Rain
Hagspawn
NAME: A word that expresses the shared quality of water’s role in a Baptism and in tears shed over something lost. In Basic, it is simply “Rain.”FACTION: Recruitable
RANK: Initiate
SPECIES: Human
AGE: Hard to say. He doesn't subscribe to Time.
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 6’0”
WEIGHT: 180lbs.
EYES: Very faint hazel, prone to going milk-white.
HAIR:Dark Brown/Black
SKIN: White; Tanned by all-but-exclusive outdoor living
FORCE SENSITIVE:Yes
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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
(+) Primitive Forcer- While the Witches of Dathomir are by no means strangers to the outer worlds, their magicks are still oft misunderstood. Rain’s “unsophisticated” approach to the Force by way of Spirit Communication and Dream Travel make his attacks difficult to combat directly, as the required axioms are held together by logical knots and paradoxical, mystical thinking.
(+) Survivalist – Born and bred of dirt and violence, Rain is no stranger to harsh living, and is not at all put out by having to make due on even the most inhospitable of terrain. He is skilled in trapmaking, DIY weaponcraft, astro-navigation, hunting, skinning, gathering, and similarly related disciplines.
(+) Echolocation - Having spent a good amount of time in a dark hole in the ground, Rain learned to echolocate. Beginning reflexively at a young age by making a "clicking" sound with his tongue (and later honed by bat-like spirits), Rain does not require his eyes to see. Of course, he's noisy when utilizing this ability. He's reasonably okay about making his "clicking" sound like animal noises.
(+) Nightbrother – Raised among witches, he is properly subservient to women….at least in the waking world.
(+/-) Astral Projection - As a spirit walker and a dream traveler, Rain can extend his Force Presence beyond his frail biology, providing excellent recon, as well as a non-traditional means by which to extract, or even plant, information out/in other people. For faction purposes, he’d a very precise tool for counter-propaganda and propaganda mitigation. The drawback to this is that, when Rain utilizes these abilities, his physical form is left catatonic, and thus, vulnerable.
(-) No Archetype - Rain is neither smuggler, nor bounty hunter, jedi nor sith. He has no aptitude in blasters or lightsabers, and is similarly disadvantaged in gaining access to weapons of this kind. He carries on him a dagger made of a Ssurian tooth, used primarily for ritual purposes. However, though he is unskilled, one should not discount his savagery.
(-) Creep – His mother a feral hag, Rain doesn’t quite understand concepts such as Love, Friendship, or Family, at least not in ways that are not completely tangled and confused. Because of this, he has a hard time managing the correct psychological distance to be maintained between himself and other people. Often, he may overstep his bounds, and not in a charming, fumbling, Asperger’s sort of way. Instead, it is sociopathic, treating people like pets, stroking them whether they want to be or not, invading dreams, impersonating loved ones within them, and just really unforgivable trespasses (See: Incubus). Even kindly spirits don’t linger for long.
(-) The Ambivalent One- It is well understood that Nightbrothers, though capable warriors, lack the ability to properly balance within them the conflicting energies of the Twin Deities, and of this, Rain is no exception. He is torn between the polarizing aspects of the raw, conquering, masculine power of the Fanged God and the subtle, caring, feminine power of the Winged Goddess; the light and the dark; and even the Dream and the Waking, frequently unable to tell the difference anymore. Born in a world that did not want him, he has grown to be a man divided against himself. Thusly, he knows little but to fall apart.
APPEARANCE:
On the material plane, Rain wears the worn features of a martyr; a bitchy resting face pulled down by the weight of the world. His eyes are the listless gaze of the drugged-out, the dreaming, and the sociopathic, utterly disconnected from the life teeming around him as if he beheld a bad joke. It’s all false and uninteresting. He bears the scars of his mother’s affections, as well as the tattoo brandings of his former heritage. His clothes are as expected, made of animal hide, feather, bone, and tooth.
In the Dreaming, however, he appears more alert, aflame in sensory awareness. His head bears curled horns, his mouth dragon fangs. He even possesses a scaled tale, part reptile, part mammal, part man. When not masquerading as the familiar, he portrays himself as the Fanged God, omnipotent, invulnerable, alive.
BIOGRAPHY:
Rain was born in a Nightsister Cult in the mountains, situated around the edges of a sarlacc pit. His mother was a feral hag, and in what Rain had stolen from dreams and heard whispered among the spirits, she had been quite a beautiful, charming woman before she opted to take that final plunge into her baser nature. His father was said to be similarly fair – this reason, above all others, being that which had him singled out to be unwillingly taken by the crone. Unfortunately, this was no smiley matriarchy with suffrage for boys, and Rain’s father, now thoroughly jarred, was returned to his station as chattel. Rain would only see him once more before he had died, before his mother ate him alive. Before he was forced to eat some of him, too.
It would be these very same society structures that would contribute to Rain’s developing sense of anomie within the world, the universe, for while his mother loved him in her way for being her child, she despised him for being her son. Her tenderness was often unspoken, manifested as gentle grooming almost exclusively following some display of shocking brutality and bizarre cruelty. She was basically an animal, after all, and she knew there was something awful, something wrong with this boy. Rain developed under her nurturing with the full understanding that, if he had smelled a little bit off, she would have likely killed and eaten him. In the dark pit in which they dwelled, he often made an effort to avoid his mother, leaving her to her gnashing of teeth, her muttering of ancient evil, only moving in to forage her abandoned scraps.
It would have been lonely…if he was ever truly alone.
This was a land of spirits, and they were everywhere. They taught him of another world, one where he could escape from his mother, the clan, the darkness. The World of Dreams. And Rain was an apt pupil. So apt that he started to veer between the realms without thinking about it, particularly when he was asleep. After many a sleepborne crime, the clan grew wary of the rotten maleling, organizing a small lynch mob to extricate him from the hole he shared with his mother and throw him to the sarlacc pit. However, in a fit of animalistic motherly rage, the hag fought in her child’s defense, tracking down and making short work of his antagonists before they could complete the deed. When the shower of gore had reached its finale, Rain attempted to calm his mother, to thank her for her protection, only to meet a similar thrashing and be left for dead.
With the aid of the spirits, Rain has managed to grow into an adult, one capable of surviving Dathomir alone. But he’s gone weirder now, predatory. The waking world holds no flavor, and his bones often feel cold within his muscles. He talks to himself, to the spirits, just to remember his own voice, and frequently stalks the dreams of unwitting Witches, seeking the comfort of human contact that he’s been without, that he’s never really known. He may sometimes assert that the only way to measure the quality of a life is by the richness of their dreams, and he’ll use this premise as an excuse to kill without conscience. But this is a bit of a lie. Deep down, he knows it.
He has never attempted to return to his mother nor his clan and he bears them no ill will. After all, they were right to do what they did.
There’s something wrong with him.
SHIP:
None.
KILLS:
None.
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
N/A
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ROLE-PLAYS:
Book of Days
