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I was recently reminded of an old character from another site, and the more I thought about her, the more I began to think of other characters as well that I might want to bring back in some fashion. But I don't want to clutter my existing thread with the past, so I decided to create this second character thread to showcase and reference new iterations of these old characters.
Each post will be as self-contained as possible, though I may divide an entry into parts should it grow too long. Bear in mind that these characters are only partly in their original forms, as I am reinventing them for this site (or for other future uses). While I will be putting info about these characters into each post, however, I will also be showcasing some of the writing that went into those characters - either specific posts from RPs that I found to be of special quality or importance to the character, or perhaps vignettes that were written for a specific purpose, et cetera.
The bulk of what's here will be drawn from a single site, but I may include other sites as well. To avoid conflict, I won't be naming the site in question - I don't think that's allowed. But suffice to say it was an extremely open and versatile high fantasy site with a solid group I'd been with for years off and on, and to be honest...I kinda miss them. Ah, nostalgia...
The first toon that came to mind when thinking of this thread was a fae mercenary by the name of (bear with me here) Volare Valashyrinea d'alo'Valticarane of Gwyllion; it was pronounced ”vull-ARR-ay vale-uh-SHEE-rin-AY-uh de-AL-aw-vault-ee-car-AW-nay”. Yeah, it's a complicated name...the character's old, aight? XD For this iteration, I'm going to simplify the name as Volare of Gwillion. I've changed the spelling of Gwyllion here, as you can see, but the pronounciation remains the same: "vul-AR-ay" of "GWILL-ee-on".
Volare was a mercenary who fell in with a werecat (I think she might have been a wereleopard?) whose name I can't recall. The woman had her own mercenary company and Volare entered into a romantic relationship with her, ultimately allowing the woman to bite her. This allowed Volare to gain some serious power, but the transformation was permanent:
Although I did edit some of the pieces together to create a couple different looks for the original character, the artwork itself I can only credit to someone whose name I legitimately cannot remember. He and I worked together, as his character was the love interest of my own, to create the visual idea of the character.
At her core, the character was modeled after Angelina Jolie's representation of Maleficent. However, she had some lore that will be presented in the story I'm about to post. Basically, her people split into rival factions long ago and at some point, her wings were forcibly removed. The goal of the character was to regain her wings or to develop new wings and gain newfound power. She despised humankind and did not hold back, though my partner's character was starting to try to temper some of that hatred. It was a very slow build for their connection.
My reinvention of her is that she is indeed a mercenary possessed of a fae bloodline. She fell in with a woman afflicted with a feline form of therianthropy that made her a permanent wereleopard and was the leader of a mercenary company. Volare became her lover and allowed herself to be bitten, creating the permanent form you see above. While I may flesh her out beyond this later, this is now considered part of her backstory.
But to avoid further delay, below lies a story entitled "Volare's Perfect Memory". Enjoy.
We were many, once, the Tilwith Teg…our tribe numbered in the thousands. We were as varied as we were numerous, as well. But humans came, and…I get ahead of myself. Suffice to say that humans cannot be trusted. Their ambition, their avarice, their lust for conquest…in the end, they are a fire that cannot be stopped, even when they burn themselves and everyone around them to ashes. They usually burn even the ashes, and then there is nothing.
Gwillion and Ellion were one nation long ago, before even we can recall. For reasons lost to history, there was a divide cast between us. In the east, they say that they are of Ellion; they say that they are not of Gwillion. But in the west - in my lands - we say that we are of Gwillion, not of Ellion. There is an uneasy truce between us and an unspoken agreement that neither people shall cross the Aos Sí, the greatest river of our lands. It is a fast-running river, so fast that none who touch it can swim strong enough to escape its ever-pull - not even those who dwell within it. Where the river flows, no one knows; we only know that it is broad, it is swift, and it is deep. But unlike the Ellion, we will heal those who cross the river and return them to it, ensuring thereafter that they return to their own lands; the Ellion will simply kill us if we are caught in their lands.
Despite this eternal taboo, life in Gwillion is…was…peaceful. It was a beautiful paradise, one untouched for countless millennia by any outsiders save the rare Celestial. They deeply respected our lands and our people, and they recognized that our troubles and our lives were our own. They did not interfere, although they did visit us on occasion to sample the majesty of the Fae peoples. In truth, we do not even recall the tribal name of the Ellion; it, too, has been lost to the ceaseless shifting of the sands of time. But their lives were much like ours.
Nature was unspoiled in Gwillion and in Ellion. Its denizens relied upon one another not only to survive, but to thrive. Great herds of buffalo moved across the plains; the rivers and lakes provided food and water; the trees and bushes provided shade and fruit as well as comfortable places to sit, and they were always whispering and giggling to one another (although the bushes were much more hushed), and the moss sat quietly as it watched them both without judgment; giraffes were among the most useful members of our world, providing a place to rest as well as plenty of shade, all the while pruning the trees to keep them uncluttered; there were great elephants that were so familial as to put even wolves of distant lands to shame; and even the wind was as friendly as could be, always carrying gossip but never cutting too deep.
Like I said…it was paradise.
The moon was among the most spectacular things one could ever see.
I remember one night in particular…
The grasses were whispering the gossip that the wind had lightly carried to them as the trees and bushes settled down for the evening. The giraffes and elephants had lain together, the former watching over the latter and the group as a whole tending to the young of both. Fruit bats were picking what they could from the trees where the shadows grinned, sneaking about like pranksters on the prowl. What was left of the sun glittered upon the river, the water dancing beneath the waning light. The sky had become like fire that somehow did not burn, the orange and gold giving everything a reddish tinge that was slowly fading into a deep violet hue.
My own great wings, proud and strong like those of the fruit bats but as grand as the feathered wings of the eagles, had settled down to ward off the ticklish wind. It had a grand sense of humor indeed, the wind, and it liked to play tricks that were mostly harmless. But it had a cool touch, and I did not wish to be so touched that evening. Nonetheless, I let it play with my hair and carry to me the many scents of Gwillion. Wild strawberries and blueberries and blackberries were ripe and succulent by then, and the delicious multitude of fragments mixed with the wood and the honey and the almost buttery smell of the flowers particularly well. It was…intoxicating, to say the least.
I recall sitting atop a hill overlooking a small valley, the eagles and hawks and falcons returning to their nests in the distance. My left knee was up, my right leg folded beneath it, and my fingers were laced together around my raised knee. I long once more to watch as the sun slowly sank beneath that distant horizon, making the river almost blaze a brilliant white. For the briefest of times that seemed to last forever, it highlighted the very limit of my vision.
Then the sun fell like a nut sinking to the bottom of a lake. The orange and gold faded into red and pink, and even those soon gave way to the deep purple of twilight. And as the darkness became complete, I gazed up to see the most wondrous sight that any could ever see: twinkling lights so bright and numerous that they were almost difficult to look at. As the purple deepened into blue and black, I watched with wonder as the great deities gathered high above even where I could soar. My lips parted and I could not help but draw in a sharp breath as I gazed upon infinity. I could see the Centaur drawing an arrow in his bow; the Great Cup and the Small Cup forever waiting to be dipped into whatever nectar it was upon which the deities fed; the Chariot roaring across the sky as the wild stallions and mares swung their manes…
Each constellation was unique, each one meant something different, and each one was fascinating on its own. Piece by piece, however, they formed a vivid tapestry that stretched from one end of the sky to the other and from each corner to every other corner. It was almost intimidating to know just how insignificant one was among so much Celestial glamour. It was impossible not to be both awestruck and immeasurably grateful to be an audience before such a spectacle. But none of this could compare to the most fantastic sight of all, and even the Centaur and the Chariot gave way to their most beautiful queen.
She was not smooth. She was marked with many ancient carvings that made up her face, and it was a lovely face to those who observed it. None could deny the brilliance of the light she heaped upon the world, and that night, she shone in all her glory. The Moon was absolutely radiant that evening, almost as bright as the sun itself, yet its light did not burn my storm-gray eyes. No…the light was soft and soothing, comforting, almost a song of light painted with its own resplendent brush. There was not a single star, not a single constellation, nor even a group of stars or constellations that could compare to the Moon, as full as it was that night.
It was gorgeous. It was amazing and mesmerizing. It was not the calm before the storm that I now know it to have been. No, at that moment, it was more than just a Celestial body or a deity watching over the night creatures that slept and those that did not, just as the sun watched over the day creatures that had stirred and those that dared not. It was far more than all of these things. It was simply…
…perfect.
To further showcase some of what my RP partner at the time and I created, the image below was the ultimate form Volare gained once she had found a way to give herself new wings. They were quite powerful, able to create what amounted to huge gusts that could drive her enemies back. This, combined with her almost berserker rage and dual-wielding sword skills, made her a fearsome and lethal opponent in almost any engagement.
Click to enlarge image.
I should probably also note that this was long before furries exploded onto the internet and into pop culture. I don't consider myself a furry but I wouldn't mind playing this character again. She was a fierce woman and a deadly fighter, but she was also far more vulnerable than she would ever let most people see. Her lover was the one person who truly knew something of the girl behind the mask, so to speak.
While thinking about Volare, I recalled another character that I kind of want to play again as well. Her name was Sita Scheherazade (pronounced "SEE-tuh she-HAIR-uh-ZAW-dee"), and she was the deadliest of assassins. To my recollection, she was a half-elven woman raised by a secretive man who lived in the shadows, completely and happily forgotten by the rest of the world. He refused to allow her to see him as her father, instead being only her mentor, despite him having raised her.
Her origins were...a mystery. However, she became something of an urban legend due to her prowess as a stealthy assassin; she was inescapable, and she caused her targets to kill themselves as often as she ended them herself. No one knew what she looked like, and no one who'd ever encountered her had lived to tell the tale unless they were a tool in her employ, either willingly or not. Her most notable feature was that she covered herself constantly, except in her most private sanctuary, due to a significant portion of her face and neck being covered in a horrible burn-like disfigurement. I don't recall whether I had a story to that but I probably did.
Traps were her forte, but she liked using easily concealable weapons and poisons as well. She had a variety of skills and was based heavily upon the skills and tools of ninja from feudal Japan. Sita was a cold, almost emotionless character; I say almost because in private, she could become emotional sometimes. But her mentor had taught her to bury everything personal as deeply as she could - one of the reasons he refused to have her treat him as her father, I think, though I don't know if I considered that at the time. She was unmasked once in an RP, and it was a horrific experience for her. She was so self-conscious about her appearance that this was something of a psychotic break when it happened, and she had buried it so deeply that she may not have even remembered her disfigurement except when forced to think about it. But when she was exposed, it was such a huge blow to her because secrecy was such a vital component of her psyche. It was as much a part of her as her skin, so strongly had her mentor imprinted its importance upon her.
She did visit his grave frequently, and he had been dead long before the actual playing of the character. If discovered, this certainly would have been another powerful blow to her fragile mind. She kept what was personal buried deep, like I said, and it was so private that it was an intrinsic quality of the character as a whole. It was never discovered, however, and her unmasking led to her going into hiding for a long time. At least, that's the excuse I used to give me time to figure out what to do with her now that she had been unmasked. I sadly did not pick up the character again, but I think it would be interesting to do so.
Shiekah (from "The Legend of Zelda") was used as a model for her character but as that's technically copyrighted art and not actually original, I won't be displaying it here. The following image might be from Dragon Age: Inquisition's character creator but I cannot confirm this. However, it was used as a basis for the following model I made in Photoshop for the character. This is essentially what she looks like without her coverings, or at least what I could put together for what I had in mind at the time. The second image is the model I created for Sita.
Click to enlarge images.
Also note that the second image originally had a transparent background that was removed by paint when I was resizing the clickable for this post. That's why you can see a white border around it; just ignore that. This is merely a reference for you, the reader, anyway.
And to follow that up, I have a one-shot that I posted on the site I mentioned earlier. You can see in the one-shot that I specifically refer to Kunoichi, which were female ninja (and extremely rare, I might add) in the real world. While I altered "Volare's Perfect Memory" slightly - changing some spellings, removing references to the source site, and making other minor corrections - the story posted below is unmodified. I've copied it as-is from the document in which I had it saved (well, re-saved for a rich text format).
Silent feet moved through the dense undergrowth between two hills. Deft hands and a dagger sharper than any razor sliced leaves, stems, and roots from various small plants. Into a small bag they went, building up a small supply that the cutter could take to her employer. He had demanded a large stock of a rare material, and he needed various parts of various plants to create what he wished. It was a form of armor, he had said, that was highly susceptible to fire but very strong. It was crafted from the toughest plant fibers, and he needed it quickly. He had received a large order and had only a month in which to fill it. Ordinarily, this was the kind of work that would have been done by gardeners. Unfortunately, the location of the plant her employer wished to use was very dangerous. No one wanted to collect the plant. He had offered a thousand gold to anyone that could bring back enough cuttings for a single suit of armor.
Sita, however, had no interest in the gold. She had worked him well, yet he was as stubborn as a mule. She needed information from him - a lot of information - and this was the only way to get it. If she could get these plants for him, she would receive the gold and the information. She would also have a valuable informant in the palm of her hand. This was about more than just armor; this was about business of the most vital kind. Informants and messengers were among the most important pieces in an information network, and an information network was by far the most important piece of an assassin’s work. Sita was very highly paid for her work because she never failed and never got caught. The reputation of the Kunoichi had spread well to this place. There was just one problem: she was one of the few Kunoichi left.
The Kunoichi were dwindling back home. It had taken her months to gather that information, a fact in itself that proved how old the ancient ways were. The old ways were the best ways; everyone who knew Kunoichi personally knew that. But the empire’s youngest daughter had betrayed the Kunoichi. She had secretly hired them to wipe out her entire family, and she had taken the throne as a result. Vicious and tyrannical, she was turning Sita’s homeland into an industrial wasteland focused on one thing and one thing only: gold. She was bleeding the people dry. The problem with this was that Sita was loyal to the empire, even if she despised the Empress. She had jumped on this assignment the moment that it had been offered, unable to watch as her homeland suffered so much. She did not like what she was reduced to doing to survive here, yet she had managed to stockpile a great supply of gold. She had established several safe houses. She had established a network of information and communication. She had established servants that did what she needed them to do without question, hesitation, or failure.
Now, three other Kunoichi had been publicly exposed and eliminated. Sita had discovered the source: a powerful mage with a grudge against assassins in general. In order to kill him, Sita needed information. She refused to suffer the same fate as her fellow Kunoichi. Of course, no one here knew of the Kunoichi; they only knew of Sita’s fellow Kunoichi as assassins - the best of the best. Yet their information and communication networks had been shredded and they had wound up chewing worms. Several of Sita’s contacts had been compromised already. She had eliminated a couple of loose ends, cutting the serpent off at the crossroads. Now the serpent was trapped and frantically searching for the rabbit; little did the serpent know that the rabbit was an even bigger serpent.
Sita had to work quickly, she knew. She had already given her employer the time of his life - something that she had never done before without eliminating the man by morning. She had entered his bedchamber twice, actually. The man was disgusting and not very good, and Sita had purified herself after both sessions. Now, she had been promised information and gold after this job - and she was going to get it done regardless of how boring or menial it was. After collecting what she needed, however, she soon discovered that she was being tracked. By who or what, she did not know. She led her pursuer on a grand chase but after a while, it was time to spring a trap. She vanished into the mists, disappearing like smoke. After many moments, her pursuer revealed itself. It was a Tiefling bounty hunter. So the wizard had found her. This time, however, a Kunoichi had the upper hand.
A gust of wind flew at the Tiefling, emanating from the fan that Sita carried. She stowed it immediately thereafter and moved quickly, disappearing before he could discern the source of the unnatural breeze. She sent his way another gust, from the north this time, and then a third from the east. Finally, she replaced her fan with a trio of shuriken. The first one took him across the stomach; he had bent backward, narrowly avoiding a lethal shot. A second one embedded itself into the back of his knee, however, and he cried out. The third took out his other knee. He managed to stand after a moment, yet he could not remove the shuriken. That was when Sita struck with her hands. She reached deep within herself, focusing her instincts on the element of air and thrusting it forward in a devastating blow to his right upper arm.
The bounty hunter cried out again as Sita darted back into the mists, her White Fang Strike shattering one of the bones in his arm and making the arm as a whole begin to seize up. When he tried to move it, the arm shook violently; he cried out again, the jostled broken bone piercing tearing apart the flesh of his arm from within. A shuriken entered his right eye, making him scream, yet it did not kill him. Sita watched the scene with deep interest. Never before had she used the technique in a real battle. Never before had she considered herself worthy of using it. She had not had much choice in the matter, however. If this Tiefling could track a Kunoichi, he was not to be allowed to strike. But she suddenly felt satisfied as she effectively wielded the technique against her opponent. She felt…almost validated, in a way. It was as though her training had peaked, and she knew now that she was every bit the warrior that her master had said she was.
Now it was time to end this.
Sita moved forward quickly, extending her fan and twirling. She never touched him; she never had to. He drew a blade with his left hand, yet he dropped it as a deep gash across his left inner forearm developed. Her fan had disarmed him. She slashed again, cutting another wound from his left hip to his right shoulder, and then another across his stomach. Finally, she moved behind him and drew her dagger. She thrust his jaw upward with her right arm as she dragged the lethally sharp blade across his tender flesh. A crimson line formed and he desperately sought air, yet none that came remained. It all escaped through the horizontal hole that now adorned his throat. He fell to his damaged knees, his right arm still shaking as his left arm desperately clawed at his throat. He could not utter the words of a healing spell, and so he swiftly collapsed to the ground. He jerked about for a few moments before the infernal light surrounded by his red-orange irises swiftly began to die.
Sita did not like to be hunted. She did not like to be tracked. Most importantly, she did not like to be thought of as unimportant enough to send a mere Tiefling to do the work of a full demon. If she wasn’t even considered a threat, this mage was either nowhere near as powerful as he claimed to be or he was so arrogant that he didn’t believe that Sita was good enough to slay him. With this attempted assassination of an assassin, things had just become personal.
Now she was pissed off.
Unfortunately, I do not recall the context for this story. I don't think it was part of her main story, but it's an interesting bit of writing regardless.
Oh, fun fact: Sita's name was inspired by the main character in Christopher Pike's The Last Vampire series. It's a six-volume pack of pocket paperbacks centering on a vampire named Sita with some Hindu mythology as the basis of the world. Fascinating read - you should check them out. The last name I'll let you google for your own entertainment, but I mostly just liked the sound of it (especially the alliteration of the two names).
