the pastor's spirit to re-enter the World Tree. He was last seen with the souls of all his dead church members saying their goodbyes to their friends as their souls went back into the cycle of life, death and rebirth.
--------------------------------

Name: Adder

Race: Human

Age: 27

Height: 6'0

Weight: 167 pounds

Eye Color: Brown

Sex: Male

Class: Rogue

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Description: A man who definitely stands out in a crowd. His hair is two toned - Most of it is bleach blonde while his sideburns and the back are black. He has several deep scars adorning his face. Most unusual of all, however, is the fact that there are extensions cut from the sides of his mouth up his cheeks, widening his mouth by several inches. He keeps the skin together by two silver piercings through his cheeks.

Personality: Subject to change. He can easily be a very nice guy to get along with if you ignore the strange mutilations to his face, he can even be caring. Or, he can be twisted and crazed, doing anything to see your blood flow. He is an admitted sado-masochist, and will often berate his opponents for how bad they are at hurting him.

Weapons: A wakizashi with a red weave and an almost endless supply of hilt-less stiletto blades. As he has said to Rafael the vampire, Blades are so much more wicked than guns because you have to be so close to a person to use them, inspiring horror.

Backstory: In his own words:

"I suppose I really started down the slippery slope when I was about ten years old and I gave a schoolmate an impromptu tracheotomy with a pencil. In the years following that incident, I usually just wandered the streets, finding things to mutilate - dogs, birds, cats, you know. I was just a curious little boy back then. Anyway, my first year as a teenager was when I was officially inducted into my first gang. It wasn't that serious when I had joined it, mostly just some hoodlums who wished they were hard-toothed gangsters...They were intimidated with my personality and unique...fighting style, as it were. They were broken up quick enough, and for awhile I just kept moving from gang to gang, riding it out until they were dispesred. When I earned a reputation, instead of Black Adder, I was called Red Adder for the copious amount of blood I would always get on myself during a fight - both mine and my opponent's.

Even though my sadist streak was well known, I really didn't find out about the masochistic side of me until I managed to really piss off a couple of rival mafiosos. They kidnapped me on the street and brought me to some warehouse to give me the old bout of torture, imagine their surprise when they found out that I was enjoying it more than them. Anyway, I was pretty much feared around my area of living until now, when I decided there was nothing to be gained from that backwaters town. So I gave my final sendoff in the form of horribly brutalizing the most well-known gang members in the town and then left. After awhile, I showed up here."

Ongoing story: Adder is currently trying to build up a gang so that he can overtake the Town's flimsy government and incite Anarchy. So far he has Aesa, Sia, Lelin, Amik, Jaric, and possibly Tasha on his side.
--------------------------------

Name: Crucius AKA "Magister Terrorem"

Race: ???

Age: ???

Height: 6'4

Weight: 110 pounds

Eye Color: Unknown

Sex: Male

Class: N/A

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Description: A strange man indeed. He is deathly thin, his clothes hanging off his flimsy shoulders almost indefinitely. His skin is greenish-yellow, as if he has been afflicted with a severe case of jaundice. His eyes and the sides of his mouth have been stitched shut, but he seems able to use them just as well as if they weren't.

Personality: He's a complete, 100% sadist. Every new person he meets, he immediately ponders the best way to torture them. He has memorized the complete anatomies of over 500 species, both humanoid and animal alike. When he's not being crazed and aroused by torture, he is known to just be a huge prick.

Weapons: His primary weapon is a large, cross-shaped bardiche, a few inches his superior in height. Despite his flimsy arms, he swings it easily.

His second weapon are several vials of what is known as "Liquid Agony", a concoction by Professor Affidavit which causes unendurable, torturous pain to anyone it touches. He has been known to coat his bardiche with it to increase its effectiveness.

His third weapon is his huge "pet", Onus - A giant humanoid who is keept grounded by two large bricks of the heaviest metal growing from his knuckles. At Crucius' command, however, the beast can momentarily overcome the burden and aid the crazy man in a fight.

Backstory: No one knows or probably even cares to know. He showed up one day, became a K.N.A.V.E.S. member, and quickly began earning people's ire.

Ongoing story: None, currently.

------------------------

Name:  Plot

Race: ???

Age: Ageless

Height: 6'0

Weight: Weightless, but simultaneously millions of pounds

Eye Color: N/A

Sex: Male?

Class: N/A

Alignment: True Neutral

Description: His skin is completely grey and as smooth as well cut marble. He has no defining features whatsoever - His head is like an oval, with no hair or facial features to speak of. He manages to speak and eat just fine, though. He wears modern clothes, which is strange for his setting - His usual attire is a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath a short sleeved shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, all as grey as his skin. Finally, he always has a strange aura around him that looks like television static.

Personality: Bitter and sardonic best describe him. He hasn't descended into a complete cynical pessimist yet, but with all the people who outright ignore him in Town, he has become quite angry at them all lately, which he expresses with insults, mostly. He isn't an unpleasant "person" to be around, though - He just happens to be much more sarcastic and deadpan than the average person.

Weapons: Plot is unarmed because, I mean, come on, he'd be pretty silly looking with a weapon. He is, however, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient, though he doesn't act it. He is not immortal, but he is regenerative - Woe be the world that has to live in the few chaotic minutes when Plot is killed before he can resurrect himself.

Backstory: Plot is a physical manifestation of just that - Plot. He became tired of everyone ignoring him, breaking him, and everything else, so he created an actual version of himself to actively patrol the Town, although he has quickly reduced himself to hanging out at Trog's Tavern and the Omnishop (both at the same time - omnipresence) and drinking. Though he seems incompetent at times, it is entirely his will that keeps the ebb and flow of the world going at a smooth pace. He has a few friends, like the physical manifestation of Chaos, Dead Time, or the late Continuity, but mostly he just keeps to himself.

Ongoing story: He's taken Limos' easy defeat at the hands of a few heroes and god's unsettlingly hard, having been staring at Limos' corpse for a few days straight. He seems to have gotten back on his feet, however....
------------------------

Name:  Kaio Fyta

Race: Wraith

Age: Ageless

Height: 6'4

Weight: Weightless

Eye Color: Red

Sex: Male?

Class: Researcher

Alignment: True Neutral

Description: His skin is black as shadow. His tattered robe almost seems to mesh into his skin. The robe drapes all the way to the floor, covering his feet (if he has any) and giving him a glide-like stride when he is not teleporting. He was a gladiatorial Roman helm that, as Iris found out the hard way, fully contains him. When removed he tends to explode in an unpleasant manner.

Personality: There are two facets to his personality. If he finds someone particularly interesting, he pursues it relentlessly and has a penchant for forming plans on how to abduct them. Once he has whoever interests him, he experiments on them fervently, often changing them mentally and physically, opening doors inside them that held back a huge influx of power. When he is done experimenting, he might let them go and keep an eye on them, or might deign to keep them as a personal servant, as he has done with his two recent subjects Ebola and Leprosy.

The other facet is extreme neutrality. If you don't pique his interest, he simply does not care about you. He'll ignore you completely unless you do something like attack him or, worse, try to steal one of his experiments. He doesn't fight out of malice, but out of principle.

Weapons: Kaio has a penchant for elongating his fingers and using them as whips or spears, but if he needs a true weapon, he likes to form a crescent shaped blade with the hilt sticking out ot the middle of the inside of the blade, so that when he wears it it acts like an arm guard. He also makes fervent use of his ability to manifest portals anywhere he pleases, often tricking people into walking into them or using them to quickly get behind an enemy.

Backstory: Nobody knows. Perhaps not even he. He mostly keeps to himself on his personal demi-plane, Tartarus, but he has been known to enter the Town and scout for interesting subjects.

Ongoing story: He recently initiated a plan using Ebola's necromancy and Leprosy's ability to infect people with a viral disease that ended with a zombie rampage, the zombies easily dispatched by the town's heroes. However, this did not discourage him. In fact, he seems like that was his plan all along, and certain people in Hell do not like that.
------------------------

Name:  Ebola

Race: Undead

Age: 27 (he hasn't been undead long enough to advance in age)

Height: 6'0

Weight: 125 pounds

Eye Color: Black

Sex: Male

Class: Necromancer

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Description: He is pale, unusually thin and very gaunt. His black eyes seem soulless, staring on into the abyss. He wears a black cloak, the sleeves tattered, showing off his bandaged arms. They don't seem to be injured...He can move them just fine. He wields a bone staff.

Personality: Cocky and quick to anger. He doesn't have a high tolerance for people, least of all for his so-called 'master', Kaio Fyta. That said, he can be hospitable as long as you don't try to order him around.

Weapons: A bone staff and an orb given to him by Maph'tey. His only other weapon is his natural gift for necromancy.

Backstory: Before his undeath, he was a simple necromancer, researching endlessly. He interested Kaio because his gift for animating the dead was particularly powerful. Before his body could decay into that of a lich, he was stolen away by Kaio, killed, revived, and experimented upon. What he has gained from Fyta's experiments are disgusting, gnarled, blackened arms he keeps covered in bandages. These bandages are special - On the underside are runes that are constantly activated until he removes the wrappings. These runes act to suppress his power, as whatever meddling Kaio did to his physiology enhanced his natural magics 100 fold. When he takes them off, he is much more pwoerful, but he tires quickly due to the drain.

Ongoing story: After completing Phase 2 of Kaio's unrevealed plan, he, along with Leprosy and their new cohort Typhus, were allowed limited freedom to explore the Town.
------------------------


Name:  Leprosy

Race: Undead

Age: 43

Height: 6'4

Weight: 156 pounds

Eye Color: Yellow

Sex: Male

Class: Fighter

Alignment: True Neutral

Description: His entire body is completely covered in bandages, but they do not seem to hinder his movement. DEspite this fact, he still wears a ratty jacket and pants. The only parts of his body not covered are his mouth and his eye, and they show the disgusting, blackened skin around them.

Personality: Much calmer than his friend and partner, Ebola. He seems a little dim-witted, but he actually thinks things through much more thoroughly than his companion does, for Ebola is quick to anger which often clouds his judgment. This does not hold true for Leprosy. Unlike Ebola, he seems happy to serve Kaio Fyta, calling him "Master Fyta" when he speaks of him.

Weapons: His fists.

Backstory: His life before being captured, killed, revived, and experimented on by Kaio Fyta is a mystery. All that is known is that, thanks to him, his body, much like Ebola's arms, have given him increased power by 100 fold. When he unwraps the bandages and deactivates the runes, he becomes much stronger, and energy constantly arcs all over his body and shoots out with every attack, crippling most opponents. Despite this power, he has remained humble.

Ongoing story: After completing Phase 2 of Kaio's unrevealed plan, he, along with Ebola and their new cohort Typhus, were allowed limited freedom to explore the Town.
------------------------


Name:  Typhus

Race: Undead

Age: ??

Height: 6'2

Weight: 127 pounds

Eye Color: None

Sex: Male

Class: None

Alignment: True Neutral

Description: He is extraordinarily thin and pale, his complexion almost nearing sheet-white. Despite the picture, he does not wear a shirt, only tattered black pants. His eyes seem to have long ago rotted out, leaving two, gaping holes behind. He often complains that he hungers.

Personality: Much calmer than either Ebola or Leprosy, almost to the point of approaching mechanical-like in nature. He takes every single insult Ebola dishes out at him without any sort of reaction, and never seems to speak out of turn. He addresses Kaio Fyta as "Lord Kaio."

Weapons: His fists.

Backstory: UNKNOWN! UNKNOWN! UNKNOWN! UNKNOWN!

Ongoing story: After completing Phase 2 of Kaio's unrevealed plan, he, along with Ebola and their new cohort Typhus, were allowed limited freedom to explore the Town.

Extra: Typhus does not feed in the same way that most people do. His touch decays living matter exponentially fast, rendering an adult-sized human into an indiscernible pile of blackened sludge in less than a minute. He then ingests this sludge and uses it for sustenance. When eating the remains of a species he has never eaten before, he can gain certain traits from them. For isntance, when he ate a zergling, he gained retractable claws and wings.

------------------------

Name:  Kelevra

Race: Golem

Age: Under One

Height: 6'0

Weight: 120 pounds

Eye Color: None

Sex: N/A, but for sake of convenience, male

Class: None

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Description: When out of his cloak, he is a sandy-colored mannequin-like humanoid. His entire body is smooth as marble, his face an oval, devoid of physical feaures of all kind. He has several holes and cracks all over his body, the most notable of which being one on the left side of his face that greatly resembles an angry eye.

Personality: Angry at the world. He is belligerent and snarky, although you can befriend him if you can prove trustworthy. He becomes much more low-key when out in public, mostly so he doesn't draw undue attention to himself.

Weapons: A great reservoir of magic.

Backstory: Originally made on a plantation to be a mindless automaton that did nothing more than help do housework. However, the mage who granted him sentience fumbled his spell, giving the golem free will as well, making him what is known as an "Aberrant." He quickly escaped the plantation, killing more than a few people during so, and has since become a wanted criminal.

Ongoing story: None.
Nevrmore

---HAMLET---

Name: Murphy

Race: Winged, talking bear

Age: 7 in human years

Height: 8'9 when standing fully upright, 5'4 when on all fours.

Weight: 779 pounds

Eye Color: Black

Sex: Male

Class: None

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Description: A large American black bear with two huge, bat-like wings sprotuing out of the holes cut into his black trenchcoat. He wears an aviator's hat and goggles on his head with holes cut for his ears.

Personality: Goofy, naive, and easily annoying to most. He is very inquisitive and wants everyone to be his friend.

Weapons: Paws

Backstory: N/A

Ongoing story: None.

----


Name: Steve and Miller

Race: Human and Undead respectively

Age: 27 and 52

Height: 6'0 and 3'6

Weight: 179 pounds and 102 pounds

Eye Color: Blue and Black

Sex: Male

Class: None

Alignment: Unknown

Description: Steve is a tall man in cowboy gear, a long, brown ponytail extending from his hat and bouncing happily against his back as he walks. He seems rather average in a desert town such as The Hamlet.

Miller, on the other hand, is anything but. An undead corpse carried around by Steve via the noose wrapped around his withered neck, Miller has just recently lost the bottom half of his body, so now must rely exclusively on his partner for transportation. His clothing looks somewhat like a Southern, Civil-War era shirt with matching hat. His skin is thinned and discolored, his face looking a lot like a skull. He is not very nice.

Personality: Steve is the more charismatic of the two, mostly joking and meeting new people and having a good time. Miller is usually in a foul mood, lately because he lost his legs, which is understandable. Miller hates it when people stare at him and Steve, but his compatriot doesn't seem to mind.

Weapons: Six shooter and knives.

Backstory: Nothing much is known about these two characters, especially not the circumstances of their introduction to one another. They seem to have attracted the wrong kind of attention, constantly talking about having to run from pursuers and dodge bullets as they travel around the desert land.

Ongoing story: None.

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