Name: Hipo J'novi



Gender:
Male

Species:
Gelatinous Mass

Height:
6' 2" (on average)

Age:
Acts fourteen, looks fourteen, yet age has not been discovered.

Alignment:
Lawful Neutral

Orientation:
Asexual/Cannot perform sex. (If anything he's straight as an arrow.)

Occupation:
Warrior for the Tisolan Army

Hair color:
Dark brown

Eye color:
Light Brown

Likes:
Meeting people, high-thrill activities, Morphing into other people.

Dislikes:
Mean people, Fighting, Any form of water (Yeah, it kinda kills him), Hurting animals

Abilities:
Shape-shifting, Self-weapon use, Superhuman Healing (except for water) voice manipulation, emotion mirroring (will start acting like the other character slowly but surely.)

Mental State:
Normal 90% Sanity, Fighting form: Questionable Sanity


I am Hipo, Hipo J'novi. I come from the mountains of Erila, a village in the Kingdom of Orivos. I was found unconscious nearby an abandoned caravan, nearly rotted, by a farmer and his wife. They took me in and I awoke in a strange and unknown place to me. I immediately thought that they had captured me, but I wasn't going to let my emotions get the best of me. I calmly asked where I was and they told me, not lying at all, or so I could tell. Then again I was just a boy. A poor little lad that was just trying to keep himself from cowering. They attempted to give me a glass of water, and I drank, but soon spat it out and scream, my mouth billowing with steam as the couple were terrified. I could barely get over that feeling in the night on the bed they made me, far from them in the stables outside. Knowing that they didn't want me there anymore, after the father's multiple attempts at killing me, I ran from the farm and from the village, eventually making it to a forest, alone at last. But that feeling of relief didn't last long, as I began to feel depressed. Knowing that if was going to die, no one would even be there to hear my screams of terror. After a few nights I got lucky by scavenging berries and mint leaves at the side of the oaks. Yet, a full moon casted its light on the forest, wolves prowling as it was the perfect night to hunt a weak boy. I couldn't even count how many, but they all came at once, or so they wanted to. But something snapped in me, almost like instinct, and I went berserk. The mangy beasts had no contest against the damage I dealt to them, my body literally a projectile and smashing their bodies into the dirt. After the remaining dogs sprinted away in fear, I looked down at my reflect at the brook I called my camp in the woods. I was bearing skin that what appeared to be my dermis, but it was white and gelatinous, my new fierce white eyes piercing even me, the owner. My clothes were, what appeared to be, an armored kilt or skirt of some sort, cascading down to my ankle showing the colors of rubies and coal. Was this really who I was and what I had become? And from what?... I couldn't remember. As my sense of clarity and peace came to mind, I once saw the boy who I had called myself again.



Further than that, the rest is simply not needed. To describe myself better, I am a gelatinous mass that usually takes the form of the 14 year old, average Italian human boy. I can see, touch, smell, taste and hear. Though I do not feel any pain. I enjoy to travel, smell any fresh breeze and the company of others
I have no family though I do know how to take care of myself. I am shy and often hide when presented with a sudden face. I wear a long, black leather coat with a plain leather tunic underneath, pants, and no shoes in my usual form. I can also form into anything that I see, as well as their color, from the inanimate to a mammal. I can move up to 50 miles an hour.



I think like a mirror, and I've gotten so far in speech by copying what others have said. I have a very elaborate mind and can remember anything that has been said (Heard, tasted, felt, hurt, etc.). Finding a new personality or a new person, I would greet myself with a timid soul. But, slowly, if you stay with me for too long, I would become an exact form of yourself...and like it. If I do not stay around a personality for a while, I would begin to talk less and less until I would not speak at all. What the effect of water does to me is that my genetic material would wear away at this substance and wouldn't be able to heal itself. The only antidote that I have, which I've tested in the forests I moved to and fro from is pine needles. I usually keep a stash of it in my pocket.



Years passed and I had taken leave from my forest, finding a mount that wouldn't gallop away from my strange touch and named her Claudia, after the name of the farmer's wife in Erila. I then took off towards the south, seeing that the men and women I faced in the east disliked anything that was... different as I was. Nearing the borders of the two neighboring nations, cannon fire and warcries all around made me stop and wait until there was no sign of fighting taking place. I moved out onto the quiet and somber battlefield, blood bubbling in the grass as men and women, faen and orcish were as still as a sleeping fawn. It was such a sad sight, I couldn't just help but to sob slightly. But galloping in the distance made me stop and wait. A woman, sport a fine suit of white armor, dismounted from her steed and walked up to this now white humanoid glowing in the fog. She asked if I was a spirit and I shook my head, nervous on what my next decision should be. Her tan skin implied that she wasn't from the mountainous landscape of Orivos. She then asked me, "Are you a warrior?" And I paused, thinking back as to all those nights that I had to fend for myself, and sometimes, fend for others as well. I looked to her and asked, "Well... do you want me to be?" That there sent me off to be a man of war. Turns out this was the major chief of the army of Tisolos, a true woman of action and she recruited me as to see what I might be of use to here. They tested me; I couldn't use a sword, nor bow or axe. But using myself as a weapon and camouflaging as practically anything is something like they'd never seen. They offered me a special position as scout and Lieutenant, an offer which I gladly took. But sometime that night, someone from the eastern kingdom snaked his way into one of the forts I was placed in. He made it into my quarters, I holding a glass jar of water as he knew my weakness. But the bottle slipped from his hands in our struggle that we had beforehand and only a few drop made it to my legs. I grabbed this hooded man by the throat and pushed him against the wall, and his face haunted me. Immediately, I began getting visions of rituals, cave paintings, men in cloaks as I passed out on the ground, the man escaping into the night. Who was that man I crossed? Why did he give me such a scare? One thing was for certain; that was he had something to do with me being this... freak.