WIP MASKED ONE

Real name:

Francis Morgan Blackwell

New Name:

Griffin

Age:

27 Years

Gender:

Male

Sexuality:

Heterosexual

Mask:

Previously, Red Fox

New, Phoenix

Abilities:

-Fire healing-

Perilous Restoration(?)

The changes that had been introduced to Griffin were not merely cosmetic, as proven by the emergence of an ability that resides separately from the typical repertoire of powers that are granted to those who accept the contract and the mask, it is the ability to heal himself and others by the power of fire.


This is an ability that takes after the element from which it draws power from, fire burns if one is not careful, and so

-Needs: Heat, fire usually works best but being warm or in warm conditions is serviceable

-Can heal himself and others, channeling the heat and energy (somehow, don't question it too much), more intense healing efforts are, the more he is channeling said heat and energy. Works best with matches because enough heat + energy to heal well, low enough to control efforts

-Drawbacks: overexerts himself (too much too fast, loosing control) leads to being burned (slow hurt, skin starts to split and show red fiery lines underneath,), too much external heat can burn as well as he is not fireproof, too warm enviroments or too large fires can lead to overestimating his ability as it muddles the line between his safe limits and where he gets into dangerous territory

-Power takes after the element which it draws power from, volatile and has to be careful or else be burned,

-Fire sight/spying-

-Can see through flames, works best with closer and larger flames, the closer they are (and the larger, it can work well with a huge blaze from a good distance) the clearer he can see and hear. The farther away, the more muddled the sight is.

-Sight is more limited than hearing, can hear from smaller and/or farther fires better than see. At some point, he cannot see at all and only vaguely hear

-illusions(?)
-works by controlling the shape and color of flame to create an illusion, can be seen through if looked at closely, as the fire and heat make the illusion waver like that of a mirage.

Weapons of Choice:


Revolver
Maybe daggers as secondary

Matches for power

How Long They've Been at the Manor:

Brand new

Appearance:

With blond hair that carries a warm tint that is the suggestion of golden sunlight leaking from the heavens of the skies to coat the earth below to encourage the grasses and plants of the ground to thrive from its gentle heat, and with clear blue eyes that are the brilliant azure of the soaring expanse of the sky, it is no wonder that simply judging by these aspects of his appearance alone, he was considered quite the attractive man.

The fairness of his skin is relatively unmarked from wounds that tore flesh open and spilled glistening crimson to the hard floors, save for the remnants of damages wrought from confrontations in which he was simply not quick enough to avoid a blow or the vindictive sharpness of steel, though it is still a canvas on which the often perilous life he led had left its impression upon his skin.

At 5 feet 9 inches tall, he stands at a perfectly average height. The construction of this man is rather slender and primarily designed for speed and stealth with strength as a distant afterthought in his creation, indeed it does not feature significant amounts of muscle that is suited for a power that can wrestle opponents into submission, rather the muscle he has on his surprisingly rangy frame of a lean composition. It is a lean strength that lies beneath the pale expanses of his arms and legs that has been shaped by regular activity, one that is found in the blueprints to foxes who are quick in movement and utterly elusive as they hunt in the hours of twilight.

The manner in which he moves is a surprisingly graceful thing, it seems as if each step has been precisely considered before the foot has left the ground, the quietness of his tread speaks of a familiarity of needing to move with soundless steps. It is not the utter confident swagger of a feline that is keenly aware of its importance, nor is it the sweeping danger in a wolf stalking the plains, instead the nimble-footed element of his motions are rather vulpine in nature.

An everpresent feature that is to be seen on him is the necklace that is always worn around his neck. The pendant connected to the silver chain depicts a raven in flight with its wings outstretched, each and every feather defined with painstaking detail that contributes to the simple beauty of the piece, the pendant is colored an inky black that allows the light to bring to sight the fine details that are precisely etched within the feathers and the form of the raven. From the subtly graceful curve of the wings and the feathers to the meticulous detail that is evident when observed closely, there is a visible quality to the necklace, and he can occasionally be observed holding the pendant as if it is a source of comfort.

-

Originally depicting the unmistakable visage of a red fox, the

-After evolution

The evolution of the mask altered Griffin's physical appearance, namely the color of his hair and eyes, to one that appears to befit the nature of the creature which it now depicts, and for those who have laid eyes on him prior to this change, it is a significant change from the previous fairness of his looks.

For the color of his hair has shifted from the warm-toned blond that is often found in the sandy cream of birchwood to a deep brown that carries undertones of dark red in every strand, the brown of damp earth and the burning depth of burnished copper intermingling into a richly warm blend of browns and reds, creating an auburn shade that resembles the color of mahogany. The reddish tones that course through the deep brown are noticeable even incommon forms of lighting, the burnished undertones lurking closer to the surface than what is commonly seen in those with hair of similiar colorations.

While the hair appears to be a dark brown with the suggestions of deeply rich reddish tones, the daylight coaxes the underlying coppers and reds to the surface far more strongly than what is typically seen in his hair, bringing a shade that has a considerably stronger indication to the element that he is connected to, where the warmth of the blended colors are brought together into a subtantially fiery shade. If the subtleties of the dark auburn hair are comparable to the low simmering of smouldering embers nestled within the charred remains from which they were fed, then the color that is produced when natural light is shined upon the strands is the blaze of dancing flame, the rays of sunlight catching and setting the dark hair ablaze.

Following in the footsteps of the darkening of his natural hair color, the clear blue of his eyes have changed from the soaring azure of the heavens to a shade that rivals the depth of clouds painted by the light from a setting sun, beautifully blazing with a blend of oranges and yellows that are far brighter and clearer than what is typically seen in humans. His eyes hold the ambient tones of burning embers nearer to the edges of the pupil and the rim of the iris as the amber slides into a darker, intenser shade that is so deeply amber that it carries a trace of red within its depths.

The wonderfully scorching colors seem to be lit by a blazing fire inside with the sheer intensity that they display, so far from the crystalline blue of the sky that they used to hold, his eyes are of a color that surpasses the amber of mortal creatures and seems to embody the essence of flame itself. There resides the latent warmth of dormant embers that softly burn in the ash and underneath the sheltering wood within these fiery optics, a glow that is suffused into the eyes that is bright enough to show a gentle brilliance of fire when his face is cast into shadow.


. Glows brighter when using power.

-Scars like they're forged in fire (maybe?)

-veins light up with same fiery light when he's putting big effort into healing as when overuse of power cracks skin, like fire is beneath his skin

-Rather intense eyes, like you can see the latent glow of dormant embers flickering behind them,

-Mask is intricately carved, crown of feathers rising from the top and fanning out to the sides; colored in the hues of fire, the lightest being the high yellow-orange glow that is shaded with a hint of white as the flame burns its hottest and the deepest color being a heavily red-tinted mahogany like the dying of simmering embers. Maybe somewhat layered effect? More realistic coloring by that? The sharp curve of the beak is colored a warm silver (vague gold hue, hard to really see, warm undertones)

Personality:

a temperment forged in fire, he was skittish and snappish as only a wild animal could be, all sharp teeth and quiet snarling bluster aimed outward to those who may want to harm him.

to do with phoenix representation (resilience, courage, hope, healing)
-Resilient

-Lying/honest

-Elusive/bold

-Quieter,

-Loyal/protective

-Caring of loved ones
words
words

Strengths:

-Speed/agility
-
-

Weaknesses:

-Strength-

-

-

History:

Francis was born into a family that has harbored strong connections to the mafia for multiple generations prior to his arrival, being that his parents were highly trusted associates to the boss, the family was still heavily involved with the organization. He was the firstborn and remained an only child, a source for loneliness when both his mother and father were called away for reasons regarding their work. From an early age there were expectations that he would take a place in the mafia when the time came, these assumptions were reflected in the manner in which he was raised, the legacy that his family had forged through blood and calculated fury spun into stories weaving tangled webs of deception and cunning so alike to the foxes of ancient lore.

Despite the connections that tied the household to the mafia as surely as a tree takes root in the earth that were evident by the strange men and women that would occasionally appear on the doorstep with expressions serious as death or with a pleasant smile upon their lips that did not manage to reach the eyes as his mother or father invited them further into the house and by the depictions of foxes found in wonderfully illustrated artwork scattered throughout the walls of the house and in the necklaces both parents often wore whose pendants portrayed the distinctive form of a fox, the early days of his childhood were unblemished by anxieties and hardships in the manner that rightfully belongs to the early times of youth, even as the slow introduction to the world of trickery and crime progressed as he advanced in years there was rarely a word spoken harshly to him.

There came a time at the age of ten when he accompanied his parents to a meeting with the members of another long-established family whose influence stretched from farther back in time from generations past than his own, the intelligence he had displayed beginning to blossom into a calculating deviousness failing to prevent boredom from settling in during the subsequent introductions, until a girl his age was introduced as the daughter of the couple who headed the well-respected family. The two children were left to entertain themselves for a time while the discussions between the adults continued in a more private setting where smaller audiences were not welcome, the following interactions of between the two heirs of perilous legacies was the foundation for a powerful friendship that was evident even as the children played the juvenile games of chasing one another and alternating roles of hiding among the hosehold and seeking the spot of the other's concealment.

Over the course of several months the two children forged a relationship through a mixture of written correspondences when their respective families were not directly discussing the recent troubles caused by a undisclosed group that were beginning to develop from a mere concern into a threat worthy of the mafia's attention and in person interactions of conversation and amusements when the adults would meet personally to discuss concerns with both each other and the boss himself. It was this period of restlessnesses that built upon the foundations of fellowship that had been constructed months prior, the simmering apprehensions intended to grace the thoughts of only the adults leaking through the cracks of those discreet few whose quiet whisperings drew the attention and subsequent worries of the children as the two wandered the household that had resided within his friend's family's legacy for nearly as long a time as her ancestors had been entwined with the inner workings of the mafia of which they pledged their allegiance to decades ago.

Two years after the initial meeting, there happened an exchange of gifts that held a higher significance than the two of them had fully realized at the time, a connontation that bound the two households together as surely as if a tangible cord had been tied between them. She presented Francis with a necklace bearing the insignia of her family, a soaring raven with wings curved forwards into a graceful arc, on the day of his birthday. In return for the gesture of friendship, she was given a necklace that displayed the the insignia of his own family, a leaping fox at the apex of its pounce with forepaws curled tight to its chest.

`

~

word


-Parents, hostage situation by people/rivals who wanted to make "Deal" with mafia. He somehow got away, watched them drive away with parents; thinks they're dead

-Taken in by parents of his then- friend (now sister). "The two kids become siblings, not in blood or legal document, but in bond; they are as close to each other as if they were twins and had grown up with each other their entire lives. Never is one seen without the other near, and they can read each other like open books, even if those around them can't, they know they can't trust anyone but each other and so their bond is very strong because of that."

-Pulls sister aside before mission, makes her promise that if he doesn't make it out, then she leaves mafia.

-"Anyways, as adults, just before the start of the RP let's say, they are sent out on a mission of sorts, to eliminate a figurehead of their rivals. It goes south fairly quickly, Griffin is wounded in the process of eliminating the target because as quick and clever as he was, the other had been warned ahead of time and was able to strike faster, and his adoptive sister had been off on a information gathering search. It's a bad wound too, maybe several if he had been taken by surprise. The resulting commotion brings the bodyguards coming with guns blazing as she was returning, and the resulting chase did not end well. The sister was mortally wounded, but they both managed to slip away from the pursuers to have a moment of something resembling peace in the corner of an alley or abandoned property.

She dies of blood loss not too long after, making him promise to get out of the mafia with her last breaths. Griffin has to leave real quick, still processing the events, to gather supplies necessary for a burial or disposal of a body, he's going through the motions basically. It is when he is maybe returning or just leaving the location that he meets The Contractor. The Contract is basically the almost standard deal of bringing Griffin's sister back to life and he'll...well, we know the rest."


Francis' role was to infiltrate and steal the supplies of their rivals, assignments that were not focused on diminishing the numbers of able combatants or to raze the place to the ground and let blood flow through the streets as surely as water courses through a river, instead his role was to infiltrate the location quickly and steal the supplies of their rivals and then leave as soon as possible. A purpose that requires cunning and stealth and speed,

was to get in and to get out as quickly as possible.

Terms of the Contract:

wip

Any other details/secrects I should know:

wip

Masked One

Real Name:

New Name:

Nickname(s):

Age:
Twenty - Five

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Pansexual

Mask:

Abilities:

- Illusion Magic

- Kitsune Physiology

Weapons Of Choice:

How Long They've Been At The Manor:

Appearance:

Personality:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

History:

That's Classified

*Terms of the Contract:

*Any other details/secrets that I should know:

May I reserve a the owl masked one?

Reserved!

Could I reserve the wolf mask please :>

WIP

So sorry for the wait. College has been a bother.

Real Name:

Eliora B. Stillwell

Meaning “The Lord is my light” and “Dweller by the quiet stream”

New Name:

Fenella

Meaning “White Shouldered One”

Age:

25

Gender:

Female

Sexuality:

Heterosexual & Monogamous

Mask:

The Owl

Abilities:

Haunting Gales

Flying on the shadows of the night, Fenella presents a harrowing challenge for those she faces. By warping the shadows around her, the delicate fabric of her cloak begins to morph – turning into a pair of shadowy wings, flickering with still darkness and quaint shadows. These wings are akin to those of an owl’s and just as silent as one’s. However, these wings tear with ease, being as fragile as glass. Once damaged, the cloak must be stitched back together with the exact material that it was originally made of in the exact same pattern as it once was. Otherwise, this ability is rendered useless.

Scouting Mysteries

Eliora’s connect to owls runs much deeper than a simple mask or shadowing wings. Some say that her very soul is connected to the feathery beings, having the ability to harness their general skills as well as the owls themselves. No one truly knows how she does it – let alone herself – but she is known to cause owls to all but appear out of thin air. A summoner’s ability, of sorts, calling upon these marvelous creatures for their aid. To the human eye, the owls she summons look completely normal – taking on the appearance of any and all species within the area. However, to her and the other Masks, these owls are far from the standard species. While patterns, sizes, and shapes may vary, these mystery beings always carry the same color scheme. Pure orange eyes, void of pupils. Blue, white, and orange feathers with patterns so unworldly that it may be hard for some to look away, but with links to true owls via their patterning. And a slightly transparent body with starry like lights sprinkled about their form. A ghost in the realm of the living. For her, these creatures are both companions and allies – acting as scouts or sentries during missions. They take a lot of energy to summon and exhaust even more whenever moving about, excluding idle movements. They also only present during late night hours, leaving her completely in the dark in terms of information during any possible day-time missions. For the most part, these false owls are completely harmless, enacting only minimal damage upon foes. When in a pinch, they are simply used as a sort of distraction rather than a viable way to deal damage. The biggest issue with these otherworldly creatures, however, is their unpredictability. Although connected to Fenella, they are considered to be their own entities. They have thoughts, feelings, and desires separate to her own and are not strictly loyal to her either. At any time for any reason, they can relay false information about what they surveyed. All she can do is trust that the mysterious owl beings won’t do such a thing and take their assessment at face value…

Weapons of choice:

Fenella’s main weapon is a leather whip, tipped with a pointed barb. The bard is not particularly sharp, save for its point. It is typically used for slowing down targets or even preventing them from moving forward by wrapping around a limb. She has no secondary weapon.

How long they’ve been at the Manor:

Fenella doesn’t precisely know when she first stepped into the manner’s walls. She has never been able to keep track of them, despite being under a Contract. Not that she wishes to anyway. Those around her have to constantly remind her of the days, months, years, and hours that she’s been here. From what she can recall, the last time she was informed of her time here it racked up to around 600 years.

Appearance:

{Build & Body}

{Facial Features (which are technically unseen)}

{Mask (may mix with facial features}

{Clothes}

{Accessories}

Personality:

Eerily Quiet || Loner || Intelligent || Strategic || Experienced || Slight Airhead || Unassuming || Self-confident || Independent || Bookworm || Spiritual || Curious || Somewhat Compassionate

You turn on your heel to walk away, anger gripping your face after the frustration that had just occurred – only to startle at the figure behind you. The eerily quiet form of Fenella stood in your wake, empty amber eyes staring back behind her equally as haunting mask. After a few moments, she tilts her head, curious as to what the issue may be. Her once and still eerie demeanor addings a sprinkling of gentleness to it, an odd sort of approachable air with the slight edge danger lingering about. Perhaps you should tell her?

Strengths:

+ Intelligence

+ Stealth

+ Speed

+ Shadows/Darkness

+ Experience

+ Agile

Weaknesses:

- Unwillingness To Speak

- Faulty Memory

- Light/Daytime

- Durability

- Closed In Spaces

- Pyrophobia

History:

Eliora was born into a noble family, high in the ranks but a distance from the king. She was the youngest of seven children born to this couple, consisting of two girls (excluding herself) and four boys – the eldest being a son and the youngest (born only three years after her) being a daughter. Like any high standing family, her parents were quick to teach her “proper” manners. Not speaking when spoken to, never talking with your mouth full, bowing when greeting an honored guest, and on and on the list went. Torture is what she considered it, a mindless game of ‘yes sirs’ and ‘yes maams’ and other meaningless pleasantries.

A “refined” boarding school was eventually deemed worthy following some less-than-stellar “exams” performed by her mother and lack of improvement in her regalness. A needless improvement in her eyes, but seen as necessary by her parents. A nightmare from the deepest depths of her mind. And yet, a blessing in disguise. It was in that dusty and dry boned little town that she met him. The love of her life, though she didn’t know it at the time. He was a baker’s boy, just a few years older than him and fitted with the flour covered “beggars” clothes as her mother used to call them. Which she, admittedly, agreed with. Though, she had to admit that she found it charming, the way that he held himself. Proud and unashamedly despite his dirtied appearance, as though he didn’t have a worry on his mind in the wake of his obvious downtrodden situation. She didn’t know what came over her at that moment. Maybe it was the odd twinge of compassion? Perhaps something else that no human can ever understand? But she couldn’t but toss him a coin – the spur of such a choice forever unobtainable for her young heart. Her mother praised her for her generosity… but she couldn’t help but feel the stained edge to her tone held so much more than she was letting on.

Over the course of her teen years and her stay at the school, she encountered the young fellow many more times. Although he claimed it to be a simple coincidence, she had the feeling in the back of her mind that he might be seeking her out. Every meeting, he would bring her some of his best baked goods. A treat compared to the slop the school fed them. (Some ‘refind’ school this is, she always seemed to comment, Don’t even have the decency to feed the nobility that comes through their doors. Even a baker’s boy can do better than them with the simplest of materials.) In return, gold coins were allotted for his kindness service. It took her some time to catch on to the feelings she held for him, most of which were shoved down the minute they circled throughout her mind. It seemed to be inevitable that these emotions would blossom if his persistence wasn’t evidence enough. But it broke her heart when the time came to say goodbye.

After many years of wallowing in the pain that was her boarding school and doing nothing more than playing the part, Eliora finally returned home to her family estate – delighted to see her siblings, but not so much her parents. However, among the crowd was a handsome young man with a smug smile and disgustingly beautiful eyes. A new face in her life, but one that was sure to be of noble status considering his lavash clothing. After their record-spinning greetings, the reason for his presence was then announced by her father. He was to be her husband. The pit of her stomach turned in repulsion of the announcement. Fiance? Him? Glancing into his eyes, her repulsion turned to rage. No. She wasn’t about to take this lying down.

At the age of seventeen, she fled her family sted – towards the mountains of the only place she could think of. Days went into her travel, filled with scratches, scrapes and bumps. Her once pristine clothing turned to mere shreds at the constant tearing of bramble and brush. She looked as lowly as a peasant… but it was better than looking like a royal. Finally, she reaches her destination, knocking on the door during the wee hours of the morning. It didn’t take long for him to open the door, as groggy and confused as he was. But he was quick to wake upon the impending bear hug. She was home.

The two married but a year later, not long after she turned eighteen and he twenty. Though, it took some years before they ever tried for a family, with her beloved working for a more stable household than what they currently had. Their son was born when she was twenty one. A happy, healthy, and rambunctious bundle of joy. The light of her life… if only they had seen the blaze a-roaring.

She could only watch in horror and disbelief at the scene before her, eyes prickling with tears which rendered her blind the longer she stared. Flames as high as the tallest pine tree tore away at her once precious home, her husband and son still inside. Her pleas for aid were left unanswered, none too keen on risking their necks for her family. As the fire settled to ash and the rains of a new dawn rolled in, she traded all she had left – her memories – for a life beyond her own.

Terms of the Contract:

A perilous deal was made the night of The Event, tears falling down her cheeks as she stared back at the shadowy figure before her – his form blurred behind the mask of sorrow she wore. A tantalizing offer was made, a solution to all her grief and misery that swarmed her heart like a nest of bees. The chance to request change in exchange for her life. She took it without hesitation, but her wish was… not anything most could predict. One that pained her at the very thought of it, yet stilled some of the unrest in her soul. The erasure of her memories. Of her childhood, her lover, her own son. A hard choice to make, but one she was willing to follow if it meant that her husband and son were not stirred from their rest. Few things can she recollect from her previous days, aside from the agreement to the contract and her Christian ways.

One thousand years is her sentence – to some a curse but to her a blessing. For her, this is life. A blessed career where she can reside. Besides God, there is nothing beyond it and she is in no rush to leave it. If the contract was ever extended, she’d simply continue to enjoy it. After all, it is all she knows.

Other:

- Fenella has an unexplainable fear of large fires (in her mind, anyway). Specifically the more uncontrollable ones. She will become frozen on the spot upon seeing them, as if she is reliving some tragedy. Afterwards, however, she can never put into detail what exactly caused her to freeze or what she saw when she did.

- The one detail she retained from her old life was her beliefs. She is a devout Christian and can often be found studying the word in her own time. However, she cannot help but feel like she is missing something in that regard.

- It is due to her lack of a memory that she hasn’t evolved as of yet. Then again, she doesn’t wish to.

- Eliora only knows that she made the contract, but doesn’t know what she was offered or what she requested. Either way, she truly doesn’t care.

Reserved!