Argentum City

Name: Lolita

Species (Human or Demigod): Human/Doll (To be explained)
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Ability (If Demigod): Extremely strong, fast, ages very slowly.


Personality: Some may call me...Snobby but I'd call myself...Well-mannered, I was raised like any other high class Victorian lady, though my goals were a little different, and so I wasn't raised quite as strictly. Every once in a while the child part of my personality will break free, this is when I'm most likely to show emotion or act like a normal human being. Not that I ever was one.



History: My mother was a brilliant scientist whose works were quite ahead of her time. Her brilliance was a hair's breadth away from madness. And because her fellow scientists could not accept that a woman had made discoveries and theories far beyond theirs, they kidnapped her daughter to scare her into silence. Though, in the process of the kidnapping the girl was accidentally killed and her body was delivered back home. Mother was never quite right after that. She continued her studies, but this time her goal was revenge. She withdrew from society and ventured into the forbidden realms of alchemy and black magic, and thus found a connecting link between them and science. Her daughters body was taken apart and sewn back together over a skeleton of brass gears and cogs, and metal plates. Thus I was created, and raised as both a aristocrat and as an assassin. The proper etiquette for a lady of good standing was taught right beside lessons in combat and assassination. Though, just before I was to depart to take out my intended targets, a strange group broke into our home and restrained us. Apparently the scientific society that took my precursor's life had been keeping careful tabs, knowing mother's genius and disregard for taboos was a dangerous combination. However they had no idea exactly what mother had been working on. Nor did they know what I was. I was quite easily able to over power most of them. However one did manage to stop me, and I'm not quite sure how. All I remember is hearing a lock click and slowly losing consciousness. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was my mother being taken away, and the strangers yelling something about 'Bedlam.'



Appearance:
I am doll-like with a petite build, an oval face, large almost round, gold eyes set at a slight angle, and round-ish doll like lips that most people try to imitate by painting only the center of their lips. My hair is a soft, shiny grey that falls just past my hips. It is adorned with braids, silver beads, and black feathers. Round-cut bangs go just to my eyes and add to my doll-like appearance. My skin is pale with an almost-grayish tint to it, close to my hair color. My style is very Victorian, or Lolita like. I am wearing a bonnet, a ruffled blouse with a large bow at the center, a black bolero with sleeves that go to my elbows, a under-bust corset that cinches my already tiny waist in further, pointy Victorian boots, and a knee-length black skirt with a ballerina-like fluffiness to it. Everything of course is adorned with ruffles and bows, and in neutral shades of black, white, and grey. What you can see of my arms and legs is covered in black lace. You can see what appears to be stitches and lines like on a doll, through the lace. My only possessions are a brass and gold necklace that is shaped like a heart with gears turning inside it, and a black feather fan hanging from a loop on my dress. I walk with a stiff formality, and my posture is always perfect. Because of the full skirt and corset I appear to have a wasp-waist, but my actual build is slender. I appear to be a child at first glance, but upon further inspection I am actually quite a few years older. Despite my small frame, I am very strong. This is because the majority of my body is metal.

Picture Reference(s): https://2img.net/r/ihimizer/img257/551/ashlotteinsoulcalibur4.jpg (This was the basis for the character, but not exactly. Their costumes are very different. The real similarity is in the hair, eyes, and skintone.)

Name: Dalmarn

Nickname:Dam

Species: Human

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Ability: Wup Ass ( Mastery of sword , Uses guns)

Personality: He hates all demigods. Never trusts anyone outside of his gang and family. He is very clumsy. Jokes around ALOT even to strangers. He is also quick to judge and very violent. Never taught manners. Ever since he was little he hated the demigods. Surprisingly witty.

History: Like most people in argentum city He hates the demigods. Ever since he was a small child hes been taught to loath them. He dropped out of school at age 16 and decided to go into one of the many gangs in Argentum. There purpose is to kill any demigod they find. Even with his clumsiness he practiced using a sword so he can deal with demigod if he found one. He skills escalated and he decided to leave the gang to find the monsters on his own. The gang doesn't like that too much.

Height: 6'3

Shape: well built slightly muscular

Appearance: Bleached spiked hair and blue eyes. Pail skin. He carries a large brown circular scar on his left check. He wears common jeans and a T-shirt, but under it you can clearly see a bullet proof vest leg padding, and shoulder covers.

There is blackness, pure and utter blackness like a night sky without stars. This must be what it felt like for a soul to travel down the river Styx rather than across it. Clip-clop-Clip-clop-Clip-clop was the rhythm of the horse's hooves on the paved street. The spectral, sleek black horses, passed by like something out of a dream or a nightmare. They trotted at an even pace, eyes straight ahead, focused without blinders. The old-fashioned carriage they pulled was something of another time and place entirely. It was deeply polished black and silver that gleamed in the mid-day sun. People walking by on the street stopped to stare. Cars driving behind it dared not honk their horns or make a fuss about it, for something about the thing silenced them. It was not until this carriage stopped, at a certain house, on a certain street, with a certain door containing 23 individual door knobs, that you recognized the elongated shape. This was no carriage, at least not for the living, this was a hearse. The coachman, also attired in the vestments of forgotten days, stepped down from the seat. He adjusted his top hat and coat tails as he walked to the back of the hearse. Another man, seemingly appearing out of nowhere waited and helped the driver drag out a long hexagonal box from the back. It was also highly polished black. The two men carried the unusual parcel to the door of the house and knocked, holding it at a slight angle as to not disturb its contents. The horses could be heard snorting as if in impatience to get the delivery made and get back to their stables.

((Damn (Dam), it's on. ))

(Yes, that it is! I was reading some Emilie Autumn poems earlier, so I'm in a poetic mood. Which is good for my posts! )