application for ilpromenade

[blunderbussed]

PLAYER

✧ NAME: Valya
✧ LJ USERNAME: mc_valya
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): grandSolovey @ Gmail, AIM, Plurk
✧ CURRENT MUSE LIST: feycarved, corpsecakes, and delete_retry

CHARACTER

✧ NAME: Dobrynin Tvarisch
✧ SERIES: original character
✧ HISTORY: In the world of Tierrhagan, there have long stood two nations at constant war, Robell to the west and Harstide to the east. Though over the course of many centuries favor has shifted from one side to the other and back again, time and time again, in recent times Harstide has gained a serious upper hand. This is solely due to their development of a breed of psychic soldiers, pythians, genetically engineered from the alien Tiresian race and bred to perfection.

Dobryn falls outside the norm as his birth was purely accidental; his mother, an extremely powerful and esteemed pythian soldier in her own right, had not yet been authorized to bear children. To this day the identity of his father is unknown, but as he was observed to be perfectly normal and without apparent defect at his birth, he was selected for adoption by a Tiresian zolyat and training by the state as any other “authorized” pythian. Early in his youth he displayed an aptitude for precognition, but this was short-lived—he witnessed an apocalyptic vision during a routine training session, and was so deeply traumatized by it that whatever precognitive powers he might have once had were forever lost.

Fortunately, he also displayed an inherent talent for projection, and with years of training and first-hand practice on the battlefield, his talent as a conductor grew to surpass nearly all others in his field. The Harstidian military command quickly took notice and elevated him through the ranks at a rate never before attained by a pythian; in him, they saw the potential to end the war against Robell singlehandedly. He was codenamed “the Hellhound,” and shortly thereafter, the psychological warfare began: rumors of his existence spread rapidly throughout Robell, and tales of his power were enough to destroy the morale of any Robellian troops.

This continued for many, many years, but even though Dobryn continued to perform with excellence, never once falling on the battlefield or succumbing to mental strain, Harstide could still only barely maintain its edge over Robell’s superior technological might. Dobryn was sent to deal with yet another skirmish at the border between the two nations, as had become his routine—but of the many Robellian soldiers he felled, there was one who made this incident anything but routine, one whose face he had seen many years ago in his vision of the apocalypse and had long been etched into his memory. Dobryn reacted by obliterating the man’s mind with more excessive force than usual, and afterwards tried to forget him once and for all. But that vision continues to haunt him, even more fervently now than it did before, and he can’t help but wonder if he’s made a terrible mistake…

✧ TIMELINE: shortly after the events outlined above.

✧ PERSONALITY: Upon first meeting him, one typically gets a very specific impression of Dobryn: that of a kind, caring man whose friendliness and positive outlook on things cannot be quashed. He’s talkative and outgoing, but never fails to hold others in higher regard than himself, and always puts the needs of others before his own. He would never speak ill of another, no matter what they might have done to deserve it, and his words and mannerisms are almost always humble and flattering without fault.

Of course, the only reason one would receive this impression of him is because that’s just the way he wants it. Though the above is most certainly how he conducts himself in the presence of others, in reality, none of these traits are truly his own. His personality is much colder than it may first seem, and nearly everything he does is with the ultimate goal of his own advancement or gain. He’s self-centered to a fault, and while he has become quite skilled at coming across as caring or understanding, he actually has an acute lack of empathy for others and will not hesitate to discard or dissociate himself from them if they are of no use to him.

However, this is not to say that Dobryn is a complete sociopath. He recognizes that his true face is a terribly ugly thing, and he truly wishes that he could be a genuinely good person—but he cannot reconcile this desire with his pessimistic worldview and his experiences as a pythian in Harstidian society. His displayed attitude of humility is expected of all pythians, as second-class citizens created solely to serve the war effort; there is almost nothing he hates more, and he can’t understand why anyone would willingly put themselves at another’s mercy or elevate them higher than oneself. He maintains his faultless façade for his own protection, to keep others from seeing his true self and punishing him, or taking everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.

Thus does Cavatina exist. While all pythian conductors are expected to clearly fracture the different corners of their minds, so as to strengthen the force and clarity of their projections, Dobryn’s fracture is perhaps stronger than explicitly necessary. Cavatina is his idealized self: kind, compassionate, forgiving, playful, friendly, flirty, optimistic, and genuinely all of these things. In a sense, she truly is what Dobryn portrays to others, or at least aspires to be. He knows that his true self is nothing like her, what he wishes to be, but instead of attempting to rectify, work past or compensate for what he considers his own faults and shortcomings, he resolutely ignores them and presents Cavatina’s “self” as his own.

Cavatina not only exists to enable this refusal to acknowledge and accept himself, but she also serves as a severe defense mechanism. He uses her voice, image, and inner thoughts to shield his own during telepathic communication or other simple projections, and she presents a nearly impenetrable barrier between him and those who would get too close to him—either in a figurative sense when it comes to any kind of emotional bond, even friendship, or in the more literal sense of psychic intrusion. While the “umbra,” the darkest part of one’s mind, is typically reserved for such purposes among most other conductors, Cavatina’s strength in these functions is such that she surpasses the power of many umbrae—except, perhaps, for that of Dobryn’s own.

✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Pythians are bred to have a number of psychic talents, though they are also usually trained with a concentration on one in particular, and so are grouped into classes based on their specializations. Those specializing in “projection”—directly projecting a part of one’s own mind into that of a target so as to inflict as much psychological damage as possible—are called conductors, and for their ability to irreversibly damage one’s mind at little more than a glance, they are the most feared of Harstide’s pythian forces. To achieve maximum effectiveness with their projections, conductors are trained to clearly fracture their mind between the “persona,” that which they identify as their self, the “anima/-us,” that which is identified as a counterpart to their self, and the “umbra,” the very darkest corners of one’s mind. Dobryn is an exceptionally powerful conductor, and as such, his mind is exceptionally fractured: the presence and recognition of his anima, “Cavatina,” is unusually strong, and his umbra, “the Hellhound,” is particularly fierce. Despite his talent as a conductor, however, Dobryn has no other psychic abilities to speak of; even simple telepathy, which typically goes hand in hand with any skill in projection, is rather beyond him.

In addition to the above, Dobryn is skilled at physical hand-to-hand and can find his way around most firearms. His own gun is a blunderbuss-styled pistol, one which would look futuristic by modern Earth standards were it not for its flared muzzle, and he keeps it concealed on his person at all times; he’s not exactly the most skilled marksman, but considering this weapon is intended more for intimidation than actual lethality, he hardly needs to be.

✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: day.
✧ MASK DESIGN: this!
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: none as of yet.

SAMPLES

✧ FIRST PERSON: [As the feed switches on, it first shows the usual motions of a new arrival unfamiliar with the device's use: an upside-down image of a man who has not been seen in this city before, then quickly corrected and puzzled over. The man stares probingly at the camera, brow slightly furrowed, before flashing an irritated look and turning it off.

Some time later it switches back on, and the man's expression is far friendlier and more easygoing than before. He's also wearing his mask this time.]

Ah, there... It seems I've got this thing figured out now. [A soft laugh.] But it seems I'm not the only one unused to it... This place is called Promenade, yes? Is this a normal thing, for people to awaken in this place with no recollection of their journey here?

If anyone would care to give a newcomer some useful information, it would be duly appreciated, I assure you.

✧ THIRD PERSON: Due to his merit and valor in battle, Dobryn had attained enough wealth and reputation to make a very comfortable life for himself. However, for the purpose of his being, he indulged himself in very few ways.

One of his few indulgences was the bath.

Cleansing the body was one thing, a task that any cold shower could easily manage, but cleansing the soul was another thing entirely. It was the one thing he ever looked forward to, and the first thing he ever did upon returning home from battle. Other conductors had other methods of bringing their minds to full focus, but no other method would do for Dobryn.

Even so, as he sank deeper into the warm water, he found it increasingly difficult to relieve himself of his latest stress.

He’d been having the dream again.

Dobryn had nearly forgotten about it entirely—those days of his childhood had seemed so far behind him. His precognitive abilities had long been completely gone, burnt out and dulled to the point of uselessness, but that lone vision still remained fresh in his mind.

He was told the pills would help. The pills never helped.

Fiery wings spread wide to scorch the ends of the earth, and among the swirling dust and ash is a lone face—

It was the worst kind of distraction, one that he couldn’t afford to have as often as he did. A dose of calmer helped soothe the anxieties it brought on, but only temporarily. It often took other distractions—the more pleasant kind, such as this one—to clear his thoughts.

But this time his endeavors were less successful, perhaps because the memory of his last meeting with and receipt of orders from the council of defense was still fresh in his mind.

He growled in annoyance and slid deeper into the large tub. He hated it. He hated every single member of the council of defense. He hated being told what to do. He hated being respected as a warrior while still looked down upon as a pythian. He hated his own species’ disposable nature, while he had been fighting far longer than any human could live and die. He hated it.

He saw his umbra then, its great fanged maw dripping with blood.

Dobryn sighed heavily, pressing his palms to his eyes. Now was not the time to be feeding it. His anima would serve him better.

A feminine laugh, light and carefree, rose from the back of his mind. Hate is a very bad thing, you know? Too much of it will never do anyone any good.

He already knew that. But it was just so hard to get out of his head.

Then think about something else.

He didn’t know what to think about.

What about the dream?

That lone face amidst the dust…

He felt a familiar anxiety start to take hold of his body.

Damn.

With an exasperated groan, he hoisted himself out of the tub, pausing only to dry his feet before making his way from the bathroom to the kitchen. He groped inside the cupboard until he finally retrieved the bottle of calmer, emptied a few more than the recommended dose of the round pills into his hand, and swallowed them whole. He leaned against the countertop, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited.

The image behind his eyes remained clear for only a minute more, when the calmer started to take effect—it blurred and gradually faded into nothing, leaving a blank in his mind where it had previously been. But it would be back. No matter how much calmer he took, it always came back.

Well, there isn’t much you can do about that.

How supportive, Dobryn thought of his anima as he grabbed a towel and pulled the drain in the tub. But he knew she spoke the truth; she always did, after all.

✧ ORIGINAL CHARACTER QUESTION: Dobryn certainly isn't going to be happy about being stuck in a strange city without any recollection as to how he got there, and initially he'll refuse to adapt in the least. As he comes to understand just how different Promenade is from his home world, however, he'll likely see it in a more favorable light; if he can keep his non-human identity under wraps, after all, then just maybe he'll finally get the treatment he believes he fully deserves. Of course, just how long this will last will depend upon how he discovers Promenade's darker secrets—but if he does join any effort to break free of the city, it won't be so that he can return to his "home" in Harstide.