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 | | Subject: Isabella Scabbia Thu Nov 08, 2012 3:43 am | |
| • Isabella • “Nyx” • Scabbia • Name: Isabella “Nyx” ScabbiaNickname: Izzy, Belle, Bella, NyxAge: 11 (Human died at age 21)Weight: 103Height: 5’1”Eye color: HazelHair color: BlackRace: FallenResidence: LibriumNationality: ItalianAffiliation: Obsidian CircusOccupation: Horse TrainerFace Claim: Alexa Vega• all in the details • Appearance: Isabel is very pale of skin, a huge contrast to her dark, straight hair and the ever-present circles beneath her hazel eyes. She is very lithe and borderline frail in stature, but has a hidden strength that shines through when man-handling the equines she works with on a daily basis. Her normal outfits consist of dark colors as well, but always manage to be fanciful and full of frills. Even when the weather is cold and she’s forced to wear pants, she throws a tutu over top. Very rarely does she pull her hair back, choosing to let the long, ebony locks do as they please. Despite her gothic demeanor, it is not uncommon to see a smile grace her lips – especially when in the ring, or surrounded by her equine comrades. More often than not, however, she wears a mask of calm stoicism off the stage.Personality: As a young Fallen whose mentor passed on before truly completing her training, Isabel is rather quiet by nature and can be a bit insecure at times, especially when around others of her kind. She strives for perfection in everything she does, however, and won’t hesitate to ask questions of her brethren in regards to the ways of their people. Despite her constant mask of stoicism, she is quick to laugh and even quicker to smile. She giggles at more than she probably should, but thus far it hasn’t gotten her into too much trouble. Her love of horses and the art of riding passed from her human incubator into her newborn Fallen skin. The only thing she’s as passionate about besides equestrianism is her hatred for Forsaken, due to a bad run-in with one after breaking free into her new self. Abilities: Mask self: The Fallen have a naturally scary look which is where the grim reaper myth originated from and because of this they have mastered the ability to hide this visage from outsiders. The illusion they cast upon themselves can hide them under the guise of whatever race they were born from (i.e. Born from an elf then you look like an elf.) and is so powerful that the only way for it to be broken is for the Fallen to enter combat. When hidden the Fallen will lose access to the other racial abilities it has as keeping up this fake visage is a full time job.
Mirror Image: The Fallen are masters of illusion and because of this they have the ability to create a mirror image of themselves that thinks and acts in unison with its creator. The mirror image does not actually do any damage but rather gives off the image that they are doing harm to the intended recipient. So should the mirror image slash someone's arm they will feel it, seem to bleed, and have all the issues that go along with it. However once the image dies or vanishes all the "damage" it has done will instantly vanish. A Mirror image can be held for a maximum of three minutes.
Icy Touch: When not in the guise of another race the Fallen are ice to the touch and prolonged contact with one can lead to frostbite on most other races in the area where contact is being held. The downfall to this is that should they are very sensitive to heat and should they remain in an area that is too hot for too long they will no longer be able to function and will eventually die.
Summon Weapon: Each Fallen is born with a specific weapon it has an affinity and mastery with. This weapon is an extension of the Fallen itself and can be summoned at will by its master. Most Fallen will give the weapon they carry a name and use that to call it to them when they need it. The weapon is marked with six odd runes somewhere upon it and has a faint glow to it when in the hands of its wielder. The runes start devoid of color or purpose however as certain tasks are met by the wielder as requested by the weapon the rune will unlock and a new small ability will be gained by the weapon. When all six runes are unlocked the sword will reach the height of its power and the wielder will be able to call fourth the inner being of the weapon to come fourth and fight for them in the shape of a Rift Beast (No bigger than that of rhino.) When the inner being of the sword is released the weapon returns to the state it was in before the runes were activated and will remain as such until either the beast is called or beaten back into the sword. The beast can only be called once per fight and after that it takes a full six hours before it can be called again.Skills: Weapon Proficiency – Scythe
Acting
Singing
Memorization
Dancing
Mimicry
Equestrianism• the tale of a lifetime• History: Isabel “Nyx” Lasombra was originally born to a pair of humans who both fought in the great war for Terra. Before she was even of age, her parents expected her to do her part to help the humans in their fight against the Others. It was quite evident that she had gained none of her parents’ affinity for battle even without putting a fake sword in her hand. What she lacked in fighting prowess, however, she more than made up for in her ability to care for horses. Even the most beastly of the untamed stallions were no match for her gentle, but firm discipline. Although most of the human army’s regiment used vehicles to deploy their troops, some still relied upon mounted cavalry – especially in areas with rough terrain.
One normal day, as Isabel was replacing a horse’s shoe, a large wolf entered the stables. The horse, frightened by the scent, bucked and reared, its hooves connecting with Isabel’s skull. As the wolf lunged for the falling girl, another form entered the stable. She only vaguely recalls him stepping between herself and the wolf before falling unconscious. When she awoke, her head throbbed. The mysterious man was kneeling over her, his hand resting on her forehead. Without a word, he helped her sit up, smiled, and left her to sift through the fog of regaining consciousness.
It was a few years after the stable incident that Isabel’s parents were called back to the front lines of a particularly bloody battle near what is now Bastion. With nowhere else to go, Isabel traveled with them in order to help out with the horses there, just as she did at all of their other posts. Two mares had to be put down, as well as one of her favorite stallions within the first day. From what she could hear from the soldiers coming and going, they were holding strong for now, but reinforcements were in desperate need.
Despite the blood that was being shed hundreds of yards outside the stables, she hummed as she worked to groom and soothe the horses waiting to be saddled. It was that same humming that caused her to miss out on hearing the approaching footsteps. As she turned to grab up a saddle for the Captain’s fresh horse, a red-haired figure stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear in spite of a ragged wound in her side. One strong hand reached for the back of Isabel’s head, fingernails digging into the back of her scalp as the demoness pulled her into a kiss of all things. Isabel barely had time to gasp before the demoness’ lips pressed against hers and she felt her energy – and her life force – leaving her body. Her eyes flashed open as the pain coursed through her body and she managed to glimpse the wound on the demoness closing. Just before Isabel’s world went black, she heard the refreshed demoness chuckle with sick pleasure.
When Isabel awoke, she was no longer in the stables, as her foggy memories led her to believe. Instead, she was in the middle of an oddly familiar field. Familiar and unfamiliar faces lay all around her, empty eyes staring at the sky in death. She waded through the otherwise empty battlefield, stopping only when she stumbled upon the body of her father, sitting up against a tree. Her mother’s head rest in his lap, as if he’d been trying to comfort her in their final moments. Large hazel eyes blinked, but no tears fell to stain Isabel’s cheeks. That part of her life was done now, and she had to focus on finding the someone on the other end of a connection deep inside of her.
It didn’t take her long to finally find him. When they met, she was shocked to be face to face with the man who’d saved her from the werewolf so many years ago. While she had grown into her body, he didn't seem to have aged a bit since the last time she'd seen him. He introduced himself as Joseth, and soon explained that he was one of the original incubators chosen when the Fallen had first come to this plane.
He had been chosen as a boy (younger than she had been chosen) in the early years of the war for Terra, though he wouldn't know that for another 40 years. The next 119 years he'd spent roaming the battlefields of the war, helping turn the tide of this skirmish or that in defense of the humans who would be the key to helping their race survive. It wasn't until he'd found Isabel that he remembered that he needed to help further their race himself. By the time she finally awoke from her human shell, the war had all but ended. As a race who thrived on battle, though, he still needed to be sure that she could hold her own in a fight... and then some.
For the next few months, the pair of them traveled together. He taught Isabel the full history of their race, and how to use the basics of their powers. Joseth mentored her every waking hour, knowing he had only a limited amount of time to ensure that she had mastered all of their many racial abilities and that she gleaned each and every tidbit of knowledge he imparted to her. Training her would surely be the last thing of import he did before passing on due to old age, so he refused to hold back on his pupil.
As she was never good at combat whilst human, he made sure to train her with her weapon at least 5 hours each day. She caught on quick and before long, she was more than proficient with her weapon of choice. Despite the promise she showed, even only after a few months, he still refused to answer her question as to why he’d picked her, only saying that she would learn in due time.
Her question would remain unanswered for all of time, however, as her mentor was stolen from her before their year together was over.
A rogue Forsaken found them during a combat practice. Although it was clear that she was not freshly awoken, he attempted to sway Isabel to join him. The battle was quick, but bloody. Her master was a force to be reckoned with, even at the age of 127, but the Forsaken was younger and faster. By the end, Isabel was the only one still standing, blood dripping from her scythe and two bodies lying at her feet. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood frozen, waiting for waves of Forsaken to attack her. Hours passed, but no one came near.
When she finally stirred, her mind was made up. With the constant fear of being attacked by other Forsaken, lined with a deep-seated lust for revenge, she found herself a horse and headed off in search of other Fallen. Before she managed to find any, she came across a traveling circus. She was offered a job by the Ring Master as one of the horse acrobats. Deciding her safety would be better with this group, rather than alone, she accepted his offer and has been traveling with the circus for a few years now. She has met more than a few of her kind, and keeps in close contact with a few in particular who have requested she call them should she ever feel she is in danger again.Notes:Request for a third character has already been approved by Knight.Is this a Canon?: NoIs this your second character, and if so, who is your first?:Third character. First – Sabre Galweigh. Second – Sybil Xatzopoulos.
Last edited by Isabella Scabbia on Mon Nov 19, 2012 12:24 am; edited 1 time in total |
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