app. (rev. 3/2018)

[darkov]

〈 CHARACTER INFO 〉
CHARACTER NAME: Martin Darkov
CHARACTER AGE: 14/15
CANON ORIGIN: Strictly original
CHRONOLOGY: Just after winning rights to go outside again to the hunts (prior to the start of story proper)
CLASS: Variable; more a survivalist than straight up hero/villain
HOUSING: Roommates are fine; whatever is easiest for mods

BACKGROUND:
The country Martin lives in is called Olvoski. Here, the sun is always far away, and the sky's often missing the lush saturation of kinder climes - yet somehow, it's never too terribly cold or hot. It's dry country, where rain is scarce most of the year, and plants are brittle and hardened to long spells without. What water sources there are tend to be stagnant pools, save for one or two free-flowing rivers whose sources are as of yet unknown.

Olvoski is a big place, where mountains climb up into the clouds like an impenetrable fence and forests are tiny patches of tangled trees and brambles breaking up the monotony of open grasslands and jagged, rocky, barren stretches. The boring expanses make sudden dips down without much warning, adding layers to the landscape that are hard to see until you've practically fallen into them. There and everywhere, terrible monsters rise up in the dark and roam about looking for humans to devour.

They come in all shapes and sizes - from skinless, catlike pack predators to tiny parasites that sneak into the noses and brains of cattle from the water to drive them mad. Now and then, the ground will quake as colossal bodies appear and slowly stride across a seemingly empty landscape - those ones are called Goliaths. They're terrible, but it really depends on who you ask as to whether or not they're actually the worst Olvoski can see on any given night.

A collective of scientists and researchers called Clan Lumas live throughout Olvoski, their mission being putting an end to the plague of monsters - to find the source, destroy it if necessary, study it as much as possible without wreaking more havoc. The monsters cannot be killed or even crippled by conventional means - humans have little chance of surviving them. Because of this, the Lumas have a codependent relationship with people -- things -- called Darkovs, who do have the means to stop and even kill monsters.

Darkovs, as they have come to understand over the years, are not people. They are things -- tools, specifically born and bred to be the finest weapons necessary to tackle any and every monster threat. And since the threat is so diverse, Darkovs themselves have evolved to compliment that in and through themselves: They can conjure strong, bone-and-metal weapons naturally from within themselves and some mysterious means (magic, perhaps, but that word is highly scrutinized and often scoffed for stuff and nonsense). Earlier, more homogeneous generations of Darkovs tended to create spear- and sword-like weapons, but the recent years have seen much more creative weapons and means of use.

Each weapon comes with a price: Whatever means, magic or some secret of their biology, that lets them create and use these things wears out over a time, dependent on use and a user's stamina. When that time runs out, the weapon is just dust, and an overflow of a nasty, black substance wells up inside a Darkov and must be expelled - heaved up before it can be ingested and do the body harm. The specifics are unclear of late; Darkovs are trained and reminded regularly that swallowing that stuff is bad news, and none are all that daring or eager to take unnecessary risks. There are already too many ways to die - and indeed, they live with the understanding that their life depends solely on their effectiveness as hunters and killers, as contributors to the cause of eradicating all monsters. Anything less is wasteful, not even a factor.

The Darkovs live in a massive compound - a stone fortress that may have had a different function years and years ago, but has been the living place and training ground for eight generations of monster killers. As monsters come out at night, so too Darkovs are only their most active in the evenings: Their eyes have adjusted much better to darkness as a result, and prolonged time in the daylight is troublesome. They are naturally hardier than humans, being able to run/walk farther for longer, and able to go longer without eating/taking in water. And, perhaps result of how their weapons conjuring works, their bones are denser, and they are altogether heavier on the whole, despite some appearances. And that appearance is deceiving: they look like any other person, any human being. But they know - are taught right from the get-go - that they are not human, and have rules in place to keep them strictly separate from humanity, save from the Lumas who support them/give them supplies/monitor their health and other matters outside of tracking down and killing things.

Darkovs are family: There is an ongoing tradition of inbreeding going on, with a mixing of different pairs dictated by an agreement between Lumas and members in question. Families can dissolve but never be utterly wiped clean; children are raised as much by the entire family as they are by their actual parents, who do not get to bond with them right at the get-go. There's a hypocritical balance being struck, wherein families are not encouraged to get too attached because of the work they do, but are still in turn allowed to remain close, to form bonds, and team up according to how they strengthen each other. Clan Lumas gets the final say in how these relationships can be maintained or manipulated to ensure every Darkov is in their best physical and emotional state...to suit the cause.

Darkovs are expected to begin some form of conjuring/training at the age of six; those not suitable for combat (traditionally women, but the dynamic has shifted to be more inclusive as of Generation 5) are taught a skill necessary for support, such as tracking or first aid or helping with compound upkeep.

Each Darkov is given a length of chain and a medallion of an unknown, silvery-looking metal. Around the age of 12 (give or take; Darkovs don't have birthday milestones and rely on Lumas to keep that kind of thing in mind), each and every Darkov, regardless of status, is sent before a strange, stone door underneath the compound. From there, they "court" entities - ghosts, spirits, something of the like - into binding themselves to the medallions and providing boons to the wearers. Darkovs are unclear to the exact nature of these creatures, aside from the fact that every Darkov has one, and that each one provides a great service in the cause of killing monsters - and keeping themselves alive along the way.

Everyone except Martin. As far as he and any of his family knows, he is the only Darkov who failed to make a contract; he spent hours trying, to no avail. That was what started his life as something to be observed and, in some cases, avoided.

Despite missing that key component, Martin still set out to join the hunts as planned, as all Darkovs fit for it must. Out there, in the midst of a frenzy of pack-monsters, Martin saw ghosts and supernatural shapes - things he shouldn't have been able to see, because no Darkov can see any contract spirit other than their own. Frozen there in terror, he would have been ripped to shreds by the pack had his father not stepped in and died in his place.

Martin was horrified, traumatized to the core, and barely spoke or moved for many months following, bringing his value into question. Strangely enough, the issue never pressed to the point of getting rid of him, as was typical, and in time, Martin began to function again - enough so that two or three years later, he managed to win the chance to go out and join the hunts again.

That's where everything really starts, and that's just about where Martin's going to find himself in MoM, as opposed to the horrible shit about to go down...

At this point, Martin, one of 12 children in Darkov's eighth generation, has very little impact in his world outside of raising many eyebrows for his lack of contract. Little else has come of it since that initial shock as far as he knows: most of his family was quick to see him simply as his small, unassuming self as no direct consequence came from the failed courting. He has only been outside twice: once to learn the terrain for his first hunt, and twice for exactly that, and that went poorly. Having spent a long time recovering, he's only now just set himself to working harder to catch up with his older cousins and his big sister.

He is very much in the background, but not utterly forgotten by the others, and certainly not Clan Lumas. SPOOKY REASONS AND STUFF AND SPOILERS BC I HAVEN'T DRAWN THE COMIC YET.

Last fun fact: Darkovs aren't supposed to read, but his cousin Adam taught him some letters, so he can read at about a 1st-grade level.


PERSONALITY:
Martin is a very anxious, very doubting boy, justified by setting an ominous precedent and following it up with standing shellshocked and watching his father die for him. It's a sacrifice Martin is utterly convinced was in vain: he no longer has any confidence in himself and what he can do for anyone, let alone himself. In his mind, he is of little value, if any, and can only make matters worse if ever given the responsibility to any of them.

This causes friction with his hardworking facet: he has a single-mindedness to work, where all attention goes to a task to see it through to its completion - or at least as much as anyone will allow. He's a poor foreman for himself, often forgetting to take care of bodily needs, especially when doing physical work. He will walk and walk and walk until he simply drops if he has a destination in mind and no one to tell him to stop. His defeatist nature compromises with this quality by convincing him that the least he can do is see a task through to the very lengths of his abilities; anything less only proves he's even more useless than before.

As someone convinced of their drain on others' time and energy, Martin habitually apologizes for anything and everything, often simply saying he's sorry as part of his regular speech. It's a means to, somehow, push some of the responsibility of some circumstance off himself: I'm sorry, I clearly don't know any better, it's not my fault, even though it is. He will apologize for conditions that have absolutely nothing to do with him, whether he thinks they're his fault or not (he often thinks they are anyway).

The previously mentioned single-mindedness plays into how he converses and interacts with people, as well: He has a harder time juggling lots of questions at once, and can become very flustered and overwhelmed when burdened with a lot of talking to do on his part. He'd rather listen and try to understand bit by bit, putting all his attentions onto one idea at a time. He is not very creative, especially given his sheltered upbringing, and has great difficulty visualizing abstract or foreign concepts. All the more reason to believe himself stupid - another thing to apologize for.

His anxieties and self-image problems get to points where he becomes very averse to communicating or reaching out to others, but only for small periods of hours or days; he can't find it in him to utterly cut himself off from people, no matter how he believes it for the best. He needs people, has a want to be seen and held, but a fear to ask for it. The best he can do, he believes, is linger, and find some way to be useful if he can, and do whatever task is set before him. Back when he had only just begun to be functional after his father's death, one of Martin's first activities was to braid his sister's hair - small work, but it kept a warm, considerate body close, and it was a task that had a set beginning and end. Those are conditions Martin thrives on and often needs, especially after really bad bouts with his anxiety and grief, in order to get back on track and start taking more initiative.

Those who are considerate/nurturing to him, Martin clings to fiercely until those anxious breaks occur and rattle his confidence in his standings with others. Being treated harshly is just, in his opinion, but it still causes him to recoil and avoid those sources, especially if they were previously kinder. It's what he believes he deserves, even if he hates it. It takes a lot to make him actually angry, and more often than not that anger is turned inward; he is not prone to lashing out unless cornered and crowded.

He relies very much on other people to dictate how he ought to react or treat different circumstances or ideas, and he can be coaxed to relax if the atmosphere is comfortable and forgiving enough. But changes in atmosphere/demeanors in others can rattle that; while he is not very good with turns of phrase, sarcasm, or lies (he doesn't lie, as a rule; neither do other Darkovs), once he sees or understands something has changed, he knows better than to pretend things are still the same. He has to brace for recoil, or some kind of fallout.

More than anything, Martin wants to be seen as good and worthwhile and to believe it, but...has already decided that's impossible. The former is a bit easier than the latter, and even at his most hopeless, he still clings to a weak desire to be wanted, to feel safe, and have done something right. He doesn't give himself a lot of credit, and perhaps never will; or, perhaps, he'll find someone or something to believe in that will help him combat that.


POWER:
o1: Martin can conjure lances/spears from his body (his arms/hands, mainly) that tend to be about 9- to 10- feet long - too big to be easily handled (he is smol), but ejected with enough force to be a dangerous projectile...or to launch himself around.
o2. Biologically, he can see in the dark and has a kind of foul aura that I assume would be considered a power since he's a non-human: animals are naturally averse to him, and his blood in particular (ingestion of his blood or the black gunk he spits up is toxic). Empathic characters can pick up on this more directly, but most would just perceive him as generally just a kind of gloomy, sad kind of kid.
o3. Toxic blood. Rather than just proper red, his blood is mixed with a black substance that is foul-smelling and very dangerous to imbibe. It's the stuff Darkovs are warned to not take back in to their own bodies; the effects it can have on other people are yet to be seen. 8)

〈 CHARACTER SAMPLES 〉
COMMUNITY POST (VOICE) SAMPLE:

A...um.

[a hesitation. it's weird, talking at something with no face.]

So...So the rule from home is: Don't talk to people. Darkovs aren't supposed to be seen, they're just...supposed to do their job, then go away.

But there's nowhere to go away to here. There's...people everywhere, and. And they all want to talk a lot. I don't know. I don't know how the rules can work here, but I don't know... [anything else. a quiet gulp, and another pause.]

I don't know the right thing to do. Or...the best thing. If I can't do the right thing...

LOGS POST (PROSE) SAMPLE:
TDM samples

FINAL NOTES:
Items on his person upon arrival: his medallion, his hunter's half-cloak, and a bag of crunchy, gravel-lookin' junk he uses to help hack up bad blood.