“ Ya' know that saying, three can keep a secret, if two are dead? Yeah, well it's bullshit. Trust me, the dead have plenty to say - sometimes I wish they'd shut up. ”
112 || 'Llew' || Warlock
|Gender|
Male, just as easily tempted as the rest.
|Born/Discovered|
Born, but a half-breed.
|Magic|
Black
|Wand/Staff|
Neither, Amulet.
|Special Belongings|
Family Grimoire
Amulet
Pet Crow
|Eyes|
A toxic green hue, the color of many a home-made vile potion.
|Hair|
Dark chestnut, generally tousled or windswept. Short on the sides, shaggy on top.
|Body Type|
Lithe and athletic; lean muscle.
|Standard Dress-up Attire|
Wanna-be bad boy clothes, including but not limited to jeans and leather jackets. However it's not uncommon for him to romp around sans a shirt as part of his 'act' involves the manipulation of his tattoos -- also because he likes to think it excites the ladies and increases his chance of soul branding naive, young damsels.
|Height & Weight|
6ft & 174lbs - give or take.
|Birthmarks, Tattoos, and Scars|
To be honest, there's too much ink to really mention. His arms, chest, back, and the majority of everything else is pretty much covered. What's more important is that the tattoos are just simply tattoos. Each etching into his skin has a purpose, some are runes, incantations, symbols, or versus all linked to his magic, or representative of one spell or another. If you're the type to have a keen eye, you might be able to see the faint shimmer they glisten with when triggered. Some, like the one's that hide his mutations, are perpetually in effect. In terms of birthmarks, scars, or otherwise - you'd be pretty hard past to spot them beneath all the fuss, but they do exist in small number.
A toxic green hue, the color of many a home-made vile potion.
|Hair|
Dark chestnut, generally tousled or windswept. Short on the sides, shaggy on top.
|Body Type|
Lithe and athletic; lean muscle.
|Standard Dress-up Attire|
Wanna-be bad boy clothes, including but not limited to jeans and leather jackets. However it's not uncommon for him to romp around sans a shirt as part of his 'act' involves the manipulation of his tattoos -- also because he likes to think it excites the ladies and increases his chance of soul branding naive, young damsels.
|Height & Weight|
6ft & 174lbs - give or take.
|Birthmarks, Tattoos, and Scars|
To be honest, there's too much ink to really mention. His arms, chest, back, and the majority of everything else is pretty much covered. What's more important is that the tattoos are just simply tattoos. Each etching into his skin has a purpose, some are runes, incantations, symbols, or versus all linked to his magic, or representative of one spell or another. If you're the type to have a keen eye, you might be able to see the faint shimmer they glisten with when triggered. Some, like the one's that hide his mutations, are perpetually in effect. In terms of birthmarks, scars, or otherwise - you'd be pretty hard past to spot them beneath all the fuss, but they do exist in small number.
|Personality|
Put bluntly, Llew's kind of a dick. Generally the stand-offish type, always with a snide or sarcastic remark tumbling from the tip of his not-so-silver tongue, it might be a bit of a surprise to see him flip the switch for show time. Before the Cirque opens it's tent flaps, he's usually cranky, irritable, and probably recovering from one of his latest and questionable brews. He'll slink around his digs for a bit, maybe wandering in search of sustenance, and perhaps uttering incoherent complaints about his co-workers to the crow that always seems to be relatively nearby his person. After hours, he's slightly less prickly, rather he's lazy, lethargic, and annoyingly indifferent. Somewhat taciturn at moments, much can be garnered body language and gesture. Maybe it's the sly way he raises an eyebrow at you, or there's something hidden in that smug chuckle that falls breathily past his lips as you recount with pride the collection of yet another soul that day. Confident, and often arrogant, Llew won't hesitate to roll his eyes, call you out, or shoot you down. But he's nothing if not brutally honest. What he says, he means, it just comes with no filter and as a result, often sounds harsh or crass.
Alas, when customers start trickling in, Llew becomes something different. The depth of his indifference towards humanity wanes enough for his rough around the edges charm to slip through the cracks and rear it's head. On good days, there's a sense of power, and at the same time, nonchalance about him that can't quite being ignored. You might catch him grin, or make an off the cuff joke laden with dry, dry humor. He go out of his way to bring you a potion you thought he'd forgotten you'd asked for, or he may even pull a prank or two on an unsuspecting Dwarf. This side of Llew is a lot more personable, and tolerable. Other times however, the Warlock will appear run down, and painfully disinterested in what those who have passed on have to say, never mind the needy Soul Husks who require his time and attention. There are few remedies for such a state of affairs, brew and drink being the top favored options among them. Llew has special place in his heart for anyone who shares their love by way of liquor. At the end of the day though, this Warlock is the type of friend only meant for those with a versatile, thick skinned, and forgiving palette. His flavor is potent and sour, with a questionable after taste. But if you can fight through the thicket of thorns, he's not so bad to have around, and can even be fiercely protective should he find there need to be. Finally, His loyalty to Seil is by no means a sure thing, nor is it in question - he's never really voiced an opinion one way or another. But he despises Vivianna, gets a kick out of messing with Mogue, and has a particular soft spot for Grog.
Put bluntly, Llew's kind of a dick. Generally the stand-offish type, always with a snide or sarcastic remark tumbling from the tip of his not-so-silver tongue, it might be a bit of a surprise to see him flip the switch for show time. Before the Cirque opens it's tent flaps, he's usually cranky, irritable, and probably recovering from one of his latest and questionable brews. He'll slink around his digs for a bit, maybe wandering in search of sustenance, and perhaps uttering incoherent complaints about his co-workers to the crow that always seems to be relatively nearby his person. After hours, he's slightly less prickly, rather he's lazy, lethargic, and annoyingly indifferent. Somewhat taciturn at moments, much can be garnered body language and gesture. Maybe it's the sly way he raises an eyebrow at you, or there's something hidden in that smug chuckle that falls breathily past his lips as you recount with pride the collection of yet another soul that day. Confident, and often arrogant, Llew won't hesitate to roll his eyes, call you out, or shoot you down. But he's nothing if not brutally honest. What he says, he means, it just comes with no filter and as a result, often sounds harsh or crass.
Alas, when customers start trickling in, Llew becomes something different. The depth of his indifference towards humanity wanes enough for his rough around the edges charm to slip through the cracks and rear it's head. On good days, there's a sense of power, and at the same time, nonchalance about him that can't quite being ignored. You might catch him grin, or make an off the cuff joke laden with dry, dry humor. He go out of his way to bring you a potion you thought he'd forgotten you'd asked for, or he may even pull a prank or two on an unsuspecting Dwarf. This side of Llew is a lot more personable, and tolerable. Other times however, the Warlock will appear run down, and painfully disinterested in what those who have passed on have to say, never mind the needy Soul Husks who require his time and attention. There are few remedies for such a state of affairs, brew and drink being the top favored options among them. Llew has special place in his heart for anyone who shares their love by way of liquor. At the end of the day though, this Warlock is the type of friend only meant for those with a versatile, thick skinned, and forgiving palette. His flavor is potent and sour, with a questionable after taste. But if you can fight through the thicket of thorns, he's not so bad to have around, and can even be fiercely protective should he find there need to be. Finally, His loyalty to Seil is by no means a sure thing, nor is it in question - he's never really voiced an opinion one way or another. But he despises Vivianna, gets a kick out of messing with Mogue, and has a particular soft spot for Grog.
|Role at the Cirque|
Potions Dealer, Séancist, Melanokinetic
|Souls|
142,017 / 500,001
|Years|
62 / 250
|Wish|
Unknown
|Physical Mutations|
First of all, being a half blood, Llew's mutations only seem to effect half of his body. The left half, if you must know - I ask that you keep that in mind when referring to the list below.
|| Scorched Flesh || - Angry, red, and puckered as if he'd recently walked through a burning building, large patches of Llew's skin stretching as far up as cheekbone are rough with what appear to be third degree burns.
|| Shark Teeth || - Normally pearly white and minty fresh, half of them will appear rotted, jagged, and razor sharp. Jaws, sans a decent dental plan.
A little something like this, for reference.
Think Two Face, from Batman.
Potions Dealer, Séancist, Melanokinetic
|Souls|
142,017 / 500,001
|Years|
62 / 250
|Wish|
Unknown
|Physical Mutations|
First of all, being a half blood, Llew's mutations only seem to effect half of his body. The left half, if you must know - I ask that you keep that in mind when referring to the list below.
|| Scorched Flesh || - Angry, red, and puckered as if he'd recently walked through a burning building, large patches of Llew's skin stretching as far up as cheekbone are rough with what appear to be third degree burns.
|| Shark Teeth || - Normally pearly white and minty fresh, half of them will appear rotted, jagged, and razor sharp. Jaws, sans a decent dental plan.
A little something like this, for reference.
Think Two Face, from Batman.
|Black Magic|
||Mediumship||: -- The power to perceive, and communicate with those who have past on. (Which considering he's taken more than his fair share of souls, as well as a few lives, this is a bit more of a curse than it is a blessing.) Llew uses this to hold seances for those who wish to speak to dead relatives or loved ones ,and subsequently when emotions are high and sensitive, all the better they are for soul branding.
||Potions||: Not necessarily a special power, but it is one of his specialties. Llew has a real knack for whipping up a bottle of whatever you need for the right price. Not the biggest fan of love potions, he prefers sensory altering concoctions, or temporary transfiguration brews. He's also known to revel in prolonged magical highs when he can get away with it.
Melanokinesis: Being that his tattoos are crafted from 'magical ink', Llew tends to make them part of his show. Able to pull them out and off of his flesh and into the air, the substance can be molded and manipulated in a variety of ways. Though perhaps his favorite thing to do involves animating what appear to be live inked animals, such as a hissing snake pulled from his arm, or a roaring tiger drawn from his chest.
||Mediumship||: -- The power to perceive, and communicate with those who have past on. (Which considering he's taken more than his fair share of souls, as well as a few lives, this is a bit more of a curse than it is a blessing.) Llew uses this to hold seances for those who wish to speak to dead relatives or loved ones ,and subsequently when emotions are high and sensitive, all the better they are for soul branding.
||Potions||: Not necessarily a special power, but it is one of his specialties. Llew has a real knack for whipping up a bottle of whatever you need for the right price. Not the biggest fan of love potions, he prefers sensory altering concoctions, or temporary transfiguration brews. He's also known to revel in prolonged magical highs when he can get away with it.
Melanokinesis: Being that his tattoos are crafted from 'magical ink', Llew tends to make them part of his show. Able to pull them out and off of his flesh and into the air, the substance can be molded and manipulated in a variety of ways. Though perhaps his favorite thing to do involves animating what appear to be live inked animals, such as a hissing snake pulled from his arm, or a roaring tiger drawn from his chest.
|History|
Born to a powerful Witch, trapped in a loveless marriage with an unforgiving Human, growing up a young Warlock was interesting. Most of his early years were spent in Whales, living the life of your average child, mother carefully awaiting the well kept secret that were her son's powers to make some sort of appearance. When they did, they would be hidden from the man Llew called Father as he was critical and hostile towards those of supernatural lineage. But that was his mother's curse to bear, Llew on the other hand had the unexpected pleasure of spiritual sensitivity. Manifest in the form of way to many 'imaginary friends', voices and otherworldly influences were hard for a six year old to ignore. More often than not they got him in trouble, but Mom always managed to make people forget that he'd broken Tommy's nose or told Gina that her dead grandmother still lingered around. Not long after his twelfth birthday however, when his sister was born - the young Warlock slipped up and Dad saw something he shouldn't have. Delilah had stumbled upon her powers extremely early. And with Mom out on an errand, Father and Son were the soul witnesses. Father slipped into a rage, his past experiences with the supernatural being nothing but negative had him opting to murder his own daughter before the magic he called 'corruption' could progress any further in her innocent body. Llew panicked, angry and distraught as he watched his little sister's soul begin to visibly drift into the air, something came over him. He and his mother had been training, but this, this was his first personal brush with dark magic as he tried to capture her wispy spirit into the nearest thing he could see - a crow. But embedding her life into that of another took energy, more energy than the now fourteen year old boy had access too. Nose bleeding, he pulled the energy needed from daddy dearest whom soon collapsed, pale and lifeless. In his terrified panic, Llew cradled the bird in his hands until his mother came home to find the aftermath. What lay before he was a dead husband, a dead daughter (albeit now trapped in the form of a black bird), and a son, with now visible mutations marring his left cheek as a testament to his use of dark magic. Life was never the same though, unable to continue on in school, what was left of the Marshal family fled to the Americas in search of a cure, an incantation, something to undo what Llew had done to his sister. Here was where he learned to master his magic, manipulate his ink, and practice brewing anything and everything that might work to put his sister back into her old, 6 yer old body. This meant, the young girl's body had to be preserved, and kept somewhere for safekeeping. As time went on, and the search began to get scare, Llew's Mother, desperate, was forced to ta into her questionable contacts, contacts she'd been avoiding and hiding from for years. As the heard a passing rumor of a mysterious Wish Master, the widowed Mrs. Marshal's past caught up with her. Llew escaped the bloodshed with his sister's body, his mother's amulet and grimoire, and the crow that had accompanied him for years. It was late in the night when he found Mr. Seil, and reluctantly signed his life away. Now he resides at the carnival, paying his dues, and not all that happy about it.
sugary poison
