The Cabinet :El Presidente's Character(s)Name: Dymir Lystragone
Alignment: Highly Chaotic Neutral
Race: Human(?) (actually, he's a Jirlhanneran, but no one knows that yet.)
Class: Sub-Molecular Telekinetic/Soul Devourer
Weight: 130 lbs
Skin Colour: Sickly Pale
Eye Colour: Depends on who looks at him, more specifically, on the condition of their soul.
Common Knowledge: Has actually been in the area that became Town for 15 years, but has not been widely noticed until recently. Hermit. Lives in a house riddled with holes that changes form every couple of weeks.
Background Story: Dymir's parentage is unknown, his surrogate parents found him in the middle of their village while going on their afternoon walk. They took him in, having tried but not being able to have children of their own. Immeadiatly after announcing their adoption of their little "miracle boy", they noticed something odd. No one could agree on his eye colour. His mother, Royce, said that his eyes were a warm, soft, earthy brown. Belgaer, his father, insisted that they were an icy blue clearer than the purest sapphire, and more piercing than the sharpest arrow. When they showed him around the Village, The villagers saw an array of blues, greens, browns, and even some yellows. The Village witch, an old crone who has forgotten her name, and so is reffered to as the witch, despite having no magical ability, said that Dymir's eyes were "Oh, just the cutest shade of Puce" adding yet another layer to the mystery of that color which has plagued our race for centuries (for those curious enough to care, Puce is actually a dark purplish-brownish-red). The parents just put it down to an atmospheric phenomonon. After this incident, nothing really of note happened until Dymir was about two.
What happened then was twofold. Firstoff, while all the other babies around his age were saying their first words and starting to walk a little, Dymir seemed strangly stunted. He still blubberelled in no apparent pattern, but with a strange lack of the usual infantile cuteness, as if he were incredibly stupid, which, as it turns out, is absolutely correct. If they had the I.Q. testing then, Dymir would have one of about 40. The other, far more important thing that occured during this time period was that Royce and Belgaer, always sickeningly organized people in the past, started "misplacing" things. More specifically, they would put something down, usually of simple construction like a bowl, a knife, etc, then they would look away or leave the room, for various reasons. Then they would look or come back depending on what they had done in the first place, and find that the object was not there. It was always in plain sight, but never where they left it. The villagers, being simple folk, put it down to just plain forgetfulness on the parents' part. The parents, being rather vain, put it down, as before, to an atmospheric phenomonon. No one ever noticed the fact that the only times when this occured were when the baby was able to see the object for at least 30 seconds. This oddity continued until Dymir was six.
Dymir, though an odd child, had never actually harmed anyone in the Village. But on his sixth birthday, his parents saw fit to give him a party. Several kids came, though few had wanted to. When it was time to blow out the candle on the birthday pudding (or cake, take your pick, I really don't care) one of the more mischievous youngsters made the worst descision of his amazingly short life.
He blew out the candle.
As you might have guessed, this rather ticked Dymir off. A look of pure rage washed over him, and that one time, for the first time, everyone could roughly agree on his eye color. They all saw a blinding mix of all the colors of the colors they saw, so it came out as pure white. Then, slowly as if preparing to pounce on fresh prey, Dymir raised his hands, fingers spread wide as if to slap the boy with both of them. Only he didn't move them. Instead, the tips of his fingers, including the thumbs, started shining with a black light. Not black light as in ultraviolet light, but real black light. Then, almost immediately, the other boy began screaming. A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream of pure terror, confusion and impossible pain. Then, everyone there saw the reason for this scream:
The boy was slowly being dissolved.
Yes, he was slowly dissapearing from all the edges of his body, as slowly as molasses drips from the jar on a hot summer's day, the poor kid was vanishing, and a grey, formless cloud was darkening in direct proportion to how much of the kid had dissapeared so far. eventually, the inner organs were revealed, lungs still gasping for the breath of that now-silent death-scream, spleen rapidly trying to replace lost blood cells, stomach growing more ulcers than an eighty-year-old who won the lottery. Then the wave of destruction hit them. Bile poured from his liver, acid from the stomach, and blood from just about everywhere. All being dissolved before they even hit the ground, joining that now clearly visible dark grey cloud above the worn pine bench. Finally, seemingly mercifully, Dymir stopped. At that point, only the heart was left. Dymir cocked his hed to the right, now the left, as if curios as to what this strange, pulsing thing was. His curiosity only lasted a few seconds, as did the heart after he resumed dismantling it, atom from atom. Then, he shifted his attention to a little-used area of the clearing, and the cloud flew over to where he looked, and descended. Then, just as slowly as the dissapearance had been, the cloud took form. The atoms that made up the cloud started whizzing together, forming slightly larger molecules, then compounds and so on and so forth until recognizable shapes started to take form in the thinning fog: Organs. The boy's internal organs were reforming, and joining in ways that nature never intended, with veins and arteries running indiscriminately around, providing blood, both with and without oxygen to organs and other vessels, bones reformed into some disturbed toadstool-like form,until the masses joined together. The result? A jiggling, throbbing, pulsating mass in the rough shape of a toadstool. Muscle, fat, bone, blood vessel, and organ tissues all meshed together in one great big sickening mutilation of the human body. Once he had finished retching, though his sobs, the boy's father screamed
"That little F---ing B-----d just turned my Ramus into a F---ing Mushroom!" Then he collapsed into almost as much of an emotional wreck as his son was a physical one.
And that's where Dymir learned exactly one half of his vocabulary: "Mushroom"
He assosciates that word with killing someone (If you thought that kid lived, you are the most optomistic person I've never met.)
Obviously Royce and Belgaer could not keep Dymir after this, but thankfully they knew of a wizard who was not more than three days ride from their Village, in the epicenter of a little place where remarkably, probably something to do with the wizard, five different types of terrain, Arctic, Grassland, Desert, Marshland, and Forest converged. The wizard's name was Yrael, and he was reputed to be a good and powerful wizard. So, they brought Dymir to him, traveling primarily through the Grassland region, for obvious reasons. However, what they did not know, was that while he was reputed to have been a good and fair wizard, all of his kin had just been slaughtered by the wild creatures in the marshland, turning Yrael sour towards life. So, let's review. We have:
1 disgruntled wizard who hates life, more specifically, everyone
else's life, and 1 Hyper-powerful sub-molecular telekinetic with not enough brain-power to light white phosphorus on fire in a hot room. Yep. That's one heck of a recipie for disaster. Naturally, Yrael sought to use Dymir as a tool for destruction, and started teaching Dymir to refine his ability and form specific compounds he knew to have various applications, like having him carry around a gold-cloth satchel full of sulfur rocks, and teaching him to turn them into bolts of sulfuric acid using certain molecules from the air, and letting him figure out how to project them from his hand using compressed air. His first few attempts at this resulted in the skeletonization of his left hand.
Name: Gylfrine and Lyrienen Wunsch
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Lords of Sound
Weight: 230 lbs
Skin Colour: The paleness characteristic of 1700's European Nobility
Eye Color: Dark Blue
Weight: 120 lbs
Skin Colour: A little Tanner than Gylfrine, but not much
Eye Colour: Ruby Red
A pompous, young, Germanian man who was first seen fairly strutting into Trog's Tavern and ordering a double DLB during the time of the Plague from the Castle Mor'Illorum. He saw the bard Jackson playing his fiddle in the Tavern, and seeing him as a possible friend and fellow music enthusiast, he complimented him in a rather highbrow way. Jackson, being Southern, replied in a manner befitting the stereotype of people from that region. Gylfrine was offed and began insulting the southern gentleman. Jackson got annoyed and used his fiddle to whip a glass of DLB at the back of Gylfrine's head. what is quite possibly the most ear-shattering barroom brawl in history ensued. He is rather large and short (see description) and is the picture of pompous European nobility in the 1700's.
A ravishing and firey young woman and the younger sister of Gylfrine, Lyrienen is rather less jerk-ish I suppose than her brother. She was first seen in Moxie's Smithery inquiring as to the whereabouts of Gylfrine, who had been seperated from her by a plague-beast in the slums. She was alerted to his presence in the Tavern by the two explosions of sound created when his batons smashed, releasing all the residual sound waves caught inside them as well as snapping the sound of the universe, for that is what they manipulate, back into it's normal state. She rushed to the Tavern to find him, and came upon him lying bloodied and bruised in the street. He was healed by the young healer-girl Angie (a character of McBish's) and the pair stayed in the room that she was staying in, that of Erin (a character of The Bushranger's). Unfortunatly, their player pretty much forgot about them, so they stayed in deadtime for rather a while. When they got out, they rushed out the door so Gylfrine could thank Angie, just before they deadtimed again. Once the undeadtimed again, they rushed across the road to a newly cared-about shop owned by Mr. [insert generic NPC name here] to buy it. They then rushed out and inquired, rather loudly, as to the location of the Courthouse where they could get citizenship. They are there now, signing their papers. Have been for two days now... (this will be edited out once something develops)
Background Stories: Will be posted tommorrow, when I have more time, and less homework.