Feb 12, 2021 18:01:03 GMT -6
beatrice farro predators were made to fight. general info
appearance The young huntress known as the infamous Rouge is an impressive sort with a somewhat underwhelming height. Standing shy of the female average at a height of 5’3”, she is considerably short when compared to some. While many expect Beatrice to lack strength because of her inferior height and female gender, she proves them wrong at every turn. Through the years, Beatrice has trained her body tenfold with the intention of maintaining a strong body. Composed of lean muscles and having a slightly outlined pack of abs across her stomach, Beatrice is astonishingly impressive in build. She has an average-sized chest, easily hidden beneath clothes. Her complexion is light-skinned, with a soft pink undertone. Due to years of being involved in combat, Beatrice has been graced with the scarring of a warrior. Her knuckles and even portions of her hands have pale flecks across them from sword training. The remainder of her body holds similar abrasions from being involved in countless fights. Extending from her tail bone is a raven shade and is soft to the touch. Facial wise, Beatrice holds that craved feminine beauty by those who discover female attraction. Her cheekbones sit high onto her face, the woman’s face being giving a slender appearance. The bones of her cheeks lead down into somewhat concave sides, emphasizing the sharp nature of her cheekbones. A slender jawline outlines her lower jaw, leading into a chin, semi-rounded. Her nose has a sharp tip and less of an upturn than most. Most notable to Beatrice’s face are a pair of ears of a raven colour poke up from her head. There are two piercings in her wolf-like ears where she occasionally wears black hoops. Another unique feature is the raven coloured hair on the outer strands while the inner maintains a vivid red. This is believed to be from her unique pelt when in hound form. Her hair is layered, making some locks shorter to make a gradual drift to longer. Gorgeous, amber eyes accompanied by long lashes center her face, making many get attracted to their appearance. The clothes Beatrice wears heavily varies between work and leisure. During leisure, she will regularly wear casual clothing with t-shirts and long-sleeves. Occasionally, Beatrice will consider a semi-formal style and wear a simple dress shirt. When working out, Beatrice constantly wears a tank top and a pair of short shorts. Her favoured piece of clothing is a white jacket with a faux fur inner hood. She regularly wears the sleeves rolled up. Whenever on duty, she will always wear her TRS mandated uniform. There are no alterations to her uniforms other than those for her tail and she always wears the mandated jacket. In hound form, Beatrice transforms into a larger-than-usual wolf. Her fur is a similar raven colour with reddish undertones and fur hidden beneath the sea of the darker pelt. Her amber eyes appear the same. The appearance of her body sometimes allowing others to recognize her. personality
abilities Hellhound Shift -- Advanced The ability to take on the form of a black wolf. As a hellhound, Beatrice possesses an alternate form which is a black wolf. Her wolven form appears similar to a regular wolf. When she shifts into her wolf form, she becomes faster and stronger, even gaining access to two of her other abilities. Frequently, she shifts as a method of escape or occasionally to sleep if in an ill-favouring circumstance. Should she get severely injured, she will revert back to human form. Additionally, it takes her about 25 seconds to shift into her hellhound form and in this time she is vulnerable. Enhanced Speed -- Advanced Fire Manipulation -- Mastered The ability to control, create and manipulate fire, allowing the user to create intense heat. Fire is Beatrice’s primary tool for her occupation. Smoothly, she can move flames similar to fluid, allowing her to accomplish smooth, graceful attacks. These flames can be used to hit into people or act as a ferocious barrier between Beatrice and an enemy. At times, she coats her sword in flames to give it an extra sting with who she is fighting. Due to being a long time practicer of fire manipulation, Beatrice is capable of mass-form manipulation and extinguishing. This, however, does take a lot more energy than the fireballs, whips of flames and barriers she uses through her day to day work. Though Beatrice's fire manipulation can be dampened via water and should she be entirely soaked, her flame manipulation will be weakened. Hexes -- Intermediate The ability to use hexes to heal, summoning, disguise, sight and teleportation. As a hex user, Beatrice’s capabilities are limited. At most, she can use healing hexes and assist with the mild stitching of wounds to cease bleeding unless the wounds are too severe. The other hexes Beatrice has little to no capability with, making them unusable. Thus, she fixates on her healing hexes in order to help in circumstances where bleeding is too heavy to recover from minimal wounds. Alas, she can only do the minimal recovery process. Naturals: High Endurance, Fire Immunity, Enhanced Senses, Immortality backstory Trigger Warning: Mentioning of fire, violence Born during the War of Traitors, Beatrice grew up in the roughest centuries. Limited funds graced her family, her parents being humble farmers attempting their best to make a living. They worked morning to night, running themselves ragged and exhausting their hands to the bone. The earliest memories Beatrice possessed of her parents were their tired faces and weary voices. Nonetheless, they fought through their exhaustion and cared for their child while balancing the farm. They focused on giving her everything she needed, their positive attitudes allowing them to gain traction among the people of their small village. While some were biased from their Hell species, the Farro Family discovered comforts in living inside the small village of their home. The moments with her parents were always fleeting. Never neglected, but lacking the personal time, Beatrice grew up a colder, emotionally limited child. All she would come to know is helping her parents and fixating on their overarching goals. Never would she know how much she would come to miss them. Peace was a foreign notion when a troop of Heaven species marched into town with their righteous views and crazed proclamations. Hell species were meaningless creatures in their eyes, heathens by the sheer association to the deplored realm alone. She remembered the afternoon vividly when they stood upon makeshift podiums in the town square and shouted their discriminations. The tempered child had glared at the propaganda spreading group for their foolish and cruel insults. She was a mere 10 listening to their derogatory statements, experiencing the world’s unfair justices and beliefs. While her fretting parents’ fingers fidgeted with her hair, she listened, ears pricked and eyes of a deep red locked. The people of their village were displeased with their words and overtime complaints were registered and cheered until they were driven out of the main village. Alas, their displeasures would be demonstrated when days later they returned with brandished holy water and weapons ready. Fire manipulators torched their homes, holy water was spilled across their Hell occupants, weapons driven into loved ones and the horrific screams of people. The child was disoriented when roused from the farmhouse and dragged outside in hopes of escape. How quick the exhaustion from a sudden waking dissipated and was replaced with suffocating panic. The manner her parents guided her through the trees as the shouts of ‘OVER THERE’ were shouted through the air. Her delicate ears picked up on every little sound, her eyes flitting wildly through the trees as her mother’s hand shoved her forward. Moments later she heard the familiar cracking associated with a fireplace and the increased screams and sounds of battle. As she ran, she gained fortune as a member of the village recognized her. The light tug of her arm started fright until a recognized face of a woman known as Sabrina entered her view. Only moments later would the ten-year-old be scooped up and taken away. She remembered a sky painted with smoke as her home was destroyed for the sole reason of harbouring her kind. The pair travelled together with Sabrina wrapping a little dark grey cloak around the daughter. It hid the ears and tail, and should those attributes be seen, she was told to merely state she was a familiar, similar to Sabrina herself. The young child was grateful, however, her coldness only grew under the sorrows of loss. It cultivated in the sadness, enriched by it, a single negative trait that lead to struggles in emoting from young Beatrice Farro. When they arrived at their new home, it was noted Beatrice was a phlegmatic child. Years of acting as a hard worker in her youth accompanied by the horrors unleashed upon her home left her quiet, reserved and withdrawn from most. Her lack of emotive responses made her an ill-favourable playmate in her adolescents, regularly leading the child to be a lone wolf. Even to her adoptive mother Sabrina was Beatrice a quiet figure, a seeming ghost in the household. She missed her parents despite their business, though, it became evident her parents hardly provided the lessons of emotional output. While she was a calm soul, Beatrice was unreadable by most because of her cold, seemingly distant expressions. Nobody expected a calm, young woman to have desires beyond that of the regularly viewed feminine archetype. As she furthered into her adolescents, Beatrice began exhibiting interest in the realm of the sword and soon began expressing it. She wished to pay back the location that brought her new sanction and rescue it from the cruelness of the bitter war. Not a soldier, but a defender for others and someone willing to shield those around her without hesitation. Thus came the day she persuaded to be taught. She wished to wrap her fingers around the handle of a sword and defend her new people. Those she valued would be her charges alongside the place that gave her shelter and the woman who acted as her guardian. Though, as she turned 18 her persuasion allowed for the carving of a new future. She gained the permission she wanted and began training under the guard. From there, the young woman learned quickly and became a fierce fighter who protected her people with everything she had. At each turn she defended her new village, becoming a brave and powerful warrior. Through the War of Traitors, she gained the moniker rouge for her brilliant red eyes and fire edged sword. She fought her way up to becoming a well-respected member, however, her personality made her the type to avoid positions of leadership unless on a specific mission. It was proven centuries later after the war’s passing that she held those values. Never head of the guard, but rather a well-respected mission leader. Over time, the village she lived in began receiving consistent raids from crafty bandits. They were a detriment to their society, thus, when given the lead to root them out, Beatrice agreed. She grabbed herself a group and together, they began tracking down the nasty dastards. They followed the obscured, brush laden paths through the thick surrounding trees. Each step was tamed as they pushed through, eyes searching for the hideout. Eventually, they would reach an abandoned mine where realization would flash over their eyes. Though shortly after entry and confrontation was the group pinned down by arrows and bandits. They lacked the force. A retreat was not optimal, bandits were watching them with hawk eyes and finally, their taught bowstrings and loaded crossbows suggested an ugly demise should they leave cover. They were growing close and with a variety of species under their belt, Beatrice and her group felt the heat of pressure. The odds were out of favour and coordinating a plan with high survival odds was becoming suffocating difficult... but then a miracle arrived. A band of mercenaries arrived, mayhaps for their aid because of a long-awaited return or from the reports of bandits. She remembered peeking from cover and observing the fight from the skillful group of individuals smoothly proving their worth. When the tides turn, she rushed in with her man to assist the group, though, through the battle, she remembered her marvelment of the leader. A fascinating man of excellent skill, proven leadership and seemingly a good heart considering his assistance in the situation. The circumstance was wrapped up with Beatrice leading her men to the village. Alas, her thoughts lingered with the mercenaries. Of their travels and exploits throughout the land all in order to help others. Since the words ending, the village grew safer with minimal threats from outer sources. It grew in size, gained a wall and had the defences to help itself to the point where her presence was not an overarching requirement. She had sent her men ahead of her when she returned to speak with them. She listened more, studied the mysterious group until giving an affirming nod to herself. On that day, she inputted a simple request to the group, asking if she could join their ranks. Anything they needed to assess, she allowed them while expressing her wishes to continue to help others. As much as her new village became home, they no longer required another her and could steadily defend themselves through the years, thus she packed up and left. Travelling the world was good for her. She learned from their explorations and improved herself as a warrior while gaining further experience in battle. Her skills sharpened and for a long time, the mercenary path felt like a home to her. While her phlegmatic personality caused her to appear distant as time, she genuinely enjoyed the adventures. Though, when a particularly hard mission arrived, an outcome unheard of arrived of it. In the midst of a heated fight, they all got separated, being driven apart by the enemy and forced to flee for survival, Beatrice remembered cutting through the trees. She remembered the oncoming rain making her weak and the growl in her throat. Tactically, she had no options and was left hoping, praying her fellow mercenaries survived the ordeal. She ran, hard and fast, refusing to yield until the downpour forced her body into a tired sickness. She managed to reach civilization where she rested, waited and searched for her friends, but when nobody came up, she was forced to travel alone. At one point, she ended up in Lorsette. After years of travelling alone, she felt worn and lonesome, thus her occupation shifted. She joined up with the TRS and breezed through her apprenticeship. There she settled, helping the city of Lorsette which appeared to need her given the circumstances. misc Likes: Smoking, pocky, head pats, sweets, summer, camping, marshmallows, nature walks, cloud watching, star gazing, protecting others, rock songs, video games, jogging, dreamcatchers Dislikes: Party, rain, swimming, loud noises, obsessive text abbreviations, sticky notes, eating in bed, fake plants, mustard, perfumes/colognes, scented candles, incense, centipedes, fashion, AP Fears: Drowning, failure, losing others - Her TRS alias is known as Rouge because of the red in her hair and hellhound form. - Beatrice enjoys the occasional smoke to unwind. She finds it takes off a lot of the edge. - She is not a big fan of sweets. Thus she prefers pocky as opposed to very sweet treats. - If she is patted, she will wag her tail. - She was apart of Dante’s group and hopes to reunite with them someday despite her path of becoming a TRS hunter. She would stay with TRS despite this. - She at times can be apprehensive of Heaven species and Akari because of her past. It tends to take her more time to unwind around them. | roleplayer info ☆ NAME chibi magician ☆ RP EXPERIENCE about 9 years ☆ TIMEZONE central ☆ GENDER female ☆ AGE twenty-two ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS My Who’s Who ☆ FACE CLAIM ARKNIGHTS, Texas ---------------------- THIS CHARACTER BELONGS TO CHIBI MAGICIAN. DO NOT STEAL. |
MADE BY ★MEULK