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Description

APPEARANCE

A cheery-looking lass of average height, perhaps a little less so. Her face is adorned with a beautiful set of large eyes who bear a glowing ruby ring at the edge of her pupils. Many observers have failed to steal their gaze away from Vethe when she rears her youthful head in their direction.

Her black hair shines a nebulous deep purple in the bright hours of the day, and her chin long strands never shy into Vethe's face. Instead, they remain neatly split right down the middle and curve outwards as the strands descend. Even thunderstorms or hurricanes cannot cause one fiber to twitch, giving it a rather peculiar quality, though most people do not take notice of this.

Below her eyes is a minute and pointed nose that graces her equally diminutive mouth, always slightly puckered and carved into the slightest of smiles. All around she features no blemishes, no wrinkles hinting at the coming tomorrow. If the eyes could not enthrall the opposite gender, perhaps the rest of her face could.

Vethe's body is slender at worst, athletic and toned at best, fitting for a woman enjoying frequent exercise. A shoulder-straight posture exudes an aura of confidence, willpower and courage that lead her through any possible decision, be it life or death. These traits are carried in her stride as well, which is oriented and direct, taking long, narrow steps ontop of the bosom of the earth.

Pulsating in a luminescent red light, two rings adorn the upper side of Vethe's hands. A thin line spreading from the ring over her fingers encompass her last knuckle and dyes it a bright red. Unsurprisingly, all the pulsating colors do make her shine in the depths of night like a firefly.

While enjoying a scintillating body, Vethe chooses her sartorial style based on practicality. Therefore, her garments usually bind themselves tightly to her skin to prevent tearing, ripping or other fabric-destroying dangers. The colors range from dark to darker, contrasted by thin strips of glowing threads meticulously sowed in by herself.

Vethe's overall appearance is, all things considered, not immediately feminine, graceful or stereotyped. Her eyes enthrall because of their intense red light; her body, or her clothing, glows just as much and makes her seem more of an "interesting" sight rather than an attractive woman at first glance.

One final note, and the most important one at that, is the function of her arms, which comes at a painful cost. Ever since the accident, Vethe has not been able to restore her arms to they way they used to be. They pain and agonize her when she uses them, but, for the most part, she can and is happy to be able to do just that.

Personality

PERSONALITY

Unfortunately, the appearance does not only give the impression of an interesting person. More specifically, after the accident, Vethe had become mildly schizophrenic. She copes with the rampant mood-swings by simply letting it out. Even finer grained, her mood swings range from amused and apathetic to amused and accusative.

Fortunately, her demeanor was never and is not in the slightest violent, judgmental or belligerent. Unless the people she interacts with have known her enough to call each other 'friends' in which case her mood swings are contained even less and the occasional physical outbreak ensues. In a playful and caring gesture, of course.

Though Vethe has no propensity for violence, her schizophrenia has mutated her into a person with slightly male tendencies. These include not knowing certain boundaries as wanted in privacy, play and physical interaction. Again, specifically, these overstepped boundaries are results of rough play, stepping into another person's privacy zone and contacting so hard it hurts.

In other avenues, Vethe does not intuitively reach out to help people, nor does she feel inclined to do so. She will help when asked, and in some, mostly dire, situations she will out of her own resolve, but most of the time she contents herself with staring and observing. Most of the time she observes many things at once. If she stares at a fellow humanoid, then directly in the eyes.

With the schizophrenic behavior came the need to need many distractions, a condition that ultimately results in a very absent-minded young woman. Out of habit and the many years that she needed to cope with this disability, it had become harder and harder to focus in on things that really matter.

However, the reverse effect is that, once focused, Vethe has an almost equally hard time breaking it. This comes in handy during battles, important events, and probably more battles.

She is inclined to find some humor in the things she does wrong, in the ways her character missteps the perceived normal behavior and tries to make the best of her situation all-around.

This is not to say that it does not piss her off, as she is by no means an exceptionally cheery person. Making the best of it and finding an air of humor about her ways does not imply a happy disposition. Most of her humor comes from the dry strokes of irony or the cackle of sarcasm, which she usually does not attribute with happy thoughts or butterflies in her stomach.

Instead, it can at times burden her heavily, so much so that her strides become smaller and that crack of a smile disappears into oblivious apartheid. Though these phases don't last long, she feels pressured to suppress them and, even though she tries to let her excused behavior burst free, it does tend to fill her up.

Overall, Vethe is a neutrally-inclined individual who would rather gaze up at the sky at a lovely countryside and enjoy the silence than make a fool out of herself in public. Her opinion.

Equipment

POWERS
Everything Vethe needs is in her hands and eyes. They keep her warm, they provide comfort, and they provide safety.

Vethe's style of combat is unique in the fact that she simply paints targets with a desired effect that she defines in her mind. Anything can be painted: the sky, the ground, the air, and other people and living organisms. After a split second the paint ignites the spell, unleashing whatever Vethe has desired for them to happen. Be it catastrophic, helpful or even nurturing, it's all possible based on what she paints, where she paints and how long she lets her paint lie.

A crucial thing to understand is that 'painting' has nothing to do with a brush, a pencil or even a sponge filled with bright colors. It is rather the method in which she targets something with her eyes or fingers and then creates a transparent stripe of color at the said location. Much like the way a laser 'paints' a certain target, so does she. The effect, or range, of her attack depends on the length of the marker she set.

The wider the area, the less efficient her attack is overall. The colors can vary, either to camouflage and hidden colors that blend in with the grass or trees, or bright colors as warning signs or traps. Additionally, the more potent the spell, the longer it takes for the paint to react and unleash itself.

One particular thing to note about her power is that they cannot have a duration- all attacks are instant and disappear once activated. They also cannot be targeted at herself. The ground immediately surrounding Vethe is completely vulnerable to her target painting, but not herself directly. Therefore, she cannot use any beneficial spells on herself.

SAMPLE

On a sunny day, three average cliched robbers with knives, arrows, and a little magic tried to rob Vethe for no particular reason other than that I wanted them to do so.

The alpha, a grizzled, bearded figure by the rusted name of Dalath, approached Vethe from behind, his knife slowly protruding from under his mud-caked vestment. His steps made not the slightest bit of noise, and even the starved earth did not shake up any unattached residue. A clean, silent kill and a pocket full gold.

Behind him, near the bushes of the roadside they were ambushing Vethe at, two of Dalath's not as skillful comrades hid motionless in anxious anticipation. One, a younger lad called Dilath, and beside him the even older than Dalath spell-sorcerer Doluth. Dilath had an arrow notched, a practice he learned from many encounters in which he had always tortured himself for not preparing beforehand.

Not this time, Dilath thought, as he perceived the knife rising high above Dalath's head, readying for the strike. Time slowed to a crawl- the final moment were agonizing. Even after hundreds of such encounters, it never came any easier the moment just before the strike. Just before the...

Vethe spun around, surprisingly unaware of Dalath or his pernicious blade coming down for a swift, if only near perfect assassination. Her body twisted to the right of the blade, feeling it come down into her left shoulder. Shrieking, she tumbled in the direction her body told her to, missing the hissing arrow only by a strand of hair. The lightning, however, did not miss.

Her body shone with the impact of a thousand volts, and her tumble came to a crashing halt as her face ate some of the dried-up earth. Vethe closed her eyes shut in pain, trying not to send her pain as audible sounds through the world, but the agony set her body literally afire, if not already so from the blast.

Dalath rushed in for the final stroke, this time placing his auxiliary blade directly at his side, arm tensed and muscles flexed for a stronger blow. One leg stepped on her hand, the other directly next to her knifed shoulder so that she could not squirm her way out of the next attack.

Still twitching to the remaining pulses of electricity, Vethe pushed her eyes open and painted a transparent X in the air directly in front of her. From the shift of weight from her hand, she could tell that Dalath was rushing the kill, trying to add more weight to his otherwise already lethal blow.

At that moment, the instant before her untimely death, the X flared up, releasing a wall-crushing shockwave that sent Dalath flying from her back and then some. The resultant dust storm obscured Dalath's fall as it travelled past, but Vethe remained hauntingly open to attack. Teeth clamped together, she lifted herself up from the ground feet first.

With Vethe halfway standing, Dilath released another hail, this time notching two arrows slightly apart to shoot to the left and to the right of his target. To his right, Doluth rushed to the aid of their leader, leaving his cover at what should have been an opportune time.

Just as he stepped out of the camouflage, a huge purple stain covered his entire arm and the cheek of his face. A panting, desperate, “STOP!” could not stop the corrosion of his skin as the symbol took effect just moments later. Bubbling gangrenously, then literally melting away with a sickening stench, Doluth flailed madly about before losing consciousness to the pain.

Vethe, moving quickly in the same spot, bouncing up and down to keep her adrenaline flowing and her body nimble, was quickly alerted to more arrows flying past her. In her rush to take advantage of the situtation she failed to remember the archer that nearly missed a headshot.

Sprinting madly, she came to a full stop behind a large oak tree. Peering around, she noticed that Dilath could not be f-

Her ruby rings became dilated, her mouth opened in a deeply-pitched groan and one hand came to rest just over her chest where a goddammed arrow struck home. The lad apparently had a clear view of her, and quickly notched his last arrow.

In an act of desperation, a ruby wall swept through the forest just in front of Dilath. The effect was so startling that he forgot to shoot, and wouldn't have another chance to do so as the forest caught fire. “Dalath!" Shrieked the lad, "I need help!”, but his leader did not appear, even as the fire started entrenching on his position, encircling and trapping him in an extremely volatile prison.

Slowly Vethe stepped away from her position, taking short, strained steps away from the fire. The dust had settled meanwhile, and she saw Dalath bleeding from a concussion to the head, but not unconscious. The mage's face was only half as big as originally, and the lad had already stopped screaming.

Raising her right arm, Vethe painted a circle on the leader's chest, eyes laborously refusing to show signs of pain.

Ghasping, Dalath stared grief-stricken at his comrades, mourning. “I-I don't believe this.” Tiny rivulets- tears- flowed down his face, “This can't be happening!” Oblivious, or uncaring of the mark on his face, Dalath brought both his hands over his face to cover his shame and burden.

In this moment, Vethe couldn't help but feel a tinge of sorrow for the man, but, remembering the throbbing knife and stinging arrow inside her body, she also felt a justification at the act. She said nothing, only noting the regretful situation as a whole in a long, winded sigh.

Eventually, the mark would activate and suck the life out of Dalath like a parasite. Until then, she would wait.

History

HISTORY

Vethe's history is far too long to replicate faithfully, truthfully and, given the author's workload, simply too much. Instead, we shall discover her history in brief.

She was a member of the group of eight. Adventures that had nothing to fear of their home world because they surpassed any challenge they faced. Victoriously, most of the times with more or less bloody scars on their bodies, but still victorious. Vethe was still herself at that time, a cheerful woman who braved every danger with her closest group of friends, and her second family.

Until one day, a member of her group, the like-minded hero named Maxim, declared her too inept to deal with her powers, immediately imprisoning her soul inside of his body. Eventually, the other six followed, until the group of eight was only the group of one- one who, with the aid of their souls, became the unchallenged god of the world.

As a soul, she lingered and waited inside of Maxim's body for time untold. Hundreds, thousands of years, possibly more, went by unnoticed and unheard. Without her own physical body, Vethe was blind to all of her senses. The only thing remaining to her, the most sacred gift for any person in the group, was her thoughts.

But these were involuntarily shared with Maxim every time they existed. Though it did have a slight upside- she knew of his thoughts as well, every intimate little detail that he probably wished to have never revealed. However, it took another seeming eternity until the fateful day, that she was released into something... new.

The world was no longer her own. She could not recognize it, nor could she recognize any of her family again. They had changed inside of Maxim, and so had Maxim himself. An abrasive, egotistical jackass that didn't even bother to express even a single notion of regret for millenia of imprisonment.

Therefore, all members, including Vethe, decided to expel Maxim until he showed true signs of regret and sorrow for his actions. Ultimately, this caused a revelation, and a new world, an entire new dimension of existence, to materialize.

It all started with a single short-breathed explanation. “I am a God now.”

From there it all cascaded much too fast for Vethe to comprehend. It did not take but a few days for everything she just learned to become moot, irrelevant and completely forgotten as the new events unfolded at breakneck speeds. The world was destroyed, Vethe and everybody else was taken to a new plane of existence, the God's dimension.

“From here, I will make us a new existence,” Maxim had said. This time an entirely different entity, a different person and personality from the one Maxim they had encountered on the world. Where had he changed? Vethe barely had the time to focus on so many questions before being thrown out again.

“Welcome to your new home.”

This place... Vethe felt a loss for words. The landscape felt familiar, yet entirely different at once. The paradox of her emotions silently overwhelmed her and the rest of the group. But Maxim kept prodding onwards as if it were the most understandable thing ever.

“I changed a few things, made a few corrections to my mistakes.” he said.

Corrections? What mistakes? Did he make this happen? Vethe took a moment, took a deep breath and tried to clear her head. In so little time, everything changed. Looking around, she felt oddly at peace, but it hardly comforted her confusion. Only when Maxim finally took the time to explain in more than a single sentence, what was happening, did the cloud of confusion lift and evaporate.

Apparently, the Maxim that had imprisoned them and the Maxim, that created the world were not the same. The first one had been an image of the now God Maxim, because he missed living instead creating all the time. A mistake on the God's part made the first one a warped and twisted version of himself, and therefore become a huge danger to the safety of everything that was to come.

And everything that was to come- a new world, a new existence for everything. Having created the ground, the earth, the trees and the plants, the animals and the insects from scratch, Maxim wanted to give his creations the chance to “live” and “exist” the way he felt was right. Some things, he explained, were to be kept the same. Vethe and her family were to stay as they are, unchanged from existences past, and to live with the creation's of somebody borderline insane and inexplicable at the same time.

As for why them, Maxim could only smile and say, “You're my family too. Family always stays.” It made sense, if only a little.

Before anybody knew it, the plan backfired.

A mistake on Maxim's part caused all live to show large fluctuations in their creation, much like a mutation during birth. Instead of becoming their intended being, they changed into a variety of bizarre creations too twisted even for a God. The changes, once started, effected everyone, Vethe and the group of eight included.

Vethe can't quite remember the feeling of when her brain snapped, but she always makes the correction that it sounds more like a pop, not a snap, when the brain goes haywire. It was the day her eyes grew wide and she muttered a thousand thoughts at once that she knew, something had happened to her. Something big, and she couldn't undo the damage.

Not only did she lose a large part of her sanity, but also her arms, her most cherished possession besides her sacred thoughts. From that day on, she, too, was a new person in a new existence, with only quickly fading shreds of memories reminding her that she used to be much, much more than this...

But, knowing Vethe, she will find a way, with her disabilities, to become what she wants to be once again.

Vethe's Story