cellarspider

AGE » 200+



Astarion's backstory is a tragic one--manipulated into becoming a vampire spawn, he spent two hundred years unable to resist the will of his cruel sire, Cazador Szarr. Astarion's freedom was only tenuously secured by his sudden kidnapping by mind flayers, who implanted him with one of their young. Usually, this would mean agonizing loss of self and transformation into a new mind flayer within days. But there's something odd about this batch--he can walk in sunlight now, and he can sense flashes of other infected's memories. Even exert control over their thralls. Still, Cazador isn't going to let him get away--monster hunters have already been sent out to capture him alive.

One would think Astarion would be a complete broken wreck at this point, but no. He is, instead, an incomparable, foppish disaster. He's gleefully taking every bit of independence he can, whether anybody else likes it or not. And one day, maybe, he might find a way to turn the tables on Cazador Szarr.

Some time in the 1950s, a bookish and awkward graduate student went into their university library and never came out. The human known as London Picard was stolen away by one of the True Fae. They escaped back to the mortal world decades later, changed into something magical and more than a little unhinged.

After so long trapped, they are ruthless and paranoid, but a reliable source of knowledge and support to their allies. Just don't try to visit them when they're out working for the Scarecrow Ministry. These professional cryptids protect others from even greater dangers than themselves, but the fear they inspire can become addictive...

Lord Recluse has no pretensions about being the hero of his story. He scoffs at any villains who do. He knows better--he started the new age of metahumans, after all. The details of his early history have been expunged, but one thing is very, very clear: he has an undying, passionate hatred for his heroic contemporary, Statesman.

In his unceasing quest for world domination, Recluse pits himself against heroes and villains alike, maintaining his position through constant preparation, planning, and setting his rivals against each other. While a brutal and largely amoral figure, his power is a stabilizing force. But secretly, that's not all by choice...

It's rare to see the robes of a war surgeon in the Lands Between these days. They used to be the last terrible mercy for friend and foe alike. But the demigods and their armies fell to madness and rot, losing the favor of the Greater Will and its Golden Order. The war surgeons seemingly disappeared overnight.

But there's one that's taken up a station in Limgrave. Tarnished souls drawn to these lands by faith, ambition, or fate all must pass by him on their way toward the Erdtree, and he offers them counsel. Maybe even hope, though he's often painfully direct in his assessments of one's chances. He is a war surgeon, after all.

And beneath his white mask, there's more lurking there. He has a holy calling, a lord that still commands love. A faith he so wishes to share, if he can find someone with an open mind.

AGE » Unknown



A lifelong member of the Dark Brotherhood cult of assassins, Lucien rose through the ranks of his dear Family to become a member of the ruling Black Hand council. As a Speaker, he now eschews the company of his Dark Brothers and Sisters, traveling alone on the orders of the Night Mother herself. She hears the prayers for death, sees the murders that please her most, and he is sent as one of her representatives, to draw up contracts for the lives of victims and the loyalty of new siblings. His life has not been without challenges, but his faith in his deific Mother and Father and the love of his family have made everything worthwhile. And in a time of strife across Tamriel, his family will surely endure and prosper...

The first survivor of an experimental procedure to grant magical power to those without aptitude, the Commandant's past and identity are unknown. He doesn't seem to care about those things anymore. The crystal shards stuck through him are part of the ancient and powerful Tattered Spire, a ruin once that once amplified the will of its master to remake the world. The Commandant is effectively a part of the Spire now, and oversees its reconstruction on behalf of the man who remade him. He is totally obedient, and all reality will join him in his Lord's future paradise, a world without suffering.

But that lofty goal doesn't actually seem to concern him. Only obedience matters, and he is a merciless enforcer.

Who is Naiddahe? Ah! Naiddahe is a human, just like you, friend! Yes, look, they have an ID card that says so. It even has a face on it! Not their face, though, they assure you. Naiddahe is a very private person, yes? That is why they wear a helmet. And gloves. And everything that covers the bits beyond helmet and gloves. They think they look very fashionable! And all these clothes make it easier for them to do business. There are many pockets beneath their cloak, and they are certain that at least one of those pockets contains things that will make you happy! Ah, but not for free. That is how business goes, yes?

In truth, Naiddahe is not actually a human, no matter what their many ID cards say. They still won't show their face to clients, though--they deal in contraband, and an unknown face is a safe face. They make a point of being friendly to everyone, though. It costs them very little,

As a member of a non-mammalian species, Naiddahe is often assumed to be male, due to their lack of breasts. This is incorrect, however: their species undergoes cyclical, sequential hermaphroditism, changing from female to male and back again on a regular schedule. As such, they find other species' concepts of sex and gender to be very strange, and they've never quite gotten the hang of pretending to be any gender besides the ones that make sense to their people. When possible, they use neutral pronouns to describe themselves.

Naiddahe's species is humanoid enough to pass as human when fully clothed, at least at Naiddahe's age. Eventually they will grow much, much taller, and may return to the snowy crags of their home, never to be seen by outsiders again.

Unless they want to spook someone. Or if an old friend needs help reaching a very high shelf. Or perhaps they will not go at all! They have wandered far already, and may continue to do so. Who knows what the future holds!

AGE » N/A



On a far-flung planet, an arthropod-like race developed sapience and technological prowess. Through many centuries, their increasing reliance on biotechnological implants to interface with their technology slowly evolved into a unified hive mind, wherein none lead, and all work towards their one shared goal: collective happiness. Their life is one of love and support, within a Silent universe. After a few painful, confusing interactions with the Outside, they remain peaceful, and will not attempt to Join with others unless asked.

They still love visitors, though, even if you don't Join them. They will happily send a Node of several individuals to visit you as well! Hello, new friend!

AGE » Unknown/nonconvertible to human age.



Created by the Umbrella Corporation, the T-103 line was designed to be a mass-produced bioweapon capable of rapid regeneration, great feats of strength, and an emergency "Super Tyrant" mutated state to counter heavy resistance during their missions. T-103s have intelligence comparable to humans, and appear capable of understanding human speech, though they are non-verbal. Umbrella also ensured they lacked the "flaw" of the T-002's independence: T-103s will obsessively carry out their mission, regardless of threat to personal safety or other preference.
T-00 is a specific T-103 unit that was dispatched to Racoon City in the wake of a T-Virus outbreak, dispatched to the city's police station to eliminate survivors, and to secure materials relating to the G-Virus from a hidden Umbrella testing facility. Along the way, T-00 encounters a number of difficulties, resulting in increasingly acute frustration, particularly once they loose their hat. Apparently, they were fond of that hat.

AGE » Unknown



Abathur's life is dedicated to efficiency. The Zerg Swarm is an ever-mutable collective, ravenous for new lifeforms to strip apart for advantageous traits. But the limits of biology and the dictates of his Queen demand focus. Streamlined forms. To overturn the last solution and create a new Zerg. An intensely philosophical creature, Abathur has adapted to this life just as his creations do: he ceaselessly chases perfection, knowing he will never catch it. He accepts this. To do anything else would be inefficient.

AGE » 19+



The Chiss Ascendancy's alliance with the Sith Empire was shrouded in secrecy. Was it made by choice? Forced by circumstance? Few know, but one thing is clear: The Ascendancy needs capable agents who are willing to leave the galaxy's only bastion of Chiss culture and venture out into treacherous, alien space.

Issun is one of these agents. Young, ambitious, and aiming to increase the status of the middle class families he hails from, he volunteered to be a sleeper agent for the Ascendancy within Imperial Intelligence. A careful planner and a natural field agent, he earned a deployment to Hutta, for a mission of greater significance than he realized.

Also the planet smells horrible, everyone is loud, emotional and heavily armed, and he's beginning to regret his decision to leave the homeworld...

A master of the Dark Side second only to the Sith Emperor himself, Jadus is an iconoclastic figure who unnerves fellow Sith with his unnatural calm. He prefers the company and advice of the Force-blind, and his strange charisma has inspired fanatical loyalty in many of his followers. As the overseer of Imperial Intelligence, he commands the galaxy's most extensive network of spies, saboteurs, and assassins. Many other Sith believe it is only a matter of time before he enacts some grand plan long in the making, but he has kept his secrets close, until the time is right...

AGE » 24+



Born into a rare family of Pureblood slaves, Sericus thought he had it as good as it would ever get. He had no talent for the Force at all, unlike the rest of his species. But his looks made him valuable, a desirable concubine to Sith Lords rather than a disposable nobody. He was literate, educated, and tasked with espionage and securing political favors on behalf of his owner. He might have been at the bottom of society, but he was at the top of the bottom.

And then he found out his exquisitely made slave collar hid a Force dampener. Suddenly, that fire that destroyed his pedigree records seemed far more suspicious. Maybe he was some lost son of a noble line, denied a free life for the pleasure of others. Furious at his master, he willingly heeded the Emperor's decree that Force-sensitive slaves be trained at the Korriban Academy. He's now joining the ranks at the top of Imperial society, but he's starting from the bottom.

And it's terribly uncomfortable.