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Knight Kora Norrevinter

"For King and Country!"

0 · 1,414 views · located in The Rend

a character in “The Rend”, as played by VitaminHeart

Description

Image

Full Name: Knight Kora Mari Nørrevinter


Nicknames/Aliases: The Berserker, The Viking, Red, Valkyrie

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Species: Human (Gifted)


Original Canon: Kora comes from the Age of Gifted a world where conventional humans have been superseded (and wiped out) by Gifted, individuals with unnatural powers. Within this world, two superpowers engage in a constant fight for supremacy. Kora comes from Erubesco, a monarchy with a reputation for scientific advancement and a hedonistic attitude.



Description: Kora is, shall we say,a rather distinct individual. Over six and a half feet tall, with wild, wavy red hair and pale skin, she comes across as pretty intimidating at first glance. And for many she only becomes more intimidating fro there.

Kora speaks with a distinct accent, closest to Norwegian, and is able to speak in English and Norwegian, having been born in the Troms region of Norway. She tends to shout when annoyed, or excited, or trying to emphasize, so she'd rather hard to ignore.

Clothing-wise, most of the time Kora has little interest in dressing up, only tending to don anything very feminine when pressed. Most of the time she exists in a T-shirt and cargo pants.


Personality: Kora is defined mostly be being quite...intense. In pretty much all ways. If she is angry she is screaming and shouting and breaking things. If she's happy she's also screaming and shouting and breaking things. Most extremes of emotion seem to manifest in destruction of some form, and when she isn't doing any of these she's often listening to far-too-loud heavy metal music or drinking other staffers under the table. She can...grate on people a little.

Kora has a serious trouble controlling her temper, and struggles not to fly into a rage at trivial matters.


Kora has been raised to see herself as destined for greatness. She has always felt that she would become somebody special, and as a result tends to take failure extremely had.


Skills/Powers:
-Berserkrgang: A gift passed down from the warriors of Norse tales, Kora is able to enter a state that massively increases her physical ability and makes her impervious to pain. The berserk state takes her already impressive strength and endurance and removes the limits placed upon it by the body's natural mechanisms of self-preservation. Her heartrate spikes, her core temperature soars, and her secondary ability goes haywire. She is able to decimate most obstacles in her path, and shrug off even major injury.

These effects are temporary however, and the backlash can be quite severe.

-Chemical Energy Combustion: Adapted cells on Kora's skin are able to rapidly convert sugar in her blood into extremely high heat. Her hands will become superheated and often able to combust flammable material by touch and cause severe burns, however more destructively she can project this heat out in forceful bursts that can flung opponents back, causing great damage.

A deal with another Commander increased Kora's own abilities, she has been capable of radiating massive temperatures, burning those close to her, drawing in oxygen from t he surroundings, and cauterizing most wounds on contact. These things are all very much dependent on her being able to fuel it with energy from within her own body, or she faces symptoms of low blood sugar, culminating eventually in unconsciousness.


Weaknesses:
-Her tenacity often leads her to her refusing to admit that things are too much for her to handle.
-Her generations of selective breeding have left her prone to many illnesses, and had resulted in a massively shortened lifespan, about 30 years.
-Kora has little sense of finesse or sophistication which tends to leave her rather looked down upon in polite society.


Brief History: Kora is offspring of one of the oldest known gifted bloodlines, dating back to protogermanic in northern pre-roman Europe. The Berserkers. This ability runs in her family, and has been ruthlessly cultivated by the Norrevinter family throughout history, to the point that the family is rumored to have interbred to maintain the purity of the blood within it.

This has resulted in a line of gifted bred for war. Strong, tall, hardy and excelling at athletic feats they're imposing enough even without the use of powers.
This comes at a price however. The questionable methods of maintaining their purity have resulted in illness and defects, with the average lifespan being little more than thirty.

Kora's own father, Ren, died from this family curse when Kora herself was only about fifteen years old. As a result she was shipped over to attend formal training in order to take up his role. From there, she became an Erubescian Knight.





Other:
(Anything else you think everyone needs to know about your character.)

So begins...

Knight Kora Norrevinter's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezenvare Queem Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Madison Lovette Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Makorai Saika
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Skip III took Drake's failure to respond to his verbal jabs with pursed lips but unusual patience. There was so much going on to occupy his attention that he figured his unwilling foil could wait.

He listened to the exchanges, the tantrums, catching himself up on the situation, valiantly resisting the urge to run and pet Dog or Fell. Or Eze. Or anyone else with scales, feathers, fur, or tails. His patience held, for now.

Rasteva was saying something about showcasing skills.

First order of procedure when he was to be spending extended amounts of time with a new team... Skip checked his pocket. Still there. Probably not enough for everyone, but, he fished out the small plastic container and popped it open as he spoke.

"All right, I can spar," he volunteered, smiling at Stride broadly. He held up one of the small pills from the container and danced over to the masked woman to give her the gift. "I'll try not to produce any gamma rads, because ya know, nonlethal, but uh-- You should probably still have one of these. Actually--" He looked around, pouring the lot into his hand and beaming like nothing was at all alarming, "You should probably all have one." He passed one to Madison and the rest of the huddle by the puddle, smilingly giving Cain an extra for when their drowning victim recovered. To the man who had fallen from the sky, "Hi, I'm Skip the Third, you missed it. Welcome to not-the -afterlife. This'll keep you from getting thyroid cancer." One for Dawn. One for Amos. Not one for Drake. Drake came back to life. One for Makorai, with an apologetic edge to his smile because Skip knew Makorai was among the majority of Erubescans who avoided him like the apocalyptic plague he was. "Um no guarantees about other kinds of cancer. Except there's uh--not enough, but..." He counted the remaining iodide blockers. Three remaining. Everyone in the arena except Drake, Eze and Rasteva had now been handed a pill, and then there were the three scouts when they returned...

Skip looked at Rasteva. "Do you need one, Legion?" he asked, unsure about the suit of armor's mortality status.

He handed one of the remaining three to Ezenvare.
...And now he was so close. Whether or not it was offensive did not even cross his mind. He couldn't resist giving the reptilian man's scaley neck a pet.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Skip III
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"Whi-" When Adira's body moved from the spot he had been ogling her in it was as if...a spell or enchantment had been broken. With a mirage like shimmer he watched the breasts he had once lauded as a pair of the ages regress to a more proportionate size. The flimsy top that had cradled the twin beauties was replaced with cloths of a more practical nature. 'What the hell just happened' 'I must be thirsty.' He thought. Makorai's thirst was one that couldn't be quenched by water alone. Nay, it was a thirst that required a drink from a different pond.

Despite the decrease in her chest, Makorai still appreciated them for their subtle nature. Their firmness spoke of inner strength, their horizons hefted by Atlas the corset..

Makorai blinked once, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, which moved down from his face pulling the skin down with it for a brief second. Kora had summoned him back from the pits of desire, right as the other girl had left the arena.

"Oh yeah. Front..front and center." He turned to his friend with a slightly pained expression on his face, trying to gather enough mental semblance to make a patented Makorai response.

"I'm at my breast don't worry." The sniper blinked. 'Okay Makorai'

He opened his mouth to speak again, but in a similar fashion to before, he found the words stuck in his throat. The Kora of the front line was gone, as was the battle fatigues she was wearing. In it's place was the skin of slain enemies, so casually draped around her rippling form that her curves dipped where the skin was exposed..

"SHIT!" Makorai's body jolted suddenly when Skip approached him, his voice more jarring then Kora's had been when it came to exorcising the thoughts from his head.

"Yeah, sorry man. cool thanks Skip." It wasn't the most winning smile he flashed to Skip, but it was an effort. Cancer and all. He wasn't sciency enough to understand anything about radiation, and safe levels around him were suspect at all times for him.

They were talking about sparring of some kind. Yeah. No. Sparring was out of the question for him. Trick shooting on the other hand..

"I can show off my shooting skills if you guys pick targets, or throw things in the air, whichever is best."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adira Hasidare Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Skip III
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"Whi-" When Adira's body moved from the spot he had been ogling her in it was as if...a spell or enchantment had been broken. With a mirage like shimmer he watched the breasts he had once lauded as a pair of the ages regress to a more proportionate size. The flimsy top that had cradled the twin beauties was replaced with cloths of a more practical nature. 'What the hell just happened' 'I must be thirsty.' He thought. Makorai's thirst was one that couldn't be quenched by water alone. Nay, it was a thirst that required a drink from a different pond.

Despite the decrease in her chest, Makorai still appreciated them for their subtle nature. Their firmness spoke of inner strength, their horizons hefted by Atlas the corset..

Makorai blinked once, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, which moved down from his face pulling the skin down with it for a brief second. Kora had summoned him back from the pits of desire, right as the other girl had left the arena.

"Oh yeah. Front..front and center." He turned to his friend with a slightly pained expression on his face, trying to gather enough mental semblance to make a patented Makorai response.

"I'm at my breast don't worry." The sniper blinked. 'Okay Makorai'

He opened his mouth to speak again, but in a similar fashion to before, he found the words stuck in his throat. The Kora of the front line was gone, as was the battle fatigues she was wearing. In it's place was the skin of slain enemies, so casually draped around her rippling form that her curves dipped where the skin was exposed..

"SHIT!" Makorai's body jolted suddenly when Skip approached him, his voice more jarring then Kora's had been when it came to exorcising the thoughts from his head.

"Yeah, sorry man. cool thanks Skip." It wasn't the most winning smile he flashed to Skip, but it was an effort. Cancer and all. He wasn't sciency enough to understand anything about radiation, and safe levels around him were suspect at all times for him.

They were talking about sparring of some kind. Yeah. No. Sparring was out of the question for him. Trick shooting on the other hand..

"I can show off my shooting skills if you guys pick targets, or throw things in the air, whichever is best."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Helena Character Portrait: Cain Merrano
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Kora, assuming her help was not immediately required, watched the bossy girl and her dragon leave with the one with the face-gap. Ostensibly for scouting, but she did not entirely trust them to return.

There were other options, but that would involve having to negotiate with the filthy terrorist about flying up and getting an aerial view and she was not sure she was really a good person to do so... even if they could trust what he'd got to relay.

She idly listened in some capacity to what Rasteva had to say. She was not exactly feeling terribly amicable considering that thing had just tried to kill her not a few minutes previous, but its suggestion seemed solid enough. Better people knew how much they'd been nerfed now than end up getting screwed later on.

Though she didn't think she really wanted to try her own to their limits.
Kora didn't really feel dramatically different. Indeed on the yard stick of magic and immortality, her abilities were pretty much one trick ponies. But they were ponies that did the one trick pretty effectively, and it was a trick that once started, wasn't really something you could stop. Powering up berserkergang wasn't like a switch on and off. Once you invoked it things tended to get pretty intense.

Ripping an enemy combatant in half at the waist with your bare hands was very useful in a battle situation, but was frowned upon in a friendly scenario.
"I'd be happy to do it, y'know, assuming this homicidal tin man doesn't try and chop me in half again, but no powers here. Don't want things to go sour."


Just then, she received one of the iodide pills, and rested it in her palm for a moment, watching the young man rushing to hand them out..and he appeared to be coming up a bit short. Her expression grew a little more sober for a moment.

"Hey, uh, Skips, you might as well save mine for somebody else." she stated, rather awkwardly holding it back out to the radioactive gifted.
"Cuz uh....y'know..."

Mostly because thyroid cancer had a five year survival rate of about 90% and Kora had a five year survival rate of about 0%.


----

The oddly dressed figure, now pulled out of the puddle, pushed herself onto her front, curling her knees underneath her and coughing up some water fro her lungs onto the stone floor.

From there, she went quiet for a moment, resting her forehead against the floor, eyes shut. Silent. Water seeping out of the ragged layers of clothing.

Then, the young woman spoke, quite clearly...if rather cryptically.

"There are wolves in the sand. Blood sinks and bones rise. A step you take can't be taken back. Even if you cover your tracks the sand will always know that you walked there."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezenvare Queem Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: Amos Character Portrait: Skip III
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"Okay, sorry, my mistake," Skip said with an agreeable nod as Rasteva introduced themselves.

But he was lying.

Rasteva was Legion now. Once christened by Skip, the nickname was almost never to be revoked, a name stuck to the victim of Skip's friendship like chewing gum to a school girl's hair.

Plus. With the plural pronouns and third person address, it was too damnably fitting to pass up.

"And, um, it's not just fighting me. It's anyone who has to get in radius, if I have to cook anything. Or anyone. Or I could just...stand really far away. Which is what I'll probably haveta do once those wear off." His expression fell for a moment, but the thought of being alone couldn't hold up to the exciting novelty of the day and he was soon grinning again. "Anyway. I'll save these two for the scouts, I guess."

The young man pocketed the two remaining pills-- meanwhile positively beaming both at Eze's trick with the fin, and the staggering, to which Skip said, "Bit too much to drink, Scales?" and still entirely in the way one would talk to an animal, as most Projects Skip had seen with such inhuman characteristics tended to take on animal intelligence -- and beaming even brighter at Amos' rare moment of friendly physicality. People didn't usually seek out contact with Skip III unless they were wearing hazmat suits. Or were healers. Or were damage-tanking viking women with already short lifespans.

Speaking of...
three pills left again, as Kora handed him hers back. He gave a brief look at the thing and a nod and a short eye contact with an uncharacteristic amount of feeling.

"Anyway. I'll fight anyone who needs to fight somebody. I'll fight you, Legion. Or the Sundance Kid. Or any of you. Or both of you at once. Just don't accidentally kill me. Can I ride Scales?"

He adjusted his lemon yellow scarf and scampered to a free patch of ground, assuming a footready stance. Other than not dying, his qualms in a fight were pretty low. He couldn't feel pain and he was inhumanly quick, if not very strong. And he wasn't especially empathetic if he did end up causing some damage, so all the better.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Helena Character Portrait: Skip III
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At first, Dawn didn’t seem to react to the sudden presence of someone who, not only was another member of her world, but a former member of her group- she merely frowned at first, brow furrowed in concentration as she continued to overlook the state of the woman drawn from the puddle, but as her appraisal apparently came to a close, she spoke.

“I think she might have some left in her...” Her voice was that of someone lost in thought, eyes still focused on the rise and fall of the stranger’s breathing for the time being, fingers pressed against her pulse. Her heartbeat was steady, at least, but there was a certain irregularity to her breathing that had caught Dawn’s attention. The mental manipulator had just reached out to begin an attempt at chest compressions when the woman had suddenly moved by her own strength, and began to cough up whatever fluid had been left in her lungs- a good sign, Dawn was sure. However, shortly after she had apparently recovered, the stranger began to speak what was, to the other, nonsense- something of wolves and steps and blood and bones. Perplexed, Dawn took a moment to puzzle out what the woman had said, before giving up and instead resuming attempts to assist her.

“Are you alright? You seemed like you were in there for a while.” She reached a hand once more, hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering above the woman, before placing a light touch onto her back. As she did so, Dawn became aware of two new presences nearby- two Erubescians- but reacted with little more than the same distracted attitude she had regarded Cain with. Her fingers wrapped about the pill given to her with a soft “thanks”, and tucked it away in her pocket for the time being- perhaps, later, she would put more thought into what had been handed to her and by who, but not now.

It didn’t take much logic to predict that Dawn’s response towards Kora would continue to follow the vein, and, indeed, her attention seemed to be too wrapped up at the moment to notice just who, exactly, was offering them help. She merely nodded gratefully, taking into account the state of the stranger’s clothes- completely sopping wet. While it was a bit presumptuous to assume that such a figure would be uncomfortable in such an outfit, it was still worth at least seeing whether she would need the warmth- or so Dawn thought.

It was obvious enough that once she wasn’t preoccupied with making sure that nobody was at risk of getting hypothermia or the like, the girl would be in for quite the surprise.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Phoebe Stride Character Portrait: Rasteva Character Portrait: John gray Character Portrait: Cybergoeth Character Portrait: Skip III
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Most would feel themselves a bit disconcerted at the prospect of being told they would face against someone claiming to be a walking radiation pile.

On the same hand, most weren’t too keen on running, metaphorical guns ablazing in this case, into battle with a variety of other beings from different worlds- especially when another of the participating combatants was a literal suit of armor, with no obvious flesh or weak points to be seen.

Stride took the pill between gloved forefinger and thumb, regarding it with the same amount of casualness one would a typical over-the-counter medication. A pain-killer, for instance, instead of something made specifically to keep the user from getting poisoned by gamma rays. In the back of her mind, the fighter mused whether or not taking it was necessary, or if she should simply be noble and offer it back up again. One of the perks of her bloodline was various odd little bonuses here and there- quicker reaction time, for one, or the fact that she hadn’t really aged all that much since about twenty years ago. There was a chance that she could have some sort of resistance to radiation, but, then again, her body seemed to like screwing her over whenever it saw fit. For all she knew, she would end up getting some hyper-death-cancer or something.

So, deciding not to risk it, Stride reached at her mask’s fabric with one hand and dragged it down, revealing the same snow-white skin as that on her arm, a few patches of scales here and there, and, as she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed dry, a flash of fang.

The mask went up again, just as fast, and the woman nodded her appreciation to the little glowing guy. “Thanks, Smiles.” After all, while she didn’t exactly know the effects of thyroid cancer to a t, cancer typically didn’t come with sunshine and rainbows and giant fluffy sheep falling from the sky. At Rasteva’s affirmation that no weapons would be used in the battle, Stride began to unconsciously flex her hands, then, more consciously, move to pop her knuckles.

“Are we also supposed to not talk ‘bout the Fight Club?” Stride drawled. Even if the magical armor didn’t get the reference, it was still too good of an opportunity to waste, really. Makorai’s bringing up of his shooting skills after brought a bit of a chuckle from her- even in alternate worlds, it seemed, he was trying to overcompensate with something.

As time passed, more people began to volunteer for a round or two, with Kora being an interesting exception. There was Smiles, Iron Man, and now Robocop and some random chick cramping the gas mask style. While some part of her was aware that going up against the more solidly built volunteers (see; the people made either completely of metal, or mostly) would be a difficult task, another part of her was still revving for the opportunity. Taking down the Terminator would probably earn her some massive amounts of cred, after all, and as Rasteva continued to be...well, Rasteva, Stride continued to grow more impatient.

“Hey!” She called. “Stop showin’ your balls off to Kora; we got shit to plan out!” She paused, listening as the armored figure went on to say that all non-combatants should go up to the stands- something that was probably true, given that there were going to be a few faces punched, and she doubted that some of the more...pacifistic-looking types were too keen on getting hit for no real apparent reason. However, that brought up another question, something which Stride found herself voicing in the absence of anyone else.

“So, uh, is this gonna be a whole ‘Battle Royale’ type-a deal, or will it sorta be two people out here at a time?”

Asking the important questions, here, really.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Knight Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Helena
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#, as written by Rasteva
Kora's skepticism at being offered her 'Gift' was not missed by Rasteva. Mortals were often wary when being presented with strange magical objects, the Daemon did not expect her to be any less wary.

But the promise of the powers they could grant often made that skepticism short lived.

The armored figure let out a deep rumble of satisfaction as the woman accepted both the Daemon's gift and apology, filled with no small amount of humor as she requested that Rasteva warn her ahead of time before attempting to cleave her in two.

The Daemon was sure they could do something as simple as that.

"Very well then. We are on even terms for the time being. Now let us attempt to get this Tourney underway. The sooner we can begin, the sooner Rasteva can beat everyone senseless."

Rasteva began to shoo the non combatants away towards the edge of the Arena, voice ringing loudly through the area. "Either gather up near the wall, or find your way to the stands. This One is sure you may find an entrance to them somewhere along the outer wall of the Arena. The Daemon paused to glance down at the woman that was just saved from drowning. "Is she well enough to stand, or will she need to be carried?" While Rasteva was more than able to help both the woman and the still weakened Eze to the stands should they need it, the armored figure was none too excited about the prospect of ferrying people in and out of the Arena.

Gazing up at the stands, the Daemon rumbled lowly. "There is much shade up there, you are sure to more comfortable there than here on the ground." The fact that it would be considerably less dangerous for everyone to be in the stands once the brawls started was left unsaid. Injured or worse still DEAD spectators tended to suck the fun dry from an event after all.