Unshifted, Ochesius is the makings of a nightmare; At seven feet tall, he is nauseatingly emaciated, gaunt greyish-white skinned and thin-limbed, with unkempt black hair that drags on the floor, sharp but stained and bloodied teeth, dirty jagged nails at the ends of thin fingers which look more akin to talons that are connected to skin-scratched-raw palms with burning, and two different colored eyes- his right eye is red and his left eye is natural black. Despite the almost withering-away appearance and Ochesius’s dislike of his unshifted form it is here where he is deceptively strongest as his twig-thin form allows him to be light-weight, light-footed and agile. In his unshifted form, his movements become more skittering and erratic as if he is both clamouring to get away and grappling to live.

In a human form, Ochesius takes the appearance of a male leaning on androgenous with fair to pale skin, waist-length, thick, jet black hair who is athletic of build and five-and-ten-inches in height. His heterochromatic eyes stay consistent in this form with his right eye being varying shades of red within the iris and his left eye jet black. On occasion he will add a few inches to his appearance. He will change his human form and appearance on preference, want, and need, from his gender to his appearance and even having tattoos or not, based on the needs of the situation or his mission.

In his ‘Natural Form’, a mixture of various feline anatomies, where he feels more ‘natural’ as opposed to his unshifted form; there is never anything beneficial to those around him in this form. He takes on a long, sleek black feline-esque body with impressively pronounced muscles, with glowing, cat-slit yellow-green eyes, that is twenty-feet-from from the tip of it’s blackened lips to the tip of a long tail. The skin along the tail of this form as well as the back and neck are thicker, this form comes with six powerful legs means for speed and strength; A large pair of two forelegs followed by a smaller but just as strong pair of legs behind it, and a pair of back legs that have extra muscles, allowing for jumps with an upwards trajectory of seven feet easily, all ended with massive, fifteen-centimeter taloned and padded paws that have small amounts of webbing between the digits, and an operation and opposing inner thumb claw. This form comes with a massive dispensable jaw that contains twenty-three centimeter long, sharp teeth but the pronounced primary fangs, have a backwards jagged edging similar to a hunting knife.

This form is primarily for fighting at it’s base origin, however Ochesius most often takes a smaller form that downsizes the body length to six feet, removes the dispensable jaw in lue of a more cat-like muzzle, and downsizes the claws to be more proportionate; often Ochesius takes the smaller form for faster tasks, quick kills, or intimidation purposes.

Although devoted to Lisa in an almost sycophant way, Ochesius is at the end of the day, an individual. Approachable in his human form, though not entirely communicative, he has a larger range of expressionable emotions to often compensate for Lisa’s more muted emotions. Calm and stoic in between interactions, however he is playful and unhealthily mischievous; especially when ‘hunting’. He takes his time stalking and researching, so find the perfect time to kill them to make sure no one will notice with the occasional means for people to notice, and enjoys making a spectacle of the death or copies ways serial killers in the area have killed to make the death seem in addition to their body count rather than his.

A fan of games, he enjoys playing with other people though is prone to flickers of rage and anger if he is faced with loss or failure and will begin attacking himself; verbally, emotionally and physically. This is only exacerbated by the aspect of ‘failing’ Lisa to which he holds himself to almost impossible standards and hurdles.

Though he spends much of his energy and will to refrain himself of ‘bad behaviors’ that Lisa likes, but when not so reserved, Ochesius is obsessive and compulsive, often smothering and suffocating objects of his momentary affection with devotion, attention and a vicious blindness to emotional, spiritual, mental and psychological damage he is inflicting upon them. Driven by an overstimulation of senses as he falls in downward spirals with his Obsessive Love Disorder,is it all too common that he kills the person or being of his affections, not out of need or want, but in a blind urge to ‘have them forever accepting’ of his love, that by the time he realizes they are dead, the affection and affliction has passed and he is returned to his senses.

The only being to avoid death has been Lisa, as he blindly worships her as an idol, in a way more akin to putting the effort he could put into ‘loving’ her as energy better spent on ‘serving’ her.

Skin-Walker Natural Abilities:
(In order from strongest to weakest)
Immortality
Shape-Shifting
Control Level:Mastered
Enhanced Strength
Control Level:Strong
Enhanced Speed
Control Level: Intermediate
Uneasy Presence
Bad Luck Onlookers looking directly at an unshifted face, experience 24 hours of bad luck; the longer they look, the worse it gets.
Powerful Regenerative Healing
Control Level:Strong
Dream-Walking / Stalking
Control Level: Intermediate

I do not remember the year I was born. I remember my parents in a childhood where they had no names. We were not a family; we were a pack. We were many… now?



My earliest memories are of the rush of the wind against me as I ran with my parents, my siblings, my relatives, and my kin, and me hanging back with the other newborns as the older ones made a kill. They- no- we, killed a Pyrrus. An undead dragon but my parents, both Skinwalkers by blood, watched and waited until they had finished the painful change of old flesh to new. When there would be enough for all of us to eat and then they pounced. My kin splashed over the formidable enemy like a wave of ink, the older ones attacking so that our younger ones could eat. And when the feast began I was afraid I would be left out, as there was no room for me to also clamor onto the dead corpse and eat-

“Come little one.” My mother spoke to me as she pulled away from the meal and dropped chunks of meat before me from a large piece she had ripped off. She was ripping her large chunk of meat into smaller chunks so that the newling I was could eat- “Slow. There is enough.” I stared at the chunks of flesh from the dragon. I felt strange… “Little One.” She voiced and I looked up, “It’s ok. Do not be afraid. This is natural.” I still hesitated. “You will eat scraps until you are old enough and strong enough to hunt with us. Just eat.” I did. I ate the chunks.



I grew, quickly, in size and strength. Through my kin, I learned to control the forms I gained with eating. Every kill became a new skin for me to pull on. A new mask. I had no name. I had no power. I was another “we”.

By the time I was fifty years old, my parents had decided it was time for me to try my hand at slaughtering a town. Humans were livestock to us, and I was now old enough and strong enough to fend for myself.

I panicked as they put the condition I was to keep the killing within the town, and kill them by myself; my kin would not catch any who ran away. We, as a family, would feast on the corpses of my kills. To prove that I could take the greatest honor: that I was capable of being on my own. I would be lonely but that meant there was no more “We”- that it would only be “I”. At this point, creatures of notable species I had eaten were thus: A Pyrrus, a lycanthrope and a Dijnni. We ate humans otherwise and these species were only told to me by my parents.

What does one do? I killed them. I slipped into their houses, killing them quickly, one by one and having the playful nerve to keep the lights on. I killed dozens and I had passed and been deemed capable of being alone; and so, I followed them to another village and we waited until nightfall then I changed and took on a human form. A shifting ability that came naturally to me and was cemented into effortlessness with practice and muscle memorizing. I remember… sadness… as I nuzzled my kin the young and the old alike, and I sat between the tall, spindly limbs of my much larger parents. These limbs brought me safety and secureness, love and affection… and aching.

They left me on a hill. The pack ran away and my mother lingered a moment longer, and looked back at me. I could feel her pride but it was touched with sadness, and for a fraction of a moment, i didn not feel abandoned or hopeless; I felt hopeful and excited, I felt a thought that they would return and claim me, nuzzle me and rub against me as they had when I got lost and they came to find me. But no. My mother turned from me and they vanished into the night. I never saw them again but it was taught to us that this was what it was meant to be. We were not meant to be seen or heard; we were meant to be invisible so that we might live. They left me to be “I” by a town, where I would take the form of a human and walk in. It worked. I took the form of a young child and the humans accepted me in. They named me.



I mimicked them to live; as the other children grew, I gradually “grew” as well, I learned in their schools and pretended to live their lives and I would ‘die’ almost as often as they did, so that I could kill off the old human skin and get a new one. This was effective for about fifty years or so- then it happened.



She was twelve when I met her; I had taken the form of a cat but I had gotten caught by a group of boys in the town square; they began beating me. I couldn't risk taking another form, and they beat me with hand-deld rocks, heavy sticks, and had wrapped me in netting so that I couldn't escape. I hurt. All over. As they broke my bones and I screamed and howled, they continued. Why are they so fucking monsterous? As I was on what I thought was the last of my nine lives, the boys were beaten off with a heavy stick themselves and chased off. I laid there, bleeding out on the stones as night fell and I began to shiver as the warmth gave away to cold, and my body tried to heal. I wondered if this is how I would die? “Those monsters.” A voice came out and I saw Lisa, as a human- before the Lichdom. “Poor kitty.” She whispered and I swatched through a battered eye, my other hanging out, my innards upon the stones. “Sssh, shh.” She whispered soothingly and she took off her shawl and wrapped me up.

Her touch was so very tender. It was kindness. It was light and she slowly wrapped me up, carefully picking me up and carrying me off.

She held me, stroking the shawl to keep me warm as I shivered violently. “Hang in there, Kitty.” I would heal, yes, it was painful, yes. “You can do it.” She continued to stroke me and even brought me into her bed, pulling the cover over me carefully to make sure I would stay warm and still have air to breathe. She fell asleep and though I shivered,my body repaired itself at it’s natural speed but I laid there, watching her. There was no benefit to her for saving me. Had I not been myself, she would be lying next to a dead cat, yet sleeping soundly. The light from the lamps shone off her eyelashes and her hair, turned her mocha skin to a softer, warmer caramel. There was warmth here, in this simple bed, not just from her body but from the atmosphere, from her. There was warmth I had not known and I felt…

I felt full. I felt whole. I felt… completed. As if the long unknown had not been answered and it was in the form of a human. She was not unnerved by me.

I stayed a cat, I curled up next to her and I slept. She was there when I awoke and she left the room and snuck back in with a little, crude bowl of clay and a little crude wooden spoon, and she spoon fed me goat’s milk until I had strength- and I left to eat flesh but I timidly came back and climbed boxes until I made it to her window and hesitantly pawed at it. She looked disinterested at a book but when I pawed at the window she looked over and she brightened and smiled, jumping up; she was radiant. She opened the window and she was so happy to see me- “Kitty!” She said excitedly then caught herself and whispered, “If you stay quiet, you can sleep here; I can’t let mom find out, she hates cats.” I entered and she finished what she was doing, gave me a small bowl of goat’s milk and then I curled up in bed with her and she smiled at me. “Thank you.” She said and I tilted my head, “For coming back.” I nodded and she gasped with childish wonder, “Can you… understand me?” I nodded again, “Are you… can you stay here at night?” I nodded and laid down next to her and she smiled and pet me, stroking my fur until she fell asleep.

Several times I had to leave just to travel as my true self, to eat humans without a care. I began to visit occasionally- but then the wall in Constantinople fell. It was by her home and I watched from beyond the wall as the siege happened.

I felt fear. A terrible, gripping fear over my heart and my mind. As buildings collapsed like twigs, I took the form of a horse and I rushed in. I needed to find Lisa. I needed to know she was safe.

What was I going to do, if my warmth was snuffed out? I was convinced I would return to hollow emptiness. The cold of the void. I panicked and I shifted more times than I should have amid the chaos and the mobs, the panicking humans. I looked around for her and saw her home was destroyed and as a cat I drew closer.

I saw limbs. I saw blood. Arms stuck out, mangled legs were poking out. As my world began to spin, I heard her- “Mochi!” I looked over and saw Lisa; hurt but alive and she ran over and picked me up and carried us away.

This was what I consider my true name. “Mochi”. Childish, innocent… but given to me and me alone. Now, I quietly cherish it. Later when I revealed myself to her, she gave me a name once more.

“Ochesius Ouriy-Kal-Qouxs”. It seemed regal and royal, ancient yet mysterious and ominously new. These are my names now.

I have stayed and will continue to stay, ever since.