Post by scallop on Apr 8, 2023 7:27:59 GMT
General Information
Name: Micolash
Alias: Host of the Nightmare
Age: 39
Origin Game: Bloodborne
Homeland: Wasteland
Faction: The Library
Gender: Male
History:
Fractured. The mind and memories of the one known as Micolash are scattered across the very cosmos of which he wades in. But his is a story riddled with misfortune, opportunity and success. And every story has a beginning.
Birth is not important, what is important is that he came to be. His footprints of life can be traced back to the prstigious and revered Balamb Garden. The young boy enrolled there at merely five years of age, merely a drop in the endless river of time. Even then, his brain, so pure, so full of hope, was plagued by the most destructive force known to sentient life. Curiosity. The young child had known comfort, he had known safety. But what he did not know, was why? Even at a young age, he had so many questions, so many that his parents simply could not answer. His own undoing inherintely part of him even in his childhood. And so, they left the young boy to his own devices at the Garden.
The Garden was designed with hope in mind. That even the most downtrodden and unfortunate could attend this fine place, discover magic and the likes and become a true adventurer and scholar. The College was built to be mobile, a flying fortress protecting the most young and promising minds that existed. And for a time, they bred honour and fascination. For a time. Micolash grew up in the Garden, as did many others, it serving as a safe haven for many orphans who just wanted a chance at life. The insitute for the most part served the people, wanting only for everyone to have the best chances at life available.
Micolash was one of these. Despite not being an orphan, his parents knew this would be where he would find his true calling. And he did, curiosity blossomed once more. Entering his teenaged years, Micolash understood that mere human flaws would be their downfall, that all he could do was find out more. Why were they like this? Why was this world the way it was? Why was knowledge his sa;vation? What was this itch, that coerced him further down into this tunnel, filling his mind with treasure whilst showing him the true underbelly of existence? This led him to his true investigation, origin. Micolash wished to discover the true origin of Amalgamos, to delve into the heart of creation and understand just how the machine of gensis worked. He began attending a course dedicated to this, focussing his pursuit of knowledge to be his sole purpose.
To this end, he enrolled into class under a man known as Galenth Dysley.
To understand the tragedy and salvation of Micolash, one must understand what allowed him to access such knowledge.
Galenth Dysley was no mere mortal, a being of far greater power than anyone would think of him, his true identity was that of Barthandelus. Aware of the attitude towards higher beings, he sealed himself into his human form, in order to further gain the trust of the mortals he required for his grand plan. Galenth was studying at the garden to find a way for himself to access his own creator. Knowing the minds that were being created here, his plan was to enlist their aid and manipulate them to orchestrate an event to trigger him encountering the Maker. So when a timid yet inquisitive student by the name of Micolash came to his door spouting ideas and plans of discovering the origin point of all. He was more than happy to have an apprentice.
Galenth taught Micolash as much as he could, allowing him access to all restricted materials in their library in hopes that he would find something that his divinity had missed. Micolash, on the other hand, found his curiosity piqued by kingdoms that had come ebfore them. In particular, that of a Jester that had lost his mind and fell to chaos, unaware that their fates were intrinsically tied together. When he discovered him in his texts, he unknowingly triggered both of their downfalls. He served loyally under Galenth, becoming his official apprentice but always seeing that as a means to an end. He cared not for status, only to discover who created them.
Galenth too, saw him as a tool. Eventually, the mentor discovered a way to access Etros Gate. It was going to require a mass of souls. And as his eyes gazed upon Balamb garden, he saw his goal inches away from him. Now, all he had to do was trigger the tragedy.
Tragedy was forged, not by an almighty blacksmith or a playwright, but by a scholar who belived he had found the key to understanding the past. Mciolash had created the Mensis Cage.
The Mensis Cage was constructed with the purpose to connect his mind to one that once was. The experiment was dangerous to say the least, but if it was possible to understand more about the world that came before him, he would forsake anything. Micolash prepared the experiment and was assigned various assistants to help him with the tests. First night came around, and he activated the cage, locking himself within it and opening his mind, reaching out to that Jester who fascinated him. And...it worked.
He stood in a land long gone. His eyes were no longer his. Sights before him were forgotten. But now, he could see it. he could see it all. Becoming a passenger within the Jester's mind, Micolash walked in his shoes, he experienced it all. He breathed a different air, even the air felt different. The Jester felt something, like there was something out the corner of your eye, a phantom in his shadow. And so he remained there, listening, watching, learning. This was a golden moment, his excitement at the idea of how much lost knowledge this method could retreive was beyond words.
But alas, this opportunity was not his alone.
As the Jester went to sleep, Micolash turned, moving to seperate their minds and return to his own body and mind. There was a void. Hairs upon his skin pointed to the heavens. Walking through the void he turned. Facing back he saw the jester. The jester was facing him. It was like seeing an old friend. The taller man approached the Jester, gazing upon the object of his obsession and the obsession stared back in awe, the two bathed in the void as they gazed in wonder between themselves.
Micolash knew he was knocking on the Jester's door. Yet his obsession had clouded his judgement.
He was knocking on another door.
It took a moment as the two recognised they were not in a void. Bright light shone down upon them like actors in a play. Actors who did not have a script. The Scholar and the Jester gazed up, their eyes meeting a face. A grinning face with bright eyes piercing through the void that was it's body. The light consumed them. Micolash opened his mouth to scream. He tried to scream.
He could not scream.
Moments, centuries, memories, stories. He saw death, birth, terror and peace. Every angle of his body began to fall apart. Every piece of himself was no longer solid, every moment shot through his mind, liquid was his being. But there was no need for a solid being. Eyes opened. His mind. He was his mind. His mind was opening.
He smiled.
This was his mind. His mind was the key. His mind was the world around him. And he knew his mind. He was melting. The jester was with him. The Jester was laughing. He was smiling. They were seeing it all.
Micolash laughed. This was it. He saw the beginning of everything and the mighty climax. The equations and solutions were within him. But his mind was burning, those memories and thoughts cutting his mind. He was learning and processing everything within a second, it was all becoming one with his comprehension.
Gazing up, they saw what was bestowing their miracle of knowledge.
They saw the Nightmare.
Then the void melted. Nightmare melted away, laughing at them, they now understood so much. They had witnessed something far greater than themselves. They had witnessed something pure and consuming. But then, it was over.
The body of Micolash jolted. His eyes were different. But Micolash had returned. Not the man who went in, but he had returned from his journey. And he understood the Nightmare. Micolash grinned, he would learn. he would learn how they came to be. Nightmare was the key and the answer. He had learnt so much. But there was so much missing. Every puzzle missed one piece. And that was the beauty. No longer was he helpless at the whims of fate. He was the very fate he sought. Nightmare...The Nightmare. It was him, and he was it. And so, as his assistants gazed upon their altered colleague, they knew something was wrong.
His arms opened, and the Nightmare began.
Balamb garden was plunged into night. The minds of all within were assaulted, the great terrors of their lives becoming real, becoming tangible. Great hideous tetntacles began sprouting in the academy, assaulting and ensaring many within the grounds of the Garden. Panic broke out as many struggled to escape the confines of their own comprehension. They could not understand. But he did. He smiled as he strode out. He knew this. This was the Nightmare. Why could he not accept it like he could? The knowledge, it would scratch that itch. For the first time in his life, that itch was quiet. He was seeing everything so clearly.
It didn't take long before it became clear that the origin point of this madness was within the Garden, the senior staff gathered in an emergency as chaos erupted, friends turning against friends and the mechanical fortress was not responding. Someone had sabotaged the engine. They had to evacuate. The Garden was falling.
Micolash looked upon the masses, they were too ignorant to understand their own beings. But he, he could withstand it. Before him, his mentor. Was he...smiling? Ah yes, he understood this. Their goals must have been the same. But when the Nightmare blessed him, he saw all. His mind was fragments in a void, but there was so many fragments. But one called to him. His mentor's true name. Then he saw it, that fury. The souls were being harvested, but not for Galenth's goal. They were not opening the gate. The fool Micolash, he was harvesting them and trapping them within his mind. Within the Nightmare. His sabotage of the Garden was for naught. Micolash had dominion, his mind was expanding.
His mentor cursed at him, before turning to flee. The world weas falling around him. The world was spinning. The World was revolving. He could feel his mind's connection witht he Jester still. Their gift was enlightening both of them. But then he blinked.
Dust settled around him, the screams and warning bells were long gone. The great academy had fallen. Before him was a Wasteland, one he had seen many times before. One he knew had so many secrets and mysteries, ones he would answer. The truth was within him. And as he ventured the Nightmare clung to him,
His solo venture did not last long. He saw once again, the opportunity to expand his mind and encompass more. The Library accepted him into their ranks, and he gladly took it. Through them, he knew he would once more see behind the curtain. There was a curtain before them all. And he had seen the Wizard.
Drive: To educate the masses, to discover the mysteries and secrets beyond mere mortal understanding. To discover the true meaning of the Nightmare.
Visuals
Image:
Visual Appearance: Micolash is not much to look at, standing at five foot eight, there is barely any muscle on the figure that stands before you with a cage attached to his head. His skin is as pale as moonlight, the colour madness, almost silver in nature. In contrast to that is his raven black hair, long strands of hair cascading down his pale face that reach down to his shoulders. It may appear greasy to the bare eye but it is simply unkempt. His hands are blistered and his nails jagged, and his teeth slightly yellow. And to top it all of, his eyes, pale and grey, almost mirroring the moon once more.
Clothing/Armor: Dressed in classic scholar garb, Micolash wears the tools of his trade. A tattered colour faded white shirt tucked into his trousers and on top of that a reddish brown waistcoat that would signal that he is an upstanding citizen. His large trenchcoat he usually wears is stained with blood and grime that he never sees any reason to clean it. His berown boots too are tattered and worn, his clothes badly kept for he sees no reason to. Then of course, the cage.
Afixed to his head is a tall towering cage that is attached to his neck, the rusted cage surrounding him with bars and slightly dangling a chain that rattles as he walks.
Personality
Micolash was once an obedient go getter, always eager to please and happy to be reawarded. This need for validation has been shattered. His need for human acceptance is all but gone. Micolash is nothing but inquisitive, if there is a mystery he will resolve to solve it no matter what the cost. Knowledge is more important to him than anything else, knowing what is happening at all times is what is important, anyone who stands in the way of his learning shall become an enemy of him. Whilst he does not serve to inflict suffering, Micolash is always ready to open more minds up to the Nightmare.
Micolash believes that the Nightmare is the key to understanding, and whilst he is not incorrect, most minds of the masses cannot comprehend it enough to let their minds understand what they are processing. But his, his is different. Micolash will dissect and agonise over every detail that he witnesses, constantly engaging in conversations that make no sense to those not familliar with his fractured psyche. Tangents and monologues come often to the scholar, finding loose connections to topics many would classify as completely ireelavant. Micolash does not work well with others, and he is difficult to converse with as he sees no purpose to work alongside those who his goals do not line up with. But if you present a mystery to him, he shall become enamoured with that mystery, be it a part of you or not. But that inquisition turns to obsession and brutality as he will do everything to uncor the secrets of the world.
Weapons/Items
Mensis Cage: See below
Abilities/Powers
The Nightmare: Micolash was lucky, when he connected with the great old one known as Nightmare, he was wearing his creation. The Mensis cage helped his mind from succumbing to absolute insanity and has allowed him to harness the Nightmare itself, a gift from the Nightmare himself. The Nightmare bestowed him a slight piece of his power. This power allows him to sprout spectral tentacles and pieces of creatures that can reach out and attack others. It also allows him to summon and command souls that have succumbed in the nightmare/succumbed after encountering a being such as the Nightmare. Of course, there is another feature.
Micolash can unleash his mind and allow the Nightmare to become real. Reality around him warps and resembles what he himself sees within his mind. Reality will warp and become a reflection of the fears of those entrapped within it. But it willalways resemble the academy building that Micolash grew up in. Usually he activates it by himself out in the wilderness, letting the Nightmare just live and breathe out in the Wasteland, where he can work and really feel himself, being at one with his mind. When someone is within the Nightmare, he can feel where they are. As such he can manipulate the world of his mind, assaulting those within the nightmare with the souls of the obsessed and monstrous appendages. If one has a weak mental strength, Micolash can force their very own fears to jump from their minds into his, becoming tangible within the nightmare.
Roleplay Sample
Swirling, spiraling, the colours of reality danced around the man as he swayed before his writing desk, the sounds of the world like music to his ears. Many would find fault with the ambience of the Nightmare, ravens calling out as they circled the fortress of knowledge that he dwelled within forever. But he found no fault with that. This was his dream, his dream was the Nightmare. He lurched forward, a smile plastered upon his pale features, chapped lips curling into a joyous expression.
Yes...reality was not at its end. The fear, the fear that gripped him, it squeezed and tore away at its brain, forever torturing him for forsaking his own ignorance. Understanding ahd flooded his mind, his mind had been altered yet it had done nothing but improve him. Ignorance was the drug that many took, a substance that existed in minds naturally, a substance that must be destroyed. And he had destroyed it! The Mensis cage had devoured that ignorance that dwelled within him, and now he was free.
Ah eys, the fear. The fear, his fear, was the very existence of stagnacny. The age of intrigue was gone, yet here they were. But he could feel it, the air within the Nightmare was thick, it was hot, it was intoxicating. The air could suffocate you, but it was his air, he breathed it he lived it. And he felt something different. The world was different. The world was still changing, he still had change to witness. And that he would be.
As if he was on ice, his body glided to an open window, the wind howling like a wolf as he gazed out upon the Wasteland, seeing where his grey mind merged with the sun soaked wilderness that was labelled the Wasteland. No, this was not a waste, this was beautiful, the land had taken on new meaning. And so it would continue to, over and over, just as it had done before.
"Ah yes, we have returned! The age of us all! Where, pray tell, do the mysteries lie! The answers, they lay before me and I shall have them, this world produces nothing but questions that need answers! Oh Nightmare, guide me upon the solution, let me read the books of our world, the pages of our history. Yes...yes, we have much more to accomplish, much more to learn. The Nightmare is growing, it must grow! The Nightmare will let them see, yes, YES! They will see it all! And I shall know, I shall know why they choose to forget, why must we forget what is beautiful. What lurks above and below us, for we walk upon a line, a line that we cannot cross. But something can, and I shall let them see it. Yes, we are almost there..." He smiled, standing now upon the window ledge.
Attrocities were coming, he could feel it, and they would show everyone just so much. His time was here, and he would show the world the truth beyond.
Name: Micolash
Alias: Host of the Nightmare
Age: 39
Origin Game: Bloodborne
Homeland: Wasteland
Faction: The Library
Gender: Male
History:
Fractured. The mind and memories of the one known as Micolash are scattered across the very cosmos of which he wades in. But his is a story riddled with misfortune, opportunity and success. And every story has a beginning.
Birth is not important, what is important is that he came to be. His footprints of life can be traced back to the prstigious and revered Balamb Garden. The young boy enrolled there at merely five years of age, merely a drop in the endless river of time. Even then, his brain, so pure, so full of hope, was plagued by the most destructive force known to sentient life. Curiosity. The young child had known comfort, he had known safety. But what he did not know, was why? Even at a young age, he had so many questions, so many that his parents simply could not answer. His own undoing inherintely part of him even in his childhood. And so, they left the young boy to his own devices at the Garden.
The Garden was designed with hope in mind. That even the most downtrodden and unfortunate could attend this fine place, discover magic and the likes and become a true adventurer and scholar. The College was built to be mobile, a flying fortress protecting the most young and promising minds that existed. And for a time, they bred honour and fascination. For a time. Micolash grew up in the Garden, as did many others, it serving as a safe haven for many orphans who just wanted a chance at life. The insitute for the most part served the people, wanting only for everyone to have the best chances at life available.
Micolash was one of these. Despite not being an orphan, his parents knew this would be where he would find his true calling. And he did, curiosity blossomed once more. Entering his teenaged years, Micolash understood that mere human flaws would be their downfall, that all he could do was find out more. Why were they like this? Why was this world the way it was? Why was knowledge his sa;vation? What was this itch, that coerced him further down into this tunnel, filling his mind with treasure whilst showing him the true underbelly of existence? This led him to his true investigation, origin. Micolash wished to discover the true origin of Amalgamos, to delve into the heart of creation and understand just how the machine of gensis worked. He began attending a course dedicated to this, focussing his pursuit of knowledge to be his sole purpose.
To this end, he enrolled into class under a man known as Galenth Dysley.
To understand the tragedy and salvation of Micolash, one must understand what allowed him to access such knowledge.
Galenth Dysley was no mere mortal, a being of far greater power than anyone would think of him, his true identity was that of Barthandelus. Aware of the attitude towards higher beings, he sealed himself into his human form, in order to further gain the trust of the mortals he required for his grand plan. Galenth was studying at the garden to find a way for himself to access his own creator. Knowing the minds that were being created here, his plan was to enlist their aid and manipulate them to orchestrate an event to trigger him encountering the Maker. So when a timid yet inquisitive student by the name of Micolash came to his door spouting ideas and plans of discovering the origin point of all. He was more than happy to have an apprentice.
Galenth taught Micolash as much as he could, allowing him access to all restricted materials in their library in hopes that he would find something that his divinity had missed. Micolash, on the other hand, found his curiosity piqued by kingdoms that had come ebfore them. In particular, that of a Jester that had lost his mind and fell to chaos, unaware that their fates were intrinsically tied together. When he discovered him in his texts, he unknowingly triggered both of their downfalls. He served loyally under Galenth, becoming his official apprentice but always seeing that as a means to an end. He cared not for status, only to discover who created them.
Galenth too, saw him as a tool. Eventually, the mentor discovered a way to access Etros Gate. It was going to require a mass of souls. And as his eyes gazed upon Balamb garden, he saw his goal inches away from him. Now, all he had to do was trigger the tragedy.
Tragedy was forged, not by an almighty blacksmith or a playwright, but by a scholar who belived he had found the key to understanding the past. Mciolash had created the Mensis Cage.
The Mensis Cage was constructed with the purpose to connect his mind to one that once was. The experiment was dangerous to say the least, but if it was possible to understand more about the world that came before him, he would forsake anything. Micolash prepared the experiment and was assigned various assistants to help him with the tests. First night came around, and he activated the cage, locking himself within it and opening his mind, reaching out to that Jester who fascinated him. And...it worked.
He stood in a land long gone. His eyes were no longer his. Sights before him were forgotten. But now, he could see it. he could see it all. Becoming a passenger within the Jester's mind, Micolash walked in his shoes, he experienced it all. He breathed a different air, even the air felt different. The Jester felt something, like there was something out the corner of your eye, a phantom in his shadow. And so he remained there, listening, watching, learning. This was a golden moment, his excitement at the idea of how much lost knowledge this method could retreive was beyond words.
But alas, this opportunity was not his alone.
As the Jester went to sleep, Micolash turned, moving to seperate their minds and return to his own body and mind. There was a void. Hairs upon his skin pointed to the heavens. Walking through the void he turned. Facing back he saw the jester. The jester was facing him. It was like seeing an old friend. The taller man approached the Jester, gazing upon the object of his obsession and the obsession stared back in awe, the two bathed in the void as they gazed in wonder between themselves.
Micolash knew he was knocking on the Jester's door. Yet his obsession had clouded his judgement.
He was knocking on another door.
It took a moment as the two recognised they were not in a void. Bright light shone down upon them like actors in a play. Actors who did not have a script. The Scholar and the Jester gazed up, their eyes meeting a face. A grinning face with bright eyes piercing through the void that was it's body. The light consumed them. Micolash opened his mouth to scream. He tried to scream.
He could not scream.
Moments, centuries, memories, stories. He saw death, birth, terror and peace. Every angle of his body began to fall apart. Every piece of himself was no longer solid, every moment shot through his mind, liquid was his being. But there was no need for a solid being. Eyes opened. His mind. He was his mind. His mind was opening.
He smiled.
This was his mind. His mind was the key. His mind was the world around him. And he knew his mind. He was melting. The jester was with him. The Jester was laughing. He was smiling. They were seeing it all.
Micolash laughed. This was it. He saw the beginning of everything and the mighty climax. The equations and solutions were within him. But his mind was burning, those memories and thoughts cutting his mind. He was learning and processing everything within a second, it was all becoming one with his comprehension.
Gazing up, they saw what was bestowing their miracle of knowledge.
They saw the Nightmare.
Then the void melted. Nightmare melted away, laughing at them, they now understood so much. They had witnessed something far greater than themselves. They had witnessed something pure and consuming. But then, it was over.
The body of Micolash jolted. His eyes were different. But Micolash had returned. Not the man who went in, but he had returned from his journey. And he understood the Nightmare. Micolash grinned, he would learn. he would learn how they came to be. Nightmare was the key and the answer. He had learnt so much. But there was so much missing. Every puzzle missed one piece. And that was the beauty. No longer was he helpless at the whims of fate. He was the very fate he sought. Nightmare...The Nightmare. It was him, and he was it. And so, as his assistants gazed upon their altered colleague, they knew something was wrong.
His arms opened, and the Nightmare began.
Balamb garden was plunged into night. The minds of all within were assaulted, the great terrors of their lives becoming real, becoming tangible. Great hideous tetntacles began sprouting in the academy, assaulting and ensaring many within the grounds of the Garden. Panic broke out as many struggled to escape the confines of their own comprehension. They could not understand. But he did. He smiled as he strode out. He knew this. This was the Nightmare. Why could he not accept it like he could? The knowledge, it would scratch that itch. For the first time in his life, that itch was quiet. He was seeing everything so clearly.
It didn't take long before it became clear that the origin point of this madness was within the Garden, the senior staff gathered in an emergency as chaos erupted, friends turning against friends and the mechanical fortress was not responding. Someone had sabotaged the engine. They had to evacuate. The Garden was falling.
Micolash looked upon the masses, they were too ignorant to understand their own beings. But he, he could withstand it. Before him, his mentor. Was he...smiling? Ah yes, he understood this. Their goals must have been the same. But when the Nightmare blessed him, he saw all. His mind was fragments in a void, but there was so many fragments. But one called to him. His mentor's true name. Then he saw it, that fury. The souls were being harvested, but not for Galenth's goal. They were not opening the gate. The fool Micolash, he was harvesting them and trapping them within his mind. Within the Nightmare. His sabotage of the Garden was for naught. Micolash had dominion, his mind was expanding.
His mentor cursed at him, before turning to flee. The world weas falling around him. The world was spinning. The World was revolving. He could feel his mind's connection witht he Jester still. Their gift was enlightening both of them. But then he blinked.
Dust settled around him, the screams and warning bells were long gone. The great academy had fallen. Before him was a Wasteland, one he had seen many times before. One he knew had so many secrets and mysteries, ones he would answer. The truth was within him. And as he ventured the Nightmare clung to him,
His solo venture did not last long. He saw once again, the opportunity to expand his mind and encompass more. The Library accepted him into their ranks, and he gladly took it. Through them, he knew he would once more see behind the curtain. There was a curtain before them all. And he had seen the Wizard.
Drive: To educate the masses, to discover the mysteries and secrets beyond mere mortal understanding. To discover the true meaning of the Nightmare.
Visuals
Image:
Visual Appearance: Micolash is not much to look at, standing at five foot eight, there is barely any muscle on the figure that stands before you with a cage attached to his head. His skin is as pale as moonlight, the colour madness, almost silver in nature. In contrast to that is his raven black hair, long strands of hair cascading down his pale face that reach down to his shoulders. It may appear greasy to the bare eye but it is simply unkempt. His hands are blistered and his nails jagged, and his teeth slightly yellow. And to top it all of, his eyes, pale and grey, almost mirroring the moon once more.
Clothing/Armor: Dressed in classic scholar garb, Micolash wears the tools of his trade. A tattered colour faded white shirt tucked into his trousers and on top of that a reddish brown waistcoat that would signal that he is an upstanding citizen. His large trenchcoat he usually wears is stained with blood and grime that he never sees any reason to clean it. His berown boots too are tattered and worn, his clothes badly kept for he sees no reason to. Then of course, the cage.
Afixed to his head is a tall towering cage that is attached to his neck, the rusted cage surrounding him with bars and slightly dangling a chain that rattles as he walks.
Personality
Micolash was once an obedient go getter, always eager to please and happy to be reawarded. This need for validation has been shattered. His need for human acceptance is all but gone. Micolash is nothing but inquisitive, if there is a mystery he will resolve to solve it no matter what the cost. Knowledge is more important to him than anything else, knowing what is happening at all times is what is important, anyone who stands in the way of his learning shall become an enemy of him. Whilst he does not serve to inflict suffering, Micolash is always ready to open more minds up to the Nightmare.
Micolash believes that the Nightmare is the key to understanding, and whilst he is not incorrect, most minds of the masses cannot comprehend it enough to let their minds understand what they are processing. But his, his is different. Micolash will dissect and agonise over every detail that he witnesses, constantly engaging in conversations that make no sense to those not familliar with his fractured psyche. Tangents and monologues come often to the scholar, finding loose connections to topics many would classify as completely ireelavant. Micolash does not work well with others, and he is difficult to converse with as he sees no purpose to work alongside those who his goals do not line up with. But if you present a mystery to him, he shall become enamoured with that mystery, be it a part of you or not. But that inquisition turns to obsession and brutality as he will do everything to uncor the secrets of the world.
Weapons/Items
Mensis Cage: See below
Abilities/Powers
The Nightmare: Micolash was lucky, when he connected with the great old one known as Nightmare, he was wearing his creation. The Mensis cage helped his mind from succumbing to absolute insanity and has allowed him to harness the Nightmare itself, a gift from the Nightmare himself. The Nightmare bestowed him a slight piece of his power. This power allows him to sprout spectral tentacles and pieces of creatures that can reach out and attack others. It also allows him to summon and command souls that have succumbed in the nightmare/succumbed after encountering a being such as the Nightmare. Of course, there is another feature.
Micolash can unleash his mind and allow the Nightmare to become real. Reality around him warps and resembles what he himself sees within his mind. Reality will warp and become a reflection of the fears of those entrapped within it. But it willalways resemble the academy building that Micolash grew up in. Usually he activates it by himself out in the wilderness, letting the Nightmare just live and breathe out in the Wasteland, where he can work and really feel himself, being at one with his mind. When someone is within the Nightmare, he can feel where they are. As such he can manipulate the world of his mind, assaulting those within the nightmare with the souls of the obsessed and monstrous appendages. If one has a weak mental strength, Micolash can force their very own fears to jump from their minds into his, becoming tangible within the nightmare.
Roleplay Sample
Swirling, spiraling, the colours of reality danced around the man as he swayed before his writing desk, the sounds of the world like music to his ears. Many would find fault with the ambience of the Nightmare, ravens calling out as they circled the fortress of knowledge that he dwelled within forever. But he found no fault with that. This was his dream, his dream was the Nightmare. He lurched forward, a smile plastered upon his pale features, chapped lips curling into a joyous expression.
Yes...reality was not at its end. The fear, the fear that gripped him, it squeezed and tore away at its brain, forever torturing him for forsaking his own ignorance. Understanding ahd flooded his mind, his mind had been altered yet it had done nothing but improve him. Ignorance was the drug that many took, a substance that existed in minds naturally, a substance that must be destroyed. And he had destroyed it! The Mensis cage had devoured that ignorance that dwelled within him, and now he was free.
Ah eys, the fear. The fear, his fear, was the very existence of stagnacny. The age of intrigue was gone, yet here they were. But he could feel it, the air within the Nightmare was thick, it was hot, it was intoxicating. The air could suffocate you, but it was his air, he breathed it he lived it. And he felt something different. The world was different. The world was still changing, he still had change to witness. And that he would be.
As if he was on ice, his body glided to an open window, the wind howling like a wolf as he gazed out upon the Wasteland, seeing where his grey mind merged with the sun soaked wilderness that was labelled the Wasteland. No, this was not a waste, this was beautiful, the land had taken on new meaning. And so it would continue to, over and over, just as it had done before.
"Ah yes, we have returned! The age of us all! Where, pray tell, do the mysteries lie! The answers, they lay before me and I shall have them, this world produces nothing but questions that need answers! Oh Nightmare, guide me upon the solution, let me read the books of our world, the pages of our history. Yes...yes, we have much more to accomplish, much more to learn. The Nightmare is growing, it must grow! The Nightmare will let them see, yes, YES! They will see it all! And I shall know, I shall know why they choose to forget, why must we forget what is beautiful. What lurks above and below us, for we walk upon a line, a line that we cannot cross. But something can, and I shall let them see it. Yes, we are almost there..." He smiled, standing now upon the window ledge.
Attrocities were coming, he could feel it, and they would show everyone just so much. His time was here, and he would show the world the truth beyond.
