Post by Cherriflower on Aug 18, 2011 22:51:14 GMT -5
Cherriflower
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"Can you tell me I'm not insane?
Sometimes I get this feeling about the law I'm dealing
Am I letting my reason wane?
Have I been forsaken on this path I've taken?"
the basics,
»»character full name: Birth Name: Sophie Anderson, Chosen Name: Cherriflower (Cherri)
»»age: 19
»»gender: female
»»sexual orientation: Bisexual
»»position: Rogue, specifically a mercenary and assassin
»»race: Human
»»alliance: Neutral; whoever she’s currently working for
»»powers: N/A
»»weapons: If you can think of it, Cherri probably has one. Almost every surface of the apartment she lives in is concealing or displaying a weapon. She has swords, knives, axes, hammers, bows, blowpipes, etc. Though she has an armory to herself she has a few favorites;
Parashu: A long handled battle axe with a single, large head.
Flail: With a large, spiked metal ball attached to a medium length wooden handle by a chain, this thing clears a room nicely.
Katars: A pair of daggers with long blades and a H shaped grip, meaning the blade sits above her knuckles, makes for quick, swift killing.
Maul: She doesn’t really have the mass to control this large hammer, but that just makes it more interesting when she swings it about.
Chakram: Metal hoops with sharpened outer edges used for throwing.
Short bow: A recurved bow, it is about three feet at its longest, but provided excellent power. The arrows are feathered in a rainbow of colours, just to mix it up a little.
Talwar: Used when she wants a ‘duel’ the curved saber-like blade provides a balance of strength and finesse.
the appearance,
»»eyes: Red
»»markings: She has her fair share of scars from past events, some self inflicted when she got a little too zealous with her weaponry.
»»height: 5’1”
»»weight: 97lbs
»»general appearance:
The most striking thing about Cherri is her albinism. She has white hair, which falls down to her lower back and is kept in a nice enough condition. Her eyes are red and always bright with emotion. Don’t be fooled into thinking the happiness or endearment in her eyes will save you, she’s just thinking about how good you’ll look dead, or it might just be that she likes your hat, its all a bit hit and miss. Her skin is pale, and burns easily, which is why she wears a hat or a hood during the day to keep the sun away; a smart Cherri beats the burn. She has a small stature, but it’s clear that she’s no pushover. Not to say that she is overly muscle-bound, but you can see that they’re there. Her figure has been described as ‘pretty damn fine’ and she’s stuck with that description.
Her differs depending on which job she’s doing. During the day when she performs in the streets she will often wear baggy shirts and cotton or linen trousers, which are more comfy and allow a great degree of movement. She’ll top this off with a jacket and/or hat. If she does go with a hat it will have a wide brim, but other than that doesn’t have to go with the rest of her apparel at all. Anything from straw hats and cowboy hats to sombreros and cavalier hats will do. When she is on a job though, she’ll don her white form-fitting suit. Dark colours would help her blend in more but the white is more fun, and it makes the red patterns stand out more. She’ll also often wear thick mittens, they don’t really help but they look funny. Of course, to carry her weapons she needs a harness, which she had specially made, shoulder straps hold it on her back, and a variety of holsters keep whatever weapons she chooses nice and secure until she needs them. She doesn’t often wear , no matter what she’s doing. Socks are less restricting, and bare feet are the ultimate in freedom, plus they both make less noise.
the personality,
»»likes:
* Sugar – anything with that sweet taste is good in her book
* Blood – not out of any hate for people, it’s just so colorful and artistic when it sprays out.
* The Unknown – Curiosity killed the cat, but so far Cherri is alright, and always willing to explore something new
* Performing – Dancing, singing, playing music, tricks, whatever it is, if it’s active, fun and draws a crowd then it’s good enough
* Weapons – So many ways of killing a person, what will they think of next?
* Imagination – her thoughts can conjure up whatever she wants, it’s perfect.
* Warmth – It’s just so comfy when you’re all warm and cozy
* Soft & Fluffy things – self-explanatory, right? Who wouldn’t like them?
»»dislikes:
* Morals – When people tell her something is immoral they’re just telling her she can’t do what she wants…
* Rules – Pretty much for the same reason as above, they restrict her freedom too much.
* Being told off – It’s not like its her fault if something goes wrong. You probably weren’t specific enough. Her dad used to tell her off before and while beating her, so it’s a no-no.
* Sour tasting things – Just no… not fun
* Politics – It gets her jobs, yeah, but it’s so over complicated and pointless
»»strengths:
* Physical prowess – Cherri is strong, fast and agile. She trained from a young age and throws herself so passionately into activity that she’s not only a master at many forms of motion, but she’s also strong and graceful in everyday life.
* Mental state – Being disconnected mentally gives Cherri a unique outlook on things. She can avoid negatives, see the bright side in bad situations and take joy in almost anything. She can also ignore pain to an extent, though that has lead to some injuries growing worse in the past.
* Talented – Cherri is a talented musician, singer, dancer, gymnast and knows a good few party tricks. She pushed herself to learn when she was younger, and saw no reason to stop.
* Unpredictable – You never know quite where you stand when talking to Cherri, it gives her the upper hand in a lot of situations, whether or not she realizes is a different matter.
»»weaknesses:
* Mental state – The double edged sword that is her mind hurts her as much as it helps her. She can get lost in her own mind, become confused by simple concepts if she isn’t in the right mental state, and spiral down into depression if she is started on the wrong thought path.
* Attitude – She is somewhat stubborn, and has lost friends, jobs and other people’s lives due to misinterpreting something or not accepting an offer or answer from another.
* Bribes – It’s not hard to get Cherri on your side for a while, she will accept a non-monetary payment a little too easily, and doesn’t realize her mistake until quite a bit later.
* Zeal – Cherri throws herself into everything she does, sometimes too hard. She’ll often injure herself, though it’s usually minor. She has suffered self-inflicted cuts, bruises and the odd broken bone before.
»»secrets: Her real name holds power over her, she can’t break the connection between that name and the vulnerable person she once was, so she buries the name.
»»general personality:
Cherri was once a sensible, normal child. Her one problem was that her parents were never pleased. No matter what she did she was always the worst child. After a beating from her father forced her into a semi-catatonic state for over a year, she changed. Emerging with a mind that wasn’t exactly whole. It made her into what she is today. She is partially schizophrenic, manic and seems disconnected from events half the time. She retains personality traits from when she was a normal child, though these are greatly exaggerated. This is most obvious in her manic excitement and love for most things. She’ll practically explode in excitement over something as simple as a stuffed toy or bar of chocolate. This doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s still a child mentally, she maintains a good amount of high-level mental functions. She is moderately intelligent, and her unique view on things can yield some interesting conclusions.
She exists on several mental levels, depending on some unknown criteria. Sometimes she will seem like a normal, if overly excitable, young woman, other times she’ll grow more childish and occasionally refer to herself in third person. And sometimes she’ll become her own best friend, talking to herself and referring to herself as ‘we’. Of course, it’s not all sun and flowers for Cherri, and she will sometimes fall into deep depression at the drop of a hat. She is just as likely to switch from her normally cheery self to a flailing being full of anger and vengeance against some foe she doesn’t know. Of course, even when happy she’s dangerous, and will take pleasure in killing, loving the rush, the activity, and the blood. She is perfectly capable of regular interaction and conversation, but you’d better not bore her.
the history,
»»mother: Melody Anderson
»»father: Noel Anderson
»»siblings: Emma Anderson and Edward Anderson
»»others: None of note
»»background:
Born on the planet of Sterherra, Sophie Anderson was the third child of Melody and Noel, and the only one they didn’t want. Their first two children were perfect models of success and obedience. The Andersons wanted a perfect little family, two parents, two children, no problems. Then there was one oversight after a dinner party and a couple of bottles of wine, and months later Sophie was born. She was the child they should never have had. All the Andersons had strong features, dark hair and tall, athletic figures. Sophie seemed to have caught every recessive gene in the entire pool. She was shorter, weaker and, worst of all, albino. She looked so out of place in the family. No matter how she tried, she never fit in. Her siblings were bigger and stronger, and would pick on her relentlessly. He mother didn’t care, and her father pretty much encouraged it. Try as she might to do right by her family, Sophie was always wrong in some way. Her drawings were messy, her performances sloppy and her intelligence average at best. Not like the sporting and science whiz that was Edward, or the Dancing mathematician that was Emma. And whenever Sophie did something wrong she was punished. First, with her father’s scathing words, then with his fist.
This was her life for seven years, it got worse each year, until one incident almost ended her life. She had tried, harder than most could believe. She had improved her naturally scrawny physique to something decent for her age, and had mastered many different styles of performance. Yet it was never enough, and try as she might she could not increase her grades enough. Her siblings were always better. And one night her father saw the grade for her latest writing project and went to ‘see her’ about it. He shouted, like usual, he hit her, like usual, he tossed her about like a ragdoll, and her head hit a table. He left her curled up, as she usually was when he beat her. It wasn’t until the next day when they noticed she hadn’t moved. She was almost non-responsive, and for the next two days she did nothing until around 2am, when she would silently go to the kitchen, take a drink and eat a slice of bread, then go back to her room without a word. Her parents realized on the third day that this was the opportunity they needed to get rid of her. They carted her off to a government ran mental institute. For the next year and a half she lived in catatonia, waking for barely half an hour a day. The facility was approved to use ‘experimental’ and controversial methods of psychotherapy. Over the months of unresponsive silence Sophie was subjected to shock therapy, chemical treatments and a number of other dubious practices. No results were had, and she was kept in a small isolated room when she wasn’t in ‘therapy’ or the monthly visits her parents insisted on. They had to appear perfect, and caring for their brain-dead youngest helped that.
After a year and a half, Sophie regained some mental control. She was nearly nine at this point, but she seemed exactly the same as when she was seven. Despite being awake again, all Sophie did was mumble nearly unintelligible streams of words when spoken to that had nothing to do with what was said to her. And so the treatment continued. She changed again when she turned fourteen. She was able to speak, and answer questions, but she still seemed childish and had limited responses. Her memory was still shot, and she didn’t ever recognize the doctor she saw daily, let alone her parents. Then, a year and a half later, during a visit by her parents, Cherriflower arrived. Her parents were going through the motions of being caring, asking how she was so they would have a sad little story to tell their friends, when Sophie’s gaze shifted, become focused, and centered on her father. The staff at the facility had shaved her head, but neglecter her fingernails. And she used these now, leaping across the table and clawing at her father, scratching his face and hands, blinding him in his left eye and biting his left earlobe off before she was pulled away. She was detained, locked away, given restricting mittens and a mouth guard, but her intelligence was back. It was broken, and still average, but it was there, and no-one suspected it. When she was released she complied, was lead to a therapy suite, one with instruments, sharp ones. The mittens still allowed her to grip things. A scalpel allowed her to escape the room, killing the staff. She took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the red blood on the clean white floor, then she was gone. She killed four more staff and stole the keys, though she had to use both hands to get them into the lock. Then she was out.
Hiding out for a while, It was a couple of days before Cherri could find someone on their own to ‘help’ her. A young man, alone, in a dark alley. She was on the roof. She dropped down behind him, scalpel in hand, motioning to her mouth guard. He undid the straps, freeing her. She thanked him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and skipped off. That evening she stole some clothes from a display outside a shop just before closing time. Then the following day she ventured into the market, carefully loading her new pockets with food. She was spotted, by an old mercenary. It amused him to see her looking around in amazement, then taking what she wanted. He took her to the side, removing the mittens she had forgotten to get removed the other day, and taking her under his wing. She liked the mittens though, and kept them. When he asked what her name was, Cherri had cast her gaze to nearby stalls selling fruit and plants. Picking Cherries and Flowers at random, she became known as Cherriflower. The old mercenary told her how to live; sell your talents, all of them. He also taught her how to fight, receiving several injuries from her overzealous wielding of weapons over the months they were together.
About a month after first meeting the mercenary, Cherriflower became possessed by an idea that stuck with her, stopped her from sleeping, distracted her from training. She had to see her family, maybe now they would love her. Her mentor told her no; it was too crazy. That didn't matter to Cherri. On a cold evening in winter she left her mentor's apartment, wearing the new bodysuit he'd had made at her request, and carrying with her all her favourite weapons. It was heavy, she didn't normally take so much, but she wanted them to see what she had become. When she knocked at the door there was nothing. They weren't it. Cherri didn't mind, she could wait. There was a window that was open a crack. Climbing up and through, she found herself in her parent's bedroom. Sitting and waiting on the bed, Cherri went through the events that would happen; they would see how perfect she was now, and take her back, and she would belong with them finally. They arrived home, laughing among themselves, just returning from a dinner party. Cherri waited until she heard the front door lock. Then, moments later, stood up as her mother entered, smiling at her. The woman screamed and retreated out the room. That was a bit rude, wasn't it? Cherri followed her down, leaping over the bannister to get down the stairs ahead of her and stop any of them from opening the door. She tried to tell them how good she was doing, how she was thriving. They didn't want to listen. Her mother and sister sobbed in each other's arms, her father stood defiantly in front of them and her brother disappeared into a back room. She tried to show them that she was perfect now, they could all be together. But they were horrified. They thought they were through with them. Their other daughter who had lost her mind and killed her way into freedom and away from them. He brother came back, he was bearing swords for him and his father. Perfect, now she could show them. The two men, even working together, weren't fighters, and she outmanoeuvred them with ease, striking deadly blows to both. She hadn't meant to kill them, but she needed to show them, she was perfect now. But as the two fell the screams of the women grew louder. Cherri panicked, she needed to stop them, she was holding the sword. It found their throats. Looking down at her family Cherri realized that she wasn't perfect just yet. She had made a mess of things. She left quickly. Her mentor scolded her, but didn't hit her. It didn't make her feel any better, he had been right all along. After a while she was back to her usual self, training with her mentor. In the last few weeks he taught her about his contacts with government and rebel factions, and took her on a couple of missions. She was a maniac when she fought, her enemies couldn’t pin down or predict her style, and were cut down and, quite often, cut apart. Then her mentor was killed. It was just some brigand with a sword who caught him off guard. Cherri cut the man to pieces, and then just fell, not knowing what to do. It was hours before she rose, hair and face now soaked in blood. She decided to take over, become like he had been.
So she perfected her style and became a full-fledged mercenary. She expanded her contacts and became fairly well known. She found a doctor to patch her up, a sympathetic woman who kept things quiet, and got in touch with a friend of her dead mentor to make and maintain equipment. Remembering what she had been told; to use all her talents to make money, Cherri took to performing in the streets on those days when she wasn’t killing. She gave a different act a week, and had quite some fun doing it. It wasn’t as profitable as the merc work but it got her some food. She was successful in both conventional mercenary jobs and more dubious assassinations, the only problem employers ever had was that she didn’t so subtlety, she could be quiet and stealthy, but once the killing started it was a bloodbath. She would leave the bodies bleeding into the floor, often on display for all to see, and would bring back a head or limb of one to her employer, like a cat dragging in a dead bird. But none could deny she was effective, and she took a great deal of pleasure in what she did.
the player,
»»alias: Tristychu
»»age: 19
»»contact: PM (or ask for messenger address)
»»rp sample: See Jimmy Terranova
Password: ~Admin Edit~
How did you find us?: Site hopping
"Can you tell me I'm not insane?
Sometimes I get this feeling about the law I'm dealing
Am I letting my reason wane?
Have I been forsaken on this path I've taken?"
the basics,
»»character full name: Birth Name: Sophie Anderson, Chosen Name: Cherriflower (Cherri)
»»age: 19
»»gender: female
»»sexual orientation: Bisexual
»»position: Rogue, specifically a mercenary and assassin
»»race: Human
»»alliance: Neutral; whoever she’s currently working for
»»powers: N/A
»»weapons: If you can think of it, Cherri probably has one. Almost every surface of the apartment she lives in is concealing or displaying a weapon. She has swords, knives, axes, hammers, bows, blowpipes, etc. Though she has an armory to herself she has a few favorites;
Parashu: A long handled battle axe with a single, large head.
Flail: With a large, spiked metal ball attached to a medium length wooden handle by a chain, this thing clears a room nicely.
Katars: A pair of daggers with long blades and a H shaped grip, meaning the blade sits above her knuckles, makes for quick, swift killing.
Maul: She doesn’t really have the mass to control this large hammer, but that just makes it more interesting when she swings it about.
Chakram: Metal hoops with sharpened outer edges used for throwing.
Short bow: A recurved bow, it is about three feet at its longest, but provided excellent power. The arrows are feathered in a rainbow of colours, just to mix it up a little.
Talwar: Used when she wants a ‘duel’ the curved saber-like blade provides a balance of strength and finesse.
the appearance,
»»eyes: Red
»»markings: She has her fair share of scars from past events, some self inflicted when she got a little too zealous with her weaponry.
»»height: 5’1”
»»weight: 97lbs
»»general appearance:
The most striking thing about Cherri is her albinism. She has white hair, which falls down to her lower back and is kept in a nice enough condition. Her eyes are red and always bright with emotion. Don’t be fooled into thinking the happiness or endearment in her eyes will save you, she’s just thinking about how good you’ll look dead, or it might just be that she likes your hat, its all a bit hit and miss. Her skin is pale, and burns easily, which is why she wears a hat or a hood during the day to keep the sun away; a smart Cherri beats the burn. She has a small stature, but it’s clear that she’s no pushover. Not to say that she is overly muscle-bound, but you can see that they’re there. Her figure has been described as ‘pretty damn fine’ and she’s stuck with that description.
Her differs depending on which job she’s doing. During the day when she performs in the streets she will often wear baggy shirts and cotton or linen trousers, which are more comfy and allow a great degree of movement. She’ll top this off with a jacket and/or hat. If she does go with a hat it will have a wide brim, but other than that doesn’t have to go with the rest of her apparel at all. Anything from straw hats and cowboy hats to sombreros and cavalier hats will do. When she is on a job though, she’ll don her white form-fitting suit. Dark colours would help her blend in more but the white is more fun, and it makes the red patterns stand out more. She’ll also often wear thick mittens, they don’t really help but they look funny. Of course, to carry her weapons she needs a harness, which she had specially made, shoulder straps hold it on her back, and a variety of holsters keep whatever weapons she chooses nice and secure until she needs them. She doesn’t often wear , no matter what she’s doing. Socks are less restricting, and bare feet are the ultimate in freedom, plus they both make less noise.
the personality,
»»likes:
* Sugar – anything with that sweet taste is good in her book
* Blood – not out of any hate for people, it’s just so colorful and artistic when it sprays out.
* The Unknown – Curiosity killed the cat, but so far Cherri is alright, and always willing to explore something new
* Performing – Dancing, singing, playing music, tricks, whatever it is, if it’s active, fun and draws a crowd then it’s good enough
* Weapons – So many ways of killing a person, what will they think of next?
* Imagination – her thoughts can conjure up whatever she wants, it’s perfect.
* Warmth – It’s just so comfy when you’re all warm and cozy
* Soft & Fluffy things – self-explanatory, right? Who wouldn’t like them?
»»dislikes:
* Morals – When people tell her something is immoral they’re just telling her she can’t do what she wants…
* Rules – Pretty much for the same reason as above, they restrict her freedom too much.
* Being told off – It’s not like its her fault if something goes wrong. You probably weren’t specific enough. Her dad used to tell her off before and while beating her, so it’s a no-no.
* Sour tasting things – Just no… not fun
* Politics – It gets her jobs, yeah, but it’s so over complicated and pointless
»»strengths:
* Physical prowess – Cherri is strong, fast and agile. She trained from a young age and throws herself so passionately into activity that she’s not only a master at many forms of motion, but she’s also strong and graceful in everyday life.
* Mental state – Being disconnected mentally gives Cherri a unique outlook on things. She can avoid negatives, see the bright side in bad situations and take joy in almost anything. She can also ignore pain to an extent, though that has lead to some injuries growing worse in the past.
* Talented – Cherri is a talented musician, singer, dancer, gymnast and knows a good few party tricks. She pushed herself to learn when she was younger, and saw no reason to stop.
* Unpredictable – You never know quite where you stand when talking to Cherri, it gives her the upper hand in a lot of situations, whether or not she realizes is a different matter.
»»weaknesses:
* Mental state – The double edged sword that is her mind hurts her as much as it helps her. She can get lost in her own mind, become confused by simple concepts if she isn’t in the right mental state, and spiral down into depression if she is started on the wrong thought path.
* Attitude – She is somewhat stubborn, and has lost friends, jobs and other people’s lives due to misinterpreting something or not accepting an offer or answer from another.
* Bribes – It’s not hard to get Cherri on your side for a while, she will accept a non-monetary payment a little too easily, and doesn’t realize her mistake until quite a bit later.
* Zeal – Cherri throws herself into everything she does, sometimes too hard. She’ll often injure herself, though it’s usually minor. She has suffered self-inflicted cuts, bruises and the odd broken bone before.
»»secrets: Her real name holds power over her, she can’t break the connection between that name and the vulnerable person she once was, so she buries the name.
»»general personality:
Cherri was once a sensible, normal child. Her one problem was that her parents were never pleased. No matter what she did she was always the worst child. After a beating from her father forced her into a semi-catatonic state for over a year, she changed. Emerging with a mind that wasn’t exactly whole. It made her into what she is today. She is partially schizophrenic, manic and seems disconnected from events half the time. She retains personality traits from when she was a normal child, though these are greatly exaggerated. This is most obvious in her manic excitement and love for most things. She’ll practically explode in excitement over something as simple as a stuffed toy or bar of chocolate. This doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s still a child mentally, she maintains a good amount of high-level mental functions. She is moderately intelligent, and her unique view on things can yield some interesting conclusions.
She exists on several mental levels, depending on some unknown criteria. Sometimes she will seem like a normal, if overly excitable, young woman, other times she’ll grow more childish and occasionally refer to herself in third person. And sometimes she’ll become her own best friend, talking to herself and referring to herself as ‘we’. Of course, it’s not all sun and flowers for Cherri, and she will sometimes fall into deep depression at the drop of a hat. She is just as likely to switch from her normally cheery self to a flailing being full of anger and vengeance against some foe she doesn’t know. Of course, even when happy she’s dangerous, and will take pleasure in killing, loving the rush, the activity, and the blood. She is perfectly capable of regular interaction and conversation, but you’d better not bore her.
the history,
»»mother: Melody Anderson
»»father: Noel Anderson
»»siblings: Emma Anderson and Edward Anderson
»»others: None of note
»»background:
Born on the planet of Sterherra, Sophie Anderson was the third child of Melody and Noel, and the only one they didn’t want. Their first two children were perfect models of success and obedience. The Andersons wanted a perfect little family, two parents, two children, no problems. Then there was one oversight after a dinner party and a couple of bottles of wine, and months later Sophie was born. She was the child they should never have had. All the Andersons had strong features, dark hair and tall, athletic figures. Sophie seemed to have caught every recessive gene in the entire pool. She was shorter, weaker and, worst of all, albino. She looked so out of place in the family. No matter how she tried, she never fit in. Her siblings were bigger and stronger, and would pick on her relentlessly. He mother didn’t care, and her father pretty much encouraged it. Try as she might to do right by her family, Sophie was always wrong in some way. Her drawings were messy, her performances sloppy and her intelligence average at best. Not like the sporting and science whiz that was Edward, or the Dancing mathematician that was Emma. And whenever Sophie did something wrong she was punished. First, with her father’s scathing words, then with his fist.
This was her life for seven years, it got worse each year, until one incident almost ended her life. She had tried, harder than most could believe. She had improved her naturally scrawny physique to something decent for her age, and had mastered many different styles of performance. Yet it was never enough, and try as she might she could not increase her grades enough. Her siblings were always better. And one night her father saw the grade for her latest writing project and went to ‘see her’ about it. He shouted, like usual, he hit her, like usual, he tossed her about like a ragdoll, and her head hit a table. He left her curled up, as she usually was when he beat her. It wasn’t until the next day when they noticed she hadn’t moved. She was almost non-responsive, and for the next two days she did nothing until around 2am, when she would silently go to the kitchen, take a drink and eat a slice of bread, then go back to her room without a word. Her parents realized on the third day that this was the opportunity they needed to get rid of her. They carted her off to a government ran mental institute. For the next year and a half she lived in catatonia, waking for barely half an hour a day. The facility was approved to use ‘experimental’ and controversial methods of psychotherapy. Over the months of unresponsive silence Sophie was subjected to shock therapy, chemical treatments and a number of other dubious practices. No results were had, and she was kept in a small isolated room when she wasn’t in ‘therapy’ or the monthly visits her parents insisted on. They had to appear perfect, and caring for their brain-dead youngest helped that.
After a year and a half, Sophie regained some mental control. She was nearly nine at this point, but she seemed exactly the same as when she was seven. Despite being awake again, all Sophie did was mumble nearly unintelligible streams of words when spoken to that had nothing to do with what was said to her. And so the treatment continued. She changed again when she turned fourteen. She was able to speak, and answer questions, but she still seemed childish and had limited responses. Her memory was still shot, and she didn’t ever recognize the doctor she saw daily, let alone her parents. Then, a year and a half later, during a visit by her parents, Cherriflower arrived. Her parents were going through the motions of being caring, asking how she was so they would have a sad little story to tell their friends, when Sophie’s gaze shifted, become focused, and centered on her father. The staff at the facility had shaved her head, but neglecter her fingernails. And she used these now, leaping across the table and clawing at her father, scratching his face and hands, blinding him in his left eye and biting his left earlobe off before she was pulled away. She was detained, locked away, given restricting mittens and a mouth guard, but her intelligence was back. It was broken, and still average, but it was there, and no-one suspected it. When she was released she complied, was lead to a therapy suite, one with instruments, sharp ones. The mittens still allowed her to grip things. A scalpel allowed her to escape the room, killing the staff. She took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the red blood on the clean white floor, then she was gone. She killed four more staff and stole the keys, though she had to use both hands to get them into the lock. Then she was out.
Hiding out for a while, It was a couple of days before Cherri could find someone on their own to ‘help’ her. A young man, alone, in a dark alley. She was on the roof. She dropped down behind him, scalpel in hand, motioning to her mouth guard. He undid the straps, freeing her. She thanked him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and skipped off. That evening she stole some clothes from a display outside a shop just before closing time. Then the following day she ventured into the market, carefully loading her new pockets with food. She was spotted, by an old mercenary. It amused him to see her looking around in amazement, then taking what she wanted. He took her to the side, removing the mittens she had forgotten to get removed the other day, and taking her under his wing. She liked the mittens though, and kept them. When he asked what her name was, Cherri had cast her gaze to nearby stalls selling fruit and plants. Picking Cherries and Flowers at random, she became known as Cherriflower. The old mercenary told her how to live; sell your talents, all of them. He also taught her how to fight, receiving several injuries from her overzealous wielding of weapons over the months they were together.
About a month after first meeting the mercenary, Cherriflower became possessed by an idea that stuck with her, stopped her from sleeping, distracted her from training. She had to see her family, maybe now they would love her. Her mentor told her no; it was too crazy. That didn't matter to Cherri. On a cold evening in winter she left her mentor's apartment, wearing the new bodysuit he'd had made at her request, and carrying with her all her favourite weapons. It was heavy, she didn't normally take so much, but she wanted them to see what she had become. When she knocked at the door there was nothing. They weren't it. Cherri didn't mind, she could wait. There was a window that was open a crack. Climbing up and through, she found herself in her parent's bedroom. Sitting and waiting on the bed, Cherri went through the events that would happen; they would see how perfect she was now, and take her back, and she would belong with them finally. They arrived home, laughing among themselves, just returning from a dinner party. Cherri waited until she heard the front door lock. Then, moments later, stood up as her mother entered, smiling at her. The woman screamed and retreated out the room. That was a bit rude, wasn't it? Cherri followed her down, leaping over the bannister to get down the stairs ahead of her and stop any of them from opening the door. She tried to tell them how good she was doing, how she was thriving. They didn't want to listen. Her mother and sister sobbed in each other's arms, her father stood defiantly in front of them and her brother disappeared into a back room. She tried to show them that she was perfect now, they could all be together. But they were horrified. They thought they were through with them. Their other daughter who had lost her mind and killed her way into freedom and away from them. He brother came back, he was bearing swords for him and his father. Perfect, now she could show them. The two men, even working together, weren't fighters, and she outmanoeuvred them with ease, striking deadly blows to both. She hadn't meant to kill them, but she needed to show them, she was perfect now. But as the two fell the screams of the women grew louder. Cherri panicked, she needed to stop them, she was holding the sword. It found their throats. Looking down at her family Cherri realized that she wasn't perfect just yet. She had made a mess of things. She left quickly. Her mentor scolded her, but didn't hit her. It didn't make her feel any better, he had been right all along. After a while she was back to her usual self, training with her mentor. In the last few weeks he taught her about his contacts with government and rebel factions, and took her on a couple of missions. She was a maniac when she fought, her enemies couldn’t pin down or predict her style, and were cut down and, quite often, cut apart. Then her mentor was killed. It was just some brigand with a sword who caught him off guard. Cherri cut the man to pieces, and then just fell, not knowing what to do. It was hours before she rose, hair and face now soaked in blood. She decided to take over, become like he had been.
So she perfected her style and became a full-fledged mercenary. She expanded her contacts and became fairly well known. She found a doctor to patch her up, a sympathetic woman who kept things quiet, and got in touch with a friend of her dead mentor to make and maintain equipment. Remembering what she had been told; to use all her talents to make money, Cherri took to performing in the streets on those days when she wasn’t killing. She gave a different act a week, and had quite some fun doing it. It wasn’t as profitable as the merc work but it got her some food. She was successful in both conventional mercenary jobs and more dubious assassinations, the only problem employers ever had was that she didn’t so subtlety, she could be quiet and stealthy, but once the killing started it was a bloodbath. She would leave the bodies bleeding into the floor, often on display for all to see, and would bring back a head or limb of one to her employer, like a cat dragging in a dead bird. But none could deny she was effective, and she took a great deal of pleasure in what she did.
the player,
»»alias: Tristychu
»»age: 19
»»contact: PM (or ask for messenger address)
»»rp sample: See Jimmy Terranova
Password: ~Admin Edit~
How did you find us?: Site hopping
