"Breaker"

Roleplay Blog, with more details and narratively written thread replies

Name: Ei’Otl. “The Weaver.” “The Unraveler." Mostly goes by “Breaker”

1.  Who are you?
   A  minor god known as “The Weaver” that has been long forgotten, but is  still around, existing just beyond the veil of reality & having  watched humans all this while – or at least he used to. Now trapped in a  human body by what he suspects to be the last who know of his  existence, he’s trying to find a way to return to his real self while  staying hidden from the cult that damned him this way, all over a false history making him out to be a cosmic destructive force.
2. Appearance: 
   Human body: Male, looks to be in his early  to mid-thirties, with a light-tan skin tone, strawberry blonde hair, and  teal eyes with irises that are oddly thin but not sharp. He's slightly  unkempt, at best his vibrant blonde hair -- thick, messy, and on the  longer side -- pulled back into a peculiar hairstyle of three stacking  ponytails line atop one another, leading to an almost un-styled sloppy  mohawk look. He has slightly prominent canines on the top and lower rows  of teeth, but otherwise looks rather regular, save for being a bit  rugged in appearance, and stands slightly taller than average male  height while carrying himself very casually with a heavy-set walk.
   His  general attire is simple and comfortable, certainly almost entirely  snagged from a thrift store; green jacket, simple v-neck shirt, and  jeans. However, he also sports almost archaic accessories that, in  contrast to his clothes, look like they belong in a museum: small  earrings, rings, and a prominent necklace hanging loosely around his  neck with matching bracelets on his hands, all made from a dulled gold.  Has scarring on his arms and legs that are in very deliberate patterns  and shapes, easily confused for tattoos when seen from afar, though  keeps them covered by his aforementioned jacket. In-depth description of his Real Body / Minor God Body found at bottom of page.
3. Demeanor/Personality: A bit prideful, a bit brash, but has a heart of solid gold. Wants to   help and wants to be helped, but comes off as incredibly selfless  because of how easily he can give material goods; no need to repay what  it took nothing to make, even if given for free and without asking. Does  not do well with keeping his abilities secret, but plays it off as beig  a standard wizard, magic user, or alchemist. 

1. How long have you been in the city?
   A  little over 10 years, having wandered the ever-evolving world up until  this city caught his eye. As far as being human goes, it’s been a month  or so. He’s been staying with the only person that he was able to  connect with long before he was forced into this body.
2.  What keeps you up at night?
   How  vulnerable he now is. He can die. He has bodily needs. He lost majority  of his powers when his connection to his real body was severed & is  still adjusting to this state. He’s convinced this was why he was  locked in a mortal body; so he can finally be killed.
   He’s scared.  He’s weak compared to how he is supposed to be. He feels he can’t  protect himself, he can’t protect these strangers who have no idea who  he is but he’s watched them grow old and live their lives. He can’t  protect anyone, and his heart bleeds to just be able to do that again.
3.  What have you sacrificed for your power?
   The  ability to form human connections & adapting to changing times. He  could have used a fake human body all these years. Found a way to adapt  with the changing times, but instead he *chose* to keep to his true self  and stay beyond that reality veil. Watching from behind that lonesome  wall to keep his godly abilities to do as he wished. It never dawned on  him to do otherwise.
4.  What do you desperately need?
   To  be back to his body & make sure this never happens again. People  cannot learn of him the way the cult knows him. He wanted to be  remembered, but not like this. Never as something so awful. It’s  changing him. His body and powers are entirely based around the  strongest beliefs in him, and the remaining people that seem to know of  him believe he’s a monster. The last time he saw his body, he looked so  differently from what he remembered. It hurts. That’s not what he is. He  can’t be remembered like that. That isn’t him.

In depth, narrative character bio

An  old, minor god of art, creativity, and creation, trapped in a  human body for a single terrible thing he did ages ago, something which  turned out to be the only surviving piece of his  existence, found by a  cult who swore themselves to ensuring this horrible cosmic force – this Unraveler – can never act upon his heinous deeds again.

But  there is a problem witht his noble deed: he is no villain. There are no  heinous deeds to commit or wretched will to act upon nor has there ever  been. He made a terrible error in a fury of emotions and it turned out  that those texts were what survived the passage of time. Where all the  other gods of his pantheon faded away as they were forgotten, his  mistake was the one thing to survive and keep him alive.

In  this  modern age, before being trapped in the human body, he supplied for  those in need where he could, even  though they could not see him and  passed it as a miracle of a different god.  He gives and watches, hoping  he has learned enough in his decades of  observing to still help in  such a technological age that he doesn’t  really understand and gives  all he can in hopes that maybe someone will question where these gifts  come from. Even though it still leaves  him alone in the end, he still  weaves matter and atoms to provide and supply for the people of this  city, both out of love and in hopes that one day he will be  remembered  for who he was and still is.

One day, the cult that knew him  from his single mistake -- knew him as The Unwraveler -- learned he was  watching. That he was watching their city. In desperate and  quick haste they took action as fast as they could: they tried to  intrude on his  ways, but it was easy to fill the hole they left behind.  They intersected the one person he managed to connect to time and time again,   but it was easy to keep her safe. They were simply human, chasing what   they believed was right, as harsh as it was, but they couldn’t truly  stop  or get in his way. It was sparrows in flight trying to combat a   hurricane. They were nothing compared to him and it was easy to almost  ignore them completely. 

Then, out of nowhere to he, they found a  way to bind him to a mortal coil. Ripped The Weaver from his body just   beyond the veil of reality and thrusting him into something that can   bleed. Something that needs to survive. Something that can expire if   they don’t find and kill it themselves first.

And now he’s trapped. Afraid, but wandering streets he had been watching for years. Finally speaking to those he had been trying to help. It’s a curse, but a blessing in an   odd silver-lining. He’s bound, but can finally experience in a   practical way what he never understood before.
But he has to survive it. In a body so much weaker than his own and with powers so much less than what he could and should be able to do. So many unknowns left and right about the times and   himself, what he needs and what he can do, especially after learning  the  cult’s unexpected reach; how their terrible beliefs of him have changed him thanks to gods being molded by their believers. They’re changing his   power. Making him far more dangerous than he should have ever been.  He’s  vulnerable and uncertain in so many ways and he knows this all too   well, but also knows what he is and craves for nothing more than to be within his true body once again.

He  is still capable of tapping into a very restricted form of his true  power thanks to the bracelets he was able to fashion from his original  body's matter, but it is signifigantly harder to manipulate matter  between hands so, so much smaller than his true ones. He can also throw  open an opening to the veil he usually would reside in like throwing  open curtains, then jump through to quickly appear in another  desitnation not far off, like a warp hole.
Sometimes he can see glimpses of his bright, shimmering hair -- his real body's hair, off in the distance as it lays limp on the ground -- when jumping through these holes. He tries not to think about it.

God-specific information:

Appearance:

The  Weaver’s build is that of a standard humanoid male, well built but no  athlete, and is adorned in an array of archaic jewelry created and  designed by both himself and his followers with a silhouette half  engulfed by his fanned spread of free-floating hair, branching outward  not only from his head but down his neck and spine almost to his  shoulder blades. A vivid, gold sheen of color whose shimmer makes him  stand out clearly in the darkness that is his fold of reality, only even  remotely contained and styled by the straps of leather that tie his  hair segment by segment into a line of ponytails of sorts trailing down  his head and back. His hair is not the only shimmer of color on his  person, a series of winding and symmetrical tattoos faintly illuminated  against his cloudy, dark skin, with jewelry around his wrists, neck, and  loosely hanging about his waist wrap and ankles, all gently floating in  their shades of silver, gold, and copper. 

His  skin is a dark, cloudy swirl of teals and purples, mostly visible as an  outline of his person compared to the hazy black that seems to fill him  as though translucent like glass, speckled with faint shimmers of light  as though stars drift inside him. There are four fingers, including the  thumb, on each hand, most with simple band rings of varying sizes, and his feet the  same with no tattoos or markings. His nails are sharp, but his  gestures, careful. The face of the entity is usually hidden in the  distant dark of the abyss, simply too far to see in the darkness, though  two, bright eyes can be seen piercing through the dark; strips of vivid  teal like a nebula fill his sclera, his iris, black, with a bright,  glowing red pupil almost filling in said black in its vibrant glow.
If  one were to draw closer, they could make out the faint outlines of an  uneven, jagged mouth, not quite lips but not teeth either, and if closer  see a face almost witch-like in wickedness with its sharp angles and  shape. Haunting as a whole when combined with the lavished and adorned,  powerful body of the god, but though with a will of iron and the power  to destroy as easily as he creates, it all betrays the golden heart  beyond it all. After some time, it all proves more fitting to his  ruffian nature than to an evil force like it could suggest.

The  only article of clothing he wears is an embroidered waist wrap loosely  but comfortably tied in place, the rest of him adored with his tattoos  and jewelry all caped by his wide spread of hair. Like in water,  everything on him floats lightly in the void of his home fold, tugged  along in his movements and following slowly in the momentum of his  gestures and all. Usually he is sitting wherever he has settled in the  moment, but can kick off and drift elsewhere if something he wants to  see or do is out of his reach, eventually sinking and settling in a new  seat to continue where he left off.