What is a mortician if not a very, very late doctor?

-- Cordelia's favorite joke

The responsibilities of a funerary witch are such; Mortician, Undertaker, overseer of the graveyard, Funeral home director, exorcist, and, in Cordelia's case, mentor.

While she has employees for most of these, raising a teenager is one of her hardest tasks yet. Made only harder by the kid's propensity for wandering off.

Lord, where did she go now?

Backstory

Cordelia had always been surrounded by Death, it had seemed. From her parent's Funeral home, to them ending up in said funeral home, leaving her to be raised by her sister Abigail. It had never been easy for the two of them. When she was still young, Abigail left her too, leaving a young Cordelia to fend for herself, along with her familiar, a church grim by the name Mr. Beans

Recently, she's picked up an apprentice, a kid given up by his own family, too sick to be taken care of anymore. They begged the witch to do something, to help their child, and if it meant taking him away, so be it.

Presently, Cordelia runs the Hawthorne funeral home in the small out-of-the-way town of Addersfield, while teaching and taking care of her daughter, Doe Hawthorne

(it is to be noted that Cordelia is a notorious unreliable narrator)

Physical Appearance + Notes

Cordelia is a tall woman with lightly tanned skin. Her hair is dark brown, with strands of gray running through it, it's curly, but that cannot be seen usually, as she wears it in a long braid. Her eyes are a bright green, and she wears rectangular glasses with a small wire frame. She always looks at least a little worn down by life, with crows feet beginning to form at her eyes. 

Often, Cordelia dresses like she stole the clothes right off of a man from the Victorian era, lots of pinstripes and vests. She owns a lot of tasteful black clothes, fit for funerals, but enjoys her fair share of gaudy, colorful clothes when she can. No matter what she wears, she always keeps her onyx and gold bolo tie on. It's just neat.

Big jackets run in the Hawthorne family, it would seem. Cordelia tends to wear hers as a cape more than she ever puts it on normally, though.

• people skills (bordering on manipulative)
• expert in her magic
• medical knowledge
• Independent

• hesitant
• not trusting
• not physically strong
• 
  

I have done such evil by you

-- Prologue: Elaine

Once the de-facto leader of the church of Aodanr, he brought about a decades long crusade with the sworn purpose to subjugate the wills of the world so they could all move in one, non conflicting direction. He believes the true potential of Aodanr is squandered with too many conflicting desires. 

He was defeated politically by Abigail Hawthorne, and her movement of doctrinal compassion and compromise. Between a growing weariness for war, a high death toll, and increasing pressure, most of his supporters abandoned him. His last fervent supporter, Elaine, tended to his needs in his declining years, before sacrificing herself so he could be reborn in his prime. 

With his youth restored, he now now ascends the Pantheons under the guise of Father Jay Ehcor, a fun loving, guitar strumming peaceful worshiper of Aodinr. He intends to silence Abigail Hawthorne once and for all, and restart his ambitions for war and utopia. 

Backstory

Born as a bastard child from an affair, Idris Cambor's childhood was paradoxically ideal and tumultuous. He never met his birth father, and his mother, Delia Cambor, promised to never speak of her moment of weakness while his step father, Caris Cambor, was off to war. He grew up in the third borough of the port city of New Deplo, often called little Sidonya, named after a plane of hell due to the many settled Daemons in the area. His father was a celebrated veteran, and off the benefits of his service, they had a relatively nice life in the rather poor neighborhood. Young Idris's step father treated him with a sense of mild detachment, something that didn't become clear until his little sisters, twins Baria, and Clada, were born. 

Even before that he felt a profound sense of isolation. He went to an inner city school, where he felt disconnected from his peers by class. His closest friends were the teachers and staff. His original dream was to be a teacher, conflating their authority with respect, but also having a genuine desire to help others. 

The arts called to him, especially music. When the instruments came out, no one was rich, or poor, or bastards, or the favorite child. Everyone simply had their part to play, and the music was a character all its own. He became laser focused on becoming, specifically, a music teacher: even at this age he was very direct about his approach to all things.

And then tragedy came knocking on his 16th birthday. His step father died, sending the rest of his family into a deep depression. At first, he felt spared from this tragedy: the man had never shown him the same love as the rest of his family, and so he never got too attached to the person who insisted he be called 'dad.' But his mother and his sisters were dear to him, and seeing them spiral caused a strange, conflicted agony in him.

It was the catalyst for him to begin studying mysticism, the divine dragons, and pushed him into more scholarly pursuits for a time, trying to make peace with his conflicted heart. He took to the worship of Aodanr like a fish to water. It was an apathetic god, but that was not a deal breaker. He was very used to apathetic people at this point in his life. The important part was Aodanr came with no judgements. It was a god that promised that if he followed his passions they could come true. It was more support than he had ever received form anyone. 

There was already a stigma around the name of Aodanr at this time, but it was mild. A god that granted fantastical power un-vetted so long as you paid a price is always going to attract a certain kind of person. When his mother expressed her concerns, it soured their relationship. Slowly he began to drift apart from his family, eventually leaving to find a job in a church of Aodanr. He was a paladin, trained to fight, though he was rather adverse to violence at the time. He spent most of his late teens and early twenties writing the fables that make up the bulk of Aodanr holy text to song, and sharing them. Being called Sir Cambor rubbed him the wrong way. It was how people referred to his step father. He formally changed his name to Jeroche during this time, taking the name of his high-school music teacher.

Sir Jeroche got his first taste of combat and deployment when one of the many sects of the worship of Aodanr cited some lesson about some fable that made the other churches heathens in their eyes, and worthy of extermination. Much to his horror, at the time, it was his own sect. He wound up deserting, being familiar with the fables and finding the conclusions his own church had drawn appalling. Eventually he wound up moving half way around the world, and becoming a paladin for an unrelated faction of Aodanr worshipers, one's that worshiped them as Aodinr, in the context of being more of an art goddess. But peace wouldn't last for long as a neighboring church squabbled over the true meaning of another fable and they were back to fighting. Jaroche was starting to understand why his mother was worried. In the books the many petty wars of Aodanr believers were a little timeline of silly stories. But in person, it was a fresh new hell every few months. 

He didn't run away though, not this time. He liked his peace loving little sect and fought to defend it. He was more fierce than the rest of his piers, and his habit of using the masculine pronunciation of their god rubbed them the wrong way, but he didn't care that he was quickly becoming outcast yet again. His passions drove him to defend this little space until he was excommunicated. He had suggested they should counter attack, and destroy those who would bully them. He cited the fables of The Three Moons, and The Viorinokenshi, and though some of the church was moved, others found using such sweet and peaceful tales to justify such violence beyond unpalatable.

The betrayal weighed heavy in his heart. The lives he had taken had been in vain. The sins he had committed were for the ungrateful. And his solution that he poured so much effort into planning had gotten him abandoned yet again. In his rage he swore that he would end these wars. He joined one of the many churches that he had been holding back, and parleyed his knowledge of the peaceful sect into letting him lead one last offensive. He got his first taste revenge. 

And then another sect labeled the destruction a violation of the lessons of the Witch and the Giant, and attacked. Jeroche had enough of these squabbles. He was tired of the fighting. But he took his newfound success and began crafting new fables, ones he claimed were divinely inspired, to justify the counterattack and conquest of any enemy to his new sect. It wasn't long until every rival around them were forced to convert to their views, or slaughtered. The church that formed from this new super sect was a chaotic soup of different ideas and views, and to his frustration, the fighting didn't stop with conquest. And so he began an internal campaign of changing minds, or expelling heathens. What remained was stronger, sharper, leaner. An engine of war that consistently moved the way the young paladin wanted. Understanding the power he held, he capitalized on it to stop future conflicts. Whenever sects fought he would pick a side and render aid, but though his aggressive religious politics, he'd wind up swallowing both sides of each conflict and converting them to march in step with him. With more followers sharing the same desires, communal prayers got stronger, their focus got stronger, and he developed the philosophy that would carry him throughout his life. 

Aodanr has no will, Aodanr is just the music we all play. And without a conductor, it is just noise. All desires must serve the orchestra, only then can the music of a better world be heard. And he would be that conductor. As he set about unifying the faith, he came across many small towns to deliver his ultimatums in the guise of aid, he came across a young funerary witch named Abigail Hawthorne, an orphan that lived alone with her little sister. They were elbows deep in dark magic. Jeroche saw a lot of himself in that feral witch's eyes. How she lashed out. How boxed in she felt. How she felt no one really understood her. That all of her desires had to be sidelined. For all of his building of followers, he had yet to take a true apprentice. And so Jeroche manipulated Abigail to leave home and learn directly from him.

He taught her his philosophy, the true philosophy behind the war machine. He taught her how to fight, and how to focus in the heat of battle. How to twist and word prayers, speaking them backwards to shoulder the burdens of cost. He taught her how to use others to her advantage. 

And he taught her that she would be loved if she simply obeyed.

Her training was done as Father Jeroche finally took the title of priest, and left the front lines, now confident he had a pawn ready to do his will. The unification of the church was almost done, and the next stage of his plan to create his utopia was under way. He launched a crusade. Instead of infighting, it was on other faiths, corporations, countries, anything he could justify. It started small, with easy targets: little nuggets of land that were embroiled in controversy or already deep in war that he simply took a side in. But the honed war machine of the new church of Aodanr didn't stop there. They used the conquests they took, and their political history to claim a right to further lands, to further people. And so the war marched on. 

Three years in, his apprentice betrayed him. Something in her had snapped, and all the lessons she learned folded back on themselves. Her rebellion didn't set back the war by much, but calls for execution rang out. But, with the shreds of empathy he had left, he remembered his own anger and frustrations. He decided to spare his apprentice, but forbade her from participating in the war any longer, lest she snap again and cause a more major upset. He would come to regret his mercy.

Over the next decade the crusades churned as a constant on the world stage. They were horrible things, everyone knew it. but over the course of a decade, it became an accepted fact of the world. There were crusades happening. Over there... somewhere. Between intimidation, and careful target selection, the international community had taken to turning a very blind eye. 

It was shortly after his formal promotion to High Priest, the official highest point of the holy hierarchy, did the name Abigail start to surface again. It was murmurs at first, that went ignored. But as the years dragged on, he found more and more vocal opposition to his invasions that had gone unchallenged before. More and more he began to hear that name. He caught her face in the background, talking with important people. Important people that started to oppose him. And then he started hearing her name from within his own congregation. About new interpretations of the old fables. About some of the fables he had written explicitly to justify his actions! The enthusiasm for his utopia was being undercut.

Thus began a quiet purging. Excommunications, disappearances, unfortunate accidents. The environment to these new ideas that had seeped into the church had become so hostile, many members that began to change their mind left of their own volition. Desperate to stem the bleeding, he began to plan out assassinations on his ex-apprentice, to right the wrongs of his mercy. It was too little, and too late. She was ready for them. And after a botched attempt in public view, where the assassin failed to destroy themselves, Abigail questioned him on live television. What was originally a broadcasting of a parade had turned into an interview between his greatest enemy, and someone that knew far too much. 

The worst part was... she changed the assassin's mind. On live television. She took apart his manipulations, and forgave the man that was inches away from putting a bullet in her skull for the world to see.

The crusades stopped. The next generation of Aodanr worshipers that had survived the purge took it upon themselves to return the favor. Holy Father Jeroche was excommunicated in shame. The world knew his name. The world had known what he had done. Only a few of the most dedicated followers he had followed him, and his paranoia drove away all but one. 

And he killed her so he could be reborn.

Now under the name Jay Ehcor, restored to his prime, he looks to find and kill Abigail himself, and then to fold his ideology of utopia back into the faith. To make new followers that will help him finish his calling. 

• Experienced
• Youthful Vigor
• Tremendous Divine Powers
• Ruthlessness

• Stubborn
• Inflexible Thinking
• Tremendous Anger
• Vengeful

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This risks associated with this action have not been previously assessed. Are you sure you want to proceed? [Y/N]

-- AZIMUTH Prime, LOG [47617465776179] 

Rumours have it that Katabax was a living, breathing creature once, from a world very different to Thraelos. What species it may have been before, nobody can answer, nor do they dare ask. What stands before them in the present is all that matters: a complex arrangement of sliding metal parts and uncompromising mechanisms, all sharpened to needlepoint and polished to a perfect reflective finish.

Katabax locks himself often in his personal workspace within the laboratories of Azimuth Manufacturing Company, only being caught slithering through the halls in the peripheral vision of his underlings. Speculation breeds like wildfire as to what it could be up to, but very few have curried favour with the cruel machine.

Backstory

Arma'chymos is a world defined by its ever-dark skies and metallic flora and fauna. It remains primitive in comparison to other worlds, stuck in its cycles by the overbearing pressures of heightened natural selection.

The creature that would eventually become Katabax was a small scavenger organism that first crawled out of the primordial soup. From the beginning, it had highly sensitive chemical receptors, being able detect poisonous chemicals in the remains it fed on. As it grew in size and speed, pre-Katabax began to select its diet, prioritizing creatures which learned tool manipulation and members of social species. Accumulating more and more of their data, in conjunction with its own natural senses, granted it intelligence.

Pre-Katabax never claimed a part of its home world's surface as its territory despite its burgeoning intelligence providing an advantage. Instead, it holed itself up in a tunnel near a pool of primordial soup and used it as its lair. It opted for a slippery, mobile body over heavy armour and specialized for precise dexterity over the obvious weapon in the form of claws. While the other apex creatures around it passively gained their own higher intelligence, Katabax was far ahead of them, experimenting and making observations of its greater environment. It had turned its gaze up to the skies too, wondering if there is anything beyond the grim skies.

Its answer would come in the form of a gateway. While it traced evidence of non-Chymic material buried deep in the data procured from its prey, another portal would periodically appear and disappear. Other creatures were afraid of it and no dominant individuals had claimed the immediate area. Katabax was determined to be the first to investigate.

The consequences were immediate. Katabax's body was rended apart in the space between Arma'chymos and its destination. On the other side, it emerged as a mangled mess of Chymic metal and flesh. Whoever were responsible shut the portal down and left Katabax in the chamber for months, where it proceeded to link itself to the computing system that operated the portal frame. The information it gained upon connecting to the system was immense, and finally, it had a name for the place it had ended up: Thraelos. From there, and with some assistance (and later material) from a particularly disturbed researcher, it restored as much as it could of its previous form.

Katabax has since been, strangely enough, accepted as another member of Azimuth Manufacturing Co.'s research staff, compelled to stay by the near limitless access to new information, and a particular agreement it had struck with the company's current Chief Director, Amira.

• Near-complete magic immunity
  
• High information processing capacity 
  
• Scientific expertise
• Surprisingly agile
• Polyglot
  
• Machine precision
  

• Fragile components and insides
• Extremely bulky
• Sensitive to heat and electricity
• Plates prone to denting and crushing
• Massive know-it-all
• Chymic metal deficiency

Look, TITAN abandoned that terminal like forever ago. Whatever is there is free to be tak- AHHH A GHOST!

-- Ember

A small dragon with a big debt and a bigger case of ADHD.

Backstory

Ember travels around looking for odd jobs to pay off a rather large debt she’s obtained. However she tends to mess it up by gambling it away before she’s able to make a payment, but 90% of gamblers quit before they strike it big so she continues the habit. Plus, running from collectors has led to interesting travel locations. 

When asked about her history Ember doesn’t give much, just that she was an orphan and decided to make her own way in life at 15. When asked her age, she’ll give a number anywhere between 14 (yes even if she said her backstory) and 24 depending on the situation. 

• Strong

• Agile

• Good at Catching Things on Fire

• Gullible
  
• Catches Things on Fire
  

Here to help! seriously, I- If you need anything... I uh, I gotcha!

-- Charlie Augustine

Bartender at the little dive in Origa. Real quiet guy, not much is actually known about him, but he seems nice enough.

seems to recognize Cordelia, Charles here feels bad for the stressed out mother, and decides to help.

Backstory

Charlie's father (the bastard) only ever left him one thing, before he ran out on them, Andre passed on a generational curse. Any use of magic slowly rots the user inside out, further eating away at their abilites (more on this in the abilities section)

Life growing up was a struggle, not really feeling like a girl, but not wanting to disappoint his mother, as well as showing promise with his handle on magic resulted in a lot of pressure. Charlie's mother raised him very strictly, and only got worse when the curse eventually manifested itself when he turned 17. She tried everything, called every expert she could, even the most experienced could not separate the curse from Charlie, it was too much a part of him.

Eventually, tired of the treatment, he ran away from his hometown of Addersfield, only returning once news reached him of his mother's death a year later.

Charlie spent a while travelling, technically homeless, never able to stay in one place for too long, before he eventually had enough to begin his transition, and get a steady job at a bar in Origa.

He has a bad feeling about all the people going up to the terminal, he hopes he's wrong

Man, if only we knew someone who worshiped the Goddess of bad luck, curses and misfortune..

Physical Appearance + Notes

Charlie is pretty big, with short, brown, curly hair, He has a soft face and dark brown beard, the same color as his hair. The white streak in his hair is actually a birthmark, it travels down his face, resulting in white patches on his eyebrows, eyelashes, and some of his beard.

He has these really big square glasses, practically blind without them. Charlie has a noticeable tooth gap and slightly sharpened canines. His eyebrows are in a constant worried expression, always slightly furrowed. He wears a lot of graphic t-shirts and flannels, that being his default outfit most days. 

Charlie also speaks with a noticeable stutter, often stumbling over his words when trying to talk.

• very loyal
• knows how to manage on the mountains
• Bulky, can handle himself in a fight
• people pleaser

• can't use magic
• if he does, gotta deal with the rot
• nervous all the time
• people pleaser

The real question I'm seeking is, can dead people dream?

-- The Keeper of Dreams (aka Neil)

A strange tourist guy that can be seen around Origa. Thraelos wasn't supposed to be his destination for a perfect summer vacation, but he decided to stay around anyways. After all, there is a huge haunted building lying dormant at the top of the mountain. Why not check it out while he's there?

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